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its-actually-minicika · 1 year

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Hi, love your works so much! Can't wait for more updates 🥰🥰 I was wondering maybe you'd like the idea where book!Aemond and Velarion!(Strong?)Reader are in an arranged marriage. But Reader just knows what to say and how to act so that Aemond is wrapped around her finger (kinda thought of Margaery and Joffrey situation, she was such a talented schemer, worthy of winning the Throne 😭). I don't really know about the setting, like if it's before, during or after the Dance... just thought it'd be interesting to see this kind of plot with our beloved Prince 🤴🏼🐉

If you don't like it, just ignore me 🙈

Dragon Sickness (18+)

Pairing: bookcanon!Aemond x Strong!Niece!Reader

Warnings: No usage of (Y/N), Greens win AU, bookcanon Greens, the obvious Targaryen incest, mentions of major character deaths (we're entering spoiler grounds, but not really), blood, gore etc.

Word Count: 3.5K+

Author's Note: I fell in love with this idea the moment I saw it! I ended up altering the plot line for this one-shot a little bit - the reader will definitely grow into the Margaery architype, but today you shall see her as she was when she just learned how to make ends meet with her newfound life at Court.

I don't know if I should turn this into yet another series, but if you guys enjoyed this, let me know

Also, thank you so, so much for your kind words ♡ i'm hugging you to the moon and back!

PART 2 IS OUT NOW ♡♡♡

Who could ever blame you for your indiscreet acts? Alliances change when the world you know suddenly turns upside down.

She remembered how weak she was. How scared she had been.

How her eyes widened into two brown specs of uncertainty, how her mouth fell agape, as she mulled over Alicent’s words.

‘You shall marry Aemond within the next moon turns. For the good of the Realm.’

The Dowager Queen had openly admitted to being against the match – of course, the prospect of her perfect son, married off to a lowly bastard of Rhaenyra's (otherwise said, her last surviving child), didn’t specifically thrill her. Much less her demanding and scornful father.

Still, it couldn’t be helped. And if the Velaryon wanted to keep her head away from a spike, she had no other choice but to comply.

Although… she wasn’t a Velaryon now, was she? Aegon the Usurper made sure of that.

His final gift to her was to strip her of all her titles. She had been openly declared a bastard – before the masses, before the Court.

With a wide smile upon his burnt lips, the “King” had told her she’d be a Targaryen instead. Driftmark wouldn’t matter, her legacy wouldn’t matter. Aemond would inherit the seat with the Usurper’s blessing, as a homage brought to his able fighting and his shown bravery on the bloody battlefield.

Never mind that he’d never partaken in a fight; save for the one that killed her stepfather, Daemon, and sent her poor mother in a downward spiral. Aemond had chosen his adversaries wisely, and managed to go through the whole war without as much of a scratch upon his silver armour.

‘I shan’t marry your son. Not now, not ever.’ Her own voice rang out.

‘You will do exactly as demanded.’

‘I would rather die than bear the treacherous children of that monstrous beast.’

A monstrous beast. That is what Aemond was.

And that is what he shall remain. No matter how many gifts he brought to her. No matter how many hours of their days and days in their weeks and weeks in their months they spent promenading those ghastly gardens.

‘You will if you know your best interests. Your own head may hold no value to you, but a single swing of my son’s sword would be enough to bring forth the ruin of House Blackwood.’

At first, she’d been restless in her attempts to escape the Keep. Her every waking hour was spent shamelessly inside the Sept, where she prayed not for the safety of her brothers’ souls, but for revenge against the mutted Greens.

The slight breeze of the cathedral mended her flesh from the heat of summer. And no one dared to approach or talk to her. The quietness was a welcomed deed.

During the first night of their betrothal, her glossy eyes scanned Aemond’s face. His hands wantonly gripped at his thighs and a slight twitch of his mouth, accompanied by an elongated hum escaped his lips.

There was no other discernable expression. And when he led her to the chambers of her early girlhood, he merely bowed and kissed her hand.

She spent the first night of their betrothal scraping her knuckles so harshly, that they broke and cracked under the stimulation of the cold water.

Her thirst for vengeance ceased after the first two months. Her wedding date was approaching swiftly, and she found herself faced with the abhorrent truth. She had no allies. No more friends at Court. The girl had shut herself in her tiny room, losing her mind with the pain and grief that flooded her at night: the faces of her mother, her brothers, her father. The sound of their screams and their endless pleas for help.

Every night, without a fail, she woke up tormented by nightmares – her throat burning with absolving shrieks of fear, exacerbated breaths of air and flimsy nightdresses, damp throughout by breaks of sweat.

The first night she lashed out onto her bedding was the night she found out Aemond had moved his Quarters next to hers. He yanked the door open and stepped into the light of her candle – looking ravished, completely out of breath and startled. Started not for his own accord and safety, but for the state that his future wife had been in.

‘Shit, it’s alright, I’m here–’

The echo of his mellow voice deterred her to let out a blood-curdling scream, that would have rivalled even the one of the late Queen Rhaenyra, after Aegon the Usurper ceased her at Dragonstone, and reeled his dragon to eat her whole.

‘Get the fuck away from me! Get the fuck out of my room!’

Her sobs pierced into the man’s heart, but his hurt expression was masked quickly with one most bitter and taciturn. He clenched his fists ruefully by his side, and spat out an apology in a low and dangerous tone.

‘As you wish.’

And how dearly he loved those words:

‘As you wish.’

'As you desire.’

Even though nothing had been, or ever will be, as she achingly wished them to.

“You could at least attempt to look happy.” His chastising tone rained upon her, as his Lady remained hammered in her seat. Maids flocked to her like lost chickens to their cock, arranging her hair and picking out dresses fit for their engagement parade.

Her face contorted into the mirror, and a faint sigh beleft her lips. Carefully she turned around, reflecting his stance with a subtle arch to her shapely brow.

“It’s bad luck to see your bride before the wedding ceremony.”

“An old wives' tale. And one that applies only on the day itself.”

“Perhaps we should encourage tradition more. Make it so we don’t cross paths at all til then.”

Just as fast as it came, the feral look dissolved over his tired face. Aemond heaved out a heavy exhale and merely settled to growl at her maids.

“Leave us. Now.”

A discontented look painted over her fair features. His niece opened her mouth in protest, to try and stop the fleeing girls from truly making their escape.

“I must remind my Prince that the engagement assembly will be held in less than an hour. I believe I should like them to stay.”

The gathered women exchanged lost and protruding glances, until the former King Regent spoke again.

“They will leave us at once.”

“They’ll do no such a thing. They must make haste to get me ready. We wouldn’t want to upset your mother.”

“I’m more than capable of lacing up a loose bodice.”

The tight expression on her face deserted her features with the leave of his smug retort. She swallowed thickly in enraged abandon, and silently beseeched her ladies not to leave her all alone.

Still ravishing her with his bold stare, Aemond stepped another foot into the cosy confinements of her tidy prison. “If I’m to turn around now and find any of you standing before me, I’ll arrange that you’re all flogged and defiled beyond the utter of salvation.”

Brisk footsteps swallowed the room, echoing wildly through the narrow dark hallways. The former Velaryon shook her head in disarray, and graced her soon-to-be-husband with a tight smile and a nod.

“Congratulations.” She uttered humorously, “I should enjoy looking like a fool tonight much more than being proper by your side.”

As if drowned below a trace, Aemond took another step in the direction of the frowning Princess. His face remained impenetrable, but as he opened his mouth to speak, his voice ran meek, unsure and hoarse.

“Turn around.” He commanded her gently, whilst grabbing a deep green garment from the cluttery made on her bed. Despite her lack of desire to abide by his request, the woman turned her back to him and muttered slowly, though much softer than intended.

“I don’t like that one. It’ll make the skirts look out of place.”

“Which one do you want, then?” His whisper had made her draw in a sharp gasp; the warmth of his breath fell soothingly over the nape of her neck, caressing her delicate skin in a way she hadn’t known was possible.

“The red one with black lacings.”

His hand came to spin her back around, and their noses nearly touched together. A smile tugged at the ends of his upturned lips, but the look inside his eye remained frigid and unforgiving.

“Your petticoat won’t be those colours.”

A conceited scowl graced her face. She reached her hand behind him and skillfully snatched one of a different design. “Fine. I want to wear this one, then.”

The obnoxious blue and silver danced across her paling skin. And if Aemond weren’t so dazed by their proximity and lack of air, he might have laughed at her feeble attempts of vexing him.

“Those are Velaryon hues.”

“Perfect. I shall honour my house well.”

“You are not a Velaryon to grace them with such a feat.”

“No, you are absolutely right. Your brother did name me a Targaryen.”

Their faces were so close to each other, that their moving lips were almost touching.

“Yet I can’t wear black and red either.” A prompted look disarmed the Prince, “It is all very confusing.”

His lone orb descended to her puffing bosom, but Aemond soon directed himself upon a more elusive image. His fingers twitched with the need to grab a hold of her – to pull away those last pieces of cloth that shielded her away from view.

“You know full well why I can’t allow that.” He hummed in unmoving disapproval, “As much as I enjoy your voice and the raptures of your closeness, I must say this conversation bores me.”

“I should be able to wear what I want.” Came her prompt and swift reply, “But of course, Your Grace, forgive me. ‘Tis not for men to pounder on laces and brims.” Her palms took to rest upon his bulging chest, and the girl nearly removed them at once, as the thrumming of his heart enterlaced with her slim fingers. Still, she furrowed her brows in a most perplexed of mockeries, and insatiably drove on, “Indeed resilient men such as yourself occupy their time much better.”

The callouses of his hands fell heavily upon her cheeks.

“Fucking their ways through brothels, getting their pricks wet, and fantasising about wars.”

The harshness of his next tug nearly broke her brave facade – her eyes widened in mistrust, and a slight recoil braced over her straightened back. Her small fingers clasped over his shaking wrist, which held onto her face with a gentleness untoward; one completely mismatching with the predatory glimmer in his eye.

The man he was, and the man he was trying to be would surely never mend to one.

A Kinslayer. A monster. A divergent freak.

Nothing more, and nothing less.

His thumb played absent-mindedly at her lower lip, and the young Princess tried her damnest not to bite him. “Did I strike a nerve with that one?”

“You are as imprudent as you are beautiful. A family trait, I assume.”

“You have my gratitude for the flattering commentary. I’m very proud of my heritage.”

His lilac orb bore into her, and the man let out a reserved laugh, “Your bastard brothers were ample proud. Look where that brought them.” The rough end of his hand gripped her own painfully, before she could make for a swing at his handsome face. “Lost in the seas, rotting at the bottom of an ocean, nestling inside Sunfyre’s belly.”

While her hands were clasped together, her mouth wasn’t sown shut. With a single and effective move, she spat harshly in his face, eliciting a groan from her broader perpetrator.

Though his nostrils flared up in disdain, the man graced her with a calculated smirk. “Did I strike a nerve with that one?” He mocked her with feigned interest.

“Fuck you,” She hissed out slowly, “Don’t you dare talk of my family – my brothers were ten times the man you are.”

“Oh, but I have every right to talk about your family. Given that I will be yours quite soon.” Once more he forced her to turn around, and kneeled over to her spasming form, to begin dressing her up; in nought else, of course, but the mundane silks of his choosing.

"Doesn't the prospect thrill you? To become my lady-wife, to finally bear a true Targaryen inside your royal womb?"

So hopeless and defeated she felt, that the youth jerked herself relentlessly, while repeating him the same plethora of words. “You cannot force me to be your whore. You cannot force me to wear this. I will not bear your Hightower green.”

Aemond could feel his patience running thin – and when her foot came into contact with his setting knee, the man let out a ferocious growl, and promptly trapped the girl in his arms, with the aid of a nearby wall.

“So you want to be difficult? You don’t want to wear this? Hmm? Well, who am I not to abide my Lady’s burning wishes?”

The sharpness of his dagger came into quick contact with the milky skin of her thighs. And she might have almost screamed, if Aemond didn’t immediately pull himself away. His hard chest grazed hers for but a moment, as the Prince cast his attention to her moving shadow.

“If you wish not to attend our engagement parade wearing the clothes I’ve chosen for you,” He muttered against her face, a scorned look adorning his own, “Then you won’t be wearing anything at all.”

She huffed out a dispensing pant and pursed her lips into a tight line.

She remained rigid and poised, until a spark of amusement swirled into her eyes.

The first crack was that of a lax smile. The next, a tremor to her lips. The calm before the storm approached, until all rattled down with a mirthed laugh cascading from her reddened lips.

“Do you mean to frighten me with this promise?” She asked through the arch of an uncertain brow, “As if every man in this cursed Keep won’t get to watch me whore myself out to you anyway, when our wedding night will come?”

His face suddenly hardened at the notion of their reality – as if he didn’t give much thought to the bedding ceremony. To his Lady being watched by a thousand other eyes but his.

Aemond suddenly darkened, and his fist came into contact with a near spot on the wall, so awfully close to her frightened, paling face.

She watched with wide eyes how his stare contorted from one of realisation to one of fury. He stiffly peeled his body away from hers, and strained himself to leave her be. The jealous and possessive knots that churned painfully inside his stomach burned his skin upon the surface, and constricted the air he brashly took in.

