#feral fics

[longlivefanfic-net]

Eddie Munson, Boy Scout

Part two here! Part three here! Part four here!

Summary: Your boyfriend, Eddie Munson, asks you to go camping with him, and (while he is wildly sweet) it makes you realize you’re not used to being taken care of. Eddie x reader

Content: Angst?? Fluff?? Idk what to categorize this as?

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: Am I very obviously processing my feelings about volume two alongside my own emotional issues? Yeah babes. Anyway, fuck canon,, smut parts of this to come later

“Eddie,” you whine, sweat beading down your back, “how much longer?” “Quit your whining, princess,” Eddie calls over his shoulder. He’s walking in front of you, his dark colored clothes almost blending into the trees around the two of you. You can see traces of the blue sky between the very tops of the trees, but down here, feet trudging through the carpeting of discarded leaves and pine needles and dirt, the air seems thicker, darker, as it winds in between tree trunks.

Last week, Eddie had asked you at your regular breakfast date if you wanted to go camping with him today. “There’s a football game that night,” he had said, eating his scrambled eggs with syrup (one of the kids in Hellfire Club had recommended the nauseating combo and, you did have to admit, the syrup made your goodbye kisses even sweeter). “Everyone will be at the game, so it’ll be nice and quiet out there. I’ll bring everything we need–you just bring yourself.” He had grinned as he said this, leaning forward a bit and slightly puckering his lips. While you weren’t exactly a fan of camping, you would have to be stupid to say no to a night of starlight and Eddie. “Okay,” you had said, shrugging, “but you had better make me some s’mores.” He had laughed at that, reaching over the table to hold your hand. He had spent the rest of the morning in silence, watching you eat your breakfast with a gleam in his eyes, his thumb stroking long, rough lines over the back of your hand. 

But this morning had come sooner than you had anticipated. When you woke up this morning, your stomach had constricted with anxiety over spending the night out in the Hawkins’ woods. You had picked out a few pieces of clothes to bring for tomorrow, as well as your truly necessary toiletries–toothbrush, toothpaste, and hair brush were first on the list. The drive out had been quiet, Eddie quietly tapping his fingers against the steering wheel as he took you farther and farther from civilization. Now, on the trail, you’re sweating in the unreasonably warm November sunshine. Eddie had cautioned you to wear “light layers” so you could strip as needed–a possibility he seemed particularly excited by–but you had decided to wear nothing but jeans and an oversized jacket, zipped up over one of Eddie’s Hellfire shirts. Eddie, on the other hand, was dressed like you had never seen him before: his jeans didn’t have a single hole, both the long sleeved shirt and the short sleeved one he wore over it looked relatively unstained, and–most startling of all–his hair had been pulled back into a long, low ponytail. “Eddie,” you called ahead again. “I’m so serious, where are we even going?” Eddie stopped, setting down his full-to-bursting backpack, and turned towards you. “We’re going to my favorite little secret spot–seriously, it’s going to blow your mind,” he said excitedly. His hands fidgeted at his sides, silver rings glinting, and when you got close enough he immediately reached out to squeeze your fingers with his. “Okay, but how far is it? We passed Skull Rock over an hour ago.” You couldn’t keep the slight whiny note out of your voice. In your defense, it was much hotter than you had anticipated, and you were sweating, and you had really only even agreed to do this so you could spend the night curled up with Eddie– “We’re practically there, princess,” Eddie said, a note of reproach in his voice. “It takes me about forty minutes on my own, so I figure we’ve got about twenty minutes left at your pace.” 

“Are you…calling me slow?” You asked, mock incredulously. “Only in speed, babygirl,” Eddie grinned. “I don’t hold it against you–not everyone can be as outdoorsy as I am.” “Outdoorsy?” You say, smiling slightly as your eyebrows raise. “You were in the boy scouts for one summer, Eddie.” “Yeah, well, I learned morse code, how to read a compass, and the best knots to use,” he said, a devilish grin sneaking over his lips as he mentions his rope-tying skills. “What more do you need?” “I’ll show you outdoorsy,” you grumbled to yourself, tightening the straps on the backpack Eddie had given you. You began to stride confidently in the same direction the two of you had been walking, forcing your legs to power down the worn trail at a faster pace than before. After a few minutes, Eddie called out to you: “Babygirl, where are you going?” You stopped. You sighed. You blinked. “Where am I supposed to be going?” “Over to the left, my lady love,” he said, laughing. “We’re going off the trail?” You asked. You waited as Eddie came to stand next to you, intertwining his fingers through yours. “The best places–and people–are always a little bit off the beaten path,” he said quietly, ducking his mouth down towards your ear. You huffed out a sigh of mixed exhaustion and desire. “Lead the way, Munson,” you said, and he tugged your arm slightly as he led you forward. 

Finally, Eddie came to a halt, pulling his backpack off his broad shoulders and setting it next to a small circle made of rocks. “Alright, princess,” he says, grinning at you, “This is the place.” You pull your own backpack off, setting it next to his, and do a slow circle to take in your surroundings. Somehow, Eddie has led you to the very edge of what you assume is Lover’s Lake, though you’ve never been to this side before. There are plenty of tall trees and heavily wooded forest on one side of you, and the water is lapping quietly where the grass turns into soft mud. “This is…beautiful, Eddie.” Your voice comes out hushed–the air around you is so still that you feel that to disturb it would be to sin. You look at Eddie again, and he is radiant. The slight sheen of sweat on his face is glowing with the joy in his eyes as he takes a few steps towards you, bringing his hands up to your waist. “I’m glad you like it,” he says, voice equally quiet–possibly the most quiet you’ve ever heard him–and you bring your own hands up to rest on his forearms. “How’d you find it?” You ask. “Running from the law,” he says, shrugging. You giggle at his words, his bad boy persona that doesn’t quite fit the man you know. “I started coming out here a few years ago,” he says. “I made the campfire ring so I could always find my spot.” You purse your lips at him, leaning your head slightly to the side. He always thinks about the details, your Eddie. “It’s nice,” he says, thumbs brushing over your hips as he pulls his bottom lip in between his teeth just slightly, “to share these things with you.” You blush slightly and smile back at him. “Thank you for bringing me here.” Eddie leans in slowly to brush his lips, feather light, over yours. Your hands tighten around his forearms as you lean into the kiss, trying to deepen it as you slightly open your lips, but he pulls back. 

“Wait,” Eddie says, pulling back. “I want to show you something. Up for more hiking?” The groan that comes from between your lips is completely involuntary. “Okay, okay,” Eddie says, laughing and stepping back from you. “Maybe after dinner.” “Oh!” You say, delightedly. “Munson’s going to cook for me?” Eddie cocks an eyebrow high. “My lady, I am practically a four star chef when it comes to camping.” You laugh, the noise sending a few birds scattering out of the trees. “Alright, I’m looking forward to it,” you say, grinning. “What can I do to help?” Eddie puts you to work quickly, unpacking the backpack you’ve been carrying as he unpacks his own. Yours, you find, has the tent and a mallet, bottles of water, and a few firestarters, as well as the spare change of clothes and toiletries you brought, tangled together with Eddie’s. Eddie's own bag has apparently been packed with the various groceries he had brought for dinner, as well as a small portable grate to set over the fire, a lightweight pan, more water, and– “Eddie,” you ask, “did you just pull out a hatchet? And condoms?” “Well yeah, princess,” Eddie says, eyebrows furrowed. “Why?” You ask, face scrunched in confusion. Eddie froze, eyes wide like a startled doe. “Oh, shit,” he said, “Did I make an assumption? Incorrectly? I didn’t mean to offend you, it just seemed like–well, I mean, we’re out here all alone–” Eddie’s hand has found its way up the side of his neck, fisting and then stretching his fingers out long behind his ear, leaving bright red scratch marks along his neck as he draws his fingers back into a fist on the side of his neck. 