He nodded to her in a spry and calloused manner, and brought his hand out to touch her cheek. His knuckles had begun to bleed, busted by the force of impact that his fist had faced for him. Behind his eye danced a look of seldom shame – he gnawed harshly at his bottom lip, and pondered, for a while, on apologising to his niece; for his lack of princely conduct, for his show of impropriety – for his inability to keep himself at bay.

Still his thoughts failed to merge to words, and so the man ran his eye one final time over her defensive pose, and merely left her standing there.

As if turned into a statue, the girl barely registered the lethargic closing of the door, the hurried and heavy footsteps that travelled further and further away from her quaint and cluttered space, and the animated curse that slipped past her uncle's throat.

Did he just dare to leave her there, with her petticoat half up her legs, in nought else but a flimsy nightdress?

At first she thought that his avoidance was a blessing in disguise.

For after clashing wits with Aemond, and after his swift hurried departure, the man had barely graced her with another word.

His hand held onto hers for the whole duration of the procession. He wordlessly forced her to dance two dances, and led her to her Quarters as soon as she mentioned that she was tired.

But his palms didn’t linger on the shape of her narrow waist – his lips barely grazed her knuckles, and Aemond turned with lest a word to add after their fake sympathies were exchanged.

Had he gotten bored of her? Realised what a terrible match they made, and begged his mother on his hands and knees to break off their ill engagement?

For the first time in a while, a new notion of fear engulfed her.

The Greens couldn’t kill her. Of that, she was almost certain. It wouldn't be a wise move, and it would anger the North beyond the power of salvation. The war had had its say on every army that fought into it, yet the Crownlands were especially weak.

But if Aemond were to sever their solidary alliance, then her future would be most uncertain.

Otto Hightower would make her join with an old and withered Lord, no doubt – one with more than enough sons to further on his pesky line. One who couldn’t even get it up to her, who’d never procreate and mend their blood, who’d make sure Rhaenyra’s line would end with her.

Or perhaps she’d be sent to join the Faith – become a Septa or a Silent Sister, among the infamous Maris Baratheons of the Realm. Yet another girl who wouldn’t keep her tongue when asked.

And history might remember them as ‘the women who couldn’t be tamed’, but their lives would be thrown to ruin. Their existence would remain a sham.

No, she had whispered to herself, as she writhed into the soft bedding. If she still thirsted for revenge, she would have to marry Aemond. Keep him interested and relaxed – yearning for her voice and company.

… And if she had to whore herself to him to do it, she would obediently assume her role.

“I beg your pardon?” Aegon asked through another gulp of bitter wine, “Gods be good – I believe that now I’ve heard it all.”

Aemond paced about his brother’s room, with his hands clasped behind his back, and his face set into a deep grimace. He hummed in admission to his brother’s words, and glanced his way with the instance of a hooded eye.

“There is to be no bedding ceremony.” He repeated himself with ease, “I frightened her enough already. The girl will be plenty uncomfortable without the aid of chafing eyes.”

His brother smiled and raised his brows in nothing else but blinding wonder. A small shake of his head indicated his perplexion, and a sharp inhale his drawn decision.

“Mother insisted upon it. You know that well.” The man steadied himself in his chair as he spoke, whilst letting out a small grunt at the contact that the wood made upon his burnt remnants of skin. “I don’t see any reason to annul it. Especially now, an eve before.”

Another sip of the stinging liquor interrupted his smooth and ready trail of thought. The Targaryen brushed off Aemond’s concerns, and gleefully bided his teasing.

“It’ll do the two of you good – you’ll get to see she’s as pure as a bastard girl can be; and she’ll have no deniability that any of her future heirs are yours.” He pointed his weary digit in the direction of his stiffened form and swallowed down a hefty laugh. “Not to mention that Lord Redwyne and Tarly already placed bets on the state of her maidenhead. Would be a shame to disappoint them both, don't you think?"

“What mother thinks is of no consequence. And the amusement of the Realm matters not to me. There will be no bedding ceremony.”

“Nonsense, Aemond. It is our duty to upkeep the Realm – and to entertain its inhabitants if need be.”

When his reckless teasing was met with glacial silence, Aegon sighed as he briskly leaned forward. He watched his sibling with an indiscernible expression across his scorched veneer, and yawned greatly at his indisposed behaviour.

“Of course, we’re here to talk it out. But after so much time spent in your company, I fail to see the necessity for such a thing.” A sly smirk danced across his puffy lips, “Are you concerned that she won’t bleed? Or that you’ll be too cunt-struck by her to last enough to make a statement?”

Aemond’s fists descended upon the polished wood of Aegon’d desk. He thrashed his brother with a defiant glare, and hissed through his gritted teeth, and tight-set jaw.

“There will be no bedding ceremony for my niece and I. Tell that to every Lord that wishes to glance upon my wife – if they do so much as to cast their eyes on her, they’ll be fucking their own wives with a wooden cock.”

Amusement laced with grave concern – the finality of Aemond's words ought to have vexed him, irk the King in his sibling's weighty insolence. Instead Aegon nodded, pushing back the feeling of dread that settled deep within his bones. His head jerked towards his closed oak door, signalling to his brother that his visit had been overstated. “What sort of brother would I be, to not grant you with this simple whim?”

The younger Targaryen mirrored his stance, and turned abruptly on his heel after a low grunt of gratitude.

His hand reached for the golden handle, but Aegon's words deterred him to a halt.

“But be careful with that one, Aemond. She’s brash and wholly unpredictable. Make sure the blood that stains your sheets come morning isn’t somehow your very own.”

Perma Tag List: @welcometothelioncage @kravitzwhore ♡

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archive-rat · 9 months

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a silly little design for the residents of love island

#tango and skizz teaming up for the 50th time was actually on my bingo card lol #that being said I’m experimenting with the image size on here #so the resolution doesn’t get sent to the shadow dimension and back #enjoy!!!#tag time!#art #digital art #trafficblr #mcyt #life series #traffic smp fanart #my art #tangotek #tango fanart #skizzleman #skizz fanart #secret life #secret life fanart #3rd life

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pommegrantaire · 5 months

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💕🩵Happy Valentine’s Day !!💛💕

#>:)#i almost forgot my tradition about making shitty valentines cus i’ve been so busy but this was a no brainer #enjoy!!!#good omens #good omens s2 #aziracrow #aziraphale #crowley #anthony j crowley #ineffable divorce #ineffable partners #ineffable husbands #air conditioning #valentines #al’s shitty valentines

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stevebabey · 5 months

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hi rubes!!! i was curious on ur thoughts on what a lazy sunday with steve would look like? esp if its one that like both ur day off and its smth that hasnt happened in a long time

hi angel!! sorry i sat on this one for awhile, i hope i made up for it by making it sooooo lovey dovey <3 0.8k, gn!reader

By some miracle, you're the first awake.

Steve is like a kind of sheep dog— he requires frequent exercise and so, he usually slips a run in the morning before you're even close to awake.

And also because of the shaggy hair and the way he seems to wag an invisible tail when all his favourite people are gathered in the same room, even going around and rounding them up, checking on everyone— Okay, you get the point, analogy over.

Actually, point is, you getting up before Steve like never happens.

Scratch that, you and Steve getting a day off to sleep in on the same day never happens. And even more, Steve very rarely skips his morning run because, y'know, sheep dog and all.

Basically, you figure this whole morning is a wondrous crafted little miracle. You have no plans to waste it.

Peering across your pillow, you watch the rise and fall of Steve's chest as he sleeps, your softened gaze roaming over his face gently. He looks younger in his sleep, pillowy lips parted lightly. His moles beg to be kissed. His hair is a mess. It's lost all its volume, lying flat against the pillow and urging you to run your fingers through it.

You ignore the urge in favor of slipping out from under the comforter. quiet as you can.

Steve's annoyingly good at spoiling you and is less than receptive to letting you return the sentiment. With one last glance back at bed, you let out a soft sigh, a honeyed noise, and head to the kitchen.

Steve's favourite mug is this wonky one that Dustin made once upon a time, some pottery class at one of his camps. You stare at it, glazed eyes taking in an alarmingly amount of detail on the cup, as the coffee brews behind you. Its scent wafts through the room. You've woken a dozen times to it, when it's Steve up and about, fixing a beverage for you.

It's cute, you think, that he still uses Dustin's mug for his coffee. By cute you mean, you can't think about it for too long or you'll stamp back down to the bedroom and kiss your boyfriend til your lips are blue and—

"Ooh, coffee?" Steve announces his presence with his words, partially garbled by his loud yawn. He halfheartedly covers his mouth, the hoodie he's haphazardly chucked on misaligned enough that it hangs over his hand adorably. He shuffles into the kitchen tiredly and despite his introduction, he heads right to you.

You can't resist a pout. Steve takes a moment to notice it, too happily distracted sidling up and worming his arms around your middle.

When he does, he tilts his head to the side. "What?"

"You couldn't let me bring it to you in bed?"

He grins. "I'm sorry. Was that the plan?"

"You know it was." You mumble grouchily, not upset at all. You push a hand into his chest, giving him a little shove. "You're always doin' this stuff for me but you don't ever let me do it for you."

Steve softens unbearably, his grin getting all gooey at the sides. He looks a little lovestruck, messy hair and all. It takes immense will to continue your upset facade. You nudge his chest again, your head inclining towards the bedroom.

"What?" His eyebrows jump, expression a mixture of incredulity and affectionate. "Y'want me to get back in bed? So you can come bring it to me?"

You smile, nudging his chest again and grinning when he starts to take a couple steps back, heading towards the bedroom. "Yes. Exactly that."

"You're absurd."

You poke your tongue out him. "You love it."

Steve moves forward abruptly, his hands cradling your face gently as he leans and steals a kiss from you. He retracts just as fast, looking far too pleased with himself.

"Yes, I do," He agrees, still wandering backwards. He disappears into your bedroom and you're left standing there with your own lovesick grin. God, you love him. Your heart feels like spun sugar in your chest, airy and sweet beyond relief.

To which Steve is no help at all when you walk into the bedroom, carefully holding the mug so it doesn’t spill. He's tucked back in bed, pretending to be asleep, only to wake with the grace of a Disney princess at your footsteps.

He faux yawns and pretends to jump at your presence, scampering to sit up in bed so he can accept the coffee from you. "Oh wow, what a surprise this is!"

"Shut up. You think you're soo funny, huh?" you mumble, handing the coffee over. Your aching smile gives away just how funny you think he is.

"Mmhm," Steve hums as he takes a sip. You've made it just the way he likes it. He parrots your earlier words. "You love it."

You lean in, mindful of the mug, and kiss him sweetly. He tastes of coffee and cream and he chases your lips for a second kiss when you pull back. You aim for tiredly amused but the words come out devastatingly sincere anyway. "Yeah, I do."

#ruby writes steve #steve harrington #steve x reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x gn!reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington x you #steve x you #i've recently learned that only the first 20 tags apply to the tags so im doing all my rambling at the end LMAO #im honestly treating these as writing exercises <3 #where i just sit down and do them all in one go #perfect timing for the oscars party photo of jk to come out #Thats my vision of bf steve <3 #enjoy!!!

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hotluncheddie · 3 months

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Sub Eddie Week 2024 Masterlist

🦷 Day 1: Accidental subspace: "Open Wide" | Ao3

wc: 1.5k | rated: M | tags: Sub Eddie Munson, pre relationship, oblivious Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington has a crush on Eddie Munson, non-sexual subspace, aftercare

🍰 Day 2: Cockwarming: "Puppy" | Ao3

wc: 1.5k | rated: E | tags: Sub Eddie Munson, established relationship, collar & leash, chubby Steve Harrington, thigh humping, food during sex, fingering

🦇 Day 3: 24/7 dynamic: "Angel" | Ao3

wc: 1.5k | rated: M | tags: Sub Eddie Munson, established relationship, kas!eddie, blood drinking, handjob

📸 Day 4: Edging: "Bi Freak" | Ao3

wc: 3.5 | rated: E | tags: Sub Eddie Munson, established relationship, bisexual Eddie Munson & Steve Harrington, mean dom Steve Harrington (kinda), degradation, sub top Eddie

🎸 Day 5: Possessive Steve: "Rockstar" | Ao3

wc: 1.7k | rated: E | tags: Sub Eddie Munson, established relationship, blowjobs, mention of exhibitionism

💝 Day 6: Bondage: "Like it" | Ao3

wc: 1.9k | rated: E | tags: Sub Eddie Munson, established relationship, rimming, pleasure dom Steve Harrington, chubby Eddie Munson, feederism kinks, public foreplay, humiliation kink

❤️‍🩹 Day 7: Daddy Steve: "Softly" | Ao3

wc: | rated: E | tags: Sub Eddie Munson, established relationship, soft dom Steve Harrington, anal sex, crying, pet names, Eddie Munson needs a hug

#;3 #so so fun!!!#enjoy!!!#hotlunch #my fic #sub eddie week #sub eddie munson #steddie #steve x eddie #steddie fic #<3 #subeddieweek

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greenishghostey · 2 years

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The Gang's All Here

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Summary: Your friends had told you on several occasions that still having stuffed animals on your bed at twenty years old would be a boner killer for your boyfriend. Luckily, your boyfriend made up elves and orcs on the regular. Some stuffed animals weren't gonna scare him off so easily.

Word Count: 4,979 (2,200 of this is the smut, im sorry)

Warnings: 18+ content MDNI, graphic smut, p in v, protected sex, face sitting/riding, enthusiastic pussy eating, fluffy smut, sort of sub!Eddie, extensive dirty talk, this guy cannot shut up ever, established relationship, enthusiastic consent (everyone's having a grand ol' time), a lot of affection, the stuffed animals don't watch, I think that's all please let me know if I missed anything!

Author's Note: Hi everyone, I wrote fluffy filthy again! This came from me seeing one of those Eddie + text post pictures saying, "she let me hit because I was polite to her squishmallows". That is why this exists. Please enjoy because this was so much fun to write! Also, I know that this definitely isn't an original idea, I think I've read fics similar to this but can't think of the exact ones right now. But, I know they're out there. DO NOT REPOST OR EDIT MY WORK

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Being 20 years old and still living with your parents in the sleepy town of Hawkins wasn’t anything to sniff at. Some people have to work a little after high school before packing up and moving anywhere else. It also helped that you had a boyfriend who was on his third try at senior year. He was a pretty cool reason to stick around your dull hometown. Eddie made it all a bit more colourful.

You and Eddie had been dating for a few months. You had been friendly in high school, but then he started flirting with you when he came into the grocery store. Eddie was a smooth talker when he wanted to be, and it had worked on you. He had knocked over a candy bar rack at your register but also had cleaned it all up. The sweetheart that he was.

Your relationship was great. It was adorable. It was intimate. It was healthy. You guys were best friends and told each other every little thing, regardless of how insignificant it may seem. Eddie told you about his passion for writing and about his family. You told him about your future plans beyond Hawkins - him hopefully being included - and your past and present knitting projects. He wanted a burgundy hat and scarf set for his birthday. A bobble hat was preferred - he wasn’t sure if those were hard to make, so he wasn’t too picky.

However, there was one thing that you had kept from Eddie. You had worked pretty hard to hide away this tiny part of yourself whenever he came to your house. Shoving the incriminating objects into a box at the back of your closet, even though it pained you to do so.

It was embarrassing to be 20 years old and still have a beloved little group of stuffed animals perched on your bed. Well, that’s what your friends had told you anyway. No guy would want to fuck a girl while a fluffy lizard, Reggie, from the Indianapolis zoo, is staring at him.

In addition to little Reg, there were three others. Woolia, a fleecy sheep that you got on your third birthday. Jules, a light blue dolphin with big shiny eyes. Finally, there was Mimi, a fluffy white unicorn that had been with you since birth.

The soft animals had been with you through thick and thin for the majority of your life. First days of school, homework meltdowns, the day you figured out what boys were. All of the essential milestones had been witnessed by their little plastic eyes. They were as much your family as your parents were.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to let Eddie know about them in any capacity. Hiding them away was a tedious task. If Eddie said he would pick you up from work, you’d shove them in the box before you left for your shift. If Eddie stopped by, you’d tell him you had to tidy your room before he could come in. He always laughed and insisted that he would be fine if your room were like a bomb site. He was too modest for his own good, but he still wasn’t seeing your fluffy little secrets.

You had just dragged yourself home from a, quite frankly, hellish evening shift. Your shift was supposed to finish at 9, but your manager had bitched at you enough to make you stay for an extra hour. Fridays from 5-8 were discount hours and the time frame when everyone came to buy their weekend booze. Older people were horrendous when their favourite beer brand was out of stock - like you had personally gone to the trouble of buying every pallet of the dishwater piss just to be annoying.

There was some Chinese takeout in the microwave for you since your parents had headed off to their respective night shifts at the hospital. You balanced two boxes - sesame chicken and chow mein - with a can of Pepsi in your arms as you dashed up the stairs to your bedroom. Fresh pyjamas were waiting for you, Eddie had lent you his copy of Fellowship of The Ring, and you were so ready to turn your brain off and-

“Honey, you’re home!” The chipper voice almost made you drop everything. A chill ran down your spine, and, honestly, you felt like you were going to start eroding away into the atmosphere from humiliation. Eddie was lounging on your bed, his waves splayed over your pillows, and soft animals moved carefully to be at his sides - two on each side, making sure no one felt left out. “What you got in the boxes? And can we share?”

You stood at the foot of your bed, taking in the weirdly domestic image in front of you, “why are you here?” you asked, voice sounding distant.

Eddie’s brows furrowed, and he began to sit up, “Should’ve asked first, knew I should’ve. Sorry, just thought it would be all romantic and shit, ya know.” He mumbled. Eddie looked very dejected. Had he overstepped a boundary? Did you want your alone time? God, he could be so dumb sometimes when it came to you.

Shaking your head, you moved to put down the takeout boxes and your bag, “No, no. Don’t worry,” you smiled, patting his thigh as you passed him, “just wasn’t expecting to see you all comfortable and cosy there with - with all that.”

“I am pretty comfy. These lil guys kept me company until you got back.” Eddie beamed, practically melting into your sheets and gesturing to your stuffed animals. Did he like them? He didn’t think it was weird that you still had them. Your expression showed that your mind was running a mile a minute when you really should be starting to relax. He knew that evening shifts were the pits for you. “How come I’ve never met the gang before?”

“The gang?” You snorted, pulling off your sports jacket and throwing it on your clothes chair, “I just thought it was a little kiddy to still have stuffed animals on my bed. Was worried you’d - I dunno.”

“Worried I’d what? You know who you’re talking to?” Eddie raised his eyebrows, fixing you with a look that made you squirm, “some fluffy little secrets aren’t gonna scare me off, promise.”

“You sure you don’t think they’re weird?” Your voice wasn’t more than a mumble as you sat down beside him on the bed, “the girls said they’re kind of a boner killer.”

Eddie’s eyes widened, and he started to wriggle his way over to you to lay his head in your lap. When he was in this type of mood - a big softie mood - you had to wonder why you thought he’d care about some stuffed toys. Those thoughts didn’t soothe your anxiety entirely, though; you would need to hear the confirmation from him - potentially in writing, for your own sanity. His big, molasses eyes stared up at you with a determined look. God, he was going to monologue in a minute, and it was going to be correct, and you would feel all mushy.

“I want names, place of origin, and lore if you got any,” Eddie stated, counting on each of his fingers to really hammer in his point and make it clear that he was interested. It warmed your heart in a way you hadn’t felt since your first date with him. Of course, the guy warmed your very soul on a near-daily basis. But when he showed just how much he cared, it made the butterflies in your stomach go haywire. “We’re starting with the sheep. Obviously. Give me the deets.” He picked up Woolia and placed her on his chest, arranging her hooves properly.

You couldn’t fight back the grin that spread from ear to ear. Your fingers gently carded through Eddie’s hair as you introduced him to the ‘gang’ “This is Woolia.”

Eddie barked out a laugh at the name, not in malice but in a combination of pride and pleasant surprise, “I never knew you were so creative, babe.”

“Shut up. Do you want the full run down or not?” You teased, flickering his forehead lightly until he stopped laughing. “As I was saying, I’ve had Woolia since I was 3. My grandma got her for me when she went to Wyoming.”

“A Wyomingite? Christ, it’s a good thing she’s cute.” Eddie grimaced, moving the small sheep from his chest and putting her back in her original place. He was so careful with her - you usually squished her in your sleep and woke up with her under your tailbone. “Green gecko dude next.”

Reggie was whisked from his spot and placed onto Eddie’s chest, now the introduction stage for your stuffed animals. You had been so concerned about being embarrassed if Eddie ever caught wind of them. Yet here he was, demanding all information on each of them individually.

“This is Reggie, short for Reginald Von Scales II,” you were interrupted by yet another loud chuckle from Eddie. He was having the time of his life - he might have to start asking you to help with character names for this campaign. “Yeah, I’m hilarious, I know. Anyway, I got Reggie when I was eight and went to the big zoo in Indianapolis with my parents. All the stuffed animals in the gift shop were begging to be taken home. My dad said since I was good, I could get anyone I wanted. Reggie was hidden at the back of a shelf, and I knew I had to get him when I saw him.”

Talking about the origins of these soft creatures was nostalgic and brought a warmness to your body that was relaxing. So many great memories were linked to the toys, and now you’d have a new one with Eddie there.

“Hey, he’s kinda like me! You could’ve had your pick of guys around here, but you chose little ol’ me.” Eddie enthused. He blinked his eyelashes up at you and wiggled his eyebrows - screw Woolia; it was a good thing he was cute. “You got me from the very, very back of the man shelf. Like, you must have been digging for some weird shit to get - well, this.” He gestured to himself.

Your gaze softened. He wasn’t “weird shit”. He wasn’t just any guy. Sure, he was pushed to the back of the line when it came to discussing eligible bachelors around Hawkins, but he was all yours now. That’s all that mattered. “I’ve got specific, immaculate taste, and I’ll be damned if it wasn’t being met.” You stated matter of factly.

“Aw, you always know how to make a dude swoon.” Eddie sighed dreamily. Christ, he was a mushy idiot. If anyone saw him like this, his reputation would be in the toilet. “Reggie is the running for the favourite. Let’s see what blue boy here can bring to the table.” Eddie made the switch between Reggie and Jules, the extra soft dolphin.

“Jules is just… Jules. Got both boy and girl vibes, if I’m honest.” You explained, shrugging at Eddie, who nodded in understanding, “Got them in a thrift store with my mom when I was five, I think? Another case of a toy sitting on a shelf and me deciding to call forever dibs.”

A giddy smirk appeared on Eddie’s face, “you’ve got a thing for picking up strays, huh?” He was wiggling his eyebrows again, so you flicked his forehead again.

“Stop acting like you’re some flea-infested cat. I’ll get mad.” You huffed, trying your best to sound genuinely stern with him, but it definitely didn’t work. You ran your thumb across his knuckles as he started poking Jules’ squishy head.

Eddie took hold of your offered hand and kissed the back of it, “fine, I’ll quit bad-mouthing your man.”

“Thank you very much. Now, onto Mimi.”

“I did save the unicorn for last,” You knew that. If there was anything to do with the high fantasy genre, Eddie would be all over it. Even the pretty magic horses.

“She is the oldest of the bunch. Been perched by those pillows since before I can remember.” You informed, fixing a stray tuft of hair on her bright mane. “My mom has a ton of photos of me carrying her around everywhere.”

Eddie looked at the unicorn toy with a distinct fondness, a soft smile and an even softer gaze.

“What’s got you all smiley?”

“Nothin’, that’s just really sweet, is all. Mimi’s had your back forever.” You didn’t know if you wanted to kiss or smother him with a pillow. He was too fucking adorable when he was like this.

“I guess she has, yeah.” You breathed, running your fingers through Eddie’s hair again, “What do you think of the gang then?”

“Big, big fan. I think Reg is my favourite. He’s got that underdog vibe going on, which I respect.” Eddie leaned over and tried to give the gecko plush a fist bump with his finger.

You weren’t sure what came over you. A warmth had been stirring inside you since Eddie put his head on your lap and was polite to your stuffed animals. He listened closely and handled them like they were valuable to him too. The intimacy of this whole situation was not lost on you. If anything, you were far too aware of it. Eddie loved you and your quirks the same way you loved him and his.

You bit your bottom lip slightly and turned to glance down at the blissful man in your lap.

“C’mere a sec,” Eddie said, leaning up on his elbows. You knew what “c’mere” meant, so you let Eddie place one of his hands on the back of your head, bringing your lips together. The kiss was so sweet. The usual saccharine kisses that the town’s resident satan worshipper was a big fan of laying on you at any opportunity. Eddie’s lips were always soft as his kiss became firmer.

He pulled away by a hair to sit back against your pillows and guided you to straddle his thighs before diving back into your waiting, wanting mouth. You were hungrier for him now. The warmth in your stomach was being fueled as Eddie ran his hands up your thighs to rest of your ass. Feeling the fat and groaning when you shifted your hips - your ass and thighs drove the poor guy mad, and you loved it.

Your eyes opened slightly to make sure you closed your bedroom door but made contact with Mimi's big, black plastic eyes. Quickly, you pulled away from Eddie with heaving pants. It felt like torture to let him go at that moment. The stiff bulge of his cock pressing into your clothed cunt. Yeah, the gang was going to have to move - and move quickly.

“Wait, wait, Eddie,” You panted, clambering off his lap.

“What? You good? Did I get the wrong hole?” Eddie rambled, sitting up abruptly and looking more than a little frazzled. He was all rosy cheeks and glossy eyes, and he had to ruin it by thinking it’d simulated anal. So charming.

“No, you’d know if you’d done that, trust me,” You said as you gently placed your plush friends on the carpet, far away from your bed and facing the wall. It wasn’t a comfortable position, but they would have to deal with it while you rode your boyfriend until he screamed.

“Ah. You don’t want an audience, I gotcha,” Eddie nodded, winking at you from his spot on your bed. Satisfied with the gang’s relocation, you turned back to Eddie, pulling off your work shirt and getting to work on your jeans.

Eddie quickly got the hint and nearly ripped his baseball tee while trying to get it over his head fast enough. His belt was launched somewhere in your room as he opened his arms to welcome you back onto his lap. Your hungry mouth again devoured his in a wet kiss, full of groans and rapid breaths. Eddie made quick work on your bra, having become intimately acquainted with this particular nude one. It was an old faithful that you didn’t want him to see as much as he did, but that’s just how getting naked seemed to go for you both.

You threw yourself onto the mattress beside Eddie and started to claw at your jeans to get them off. Eddie followed suit as you were both in a tangle of legs and denim, fidgeting desperately to get that glorious skin-to-skin contact.