“Eddie,” you say, quickly, trying to stop him from panicking more than necessary, “It’s just–we don’t…really use condoms. I’m still on the pill. You know that, right?” Eddie’s hand lowers to his side, and his eyes meet yours again. “Yeah,” he says, relief coloring his voice. “I know, I just wanted to be prepared. In case you forgot to bring them or something.” You laugh at the slight blush that dances over his cheekbones and pull the small, circular compact out of your jacket pocket. “Trust me, I’m not forgetting this.” Eddie’s eyes crinkle at the corners and he turns back to his backpack. “Okay,” you say, “But are you going to explain the hatchet?” “Oh,” Eddie says, looking back up at you. “Self-defense first, babygirl, branches for the fire second.” You shake your head, almost rolling your eyes at him. Eddie was almost always overprepared, as made evident by both his unnecessary condoms and his apparent weapon of choice. 

As the sun starts to descend in the sky, you’ve finished setting up the campsite and you hear Eddie calling out to you. He had to help you with most of the tent set-up, tying knots and hammering poles into the ground. He had gotten too warm at one point, stripping the short sleeved shirt off over his long one, and you hadn’t been able to stop your eyes from lingering on the slight darkness where sweat had colored the fabric straight down the planes of his stomach. Eddie had caught you looking at the sweat on his shirt and had lifted the hem to wipe his brow, letting his shirt fall to reveal a grin, a look of “caught ya!” on his face. You had flushed and turned away, rolling your eyes. After he had gotten the tent erected, he had told you to “domesticate away” while he went to find dead, dried branches to break down for the fire. You had pulled the two sleeping bags loose from the bottoms of the backpacks, thrilled to find that Eddie had rolled each of them around thin, foam mats to sleep on top of. While settling the mats in the tent, you noticed that they each still had price tags on them from The War Zone, the neon numbers higher than you would have guessed. You sucked your bottom lip into your mouth, thinking about how much preparation Eddie had put into this night for you, before settling the sleeping bags close together.

Eddie’s head popped through the tent’s opening. “Darling,” he said, grinning at you widely. “It’s dinner time.” His grin was borderline manic, his teeth bared like a wolf out of some children’s storybook as he slowly tilted his head to the side. You stood up from where you had been kneeling on the floor, reaching out to take the hand he extended to you. “As pretty as you look on your knees,” Eddie said, lips turned in a crooked grin, “I’ve got better ideas for what you can do with your mouth right now.” He pulled you out of the tent, back into the open air where the sun was dropping closer and closer to the water of Lover’s Lake. “Still about thirty minutes until sunset,” Eddie said as the two of you walked to the campfire. The smell of campfire smoke had mixed with spices and food, and your stomach rumbled loudly as you inhaled, long and deep. “God, that smells fucking amazing,” you said. Eddie turned to you, mock seriousness on his face. “Old Munson family recipe,” he said, “Only a privileged few ever get to taste it.” The two of you sat down in the grass, cross legged next to each other and began eating the meal he had prepared. After you had eaten enough to stave off your stomach’s bullying and complimented Eddie’s cooking skills, you looked at him. 

“Hey,” you said, “there were stickers on those foam mattresses still.” “Oh,” Eddie said casually, “I guess I forgot to take them off.” “I left them on–in case you wanted to return them or something.” Eddie cocked his head to the side. “Why would I do that?” “I mean, the price on those stickers? Eddie, that’s kind of expensive. You didn’t buy them…just for us, right?” You were suddenly embarrassed at the words as they came out of your mouth. The idea of Eddie spending any money–much less the considerable amount he had clearly spent on the mattresses, as well as the other groceries and necessities for the night, made you feel awkward and just…like a burden. You felt like a burden when you thought about Eddie taking time out of his day to shop for this trip for you. You felt like a burden when you thought about Eddie spending his money on you. You felt like a burden when you thought about Eddie chopping up branches and cooking a meal for you. “Of course I bought them just for us,” Eddie said, a slight smile on his face while his forehead betrayed his confusion. “In fact,” he said, laughing now, “I plan on making them absolutely non-refundable by the time we leave tomorrow.” 

Eddie laughed, truly tossed his head back and cackled. When he looked at you again, the mirth on his face slipped suddenly into shock. “Princess?” He asked. “Are you okay?” Maybe it was the campfire smoke, but your eyes had started to water. You sniffled once, pathetically, and reached up to brush the underside of your nose with a fist. “Mm-hmm,” you mumbled. “Just fine.” Maybe Eddie would have been fooled by this lie, too, if you hadn’t immediately felt tears slipping down your cheeks. “Hey, hey,” Eddie said, panic clear on his face as he reached out for you. He wrapped his long arms around your shoulders as they shook, his rough fingers squeezing your skin. “What’s the matter, babygirl?” He murmured, pressing your head into his chest. His hand stroked your hair while the other kept your shoulder pressed to his body as you shook, physically shook, with the power of the sobs breaking out of your chest. “Shhh,” he whispered, continuing to pet your hair, “You’re okay, it’s okay.” You continued to cry, letting the whimpers and heaving inhales of breath force their way out of your body as you birthed your sadness into the world, recognizing it fully for the first time. As you quieted, your shaking shoulders starting to still, Eddie took his hand from your shoulder and placed it under your chin, the cool metal of his rings sharp against the heat of your face. His fingers, rough with guitar-string calluses, tilted your face up to look at him. The blur in your vision couldn’t hide Eddie’s concern from you. “Princess,” he whispered, “What’s the matter?” You took a deep breath, feeling your lungs shake with it. “Did I fuck up?” Eddie asked. “I can fix it, whatever it is. Just tell me what to fix.” You shook your head. “No,” you said, voice still shaky from the sobs that had only just quieted, “Not you. It’s me.” 

“What do you mean, princess? What’s you?” Eddie’s face made you feel so guilty. The way his warm, brown eyes glowed in the evening sunlight, his loose curls catching the gleam of the glowing sunlight; all you wanted to do was love him and love him the right way. Eddie deserved so much to be loved, and to be loved correctly. “I don’t know how to do this, Eddie,” you said, a small gasp finding its way out of your throat alongside the words. “Do what?” “Love you the way you should be loved.” Eddie pushed your frame back, ever so slightly. “What do you mean?” His face had turned serious, suddenly, dropping any humor or lightness that had still been visible. “You’re so good to me, Eddie and I just– I just–” Eddie interrupted you, his face hard. “If you’re going to break up with me, please just do it now.” He closed his eyelids as he said these words, cutting you off from your honeyed brown guides to his heart. “What?” You gasped. His words snapped you out of your own head; how in the hell could Eddie Munson think you were breaking up with him? “I’m not–Jesus H. Christ, Eddie, I’m not breaking up with you,” you hissed. His eyes snapped open again. “Really?” “Yeah, of course, Eddie.” “Oh, thank fuck,” he said, his chest moving with the release of the heavy breath that came out of his lungs. You wiped your nose again, and he asked “So what is the problem, then? If it’s not me?”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, looking hard at the grass between his legs and yours. “I just–I don’t think anyone has ever taken care of me like this. I don’t think anyone has ever loved me enough to make sure I didn’t have to take care of myself all the time. And I feel like I’m a burden to you,” here, you ignored Eddie’s sharp inhale and continued, “because you’re thinking about me and taking care of me, and I just feel like I’m not doing enough to show you that I love you too.” The two of you had never said those three words before–at least, not out loud. You had said them in a million other ways–like when Eddie ordered your breakfast for you, asking you if it had been “a pancake week or a hashbrowns week” as soon as you sat down in the bleary early morning sunshine coming through the diner windows; when he held you, tightly, as you cried over whatever stupid movie you had forced him to rent that night and kissed your head while lecturing you about choosing sad stories; when you found his guitar on the bed and moved her, reverently, back over the mirror; when you went to his Corroded Coffins shows every week, even though the drunks at the bar creeped you out; when you asked him to take a picture of you, a joint hanging between your lips and his guitar held over your body to cover your exposed skin as you laid on his mattress and he snapped two polaroids to keep one for himself; when he asked you to stay the night the first time and he snuck out of bed twenty minutes later to put a load of towels and your clothes in the washing machine so you could feel clean in the morning. You knew without any doubts that you and Eddie Munson loved each other, the kind of love that brands itself into your heart so you can never be truly free of it again, even if you want to be. 