Once down to your underwear, you grabbed Eddie’s head and pulled him in so you could lick, kiss and nibble at his pulse point. He really loved it when you got grabby and roughed him up a little. The lack of control over your own strength had his cock twitching in his boxers.

“Can we do that thing, please?” You sighed, running your fingers up and down Eddie’s chest. Fuck, you were sweating and close to humping your cunt into Eddie’s erection - chasing friction that only he could give you.

Eddie moaned when your fingertips grazed his nipples, his darkened eyes struggling to say open, “Which one? There’s a couple. We can do anything you want, babe.” You could punch him, kick him or rip his hair out right now and he’d be so cool with it.

Eddie was finally getting to experience heaven. The god squad of Hawkins would be so jealous of him. You wrapped your legs around his waist and rolled him onto his back with a bounce, pinning him and shooting him a toothy grin.

“Me riding you. Everywhere. Face, cock. Sound like a plan?” You chirped, wiggling your hips how he liked it. Faking some innocence in the moment was too fun to pass up. Plus, riling Eddie up was a surefire way to make him lose his mind in the best ways.

Eddie nodded so fast he almost gave himself whiplash, “Amazing idea. God, my lady’s so smart.” He grabbed the backs of your thighs and pulled you towards his head while he shifted his body down the bed. Eating your cunt was one of Eddie’s favourite pastimes, but it was so much better when you rode his face and used him to get yourself off.

You had forgotten to pull your panties off before straddling your boyfriend’s head. Usually, this would have led to you fiddling and contorting yourself to get them off.

Not today, though. Eddie just grabbed the lace trim, yanked them to the side, so they bit into your ass cheek and shoved his face into your dripping cunt.

“Fuck yes, thank you,” Eddie groaned before licking and sucking your clit. He was like a man starved as he groped and massaged your ass, making sure you wouldn’t hold back on him.

You let your head lull back as your mouth opened in a silent moan, your hips beginning to grind and ride his full lips and hot tongue. The wet, sloppy sounds of Eddie, essentially making out with your hole and clit brought a feral smile to your face. God, he always made you smile so big that your face hurt in the best way.

Eddie started shaking his head between your legs, his tongue circling your hole before returning to flicking your puffy, needy clit.

“Still can’t believe you let me do this,” Eddie sighed, saliva and your wet covering his flushed lips, “‘m I making you feel good, sweetheart?”

Your moans were getting louder and more hoarse as Eddie started to move your hips himself, urging you to use him. You loved when he talked like that - his tongue, his lips, his voice. His mouth was everything.

“Y-Yes, yes. You really want me to drench your pretty face, huh?” You giggled, sweet sighs of ecstasy huffing from your throat. Eddie whined while his tongue fucked you. “Pretty, pretty boy - fuck, please.”

“Shit - yeah, you taste fucking incredible. Gimme it all, babe, ah fuck.”

Eddie doubled down his efforts. Straining his neck a little to fuck up into you with more force and precision. You were leaking down his chin and making yourself all sticky. A blissful state, full of love and affection. Eddie huffed a laugh on your cunt as he saw the dreamy smirk on your lips.

Groaning, whining, cursing. You two must have sounded like animals in heat as the springs in your mattress started to bounce and squeak. The room was that familiar warm - cosy, somewhat comfortable sweat and the smell of sex.

Eddie forced your cunt down more onto his face. He would gladly suffocate right then and there. He needed your cum before you rode him because he knew he wouldn’t last long. Eddie liked the mess; it was filthy and made him feel so alive. But the lady has to finish first, and then you keep going until she nearly rips your damn head off. Eddie got that tip from a magazine one time.

“Christ, you’re so so good - fuck, Eddie, your mouth!” You growled. You tended to make much deeper sounds when you were close. Eddie felt like he was going to blow his load in his boxers. “Just a little m-more.”

“Uh huh, uh huh,” Eddie chanted wetly, “Please - soak my pretty face.”

That did it.

Your hands knotted further into Eddie’s sweaty hair and gripped it like a lifeline as you wailed your release. He always liked when you pulled his hair. It made his eyes roll back in such a beautiful way. That was no different now. Big brown eyes were glazed over as they rolled into Eddie’s skull; you could feel a smug smile on his face. You gave him all of you, just like he wanted. You were the fucking best.

You moved down Eddie’s torso in panting silence to straddle him again. You couldn’t wait for him to get his boxers off entirely, so you pulled them down enough for his swollen cock to slap against his stomach. It had become a talent of yours to make quick yet effective work of getting a condom on. Eddie fucking you raw was going to be on the table at some point, just not tonight. Too risky.

Fuck, he felt like he was going to scream or melt or just-

There was a distinct, sloppy slap. Followed by two even louder cries of pleasure. You knew that Eddie would slip inside you without any resistance. You needed him too much.

“Oh, sweetheart, you’re spoiling me today.” Eddie giggled, staring up at you through heavy lids. “Do I get all this because I was friendly with the gang?” He settled back into your pillows and basked in the warm embrace of your cunt.

You mewled at the feeling of being so full - it may have sounded shallow, but you loved his cock so goddamn much. “You were just so damn polite to ‘em. It’s hot seeing you be all sweet and caring.”

“They’re important to you, ‘course I’m gonna be polite.” Eddie laughed. “They’ve taken care of you for ages, and now it’s my job to help out, right?” He smoothed his thumbs across your hips.

“Eddie…” you sighed, caressing his face. His dreamy, beautiful, smug face. He was just so good to you and to the world. It always hurt that you were one of the few who truly understood that he had a heart of gold, in addition to being a weirdo. But he was your weirdo. “Love ya, Munson.”

After your tooth-rotting words reached his ears, you started to grind down onto his stiff length. Eddie couldn’t do much, but he groaned in agreement with you. He never knew how good being ridden could feel without any bouncing. Sure, he adored when you bounced on his cock, chasing your high and fueling his, but there was a sensuality to the circle of your hips. The sight of you making his cock massage your g-spot was one he wanted to be tattooed behind his eyelids.

“How you doing down there, sweetheart?” You smiled, alternating between bouncing and swivelling. He had to give him some form of reward, “please soak my face,” that was such a good line. Damn, he was good.

Eddie let out a shaky groan and stared at where his cock disappeared into your cunt. When you called him sweetheart, he didn’t know what to do with himself. The flush that covered his upper body was rosy and fiery. “Fabulous as always.” He chuckled and shot you a bright grin. “I really don’t tell you enough how much I love your pussy. And she loves me.”

“You’re so weird,” You snorted, running your hands through the sparse hair on his chest. “She’s gonna care really good care you.”

Eddie started to wonder if god finally decided to smile down on him as you started to ride him properly. The wet squelch of fucking filled his ears alongside your beautiful laughs and moans. He could see the slick from your cunt on his throbbing cock as you moved. Watching you in your element, so happy, on top of him, was hypnotic. Eddie would never cease to be mesmerised by you and your body. He began to thrust his hips up to meet your carefully curated rhythm.

Your head fell back, and your jaw swung open when you met at the perfect angle, at the perfect time. “Oh. My god - yeah, yes, Ed-” you called out. You were so happy that both of your parents had taken night shifts.

Eddie’s thrust began more forceful, faster, as he moved to push his feet into your mattress for leverage. He was a sweaty, whining mess under you, but he was still going to try and do a little bit of the work. “Uh huh, use me. Fuck, fucking shit - cum on me again.” He was rambling like a horny maniac, smiling like one too. He was having the time of his life. A pretty lady who loved him and had cute stuffed animals was riding him until he wanted to scream. What more could a dude ask for?

“Don’t stop - don’t stop talking. Fuck.” Yeah, you were losing your mind. Sex with Eddie always came with a satisfaction guarantee, but it was his dirty mouth that sealed the deal for you most of the time. “Does my pussy feel good?”

The harsh slapping of his balls hitting your ass richoted off the walls. Eddie wasn’t going to be lasting much longer by any means. “So - so good. She’s leaking all over me, such a good girl.”

Now he was just trying to be annoying. It was working very well.

“Am I a good girl too?” You groaned, lightly gripping Eddie’s jaw so he could look you in the eye. The pace of your fucking had reached its peak. How you were still speaking in sentences was a mystery. Eddie was hitting your g-spot at the best angle and slipping deeper inside you every time you slammed your hips down.

“Yeah, f-fuck. But, you’re a woman too.” Eddie slurred, loving the feeling of you keeping his eyes fixed on you. His left hand moved between you to rub your swollen clit in fast circles. Again, sensuality is what really did it for him. He would call you a good girl until he was blue in the face. But it was the fact that you were a full woman that warmed his blood - and his heart. All soft body, whispy hair everywhere, and markings on your skin showing how you’d grown into the person he got to love. “Mine,” he whined the word like prayer.

“‘M your woman, huh?” This was going to be over soon, but you needed a few more words out of him. “Then you’re my man, all mine.” You leaned down to whisper straight into his ear, followed by a long lick up the column of his throat - tasting the salty sweat dripping off of him.

“Oh, oh god - yeah, ‘m yours, baby.” Eddie grabbed the back of your head and pulled you into a scolding kiss. All tongue and saliva, but neither of you cared. This is always how it went. Right when you were both on the precipice of orgasm, start making out furiously. His cock was pounding into you, trying to mould your puffy walls to the shape of him. Eddie could feel his heart hammering and his eyes rolling back - he was almost there and so were you.

“All. Yours.” Eddie punctuated each word with a hard, impossibly deep thrust. Then he was a goner. Shooting ropes of cum into the condom and moaned like a girl in the porn he watched sometimes.

You could feel the pulsing heat of him in your stomach. His nimble fingers were still focused on your clit. He always knew how to make you melt. So, melt you did. The world exploded into white, and you screamed into Eddie’s neck as your orgasm shook your body.

The aftershocks of bliss left you both shaky and panting like you had run a marathon. You had already collapsed on Eddie’s chest as he started rubbing your scalp with his calloused fingers - the added roughness provided a good scratch. Your heart was hammering like his, each keeping pace with the other in the afterglow of that near-religious experience. You snuggled into his touch and trailed your fingers down the bridge of his nose, feeling his beauty and memorising the dips and peaks of his face - for what may have been the hundredth time.

Eddie shifted to catch your wandering hand and covered it in small pecks up to your wrist. “So, you got any more members of the gang to introduce? I’d love an audience with a penguin if I’m being honest.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #fic #smut #fluff #my writing #yeah this is actual filthy #or at least the best im capable of at the moment #enjoy!!!

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watchyourbuck · 8 months

Note

“Is this… turning you on?” if it sparks joy 👀👀👀 xx

Buck was a little shit.

He kept shoving the whole spoonful inside his mouth and licking it clean, swirling his tongue around it like nobody’s business.

Drops of ice cream were spilling over the corner of his mouth, and going down his chin, to which he simply made throaty little sounds to, before wiping them off with the back of his hand.

Yeah, Buck was a little shit because he knew exactly what he was doing.

From across the table, Eddie stared at him with god given patience, breathing heavily and following his every move.

He had made him promise him that he wouldn’t touch him. That he’d only watch.

Thing is, they weren’t alone.

Submerged in menial conversation, Bobby, Hen and Chimney filled the rest of the seats around them. They barked and laughed and told stupid little jokes Eddie couldn’t bring himself to laugh at.

Somehow, none of them had realized something was off — except for Buck, of course, who was on his second bowl of Ben & Jerry’s.

“That’s what I said to him– ‘do you even work here?’, and he started panicking!”

Out of context, Chim’s words made no sense, but even if Eddie was uh, focused on something else, he was well aware that they were all making fun of their new probie.

“We should cut him so slack,” said their Captain, fooling absolutely no one. “We don’t want the guy to hate us.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, his gaze flickering only for a second to where Bobby sat, clutching his belly in laughter. Ravi was probably terrified of them all by now.

With a mild clink, Buck attracted Eddie’s attention back to him. He had an eyebrow raised, and he was frozen in the middle of his performance, waiting for his man to concentrate.

Eddie’s ears turned red. He glanced at their friends before straightening up in his seat, trying his best to hide the hand he was using to adjust himself every couple of minutes.

“I’m pretty sure he thought I was a man,” said Hen, to which Chimney doubled over himself to in silent laughter. “He saw me from behind!”

“How- how did he- ? Oh my god,” cackled Bobby, barely getting through the sentence. A tear was forming on the corner of his eye.

They hadn’t laughed like this in a minute.

In hindsight, Eddie would have loved to be a part of the conversation but Buck wouldn’t let up.

The tip of his tongue was now expertly tracing the metal, and although his head was turned to the side, his eyes were still on Eddie.

Dear god. This man was a monster.

Eddie closed his own, exhaling carefully. Both his hands were on his knees, turning white from the grip he had on them. He couldn’t let his will be broken. Not like this, not so embarrassingly easily.

He looked up, only to find the spoon had been replaced by one of Buck’s fingers. His index.

Don’t think about it, don’t think about it- isn’t that the one he uses to open you up?

Jesus fucking Christ.

Buck smirked, withdrawing his finger from his mouth with a low pop, specifically made so only Eddie could hear. “Is this… turning you on?” he mouthed, the words trapped in the back of his throat.

Eddie wasn’t the best lip reader, but that he got. “You’re an animal,” he mouthed back, short of panting on the table.

Buck smiled, a little too brightly. He pushed the bowl away from him, earning himself the attention of their friends. “Okay, I think Eddie and I have uh-, a pending discussion. If you’ll excuse us.”

With that, he stood up. He must’ve known his words were as suggestive as they got, but he didn’t seem to care. He looked at Eddie and let out a small ‘c’mon’, before extending his hand to him.

Bracing himself, Eddie mimicked his moves, standing — bent forward, of course, as he didn’t want to poke anyone in the eye —, then grabbing his hand with more need than he wanted to admit.

Hen scrunched up her face. “Guys, c’mon,” she sighed, covering her face with her hands.

Like a child, Chimney made a disgusted noise before averting his eyes.

Buck chortled, leading Eddie around the table, and pushing him so he’d walk in front of him. He let go of his hand to put both of them on Eddie’s hips, prompting him to move.

“Buck, we talked about this!” Bobby yelled, his voice following them as they made their way down the stairs. “Don’t use the firetruck!”

Buck laughed, jumping the last step. He pulled Eddie into the locker room by the collar of his shirt, but not before shouting back. “Yes, Cap!”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

please take this as my Tease Tidbit Tuesday!

tagged by @thewolvesof1998 @jamespearce9-1-1 @daffi-990 @wikiangela @giddyupbuck @callmenewbie @lover-of-mine & @hippolotamus thank you all so much! I’ll get to each one of your works shortly💗

tagging in return @eddiebabygirldiaz @spagheddiediaz @malewifediaz @your-catfish-friend @mattsire @fionaswhvre @buckleyobsessed @disasterbuckdiaz @wildlife4life @smilingbuckley @housewifebuck @bucksbirthmark @firemedicdiaz @steadfastsaturnsrings @theotherbuckley @evanbegins @butraura @loserdiaz @jeeyuns & @eddie---diaz let me know if you wish to be removed!✨

#Tease Tidbit Tuesday #I’m gonna pretend I didn’t already do this prompt bc this just popped in my head ajdjdjdjs #enjoy!!!#buddie #911 fox #911 #eddie diaz #evan buckley #911 tv show #evan buck buckley #buck x eddie #buck and eddie #911 abc #buddie 911 #911 buddie #buddie ficlet #buddie fanfic #buddie fanfiction #buddie wip

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velvet-paradox · 1 year

Text

Intense

Fandom: Sleep Token (Band) Pairing: Vessel x Female reader x III Length: Long Summary: Your eepy roommates suggest they can help you out. Warnings: NSFW 18 + ONLY, LISTEN UP PUNK I know what I'm about ok and I shouldn't even have to to explain this but for ffs this is for funsies, fictional purposes only. I don't know these British men and I don't claim to! But am I having an absolute ball listening to them everyday day since I heard Dark Signs??? Absolutely. I have not and will not know peace on Earth ever again so with that being said... my lizard brain wants to shoot my shot and get sandwiched between Vessel and III (purely based off their on stage personas) and I'm pretty sure all us worshippers would enjoy kneeling and begging for forgiveness for all the eepy guys. DON'T LIE TO ME; I'll know. ;) One late night thot lead us down this path so here ya' go, we've got: strong language, explicit content, MFM relations, polyamorous activities, kissing, oral (m receiving), p in v, protected sex, unprotected sex (don't do it!), double vaginal, dirty talking, creampie III is a mess, Vessel is along for the ride and you're indulging in the spoils of detailed smut. Tagging: @synnersaint my ride or die

ENJOY!!!

You stare at the red numbers on the clock next to your bed. You blink.

Unfortunately unfazed by the hum-drum pace and the position you've found yourself in.

Ugh, how did this happen again?

The man on top of you, circling his hips against your own, balls deep in your cunt should be fun, exciting, a turn-on at least but you just laid there, once again, taking it but not getting anything out of it. You faked it the last three times just to get him to get off you, out of your apartment and out the door so you could finish yourself off with some post nut clarity. Which is what you should've done in the first place.

The first time you had sex with him, you chalked it up to nerves. It'd been a few months for him and a bit longer for you at this point. The second time you excused it as you did go out for drinks earlier in the night and the last one was just plain awful. No foreplay, bit your neck too hard and pretty much gave you a titty-twister which was not fun; at all.

But he's nice! And funny, easy to talk to you and here you are, making more excuses for a man who can't even get you off. This is just pathetic, girl.

You felt bad faking your enthusiasm but even as you moved in unison with him, hearing him huff and grate out oh my fucking god for the fifth time, he didn't even have a clue.

So you dialed it up, two more minutes had passed with him just thrusting inside you, he didn't even notice you weren't as wet as before. What a fucking disaster.

You sighed and made your O face, biting your lip and holding his waist, the slapping of skin sped up briefly before he pulled out with a groan of your name, panting as he jerked himself, tore off the condom and came on the inside of your thigh.

Fucking finally.

Your date was quick to get dressed, mentioning something about an early shift change. He gave you chaste kiss on the corner of your mouth, cupping your face as an afterthought as you followed him out of your bedroom.

"I'll text you when I get home. I-- oh!"

You bounced against his back, stunned as to why he's just stopped like that when you peer around his frame. There on the couch in your living room sat your roommates.

"Oh my-- what are you guys doing home?" You asked, frantically looking between the two sober faces and their luggage by the front door. Well more like the painted chin of one and the eyes of the other. You were hyperaware of the drying cum on your leg and crossed your fingers and toes they didn't hear your activities or what remained to be seen.

"We live here, remember?" Vessel waved one of his hands, III nodding along.

"When you said you had roommates I just assumed they were other girls." Your bedfellow side talked to you as to not alert your boys.

"Is that a problem?" You asked.

"No I just uh," he looked at III when he stood, an attempt to intimidate. "It's fine um... I'll call you."

"Well that was rude," Vessel announced, joining his brother after he left. "Didn't even introduce himself."

"He won't be around for long. I wouldn't worry about it." You dryly chuckled before embracing both of them. Vessel cupped the back of your head, pressing his chin into your hair before letting III swoop you up in his gangly arms and gave you two solid spins. "Put me down! You reek."

"Ah, the mask has seen better days I'm afraid. Can't wait to get a hot shower and something in my belly. Road livin' ain't what its' cracked up to be, ya' know?" III admitted.

"Um, let me get changed and I'll make you guys some food," you jogged out of the living room, calling over your shoulder. "Lord knows what you boys eat on the road!" ....

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," You paused the movie and turned to face Vessel on the chaise lounge part of the couch, long limbs sprawled out, ankles crossed and rocking. "What's up?"

Vessel twisted his painted mouth before asking an out of pocket question. "Why do you torture yourself?"

Taken aback you wondered what he meant and crossed your legs. "What? What do you mean?"

"I think you know what I mean." When you showed your genuine confusion, he sat up. "Your little boy toy. Not that III and I have been cheeky little perverts and eavesdropping on your late night escapades but... we can't help but be concerned. Either you're a silent climaxer, some people are and that's totally fine and we're bold to assume or your partner isn't doing it right."

"Excuse me?"

"We've only been home a few weeks and we've heard him far more than we've heard you," Vessel explained, ignoring your anxious fidgeting and cuticle picking. "What we have heard though, is a lot of buzzing after your friend leaves."

Oh. My. God.

Your heart is hammering in your chest, desperate to get out of, out of your body and on the run. Blood pounds in your ears at the audacity of this whole conversation. Your roommates have heard you getting off, know you have toys, know your friends with benefits is lacking the benefits part and that you'd not been taken care of. You wished it was still cooler out and you could grab the usual throw off the back of the couch and hide away underneath.

"What are you guys talkin' about?" III popped in, holding a glass of chocolate milk, an absurdly long and coiled straw was hidden beneath his mask as he sucked dramatically.

Vessel smirked. "Oh just Y/N and how her new beau can't get her off."

"Oh finally! I've been dying for this conversation," III exclaimed and excited plopped down next to Vessel, scooching closer and leaning forward as he drank some more. "So what gives? Give us the goods."

"I don't... he knows what he's doing, it's just--"

"It's just he's bad at it." III giggled.

"I can get off, okay?"

"Yeah, we know that. Just not with him."

"I... fine. It might not even be him you know," you tried. "Maybe it's me. Maybe I can't get out fast enough."

Vessel quirked his mouth. "Get out of what exactly?"

"My own head. I think too much, you know that. I need to feel everything in order to shut my brain off and not worry about how many loads of laundry I need to do, when I need to switch out my sheets, did I pick up my towel in the bathroom? What should I have for lunch tomorrow."

The boys looked between themselves, shrugging and looking bewildered. "You... you think about all that stuff all while having sex?" III snorted and shook his head. "You're a madwoman, you know that?"

"I'm trying not to think of those things!"

"That's what I was afraid of," Vessel took III's now finished drink away from him and set it down. "If you want, we could help you out. Save you the trouble and the energy and uh, some battery power."

You chuckled. "You're joking. You two are gonna' help me out."

"Just say the word and we belong to you," Vessel crooned, licking his top lip. The pink of his tongue was such a juxtaposition to he obsidian black that covered his face, his arms and hands, his body. "This could be a one time deal, if it's not up to your standards, we don't have to mention it ever again or... it could be a three times a week sort of thing."

"Three times a week?!" You screeched.

"That's up to you."

....

"So uh have you guys like... done this before?" Your voice doesn't even sound like your own, shaky, breathy, uneven and higher pitched. You pointed between the duo and yourself. You hadn't but your incognito search history might say you've looked at it a few times.

They admitted their deep rooted feelings about you. Your stomach flipped for Vessel's breathy pet name of Duchess, your toes curled for III's Sweetness.

With the way they looked at you, you couldn't even remember his name at this point.

Vessel shrugged. "Just with you."

"Just me?" You balked, you knew the guys were close, sometimes skin tight so to find out they'd not acted out was stunning and a major green light. "Oh um, I'm flattered. iI think."

"You should be. III isn't much of a talker, speaks his mind when need be."

"Unless its' dirty." III piped up with a shrug of his own, with the way his eyes wrinkled you could tell he was all smiles under that mask.

"A little tact there, brother!" Vessel scolded him, giving a backhand to his arm. "Don't scare her off."

"What? She should know. You should know. I am dripping with sin."

"III!"

"What? We're all adults here, right? An' we're talking about fucking each other so who cares?! And she might even like it. Do you like dirty talk, sweetness?" III asked with a tilt of his head.

"Uh I um... I. Well..."

"Do you," III stood and got closer, much closer, swaying his way to close the gap between you. He stood with his legs on the outside of your own. He tilted his head the opposite way and kept his eyes trained your face, the heat from the eye contact made you hot. His painted thumb touched your chin. "Like that?"

You'd never felt this kind of intimacy, this heightened level of attraction and arousal and it made you nervously laugh at the thought that it was radiating off your friends like a fucking forest fire.

You swallowed. "Yes."

"Aha! Knew it. Those pretty eyes and that fucking mouth are hiding plenty of secrets, yeah?" III pointed, that thumb of his traced along your jaw before pushing gently on the underside, making you look all the way up at him.

If they wanted to play, you thought, I guess... let's play.

"Maybe."

"Oh! Now we're getting somewhere," III chuckled and looked over at Vessel before touching your shoulder, moving the strap of your sleep shirt back and forth. His hands were hot, scorching your skin as he touched the light fabric. "Should I undress you or should you undress me? Or maybe Vessel wants to unwrap us both. What do you think?"

"I think--" your throat constricted before keeping his ardent eye contact. "I think I want to undress you first."

III liked that idea, he wiggled his shoulders and raised his arms. "I'm all yours, mama."

....

His hoodie is the first thing to go, floating down to the floor. A black compression shirt separates flesh and bone, it comes off easily over his head. He's only half painted there. You can see streaks of his skin, soft and smooth, hidden from view. His stomach tightens when you trail your hand down his chest, foreign to your hands.

"I think about you, ya' know? Not to be pervy or bold but... you are the prettiest thing we've ever seen."

His compliments make you warm, you clench around nothing.

He suddenly grabs your hand and moves it higher. "Feel that. You make my heart fuckin' pound like crazy. The first time I saw you in that green sundress, you know, the one with the little daises on it... fuck me," III admitted and dramatically bit his fist. "I've never been so hard in my life!"

You know the dress in question. It's hanging in the front of your closet. Guess it'll be making a debut and turn III on once again.

"Oh yeah? Well maybe next time I wear it... I won't wear anything underneath."

III made the deepest of groans, moving your hand down his ribs while he undid his belt. "Fuckin' hell, don't tease me woman."

"You don't like that?"

"I like it too much! That's the problem."

His zipper was so fucking loud, it cut through the room like a hot knife. Smooth and seamless, even Vessel had to clear his throat. You looked over at him on the chaise, legs wide spread, lithe arms outstreatched over the back cushions. With three separate eye holes in his mask, it was hard to tell where he was looking but in this moment you felt them boring straight into your own.

"Keep going," he hummed and visibly bit his lip. " 'm enjoying the show."

With III was just in his boxers, it was your turn. Your disrobing would be a lot quicker as you were in a light pajama set and crew socks. You mmiiced III and raised your arms above your head, his nimble fingers danced over your sides, dragging the material up and over your head. He tossed to Vessel, who out of your peripheral, had inhaled your scent on it. He did the same with your shorts. The rush of cool fan air make your skin prickle, your clit throbbed when you fully noticed the outline of III's cock. Jesus.

III got on his knees and lifted one your feet, gripping your ankle.

"No. Keep them on." Vessel spoke, pushing himself up off the couch and sauntered over to you, fully nude and on display. He embraced your face, pressing his forehead to yours before slinking behind III when he stood.