But now you had spoken the words out loud, and you had decided to tell Eddie you loved him in the midst of your nervous breakdown. God, you thought to yourself, I am just fucking this all up. You were still staring at the grass, waiting–hoping, hell, maybe even praying–for Eddie’s response. His hands entered your line of vision, his silver rings glinting in the sunlight as he placed his fingers on your knees. “Babygirl.” His voice was warm and deep, like the quiet crackling of the campfire next to you. “You are not a burden to me,” Eddie said, squeezing your knees. You tilted your head up, looking at him. Your eyes met the warm brown of his, and you were shocked to see that they were red-rimmed with tears. “I love you so much,” he said. “You do things for me too–not that you have to, but you’re not a burden. I just…I want to do nice things for you. Because I love you.” Your heart jolted so hard in your chest that it felt like it had cracked on the impact of his words, shattering the fear you had been feeling. You could feel your anxiety, your fear that you were simply too much, melting and sliding down your spine to pool in your core. For whatever reason, despite already knowing it, you couldn’t get past his last words. “You love me?” You asked. “Princess,” Eddie said, “I would go to the ends of the earth for you.” At this, you leaned forward slightly. Eddie noticed the slight shift in your body, leaning towards you as well. His mouth met yours, gently and cautiously tasting the tears that had slid over your lips as you sobbed. You reached your hand up, curling your fingers into his hair as you let your lips fall open against his. His kiss intensified, his nose pushing into the skin of your cheeks as his tongue pressed between your lips to taste your mouth. “Eddie Munson,” you say, pulling back for a moment. “You’re my hero.” At this, Eddie throws his head back, laughing loudly. “I’m no hero,” he says, grinning, “But I’ll be anything for you.”

[allskywalkerswhine]

in fics where luke gets plopped into the prequels i want every jedi within ten metres of him to think hes the weirdest jedi theyve ever seen. he has negative lightsaber form. he doesnt know what a kata is. he handstands when he meditates. his solution to sith is to try and have a chat. hes a political radical who keeps suggesting revolution. you ask him what the jedi code is and he says "kindness and compassion and helping those in need :) ". you ask how he used the force like that and he says some shit about how you are a luminous being limited only by your mind. the councils authority is just a suggestion. he is somehow the new favourite of both qui gon and yoda

[toffee-arts]

for @esamastation and their fic "Into the Abyss" your fic has me in a tight chokehold i can't get enough of it 🥺 (colors inspired by Beksinski's paintings bec his art is lowkey how i imagined the endless abyss looks like :"3 )

[demigods-posts]

need a scene change in season five where percy asks for kiss because it's kind of a tradition. but instead of annabeth not looking at him. she stops what she's doing and walks up to him. they're nose-to-nose. staring at each other. and annabeth almost looks aggravated. until she tells him to come back alive and he'll see. and percy stares deep into her eyes just nods. and then they part ways. and immediately start kicking ass on opposite ends of the battlefield. and the remaining campers are stunned. but quickly gather themselves to exchange drachma before fighting because they placed a bet on whether or not these two have kissed yet. and apparently.

[matchingbatbites]

"What the fuck did you do?"

Eddie wasn't expecting hostility when he answered Jeff's phone call, his best friend's usual calm demeanor replaced with open annoyance. And yeah, okay, the annoyance itself wasn’t new, but Eddie doesn’t think he’s actually done anything recently to earn it.

"Well-"

"Actually, no. I'll tell you what you did. You retweeted photos of Steve Harrington - internationally beloved heartthrob actor Steve Harrington - along with the caption 'not to sound like a subby slut but GOD I would be his puppy baby boy in a heartbeat'. So I guess the better question is, what the fuck were you thinking, Eddie?"

Eddie's jaw clicks shut because- yeah, he had done that. Had seen those photos of Steve smoking circling the internet and spent god knows how long just staring at them, had curbed the desire to shove his hand down his pants by posting a single thirst tweet about it.

“I was thinking, Jeff, that I'm allowed to post whatever I want to my private fucking twitter, man. I mean it's a free country, isn't a guy allowed to make a horny tweet about a sexy man every now and then?”

“You are, when you actually post it to your private account and not our award winning band's main account.”

No. Oh no. There's no way Eddie actually-

He rips his phone away from his face to open twitter, and realizes two things simultaneously. One, Jeff is right, he had posted it to the band's account. Not on his private, locked, personal account, but on the account that's actually open and free for literally anyone on earth to look at.

The second thing he realizes is that their notifications are currently flooded with responses to Eddie's tweet, somehow racking up into the thousands in the few hours it's been since. 

Jesus Christ.

“Eddie?”

The metalhead jerks back into the moment and put Jeff on speaker so he can scroll through the horde of replies, says “Fuck, I fucked up. Are we gonna have to do damage control on this?”

In the mess is a reply from Gareth's own personal account: @ corrodededdie stop tweeting from the band account challenge 🙄🙄🙄

”Maybe. There hasn't been any type of response from Harrington or his people, but they might ask us to take it down if it blows up too much.“

Eddie hums, thinking they might be too little, too late about it blowing up too much, and flips over to his main account so he can reply to Gareth's little jab appropriately. He isn't surprised to see that he has a couple of new messages, probably from other people wondering just what the fuck Eddie was thinking, but when he goes to check them-

He's never been happier that he turned on messages from followers only, because then he would have missed this, missed Steve Harrington's little profile picture beaming up at him from the screen of his phone, along with a new message request.

”Jeff, I gotta go,” he says, not even realizing he's cut the other man off.

“Eddie, what-

”Harrington messaged me. I'll call you back.“

Eddie doesn't wait for a response as he hangs up on Jeff, and his hands definitely aren't shaking as he opens the message from Steve. And listen- Eddie is a fan of the guy, that much should be obvious. 

Steve had grown in popularity around the same time Corroded Coffin had; he’d gotten some part in a drama film that had skyrocketed him into stardom, and Eddie fell in love the moment he saw that gorgeous face on the silver screen for the first time. He's never had a chance to interact with the guy, has been in the same place a few times but always missed him, like ships passing in the night, but Eddie's been fine with pining from afar, just like every other person on the planet that's even remotely attracted to men.

Besides, even with how popular Corroded Coffin has gotten over the years - a couple of Grammy’s here, a dozen chart topping metal songs there - Eddie doesn’t expect Steve to just. Know who Eddie is.

With all of this in mind, Eddie is expecting some kind of semi-casual request to take the tweet down, that it's not a good look for his image-

Anything other than what Steve actually sent.

'If you're puppy baby boy, does that make me Master? Or Daddy?'

And Eddie- 

Eddie slides down, sinks into his couch cushion as all of the blood in his body suddenly shifts, rushing to fill his dick like it's a fucking race. The phone almost slips out of his hand and he fumbles it briefly before taking a deep breath. 

Is Steve serious? He wouldn't send that if he wasn't serious, right?

This could be it, could be Eddie's one chance to impress Steve, to get his foot in the door of Steve's interest. He bites his lip and types out a reply, something quick that he sends before he can change his mind.

‘I’m open to either, actually. Do you have a preference, sir?’

He doesn’t expect the typing indicator to come up immediately, and just knowing that Steve is somewhere right now, typing out a response to Eddie, is enough to have him nearly vibrating in his seat.

‘I’m partial to Daddy, myself.’

Fuck fuck fuck.

Eddie takes a breath, tries to think of a response that isn’t just ‘Please, Daddy, can I sit on your massive dick that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about since that one indie film you did that just had all of your junk out in the open?’

Steve saves him by sending another message.

‘But maybe we could start with Steve, and possibly dinner? Though I’d be happy to see where things go after that.’

He- What-

Eddie must have stopped breathing, because the next time he takes a breath his lungs burn, his mid races because there’s no way Eddie’s long term celebrity crush just asked him on a date. He sits there long enough that the screen goes dark and he scrambles to turn it back on, sees the message still there, real and unchanged.

There’s no way he can say no to this, to Steve, and his hands shake as he types out a response.

‘Dinner would be great. Just name the time and place, Daddy.’

[shanalikeanna]

Based on Solar Lunacy: Chapter 13 by @bamsara

[slowbison]

Feral! Miguel O'Hara x Top! Male Reader

Summary: Miguel returns to his personal break room after a fight to heal, but forgets to replenish his spider DNA serum, turning him feral. since you’re a spiderman similar to him, he needs to be fucked to be stabilized.

words: 3k

warnings: breeding, wrestling, anal sex, biting, smut

A tired Miguel emerged into his personal break room as a portal from an alternate reality closed behind him. He had spent the last few hours fighting and capturing another anomaly in the wrong multiverse. Body aching from being thrown into buildings, throat parched from yelling orders along with being mentally drained from an old lady that repeatedly hit him as he tried to direct her to safety. Slumping tiredly onto his couch, groaning as he continued to sink into the comfort. He remained still, quietly waiting for his supernatural abilities to kick in and do the healing for him then realized that it was progressing much slower than usual. Soon everything began to heat up around him, pupils dilating and contracting and the suit felt more tightening.

He attempted to stand on his feet before a wave of intense pain and pleasure washed over him causing him to fall, landing on the hard floor. Claws protruding unwillingly from his fingers, muscles tense as his breathing picked up from the sudden wave of heat, fangs feeling much heavier in his mouth. Miguel felt helpless laying on the ground, gasping as it continued to ripple throughout his body after realizing too late that he forgot to intake the serum after returning.

“F-fucking shit, this c-can’t be hap-happening! Not now!” Miguel spat out through gritted teeth as he attempted to resist the sensation sweeping over him, dick growing increasingly aroused. Moaning as he began dryly humping the ground for any form of friction to ease his growing needs. He didn’t even hear any approaching footsteps until an all-too-familiar voice spoke through a door, cursing under his breath. That was the last word he said before fully succumbing to his desires, a low growl rumbling in his throat.

“What couldn’t be happening?” You asked through the door. You were with Miguel earlier, along with the other spider people, captured an anomaly stuck in the wrong dimension. The man in question had asked to see you after imprisoning the anomaly in a trap box to report on the current status of the last reality. When you came up to his office which was seemingly empty, you scanned around the room until your senses began tingling; warning that a strange presence radiated from a rather hidden door in the back. Tracking it down, you honed your hearing to any noises present coming from the door. Only to then discern it was Miguel, making questionable noises that were having an odd affect on you. A flicker of a small flame, lit within you.

“Miguel? Are you alright? I’m getting strange vibes in there. Talk to me.”

You could hear incomprehensible speech and hissing as a loud thunk crashed onto the ground, followed by a low moan. Your face slowly heats up at the possible thoughts of what may be occurring, but this wasn’t the time for your silent desires held for the man to emerge.

Hand on the knob you twisted it before speaking out, “I’m going to open the door if you don’t stop me right now!” You could hear scattering as the door opened, revealing what appears to be a softly dimmed room. Carefully stepping in, you looked around and noticed claw marks on the floor and walls, along with a table flipped over. After completing a full circle around the room, you placed your hands on your hips confused when your senses could not pick up a presence.

"What is this, hide and seek? Thought you said it was childish when I did it to you-" You were cut off as you were tackled to the ground, a strong grip on your shoulders pinning you down. Pain surged as the claws teared into your skin. Peering up at your attacker was Miguel, who looked more feral than usual as he towered over your face, angrily bearing his fangs. His head turned to the side of your neck, grazing over your veins before sinking his fangs - lapping at the blood spilling. You let out a groan, feeling your dick stirring at the action. The flame within you grew brighter, enough to light up a small campfire.

“Hey now, if you wanted to initiate something with me. This wasn’t really what I had in mind, yanno?” You quipped, attempting to push him off with your legs. Though it seemingly felt useless as he’s much stronger than you in terms of strength. Detecting resistance, he growled pushing you deeper into the ground until his body shuddered and let out a soft whine, losing power over you. Taking the opportunity, you quickly switched your positions around before exerting force to his wrists above his head, locking his legs around yours at the same time.

“It’s over Miguel, I have the high ground. So let’s start talking, yeah?” You said, taking the time to fully analyze his current state as he thrashed around, attempting to break free.

His hair was disheveled from its usual swept back appearance, brown eyes tinted with red, and lips lightly stained with blood from what would be assumed of yours. What mainly held your attention was the hard dick pressed up against your own, albeit not as hard… yet. More logs, added to the flame. Paying even more attention, Miguel had long since begun rutting on you, releasing soft whines that progressively got louder. Face flushed, his cries got louder until moved your hand down to his hips, forcing them to still.

Upset by your actions, he began squirming once again in your grasp trying to gain any friction on his straining dick. Entertained by this you let out a chuckle at his actions, “I didn’t take you for a bitch in heat Miguel. I don’t mind fucking you senseless if that’s what you want.”

For the first time, your words seemed to have been processed in his mind. Perhaps at the words “bitch” and “fucking you senseless” was all he took away. And from what you could interpret, Miguel seemed to be more compliant as he waited, staring into your eyes for your next move.

You trailed your hand from his hip across his torso, feeling the toned firm abs on your palm. Closing your eyes, you heightened your sense of what his soft skin must feel like underneath. It wasn’t your first time running your hands along his abs, as you had decided to join his customary workout session. More like you invited yourself claiming that steel-ton trucks weren’t going to be handled by just anyone. He begrudgingly sighed refusing to argue although he didn’t put up much of a fight and the next morning you stood in front of the gym, duffel bag slung across your shoulders with Miguel at your side.

The gym had been far greater than your own personal gym’s dimension, but what really made the place shine was watching a slightly sweaty Miguel performing curl ups beneath you as you held down his legs. He didn’t ask you to but rolled his eyes while hearing you proclaim that proper positioning of the feet were important to ensure a safe workout. His face was lightly scrunched as he focused on completing his sets, your eyes lingered on his chest that were more profound and round each time he came up and traveled to his torso, abs showing due to sweat clinging onto the shirt. You didn’t even realize Miguel had finished his sets and begun looking up at your face as he laid on the ground, chest heaving, trying to maintain his normal breathing.