Vessel's painted arms looped around III's, locking them behind his back. III made a noise.

"Take him out," Vessel instructed with a low gasp. "Take him out and see what you do to him. Same as what you do to me. Hell, all of us, duchess."

ALL OF US?!

Before you got on your own knees, you touched III's hips, hooking your thumbs just beneath the fabric and dragged them down. His cock made the softest and prettiest thud against his lower belly. Your eyes bounced from their faces, down to his leaking cock and back again.

"He wasn't lying," Vessel chuckled, his chin now draped over III's shoulder. You met his eyes. "You make him rock fuckin' hard, love. Want her to take all o' that? Nah... you need her to take care of that, don't you?"

"Fuck yes." III whined. "Please."

"How are you gonna' help our good boy, love?"

III shook before your even touched him, you on your knees before him was enough to have him looking frantic. Completely at your and Vessel's mercy, you took him in your hand first, getting familiar with his length before dipping your head in worship, opening your mouth. You hesitated for the briefest of moments before angling him deeper and further into your mouth.

It was a good thing Vessel was holding him up because you felt and saw III's knees wobble once you got your stride, gliding your hands up and around his thighs, arching closer with your fingers reaching his ribcage. Your palms against his skin felt every twitch, every jolts, every fucking sigh. The noise that strangled out from his throat when you dragged your nails down his stomach had you clenching around absolutely nothing.

"That's it, you're doing such a good job, love bug. Atta' girl, get 'em off real good, yeah?"

"Yeah yeah, fuck yeah," III whined and bucked his hips, "Your mouth feels so fucking good. Suckin' me off real sweet, mama. Give it to me."

"She's good with that mouth, hmmm?"

"Oh fuck V...wait 'til she oh shit, right there-- wait 'til she's gaggin' on you. O-oh my God."

When III took the Lord's name in vain it sounded so sweet in comparison to your other lover. You could feel yourself getting wetter, more powerful than you ever had with him. You took their words of praise, locked them in a little safe in the back of your mind for safe keeping.

"You're lucky I don't shove your ass out of the way then." Vessel teased and III mewled with delight.

....

III made grabby hands at you, wiggling his fingers as he laid out on the chaise part of the couch. He wiggled, tapped and pointed towards his mouth too.

When you climbed on top of him, his arms engulfed you, bringing you chest to chest. You kissed his face over his mask, startled when he suddenly pulled the chin part of it up to his nose and kissed you for real. You whined and kissed him back harder and faster, tasting his mouth, licking inside of it. He smacked and grabbed your ass, groaning against your lips.

"You two are fuckin divine," Vessel breathed, shouldering off his robe finally, unzipping his own jeans. "Fuckin’ hell, what a sight."

You turned your head to his silky voice, watching him stroke himself.

You were in big fucking trouble.

III nipped your arm. "Want you. I want you so fucking badly. Think it'll fit? Think you can take it?"

You took a breath and held his cock, hot and ready against your pussy. Rocking against the crown, splitting your lips to ready you for him. You licked your lips and lowered down on it, your mouth instantly opening. "Fuck yes."

"Good God!"

"Shit... a little more, love and you'll take him all the way in. That's it." Vessel cooed and pet your head, then your face. "Kiss him again."

With his heavy hand on your head you kissed III tongue first, the sounds of you two kissing had Vessel praising both of you, leaving him breathless.

III grabbed your hips, rolling and fucking up into you, breathing you in.

You and III stilled at the sudden dip of the couch.

Vessel's hand on your shoulder, his other ghosted and trailed over III's mask and vulnerable chin and mouth behind you. He lost it at that, whimpering against your cheek, a new flood of arousal coating your walls.

"Just relax pretty girl. We've got you, we got you."

"What are you--"

Vessel's thick fingers reached around your front, pressing and swirling down around your clit. "We're both gonna' fit. Just remember to breathe for us, ok?"

Holy shit. This was intense.

III's arm surged up and over your shoulder to touch Vessel, ghosting over his naked hip, gripping his bare skin.

"I've got you both. Trust me."

It was your idea to lift up, empty of III only to arch and take a deep push of Vessel. You frowned and touched III's face when Vessel pulled completely out. You both gasped when he spat. III squirmed and whined, the sudden intrusion of Vessel lining them both up against your hole, wedging their cocks inside you.

It didn't necessarily hurt, more pressure than anything and for fucks sake, you'd never felt so full in your life.

"Fuck V! Give us a warning, holy fuck." III breathed when the frontman started to rock and move. After a few minutes of fucked out bliss, it seemed like Vessel was fucking III through your body.

He smeared his face along your spine, your shoulder, leaving wet open mouthed kisses along your neck and ear.

"Good fucking God duchess, you are absolutely soaked for us, aren't you? Can feel you really start to open up for us now, yeah? Fuck you're amazing. Isn't she?"

"Ye-yeah yeah. Positively sweet," III's eyes sparkled in an amorous way. You kissed him hard. "Can't wait to have a taste of you, sweetness."

The thought of him working his mouth on you made you keen and fuck down on them.

Limbs twisted and tangled, Vessel nipped a small, incredibly sensitive spot behind your ear before licking the shell of it. Humming and praising you with that gravely timber. He was touching you, holding onto one of your tits for stability and III did the same, using just the pad of his thumb to pebble your other nipple.

You would never recover, that much you were sure of. They were out for pain and pleasure.

On a particularly hard thrust from III your moan slipped into sex drunk chuckle. "I think she likes it."

"I'm in fuckin' heaven." You breathed, reaching back to touch Vessel's thigh, digging your nailbeds in deep.

"That's it, you fuckin' naughty thing." His hand left your breast and found a new home around your throat, turning your head to face him and receive a sloppy kiss. III moaned at that.

"You two are fuckin-- ah shit. I'm close, fuck. Give it, give it to me."

Vessel's laugh against your lips made your walls constrict.

"Just like that!" III practically yelled, digging his fingers into your thighs, alternating to your hips, changing the tortuous pace. "Fuck, 'm gonna' bust, sweetness. Fuckin' cum inside you all nice and deep. Make it stick."

"Fuck me." You hung your head and rode it out, nothing but pure pleasure and bliss was shared between the three of you. And it was worth it. "Oh you guys... aha! I'm gonna' cum."

You couldn't remember the last time you came that hard with a partner and never with two! They both rubbed their hands and mouths over your skin, groping over your sandwiched body. Vessel's chest stuck to your back like glue, III grabbed and pushed both of your breasts together as he came shortly after with a grunt of your name, stringing along a beautiful array of obscenities.

"I've got you, I've got you both in my clutches now." Vessel's voice sounded like silk on glass next to your ear as he continued to thrust, spearing III's load all over your gummy walls. III reached out a lazy hand and Vessel took it, lacing their fingers together over your shoulder.

Skin on skin on skin.

III leaned up for another smooch with you greedily enjoyed, smacking your spit and lips together until all you could feel and hear was Vessel shudder behind you.

....

Vessel couldn't stop smiling as you giggled, helped to your bedroom, wedged between them on your bed as they cleaned you up. You would certainly need to clean up that side of the couch later. III was careful of your more tender bits, being stretched out and filled, removing black grease paint of where they were.

He drummed his fingers over your arms when he was finished, molding his body to yours. His head against the side of your neck. III soon joined in the snuggle, jumping into bed and under the covers with you. He gave you another kiss before pulling his mask back down, and pet Vessel's head.

Your phone buzzed when your boys had fallen asleep, you had a feeling of who it might be and if this is how the future looked; there was no way you were gonna' give this up.

#this kinda got outta hand but i'm into it so #these boys are so special #ugh i love them #little eppy boys #sleep token fanfiction #sleep token imagine #sleeip token fanfic #vessel x female reader #vessel x you #iii x you #iii x female reader #iii x reader #vessel x female reader x iii #vessel x you x iii #also there's not a whole lot of fics which is a tragedy cause these guys FUCK #part deux??#ENJOY!!!#heaven help me

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nukabrain · 2 months

Text

3 Partners, 1 Night, and 1 Saloon.

Oh my god guys so much happened during the past 2 weeks. FIRST, I'M SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG, WE WERE MOVING AND I HAD FINALS N SHIT BUT IT'S ALL OVER!! IT'S SUMMER. AND I WAS ALSO WORKING ON THIS PIECE! ITS ONE OF MY FIRST LONG PIECE! To be honest, I'm not sure if I really want to post it, or leave it to marinate overnight and then proofread it. BUT I haven't posted in so long :C I don't wanna keep my new followers waiting. (I threw it in grammerly and checked it that way, hopefully that was enough. OKKKK GO READ GOGOGOGOGO!!!

PAIRING: Arthur x Reader, Charles x Reader, Javier x Reader TYPE: Male x Female Reader WRITING: Fluff, Slight Angst, and suggestive. (Just a buncha kisses) WARNINGS: None. WORD COUNT: 1.8k

PROMPT(s): Charles x Reader; charles not being to hold eye contact but the reader can; Javier x Reader, TV GIRL!! (I lied, I only kissed a few hundred) (I know.); Arthur x Reader, "Scary? My god you're divine" but in old western terms.

NOTE: The video below is a saloon ambience video that I have been listening to the entire time while writing this, so I thought I could use this to add to the experience. (Lmk if you guys like this) Also, when it switches ladies, they start back at the beginning (if that isn't too confusing)

SETTING: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FgaOFVuf1q0 I’ll tell you when to turn down the volume, for a better experience! (IF you don't trust the link, which is normal, just look up "Rowdy Saloon Ambience | Ragtime Piano I Bar Ambience")

(Highest Volume)

Friday night at the saloon. It was a lively night, the piano playing ragtime, ladies giggling and fawning over the good-looking drunk men, and bottles clinking all around. A gunshot was heard but nobody paid attention beside the man being shot.

A group of girls were huddling in the corner, chattering like everyone else and paying no mind to the average man trying to lead them upstairs. One of the women whispered, “I’m telling you he’s goin’ to bring his outlaw friends here.”

“Really? And you trust him?” the other gave her friend a questioning look.

“I thought you knew better, and it doesn’t help the fact that he’s an outlaw.” The last lady sighed.

“Don’t you know it’s ALWAYS the outlaws that are the most gorgeous me- OH there he is!” The lady shouted, waving her arms. “Arthur! Over here!”

The man turned around and waved back. He muttered a few words to the guys behind him before making his way over here.

“Hello Ms. [name], nice to see you again.” Arthur tipped his hat “And hello to you fine ladies as well.”

. . .

Y/N x Charles Smith

“Well hello to you too Mister” I nodded my head.

She was right, these men are smokin' HOT

I looked around and noticed one of the boys looking a little nervous. Not out of place, but more like he has no idea what to do. I just know he’s gonna be a ball of sunshine.

“Well then folks..” I announced, grabbing that man by the wrist. “I’ll be picking this one! Seeya!”

Charles stumbled over his feet, turning to his friends for help, but Arthur waved back and Javier gave him 2 thumbs up.

“W-Wait- where are we going?”

“Up to you… I’m sorry that was rude of me, what is your name? Names Y/N!”

“M’name is Charles… Charles Smith.”

“Well then, Mr. Smith, where would you like to spend this fine evening?”

He thinks for a bit, before asking “They have whiskey up in the rooms?”

I grinned “Of course, follow me!”

I weave through the crowd, dodging the elbows and hands. I glance back to see the poor man bumping into everyone, and apologizing. Signaling him to keep following, I ran up the stairs and hid ourselves in one of the empty rooms.

(Volume almost all the way down, should sound muffled.)

“Here.” I poured him a shot of whiskey. “Much quieter up here. We were the first up so I made sure to pick the best room.”

Charles pounds the glass. “What are the other rooms like?”

“Oh, one of them has a weird scent to it. I mean most people are too drunk to notice it by then but it’s a little weird. The others are just smaller.”

“That makes sense.”

A familiar laugh and giggle ran past your room followed by a couple of door slams.

“Hmm, it seems you boys are quick to do it tonight.” I chuckled, turning to face Charles.

We stood there, finally taking the time to properly take each other's appearance in. His skin reflected the moonlight, and his hair perfectly fell over his face. Our eyes met, and I smiled gently, my heart beating against my chest. He breaks away first, clearing his throat as an excuse.

Giggling, I whispered “Oh come here silly.”

I walked up to him and smushed our faces together. He was shocked, but I could feel his hand creep up on my waist, gently guiding me closer. I wrapped my hands around his neck and took a breath of air.

“You’re a good kisser, Mr.Smith,” I whispered

“I think this is where you can call me Charles, milady.” He muttered back

I latched my lips on his neck, eliciting a groan from the man. Leaning up towards his ear, I breathed out “You’re right, Charles.”

Hearing his breath hitch, I quickly went in for that second kiss. It was more hungry this time, instead of enjoying it gently, he was ravaging me like a starved wolf. His grip on my waist tightened, and his other hand found its way to my inner thigh.

The night certainly isn’t gonna end anytime soon.

Y/N x Javier Escuella (Volume back up to OG level)

“Hello.” I nodded my head. I looked around and noticed my friend already picked out the one she wanted. I sighed, knowing that there was no stopping her once she had a target.

“Well then folks..” she announces, grabbing that man by the wrist. “I’ll be picking this one! Seeya!”

“Oh my, she didn’t wait.” I chuckled, watching them disappear in the crowd.