The tension was palpable between you two, as it had been whenever you were both left alone in a room. Moving your hands from his legs, tracing at his abs but before you could slip your hands under his shirt to feel more, a stranger rudely interrupted your rather boner-inducing moment by asking to use the area if you both were done. Miguel let out an annoyed click before standing, clearing his stuff out and proceeded to the pull up bars. You stared daggers into the strangers back, gritting your teeth, before returning to completing the rest of your workout, huffing as you went along and closed your eyes embedding the view into your head; opening them at the sight of Miguel’s thrashing beneath you as your mind had carried you elsewhere away from him. Heat swarmed within your body, as much bigger logs fueled the flames.

You let out a chuckle and gripped at his suit before tearing the fabric apart on his thighs. Asking that he’d forgive you later, Miguel hissing at you before quivering, at the cold hands felt on his skin. Palming his dick on your hands, not willing to give him just what he wants so soon. Miguel let out a drawled moan as he pushed hips up, applying more pressure on his leaking dick, aching for more.

No longer able to resist your own throbbing prick, you removed your hand from his cock and went to release your own from its imprisonment, making the mistake as your grip on his wrists loosen. Miguel seized the opportunity and broke free, wrestling your own arms for control. Snarling as he pushed you back slightly which was short lived as your hand returned — after managing to pull your pants down — grabbing at his arms and flipping him around, laying flat on his stomach. You pressed the side of his head into the floor, hissing at his ear.

“Stay down like the bitch you are and take it.” you snapped shoving three of your fingers into his mouth, lining your cock at his cheeks, fucking those fat globes hidden underneath his tight suit. Tearing at the fabric, giving you more leverage to his ass. Miguel moans around your fingers, sucking and coating them in his spit as you increase the pace. “Gonna fill you up so good,” you huffed into his neck, marking the sensitive skin, “Won’t stop till you’re full of my seed, carrying my kids.” Miguel whimpered, cock twitching at the thought of being bred so thoroughly in order to carry your children inside of him.

You purred into his ear, loving the way he began losing himself more to the pleasure. “You like that? Breed you full of my kids inside your cunt, huh?” Miguel whines got louder, desperately moving his hips further against your own in response. You slipped your fingers out his mouth, rimming around his entrance before slipping inside. At first, you toyed with him, simply thrusting it in and swirling it around, but hearing his broken whimpers you curled the finger relishing at the sounds.

Miguel’s face altered between pain and pleasure as you slipped the second finger in. Stretching the ring in scissoring motions as he jerked weakly back into your fingers, cock straining against his torso, swollen tip leaking onto the floor desperately wishing for more.

You tutted at his actions, shoving his hips down on the ground — digging your nails into his side. “Last warning love, I’ll have to web you down on this floor. Is that what you want?” Miguel turned to his side, face flushed and glaring into your eyes, a low growl emitting from his throat that was cut off with a yelp as you inserted a third finger. You pump your fingers in and out of his entrance, watching as he slightly arched his back and let out small mewls of pleasure. You could feel him forcibly relaxing as you readied him for your cock.

After a few more of these ministrations, you removed your fingers from and spat at your hand, coating your erection, aligning at his puckering hole. The thought of thrusting in with the lack of decent preparation crossed your mind as it would be pleasurable, but the second Miguel was sane he’d tear you to half, refusing to allow you anywhere near him. For a while at least. Flames had turned into a roaring bonfire, slowly dissipating your desire to hold back.

Taking it slow, you eased your way in, groaning as the tight crevice swallowed you deeper. Miguel gasped at the intrusion, squirming away as you plunged deeper into his, settling fully inside him. Your senses melting at the seams as intense flames of pleasure surged throughout your body, letting out a keen growl into his ear. The unknown wave of heat continued to boil within you, huffing steams of hot air from your nostrils. Your eyes slightly tinted red peering back at his own.

“Fuck, you feel so good baby, so fucking tight for me” you growled into his ear, nuzzling your face into his neck. “So fucking tight for me, gonna make you my personal cum dump.”

Miguel whimpered, closing his eyes and buried his head into the floor while the pain of the stretch died and anticipation of getting fucked full arose. He wiggled his hips back, hoping to entice your animalistic urge that you’ve been holding back to give him adequate time to adjust. You cooed at his submission to you and rewarded him with continuous hard thrusts, shoving your cock as deep as you could, flames consuming your entire body.

Miguel’s eyes rolled back, tongue lolling out, letting out broken cries, clamping down around your cock. There was a mix of pain at the brutal thrusts as he didn’t have the best preparation, but that didn’t matter as he continued to beg, throwing his ass back to meet your pace. Garbling nonsensical strings of ‘words’ that were stuck in his throat, cries of pleasure coming up instead.

You keened as you put more pressure into the grip on his hip, releasing your hold on his wrists and rammed your cock in, molding his ass so it would remember only you and your shape. The thought reeling you deeper into the unconscious, leaving only your carnal desires to devour you whole along with dumping all your cum into the man below, belly round - full of your cum. Miguel clawed at the ground bracing himself as you continued your onslaught, drool pooling at the edge of his mouth. He could barely think straight, the only thing he can remember is sitting at his chair before a scalding heat washed over him and now he’s being fucked into oblivion until his desire to be thoroughly bred satiated.

Miguel pressed his hips back and rocked against yours, not wanting to waste any drop of cum that could fertilize his children carrying within him. Seeing Miguel so pliant to be fucked full of your cum drove you to the edge, biting his neck which left a dark mark. Though it wasn’t enough to break skin, it will warn others that the bitch was claimed and to stay away. Either way, the reaction that got out of the submissive man was a choked sob, body trembling before spurts of cum sprayed on his chest, dripping onto the floor. He collapsed underneath you, but still weakly tightened his hole around your cock, determined to milk it for all it’s worth.

Your thrusts became erratic as you neared closer and closer to eruption. Panting heavy into his ear you snarled, “Fu- fucking shit, here it comes baby. Don’t spill any of it bitch, got it?” Miguel whimpered, but obeyed as he mustered up all his remaining strength to clench his hole. Pushing your chest against his back, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as you soon let out a groan, hips jerking before stilling altogether. Strings of curses leaving your mouth, swearing that for a small moment your soul ascended towards a warm comforting light.

Miguel was in a similar disheveled state as you, though slightly worse off. His face laying in a pool of his own drool, red eyes dimmed as his brown eyes returned, claws retracting into his fingers and ass quivering to hold in your cum, slowly reaching its end.

You rolled to the side, cock still lodged in Miguel and ran your hand along his side, stopping to caress his stomach, feeling a slight bump that was undoubtedly your cum. Which was almost concerning as you had never come this much before, much less been this aggressive during sex with anyone, but you shrugged it off assuming that it was just different with Miguel, curling your arms around him. Speaking of the man, he let out a groan as he shakily turned his body to face you. Eyes piercing into your soul, face contorted in slight anger. You chuckled and ran your hand in his hair, caressing the side of his face, whipping off the drool gently.

“Welcome back my charming beast. Did your dashing prince break the curse?” You smiled, watching as Miguel huffed and rolled his eyes at you.

“It wasn’t a curse, I just lacked the necessary genes of a spider and lost control a little. It’s a side effect of sorts.”

“A little?” You eyed, glancing at the room covered in claw marks that matched the scratches on your shoulders and arms.

Miguel turned to the side, mouth creased.

“I’m sorry, this was a first for me too… I’ve never attacked someone before,” he quietly muttered under his breath. Seeing this, you huddled him close into your arms and kissed the top of his temple.

“Hey now, it’s alright. Nothing I can’t handle anyway, you forgetting that I’m Spider-Man?“ You chided, pressing your forehead against his. A small smile gracing his face as you both quietly waited to regain your strength. Falling in a trance of listening to one another's breathing, body’s conjoined as one.

“Say, when you were working on that DNA thing, was there a little bit of wolf involved?”

“No there wasn’t, stop talking. You’re ruining the moment.”

“So it’s just a cute little kink of yours to be bred by me?”

“We are NOT having this conversation.”

“My dick is literally still in you.”

Miguel grumbled and made a weak effort of pushing away from you, but you laughed it off, pulling him closer.

a/n: hey y’all, it’s a little bit late but here it is, in all it’s smutty glory. i would also like to say that my eyes have been opened to a much softer side of Miguel as a soccer mom, but because of a bastard on my tiktok fyp, there is an angst ending in my mind that could be separated from the main, if one wishes to remain in la-la-land. i might write up a lil on that world to see how it'd work, not sure when it'd drop. but because of this smut, my brain kept making different branches of miguel getting fucked and it won’t stop plaguing my mind so those are in the works, one of them including jealousy towards lego spider-man… hope y'all enjoyed this.

that being said, leon’s fic is up next to be dropped though i might be a smidge late on that. apologies. if you are interested in that, you the reader purchase an experimental drug that heals wounds made by the merchant. you give it to a wounded leon who later on notices changes in his body, specifically his chest as stains show up on his shirt... around his nipples...

[r3starttt]

messy make out session with abby? yeah, need it

You're sitting on her lap, your legs on the sides of her waist, trying their best to support your every move on top of her, desperately rubbing your cunt on her lap every chance you got.

Her hands all over your body. On top of your ass, guiding it. Running painfully slowly from your lower back all the way up to the back or your neck, caressing the sides of your cheeks as your lips move gracefully against hers in a very sloppy kiss.

You keep your hands on her upper body, not moving any lower knowing not you or her would be able to stop it there, and what's the fun in that?

Making circles around her chest, up and down, side to side. Putting your weight on her by holding her shoulders or the sides of her arms whenever she helps you ride her. Or on her neck whenever she deepens the kiss.

This being pure torture for both, but it feels so good. Somehow even better than being skin to skin, it feels just right to say the least.

Hums, silent moans and whimpers coming out of her mouth in between every kiss, and prasings that are barely coherent, pure mumbles.

"Doing so good f' me baby" "Mhm yeah, just like that, keep going" "nuh uh, don't stop"

[rafeandonlyrafe]

kinktober: caught in public

words: 1.6k

warnings: 18+ only!, smut, topper gets traumatized bc of course he does, p in v sex, hot tub sex

you know you’re not actually in private, but this section of the yard is so quiet you wouldn’t even be able to tell that there’s a party going on. your head is rested against rafes should, hand absentmindedly stroking his thigh under the water, glad that he turned the temperature of the hot tub down so you could stay in longer.

“baby…” rafe says, tugging at your bikini top, not trying to loosen the string, but wanting to tease you.

“hm?” you pick your head up, looking at rafe with a soft smile on your face. you were both slightly buzzed, just having a couple of drinks before sneaking off to the hot tub to be alone.

“come sit on my lap, i miss you.” rafe says, making you laugh gently.

“how can you miss me, we've been together all night?” but you slot one leg over his lap, pressing your chests together as you wrap your arms around his shoulders. 

“mmm, just have.” rafe says, hands rubbing up and down your back. “you smell so good.” he breathes in your hair, even as it’s tied up to avoid getting the ends wet.

you smile and turn your head to kiss at rafes neck, taking his earlobe into your mouth and giving it a little tug. rafe groans and drops his hand to your bum, feeling how little of it is covered by your swimsuit.

“there’s no one around…” rafe says, glancing behind him. “we could…” you usually would shut rafe down, you think that’s what he’s expecting, but it truly has been quiet. you can hear the crowd of the party over on the patio, but you’re around the corner of the house, and you’re not sure who even knows the hot tub is back here besides maybe topper, who is the host of the party.

“okay, but we have to be quiet.” you say, sitting back so you could look rafe in the eye, glad that the water is clear so you can look down, seeing his abs pressed together from his seated position. you bite your lip and run your hand down his torso, all the way to the band of his underwear. you rub your hand over where his cock is starting to swell, eyes flicking back up to rafes face as his jaw becomes slack, mouth dropping open but not making a sound.

“feels so good, baby.” rafe says, bringing a hand to your breast and playing with your nipple through the fabric of your swimsuit, not wanting to pull it to the side and expose you but still wanting to give you some stimulation.

“touch here.” you say, taking his hand in yours and bringing it into the warm water, right to your pussy. rafe understands what you mean by this, you don’t want to take too long or do too much foreplay since this is risky.

rafe rubs over your clit, making you let out a soft moan. when you work rafes swim shorts down his thighs to pull his cock out, you connect your lips in a kiss, hoping it will help both of you stay quiet as you begin to stroke him to full hardness.

“let me just sit on it for a second, mkay?” you tell rafe when you pull away from the kiss, knowing that without him opening you up with his fingers at first that you always need a minute. rafe nods and you tug your bikini bottoms to the side, lining yourself up with rafes cock before sinking down. 

“that feels so good, baby.” rafe praises you as you sit fully down, leaning forward and resting your forehead against rafes, eyes closing as your pussy stretches to accommodate his size. 

“just… one more second.” you say, placing your hands on rafes shoulders.

“it’s okay, take your time.” rafe says, but you feel ready so you begin to slowly move your hips up and down, slowly building up a rhythm.

“there you go.” rafe praises, grabbing your hips with his hands but letting you keep control. you continue to glance over rafes shoulder, checking to see if someone was coming. it makes you excited to think someone could walk up and find out what you’re doing, especially if that someone is one of the girls that used to flirt with rafe before you started to date him.

you begin to bounce faster now, smirking when rafes eyes drop to your tits as they bounce right at the top of the water. you giggle and lean forward to give him a quick peck on the lips before returning to your position, grinding your hips down against him.

“fuck, baby, this is gonna be quick if you keep that up.” rafe says, hands now starting to help you move as you begin to tire out.

“want you to cum anyways.” you tell rafe, giving him another kiss. you get lost in the way your lips slide over each others, moaning into his mouth as he begins to thrust his hips up to meet yours, bringing you down against him, causing the water to splash around you.

“you gotta cum first princess.” rafe says, rubbing one hand over your clit. you press your lips against his jaw to avoid moaning, having to drop your head onto his shoulder as he flicks over your sensitive skin.

“hey guys!” you pick your head up when you hear toppers voice, heading towards the hot tub with just his swim shorts on. you react quickly, reaching to turn the jets on, causing the water to stir instantly and bubbles to cloud the top of the water, disguising what is happening below the surface.

“hey top.” you say as he gets into the hot tub, sitting on the opposite side of you and rafe.

you widen your eyes once topper can’t see your face, still fully sat on rafes cock. you go to get off, but rafe stops you, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“aren’t you supposed to be hosting this party topper?” rafe asks, thumbs rubbing over your hips.

“mmm, it’s fine. needed a break for a minute anyways.” topper says, leaning his head back against the rim of the hot tub, letting the jets massage him.

you go to pull off again, not wanting to be sitting on rafes cock with topper so close. rafe lets you pull off, but when you go to sit down next to him, he pulls you back on his lap, making you sink down on his cock again, just facing topper this time.

you lean back with your back against rafes chest, hoping topper doesn’t notice your movements too much or look under the water too closely.

“rafe…” you whisper, turning your head to skim your teeth over his jaw.

“shh.” rafe says, fingers moving back to your pussy. you grip his wrist under the water but don’t pull it away, letting him rub two fingers over your clit, moving easily over your skin in the water.