“You sure Charles goin’ to be alright?” Arthur muttered

“Oh he’ll be fine, she may be fast but she’ll slow down if he wants to.” My friend reassures Mr. Morgan.

“Well if we’re picking people out..”

I turned to the man speaking, he had a bowl hat on and a vest suit. He was dressed a little well for the saloon.

Kissing my hand, he introduced himself as Javier Escuella.

Beautiful name.. I thought, covering my blushing face.

“Look at you two!” My friend gushed, making me groan. “You guys look perfect together.”

“Thank you, but we’ll be heading to the bar.” I waved her off, taking Mr. Escuella by the arm, and made my way through the crowd, picking a seat near the wall.

Mr. Escuella waves the bartender over. “Is there anything you wanna drink?” He winks. “It's on me of course.”

“A Sarsaparilla will do.” I smiled

“-and beer for me.” He nodded.

I put my head on my hands, listening to the music. I glanced at Escuella

“Hey did you know I kissed a thousand women before?” He flaunts “I’m a wanted man.”

“I’m sure you’re wanted for a different reason Mr. Escuella.”

“Mi amor there’s no need to mention my OTHER wanted status.” He whines. “But really, the ladies love me.”

I sipped my drink, waving him off as he boasted about himself. Even though, there's a certain charm to him that I can’t figure out. My eyes trace his figure, taking in his build figure, and his silly mustache, and eventually land at his eyes, which are staring right at me.

“Like what you see amor?”

I snapped out of it, crossing my arms in protest.

“I was staring at the wall.”

Finishing the last drop of his beer, he replied “You sure? It looked like you were staring at mi hermoso rostro~”

I downed my Sarsaparilla, slamming it on the counter as a response. I glanced at the stairs and saw my friend dragging her date up into the rooms.

I hopped off the stool and dusted off my dress. “Meet me upstairs darling,” I whispered in his ear, trailing my finger on his chest.

I could hear him rustle to get his money as I weaved through the crowd. He followed shortly after and we settled in one of the rooms.

(Volume almost all the way down, should sound muffled.)

I leaned against the wall as he quickly shut the door. I watched him take off his jacket and hat. I helped him take off his tie and wondered why he dressed so fine just for a saloon date. I lifted my head and caught his gaze.

“Y’know, I lied when I said I kissed a thousand women.”

“I know.”

“I only kissed two or three hundred.” He corrected himself. I snort in response. “What about you? How many men have you kissed?”

“Only a few,” I replied, closing the distance.

Did I know why I kissed him? Perhaps his charming behavior seduced me. I didn’t think, all I did was act on my urges. My back was pressed against the wall, and my hands wrapped around his face. I feel his hands graze my waist as we take a break for air. Escuella went in for the second kiss right away, smooth and gentle, unlike his personality. His hands roamed my lower half as I gasped.

“So why did you kiss me?”

I smiled softly, before snickering. “For a foolish reason, I suppose.”

Javier swooped me off my feet. “For whatever reason, I’m glad you kissed me mi amor.”

This is going to be a long night.

Arthur x Reader (Volume back at OG level)

“It’s so nice to see you again Arthur, I almost thought you weren’t coming.” I playfully slap his arm

“Well miss we were stopped by certain people.” he excuses himself

“Sure sure, oh there he goes.” I wave at the man my friend is dragging.

“You sure Charles goin’ to be alright?” Arthur muttered

“Oh he’ll be fine, she may be fast but she’ll slow down if he wants to,” I said, reassuring Mr. Morgan.

“Well if we’re picking people out..”

I turned around, seeing my friend and Mr. Escuella, having quite the chemistry together.

“Look at you two!” I gushed, making her groan. “You guys look perfect together.”

“Thank you, but we’ll be heading to the bar.” She waved me off, taking Mr. Escuella by the arm, and blended in with the crowd.

“That was exciting! I’m so glad they found their partners!” I clapped my hands together

“I knew Charles was worrying too much.” Arthur chuckles “Talkin’ about spooking them away n’ stuff.”

“No way, he looks like a ball of sunshine.”

“A dangerous ball of sunshine then”

I snickered, “Damn right.”

We stayed there for a bit, basking in the lively atmosphere. I leaned my head on his shoulder and felt him flinch. I giggled at the reaction.

“Wanna get outta here?”

“Like in a room or outside?”

“The sky’s beautiful tonight.”

I laugh, following him out of the saloon.

The chatter and music slowly fade into the distance as you make your way to an alleyway.

(Volume almost all the way down, you should barely hear it.)

“Hmmm” I hummed, “You’re right, night’s gorgeous. Reminds me of you.”

“Now that’s something I never heard, being compared to the night’s sky.”

I snuck a glance at Arthur and saw that he wanted to say something, and I knew what. He wanted to ask why.

“That’s cause’ everyone thinks the night is scary, but it’s not. Look at em' stars.”

Arthur sighs “But the night is scary, plains creeping with bad men with bad intentions.”

“Hmm, you’re also right on that.” I turned around and faced Arthur

“But the bad men don’t disappear in the daytime, do they? So what’s the difference between night and day.”

I swing my hands over his shoulder and around his neck.

“I’m one of those bad men [name].”

“Bad? Oh Arthur you are downright heavenly. Whatever stuff you did, I’m sure they had a reason.”

Arthur sat there, slightly shocked. He looked in my eyes for any sign of doubt but couldn’t find a single drop.

“Now if you’re done lookin’ at me, how about we get moving-”

Was shut off by a kiss, strong but gentle, like he was saying thank you for seeing something in him that he never saw. The break didn’t last long as I leaned into him for the second round.

A beautiful night indeed.

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cheeriochat · 3 months

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Hmmmm DMC headcannons 3!!!!

This one's a bit wordy

☆•☆•☆•☆•☆•☆•☆•☆•☆•☆•☆•☆•☆•☆•☆

• Dante and Vergil are the type of twins that when they are close by, are touching in any way possible. Sitting together? Dante is leaning on Vergil. Standing together? Vergil has his arm resting on Dantes shoulder. Walking together? They keep bashing into eachothers side. They can spend time apart (obviously) but when they are close there is always some form of contact.

• Nero felt phantom pains where his hand used to be, but when his arm grew back they kind of just became ordinary pains. He wasn't sure if it was a side affect of growing a whole ass arm back or something but he was happy when they went away.

• I kind of think Kyrie would have depression. I mean she went through a lot and lost her parents and brother but she lived, so I feel like she would have survivors guilt but due to constantly being busy she wouldn't really have the time to process it. It's a sad headcannon but I feel like it just seems right :(((

• On a bit of a lighter note, I feel like Kyrie would have a good support system though. I mean she has Nero obviously, but also I think she would have Lady, Trish and Dante there for her and eventually Vergil too.

• Talking about Trish, Lady and Dante. I feel like Lady and Trish would go shopping Bayonetta 2 style, and have Dante carry all their stuff around. (He gets compensated for his work when they stop at a Cafe and he gets a parfait, although he doesnt mind helping his friends)

• Nero has a huge sweet tooth, but because of the kids, he can't keep anything to satisfy his need for sugar around long enough. Vergil likes to buy him sweet stuff though as a form of peace offering. He's found Nero likes Lemon Sherbets, Sour patch kids, and controversially, Liquorice.

• Vergil likes Hotpot and Shabu Shabu. I don't know, I just feel this in my soul.

• Dante is jealous that Vergil gets a tail and he doesn't. Vergil is jealous Dante's horns are fancier than his. They are both content with the wings that they have. (Also vergil has long skinny fangs with sharp teeth and Dante has wider, stubbier (but still as equally sharp) fangs with more "human" teeth)

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number-one-shadisper-shipper · 19 days

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IT'S HERE!!!!

All he has to do is get through one simple check-up. Should be easy, right? But for Shadow, exam rooms and doctors are a traumatic reminder of the experimentation done to him aboard the ARK. Experimentation done without even asking him. And when that trauma starts to rear its head in the middle of his exam, Shadow starts to lose his voice. Figuratively and literally.

She'd lied to him.

"You said we were going to a briefing." Shadow glared around the medical bay. This was not a briefing room. Which meant that Rouge had once again tricked him into something.

The white bat shrugged carelessly. "Well, G.U.N. does need to do an annual medical examination on every agent. I figured, since we're already here--"

"Don't lie to me," he spat. "There is no briefing. You just tricked me so I'd come."

Rouge sighed, her face visibly shifting out of "con mode". She gave him a serious look. "Shadow, this examination is important."

Omega, who was standing just outside the door because he was too wide to get through, beeped in affirmation. "YOU ARE EXTREMELY OVERDUE."

Rouge frowned. "And every time I bring it up, you ignore it."

"So?"

"So we're here and it's happening now."

Shadow refused to look at them. He glanced back at the examining room, its sterile whiteness and stainless steel reminiscent of the labs on the ARK. An uncomfortable itch ran along his neck.

He turned back to Rouge, stepping towards the door. "No."

Continue on AO3

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m0ssycobblestone · 3 months

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MORE STALE DONUTS DOODLES!!!!

#trigun #trigun stampede #trigun maximum #mossycobb has an au idea #trigun au #trigun fanart #my art :)#cryptid vash #trigun livio #livio the double fang #absolutely DEVOURING how the cryptid Vash came out oh my GOD #im so happy with it #anyways #AAAAAA #yeah #enjoy!!!#Stale Donuts AU #MAKING IT ITS OWN TAG NOW YAAAYYYY

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itsjaywalkers · 6 months

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nothing happens

jegulus | M | 3 parts of ?

James and Regulus meet when they're kids, and it doesn't take them long to become friends. Best friends, even. And it's fine, because they're young, and love is easy and simple, and it can't be mistaken for anything else.

Then they grow. And their friendship turns into something else entirely. But it should still be fine if nothing changes, right?

If nothing happens.

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heretyc · 8 months

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Horror [Trager, Eddie Gluskin, Val]

Horror: A collection of small fics, consisting of Outlast's most iconic antagonists [in my opinion].

The poll I started isn't over, but "canonically" is winning and I love it. Dark shit here we come lol. I will be writing for my beloved Terror-iffic Trio [aka my favourite antagonists from each game]. A party with these 3 would be lit.

Drabble ideas here.

Content Warnings: Uhhh...Outlast Antagonists lol. That is your warning.

Trager: Gore, awful jokes, his bare ass.

Eddie: Gore, murder, injury, mentions of his...lovely little display, sexual assault [minor, just a slight touch, no penetration]. [Please lord don't let him teach an art class.]

Val: Sexual assault [slight penetration w/ fingers], gore, murder, mud, Val's bare ass, mud breasts and mudgina.

I mean it, this is pretty heavy shit. It isn't too graphic, but if SA triggers you...either look away or read with caution. Trager's section is safe. Unless you're afraid of his ass...cause me too, man.

MINORS GTFO. Miners can stay as long as they're not minor miners.

Read with caution, I condone none of this. Fics underneath the cut.

You/MC take the place of the protagonist. So...you are Miles/Waylon/Blake. Yayyyyy....? Or nay? Depends on how you feel. MC is gender neutral, but is referred to with fem pronouns in Eddie's section for obvious reasons. You do not talk in Trager or Eddie's sections as Miles and Waylon were "mute". You speak in Val's section, though. You are described as having breasts in Val's section as both sexes/all genders have breasts. Tiddies for everybody!!

Enjoy.

Drabble idea: "See, this place isn't haunted!"

Sometimes, a saving grace can be your one way ticket to hell. And this had been an excellent example of that. The angelic voice over the dumbwaiter was a dream come true; after running and hiding for so long, it was like you were granted a break.

Only for your face to fall as the scarred face of a man greeted you. The air around him reeked of danger.

This was not the haven you were lead to believe was waiting for you.

"You made the right choice here, buddy," he declared before punching you in the jaw, a pained yell leaving your throat, and he was quick to take advantage of your shocked state to haul you into a wheelchair.

He must have done this a dozen times, as he was quick to lock your wrists into the cuffs attached to the chair. They were tight, and he merely chuckled at seeing your attempts of getting out of them.

He looked fucked up.

He stood in front of you, hands behind his back, and his eyes were scanning you like a wolf scans its prey before it mauls it to bits, "You're not a variant...huh. Well, buddy...you can call me...Trager. Everyone else does, anyway."

As Trager made noises looking you up and down, you looked at his face. Coated by some half-assed attempt at a mask and some strange glasses upon his face, you come to the conclusion that he was some doctor here.

He clicks his tongue and smacks you on the back, "You've got a lot of things to learn here, buddy. I am honoured to be your teacher."

Teach you about what, exactly? You didn't want to know. But he started to push you forward, and you only questioned where your hell would be.

This place was already hell, but...at the hands of some crazed madman, it was different.

Trager hummed to himself, making jokes here and there, and he once grumbled when you didn't laugh at a stupid impression, before he finally made it to an elevator. It was...somewhat cleaner up here, for some reason.

However...

You could feel a breeze upon your skin, and upon hearing the howl of wind and torrential rain, you saw an exit. Pitch black and windy, yet so much more welcoming than in here. You questioned if there would be a tornado warning or something by how violent the wind seemed to be.

The rain out there was intense, torrential, heavy and oh so divine, and Trager only chuckled.

"You want to take a quick walk, bud?" He leaned down next to you, eyes looking into yours like he was an old friend, despite also looking feral. "Run free, like Forrest Gump? Unfortunately, we're running out of time." He clicked his tongue once more, pulling you into the elevator.