“so…” topper begins, picking his head up and looking at you, which you give him a quick smile before trying to control the emotions on your face. “were you not enjoying the party?” “oh, no.” you shake your head, trying to keep your upper body still as rafe begins to push his hips up against yours, his cock sliding in and out of your pussy by only inches. “we were having fun, just decided to get away from the noise a bit, right rafe?” “right.” rafe says, but his voice sounds strained, making topper furrow his brow and look closer.

“holy shit!” topper shouts, standing up in the hot tub, spilling water over the sides from his sudden movements. “you two are fucking right now!” “what? top! no!” you laugh it off, but rafes hands come to your hips, giving you a bounce as he’s unable to sit still any longer.

“oh my god, you’re actually disgusting.” topper climbs out of the hot tub, stomping back towards the party as you begin to move faster, rafes hips snapping up into yours.

“do not fucking get cum in the hot tub!” topper yells.

“don’t worry, i always cum inside!” rafe yells back with a laugh, making you clench your pussy tightly around him in disapproval, halting movement for only a minute before his fingers rub faster against your clit, making you too desperate to stop as you start to bounce again.

“rafe!” you shout out, arching your back as you move faster. “i’m close!” “close?” rafe asks with a dark chuckle. “did getting caught turn you on that much?” “fuck, fuck, just go harder.” you beg, and rafe quickly moves, switching positions so you’re kneeling on the seat of the hot tub while he stands in the center, thrusting his hips into you, not caring who sees at this point.

“god, yes!” you shout, holding your hand over rafes that rubs your clit, keeping it in place.

“fuck, baby, i’m cumming!” rafe warns, water splashing out of the hot tub as he thrusts into you as fast as he can possibly go, moaning and bending over your body as he cums, pushing it all deep inside you. upon feeling his release, your orgasm also rolls through your body. rafe keeps moving gently as you come down from your high, sinking back into the water as he pulls out, covering your pussy up with your swimsuit and tucking himself back into his shorts.

“come here.” rafe says, opening his arms, which you quickly accept and sit on his lap, resting your head against his bicep as you curl up into him.

“i think we scarred topper for life.” you giggle, thinking about the look on his face when he realized what was happening.

“tops a big boy, he’ll get over it.”

[phoenixcatch7]

Dp x dc twin au where Danny and Damian were in fact conjoined/siamese twins, but the most dangerous type - one head, two bodies.

Their early removal from talia being because their shape would not have allowed for natural birth, they were written off but talia begged for the chance to send them off in the lazarus pit.

By some bizarre miracle, before she turned to leave, two small bodies bobbed to the surface - identical in every way, except for the eyes. The previous blue eyes now split in two, one left, one right, and the new eyes, pit created, a bright green.

She took her child, her two children, and together, they survived.

Being removed prematurely, their early years were tough, but soon they blossomed into promising heirs for the league. In sync with every step, the closest of brothers, the league was certain the old fairy tale of twins being telepathic had been granted by the pit that separated them, the remnants of being born as one mind, one brain, one skull.

But then Danny had to flee, and leave his other half behind. Stretched by distance for the first time, the bond grew thin and stretched, and Damian grieved his brother as dead. When he started being sent on public missions, he hid his distinctive heterochromia, choosing the green in memory of the pit that had given him and his brother life.

Danny, hiding his pit aura in the ocean's worth that was Amity park, took to blue, the colour that he and Damian were born with.

Damian moves to Gotham, and continues to mourn his brother as dead, right until one day when he is twelve, when he learns what the death of your other half truly feels like.

-

Their reunion is a thing of family legend. Violence runs hot in both bloodlines, ghosts are highly emotional and prone to fighting a the drop of a hat for bonding, playing, testing, every reason under the green sun. Their training and play often consisted of friendly spars, competitive spars, furious spars, venting spars. Both have been exposed to unhealthy amounts of ecto since before their birth.

There is a long, long minute of staring, before they rip themselves away and lunge at each other like wolves.

The bat family are horrified by their brutally efficient youngest suddenly barreling towards a clone (?) and trying to claw his throat open with his bare hands while openly sobbing.

It ends with them wrapped around each other crying into the others shoulder as their minds finally meet again and relax from the painful stretch for the first time in years.

But nobody else has any idea what to do.

[longlivefanfic-net]

Rinse, Repeat

Summary: Eddie Munson comes into the diner you work at and asks you for help taking care of his hair. You go to his house and help him deep condition. All fluff/angst (for now)!

Content: Marijuana use, fluff, mention of parent death, Soft!Eddie <3

Word Count: 6k

A/N: Yeah I have been daydreaming about this fic since that man’s dry ass head of hair first came into my life. I love him but dear god,, his life would be changed by the curly girl method. Also: Mommy issues Munson <33 All fluff/angst (barely), smut half to come later!!

Standing with your back pressed against the formica countertop that surrounded the opening into the greasy, diner kitchen, you could feel the smooth metal pressing a chill through your too-thin uniform shirt. The diner was practically empty, only a few regulars sipping coffee at the counter while they read the newspaper or the paperback novels they brought with them. You ran your fingers through your hair, lifting and shaking the limp roots. You desperately needed the night off you were barreling towards at the end of this shift–you couldn’t remember when the last time you had actually washed your hair was, the polish on your nails was chipped, and you had spotted a small breakout in the mirror this morning that you wanted to treat before it had time to swell. You had also noticed how haggard your eyes looked; the purple splotches under your eyes nearly looked like bruises and the lines around your eyes ran deep. “Come on,” the other waitress on your shift, Jenny, said. “Come out with us tonight!” Some rich, washed-up jock who had graduated from Hawkins five years ago was having a party tonight, and Jenny desperately wanted backup with her at the party. You knew, however, that going to parties with Jenny always resulted in you either getting left talking to some guy’s creepy friend or holding her hair back while she puked. “Nuh-uh,” you said. “No way. I’m spending tonight actually getting some rest. Like you’re supposed to do on your time off?” Jenny laughed at that, and launched into her favorite lecture for you–you’re only young once, everyone dies, don’t you want to tell your grandkids about how fun you used to be, etc., etc.. 

The bell over the door chimed, tinny, as it swung open, but you kept your back to the door and whoever walked in. The watery morning sunlight coming in through the glass windows of the diner this morning had the same impact on your eyes as if you were severely hung over, and you were avoiding it at all costs. Jenny watched the new customer walk in, her eyes tracking them with a slight grimace turning the corner of her mouth down. “Yeah,” she said, cutting herself off. “You’re taking this one.” She shoved a notepad into your hands and then turned away, picking up a coffee pot with an orange handle to refill the mugs lined down the counter. The sigh that broke out of your mouth was only a little louder than socially acceptable as you turned around, looking for the outline of a new person against the harsh gleam of sunlight bouncing off of the chrome napkin dispensers and tops of sugar shakers. In the far corner, where the light was weakest, sat Eddie Munson. Your heart thumped, slightly, against your ribs as he looked up at you from across the room. He smiled, his lips pressed together, and you ran a quick hand over your shirt, attempting to smooth out any wrinkles before you walked over to his booth. “Hey Eddie,” you said, voice light. 

You had met Eddie Munson in high school years ago. You were warned against him almost immediately–he was a freak, everyone said, and he smoked weed and probably had other stuff, hard stuff like what people get arrested for and your mom would cry about. You had heard your friends bring his name up too many times, always punctuating it with shrill laughs, but you could never convince yourself to laugh at their jokes: you didn’t know Eddie that well, but he had always been almost overly polite in the few conversations the two of you had had, and you saw the way he was with his Hellfire kids: how he teased them and then made them smile like he was their big brother. Sure, he wore a lot of black and chains, and you had only heard of most of the band names on his denim vest when your mom was watching a TV special about the rise of Satanic cults in America, but you just couldn’t wrap your mind around the idea of Eddie Munson being anything less than…well, than a nice guy. 