This was a cruel joke. Even the Elvis impression - awful impression, mind you - wasn't as bad as this.

Standing beside you, Trager pressed a simple button on the control pad before clasping his hands together behind his back. After a moment of movement, he looked back toward you, his voice a tone that suggested jest, "Did you know they call elevators a "shaft" in other places of the world?" He chuckled, shaking his head slightly.

Looking at him, you realized his skin looked...awful. Like he was a draugr from that video game you used to play.

His scalp was scarred, and after spending an hour in this place, you realize you're lucky your scalp was untouched.

Wires upon wires were wrapped along his arm, and upon closer inspection, you were horrified to notice that they weren't wires, they were tubes.

Of his own blood.

How did he not feel that?

A man like him probably enjoys that, to be honest.

His nails were quite long as well, albeit you couldn't blame him...hygiene in a place like this was laughable. He probably had to exert his inner wildcat to defend himself in this shit hole.

You nearly sobbed when the elevator came to its destination, and he took hold of the handles once more.

It smelled of death and lost hope up here.

Choruses of screams reached your ears and you flinched. He seemed to notice, as he violently shushed the poor bastards trying to break free of their confines, "Sh. Shshshsh...you weren't putting your tongue to good use anyway!"

Tongue...??

The man shrieking had a bloodied mouth, and he soon quieted after choking on, what you assume to be, his own blood. Trager only sighed, muttering to himself, "Really, I just needed something to lick my stamps."

This...was a cruel joke. Taking someone's tongue for stamps?? You were deep in thought, only for Trager to notice and grin evilly, "You should see what I do with the balls."

...Dear god.

"Yeah, this weird...cannibalistic guy downstairs begs for them...the guy knows what he wants, I gotta give him that. He reminds me of somebody...eh, buddy?"

He poked you in the shoulder as he pushed, and it appears he was referring to you.

"I saw your camcorder. You're some sort of journalist, here to...what, expose one of the biggest experiments in history?" He laughed at the notion, shaking his head. "I admire the bravery, really. Braving through disturbed masses...I have to admit, I'm impressed."

You only gulped.

"People love to say this place is...haunted." Trager noted, pushing you into a bathroom of some sort. Bloodied, smelled of decay and looked like a paradise for bugs and bacteria.

What had scared you the most was the array of torture devices he had laid out on a tray. This man was deranged, one way or another.

He continued his one-sided conversation, focusing on the aforementioned tray as he walked over to it, "I mean, who wouldn't? People love to paint asylums as haunted. They hear a ghastly noise or a terrified scream and immediately tell the papers that a house of human suffering is haunted."

Trager's hand hovered over each instrument of torture, trying to pick which one, but he hadn't stopped talking.

"And I am more than sure that's your entire...reason for coming here. Trying to prove it was haunted. But guess what, buddy?"

He finally picked up a blade, long and serrated, and he pressed it against a finger of yours, the edges sharp against your thin flesh. He leaned in close, his dry lips forming into a smile, "This place isn't haunted."

He moved away, the blade removed from your finger, and you breathed a sigh of relief as he placed it back down onto the tray.

"No, no. It's worse."

He finally picks up a gigantic pair of scissors, much like something you'd see picking away at a shrub, and he was more than eager to shut them and open them, metallic hisses invading your senses, much like the feeling of doom.

You will die here.

"This place is an example of human cruelty, my friend," he announced, voice loud and cheerful as if he wasn't about to maim you, and he placed the blades around some of your fingers. He cared not for your horrified shrieks and begs, he only leaned in once more and whispered,

"And you will be nothing but an example of what happened here."

Slice.

...

"Oh, come on, buddy...it's not like you needed your middle finger anyway. Now open up...I have some stamps to lick."

Drabble idea: "Oh my god, are you okay?!"

"Darling, please! You act as if I've done something rancid! What have I done to you to make you so afraid of me?!"

The bloodied behemoth on your tail was quick and hurried as he chased after you, his feet slamming against the rotting floorboards. You almost couldn't hear the music that played alongside the horrific display he handmade. The smell was awful, but the sight of it was enough to make you vomit.

You would not be the victim to the Groom. Not now. Not ever.

You would not have your pelvis slit, or your chest stuffed like you were a sex doll [ironically, that's all you would be to him], and you would not let him confess his undying love for you. It was fake and corrupt like this entire asylum.

Despite the smell of mildew and death, adrenaline filled your blood and you could tolerate the disgusting scents as you breathed in, your legs not yet faltering.

You've heard what he's done. The man who so giddily chased you rambled about it as you snuck around, and you were not pleased.

This was the only way out. Sometimes you have to take risks...right?

This wasn't worth it, though.

And sometimes, luck runs out. Like right now, as you are stuck in a dead end.

There was only an elevator. And it was not on your current floor.

Shit.

You could jump and risk a broken leg...or...

The emergency ladder. Broken and rusted, but it's tetanus over death.

You could explain all of this to the news with lockjaw.

"Wait, what are you doing?! Don't, don't-!"

You had leaped, gripping onto the ladder as your bottom half slammed against it. With a hiss you tried to pull yourself up, only for the ladder to break underneath you.

The top had snapped, and you tried to grab onto what remained on the wall, only to fall, your heart stopping.

Of all things to die from, it was a rusted ladder.

Oh well.

As your body slammed onto the top of the elevator, a sharp pang began to blossom from your ankle, and you look to see shards of glass sticking out of your flesh. Now coated in blood, you cried out and ripped the shards out, piece by piece. Blood pooled around your foot as you cradled it.

"Oh my god, are you okay?!"

The behemoth above looked down at you with a horrified expression, his hands out and wanting to hold you.

"I hate to see you suffering without me! Why would you do something like that to yourself?!"

His voice was full of panic and concern, and for a moment it seemed wholesome, until the panicked silence became one of anger. There was...tension.

"You would...rather die...than be with me...?"

His tone had shifted so quickly. He was unpredictable, and that's what had made him so...scary. In general, he had looked like he crawled from a 1940s horror series. Sweeney Todd had come to mind, actually...

"You're just another whore, aren't you?" He growled out, only to sigh, like this was a normal occurrence. "It's quite alright, darling. A good man can turn a whore into a house wife...and I have faith in us. Let me just..."

The elevator roared to life, and you panicked even more, now. Your poor heart would likely kill you before he had the chance to. But as you rose, he merely hummed to himself, waiting for the elevator to rise to his floor.

You had no chance at moving or escaping, as when you reached the proper floor, he was quick to grab you before you became sandwiched between the top of the elevator and the ceiling.

He dwarfed you. Instantly. He carried you bridal style, an eerie smile on his face, "Come, now. I must make sure you look perfect for our wedding."

You had no chance, now.

He clicked his tongue, footsteps hard against the rotting boards, and his voice was quieter as he spoke, "And I need to wrap up your foot...you are a silly one, darling."

It didn't feel silly. It felt like your ankle and foot were on fire, stinging like mad.

You had accepted your death already, but if there was also one thing you could accept, it's that he wasn't actually half bad.

Minus the...anger fits and the "whore" bit, he would have been wonderful. Looking up at him, you see a man soiled by corruption.

His eyes would have been a beautiful, shiny blue if not for the pools of hemorrhage. They had looked...empty. Dead. But whenever he looked at you, they shone like his soul had been revived.

Is this what he had wanted? Love?

Everyone in this hell hole had been deprived of it.

It was sad. Really fucking sad.

But you had read about what Eddie had done, and seen it too. And he was past the point of no return. He had done too much to be redeemed.

Dread made itself a home in your stomach as you were laid upon something cold and wet, and you were strapped in. Arms and legs spread, and your clothes were ripped off.

You were now nude, and being touched by the Groom himself.

His hands were gentle as he caressed a calf, "You have such soft skin...you will look absolutely beautiful," he cooed, hand gliding itself upwards toward your knee, then your thigh, and then...

You only flinched when you felt his hand begin to caress your genitals, as gentle as could be, as if he wasn't violating you. T'was the touch of a lover.

But he was no lover, no.

His fingertips merely grazed along your private flesh, rubbing it as if he had wanted to stimulate you, and you wanted to scream.

Eddie sighed dreamily, like he was a married man and his life would be filled with nothing but happiness, and he, luckily, let his hand glide up to your navel. "You look divine already, but when I'm finished with you? Oh, darling..."

He removed his hand, thankfully, but he was quick to turn on the saw, and all you could feel was cold air from its rapid movements and doom.

He gripped the sides of the table you were on, and he was smiling like this wasn't totally fucked up, "I know this will be hard..."

You felt the table move, slowly but surely, and you began to wriggle, but he continued, "You will have to deal with this...and then the conception, which I promise, will be wonderful," he winked as the saw came closer, "Then the pregnancy...and oh, I can just imagine the birthing. You will look so beautiful, darling...like a goddess. Mothers are goddesses in their own right."

And all you could feel was the sting of the saw, and your soul fading from your body.

...

"You're just like the rest. Filthy whore."

You're lucky you weren't alive to see your mangled body, tossed with the rest.

Ready to rot.

Drabble idea: "I want to go home..."

Val, in a sense, had been an angel to you.

They did not have a halo, made of purity and gold, or have pristine, white wings to wrap you and hold you close, no. They did not bear robes of white or play a golden harp or sing a divine chorus.

But they had wanted you all to themselves. And they would not let Knoth's guard dog, or his sickly bastards he called "friends", ruin you before they had a chance to.

Because unlike Knoth, or Marta, or Laird or Nick or whoever the fuck, Val would put you back together.

They are a loving mother, dedicated to spreading love.

It had been painted in blood on your way to the mines, 'LOVE SET US FREE'. Bottles encasing candles, bodies strewn up like Christmas decorations...

What were they trying to do, exactly? Make their cause look homey? Elegant? Acceptable?

You had felt oddly welcomed. Every single enemy in your way was slain, journals and notes left in your path to urge you to come to them.

"Come to me," the red ink beckoned you on the dirtied paper, "and I will show you my love."

They had been so kind as to leave batteries and bandages. Before you had taken the small, makeshift raft, a final note had been placed in one of the small shacks, the bed made and smelling of firewood,

"I am waiting for you."

You did not want this. But you needed to find a way out.

The mines were not welcoming. You were not alone. And you had been chased into the underground, where you are now; held down by Heretics as they muttered, "mother, burn..."

Like the fallen angel ready to relieve the sinners of their pain, their martyrdom, Val had approached, coated in mud and looking like the demon of the mountains.

In their hand was a torch, raging with fire, and it made their white eyes so much more intense.

They had hummed eagerly, the hum evolving into a laugh as the torch was placed down and the Heretics were shooed away. You were too afraid to move or notice their cold, dirtied hands leaving your flesh.

Their eyes were wide, pupils tiny, and they smiled as they strutted to you, "We are creatures of appetite..."

They moaned, feeling up their body and their fake breasts, like they were a porn star and giving you a show.

"I want to feel your hunger," their voice became quiet, something only you could hear, and they leaned close, your eyes staring frantically into theirs, searching for any fragment of humanity.

There was none. And you felt saddened, knowing that the Val in those journals was not this Val.

This was something different.

"I want to know your desires...and show you what true pleasure feels like," they rasped, pushing you down and straddling your hips, grinding against your clothed stomach. Your fear had aroused them.

"I want to go home..." you whispered, tears rushing from your eyes, and they only laughed, leaning close to your face and whispering, "This is your home, my love," a muddy hand came up to caress your cheek and wipe the tears away, "and I...will be doting."

You had no chance to respond or even acknowledge the powder blown into your senses, or the tongue forcing your mouth open, and immediately, they sought dominance over your own muscle, wrestling with it. It had ventured to each nook and cranny of your mouth, like they wanted to taste everything about you, and they eventually pulled away with a moan, saliva connecting you two.

They licked their lips, humming in delight as their hands rushed to push up your shirt and reveal your chest. "Your body...is delightful," they breathed out, squeezing your breasts and rubbing your nipples with precision.

That powder did something to you. You had hated the feeling of their hands, but now you were overheating; desperate and quiet moans leaving your throat and making the cultist above you grin.

"I don't..." You couldn't even finish your sentence, as they pinched a nipple and made you shriek. It made them chuckle, and their hands moved south, ripping your zipper and breaking it. They got off for a second to completely rip your pants and undergarments off, and their naked thighs wrapped around your bare hips.

"Did you enjoy my gifts?" They questioned, hands now massaging your thighs, "You needed those batteries so badly...to document the lies of Sullivan, didn't you?" They purred, their hands tight and knowing just where to touch to get you to cry out in pleasure.

"That's why you came here. Fell from the sky, wrapped in flame..." they bit their lip, feeling aroused at the notion, "To record his bullshit."

You had even forgot about your camera, and you questioned where it was, until Val snorted, "It's gone, my love," their hands moved upwards to your genitals, "taken away...by my children. You won't need it anymore."

There was no pain when you felt their finger enter you. It was more pleasurable than anything you had ever felt, and it made you moan the loudest, and Val had revelled in this.

With precision their fingers located your pleasure spot, and sped up.

Your pleasure was their pleasure.

"God doesn't love you...not like I do."

And in time...you would know it to be true.

#outlast #outlast 2 #outlast 2 val #eddie gluskin #outlast eddie gluskin #outlast fanfiction #eddie gluskin x reader #outlast x reader #richard trager #trager #val #outlast val #val x reader #this was a doozy lmfao #enjoy!!!#richard trager x reader #trager x reader

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