You were thinking about this as you walked up to Eddie’s booth of choice. He came into the diner every now and then–usually early in the morning or late at night, and he always tipped well and made polite conversation with you. The other girls avoided his table, as if bringing him a plate of pancakes with a side of fries would infect them. As a result, you had become very familiar with his routines: early mornings (like this one) were usually accompanied by coffee, no cream, and a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon. Then, he would sit on the hood of his van in the parking lot, smoking, before getting in and driving away. “Usual this morning?” You asked as you approached him, pen already on your notepad. “Good morning,” Eddie said, smiling at you with a soft head shake, like he was clearing his brain. “You look particularly chipper this morning.” You laughed, though you weren’t sure if the joke was Eddie’s sarcasm or how awful you knew you looked. “I know what I look like right now, Eddie,  and it’s not chipper.” “Well,” Eddie said, jerking his head slightly to the side, “It’s not like I can say ‘Hey, you look like shit today.’” You laughed again, a slight blush stealing up your cheeks. “Don’t worry,” you say, a slight smile on your lips still. “I’ll look better the next time you come in.” “Well, if that’s a promise, I’ll go ahead and take my usual for today and make plans to come back tomorrow.” He winked at you, handing you the laminated, oversized menu as he did. You would have blushed, but, frankly, this was just how Eddie talked to girls—even the ones who barely looked at him. 

You came back with a mug and a pot of coffee after putting in his order at the window, and you set the mug at the end of the table, sliding it across the smooth tabletop to him. His hands reach out, wrapping silver-clad, guitar-string-calloused fingers around the cup as you fill it, and you can’t help but think about how this image almost looks like a still life painting–Coffee With Freaks, you think to yourself, emphasizing the s as you count yourself. You turn on your heel, intending to walk back to the counter where Jenny is glaring at the two of you, but Eddie stops you. “So,” he says, eyes on his coffee as he pours an absurd amount of sugar into the cup, “Doing anything fun tonight?” You look back at Jenny over your shoulder, and her eyebrows are raised at you in horror. “Not really,” you say, turning back to where Eddie has shifted his face to look up at you. “Jenny invited me to a party, but I think I’m going to take a night off.” “Oh,” Eddie says, more a grunt than a word. “And what does a girl like you do on a night off?” You smile slightly, unsure how close exactly the conversation is coming to flirting. “Rent a movie, paint my nails, wash my hair. You know,” you say, shrugging. “Girl stuff.” “Girl stuff,” Eddie says, nodding. His order is called, and you go back behind the counter, avoiding Jenny’s wide eyes as you grab the warm plate and bring it back to Eddie’s table. 

“So is ‘girl stuff’ the reason your hair usually looks so good?” Eddie says when you set his plate down in front of him. You feel a slight flush run up your neck at the implication that he notices your hair (as well as the subtle mention of how you look right now). “I guess,” you say, noncommittally. Eddie gestures to the empty seat across from him with his fork. “Sit,” he grunts, “Tell me about this girl stuff.” You look around the diner. Jenny is distracted, cashing out one of the men who has finally finished his cup of coffee, and there are barely enough people in the building to necessitate you and Jenny both being there. You slide into the seat quickly, watching Eddie reach for tabasco to sprinkle over his eggs. Your heart is squeezing, turning in on itself inside your chest as you watch him replace the bottle at the end of the table and look up at you, grinning. This feels…taboo. Sitting with Eddie Munson, talking to him about what, exactly? Your hair care routine? If any of the girls you and Jenny go to parties with walked in right now, you’re pretty sure you would never live this down–but something in you refuses to let your common sense move your legs to standing and walk away. Mouth full, Eddie gestures to you and then to his plate, sliding the edge with bacon closer to you. Oh, what the hell, you think. In for a penny, in for a pound. 

You reach out, snagging the toast off the corner of the plate instead and take a small bite, chewing it slowly. Eddie grins at you, his cheeks bulging around his tightly closed mouth. He swallows, your eyes following the movement of his throat, and speaks: “Honestly, I want your advice on my hair,” he says, his face totally serious. “I’m pretty sure those commercials about ‘dry hair’ were just talking about me.” You laugh at this, a small giggle that makes the corners of your mouth turn up, and he tilts his chin back slightly as he smiles back at you. “How do you get those luscious locks of yours?” He says, gesturing his empty fork towards you before stabbing up another clump of red-splattered eggs. You shrug again, noticing that you seem to shrug a lot around Eddie, and say, “For you, Munson, I would start with a full conditioner treatment.” You lean forward, crossing your arms on the table. “I’m talking the works–conditioner, shower cap, and rinse before we even get into the shampoo stage, and then a shorter round of conditioner.” “Mm-hm,” he murmurs behind his full mouth before swallowing. “And where does someone get this kind of shit? Is there some sort of brightly lit store where Hawkins mommies will turn their kiddies eyes away from me as I pick up these lovely products?” Eddie always does that–makes jokes about the way people think about him, about how they treat him. Either he really, genuinely doesn’t care, or he’s better at pretending than you are. You bite your lip, barely, but his eyes flick down to your mouth at the slight movement before coming back up to yours. What the hell, you think again. “I have all the stuff, actually,” you say, “So I could just bring it over to your place.” 

Eddie sits back against the booth seat, beaming softly, his mouth puckered into a smile. “Really? On your night off?” “I was going to do my hair tonight anyway,” you say, “It wouldn’t be too hard to help you with…all of that, too.” You gesture vaguely to his head of wild, dark curls, and Eddie blushes this time (and, you can’t help but notice, the slight pink stain dancing over his cheekbones only makes him look gentle, softer). “Alright,” he says, bobbing his head, “You can come to my trailer when you get off tonight.” 

*****

Your fist comes up to rap against the metal door and lowers before making contact–again. You had finished your shift thirty minutes earlier, driving home at speeds that would have Hawkins PD concerned if they were ever actually patrolling, and changed out of your uniform before tossing all of your hair products into a bag. Peeling out of your driveway, you had punched the gas pedal nearly to the floor–but as you got closer to the trailer park, your car slowed, your foot easing off the gas of it’s own will. Parking in front of the trailer Eddie had described to you, you had chewed on your bottom lip aggressively. How stupid did it make you if you went through with this? Jenny had already been scandalized when Eddie left, nodding his head to you and quietly saying that he would see you tonight. You knew that, right now, Jenny and all of your other friends were probably shrieking with laughter, making up obscene rumors about what you and “the freak” were doing–or, equally likely, they were already too drunk to remember you weren’t at the party with them. You had screwed up your courage and gotten out of the car, barely remembering your bag of hair products in the passenger seat, and marched right up to Eddie’s door…where you had stood for the last five minutes. Every time you picked up your hand to knock, this overwhelming wave of fear would wash over you–you couldn’t go through with it. Maybe you should just go back to the car; Munson had probably already forgotten his invitation to you, and you could go home and do your beauty routine as planned: alone. Just as you had finally decided to leave, the door opened with a low screech of hinges to reveal a warm, softly glowing interior partially blocked by a silhouette. “Hey!” Eddie crowed. “I thought I heard a car but then no one knocked–you get lost?” He looked at you, eyes slightly crinkling at the edges, and you knew he was giving you an excuse for why he had caught you with your back turned to his front door. 

“Actually,” you said, tensing your jaw. “I was about to go home.” Eddie’s face falls slightly before a careful guard comes over it. “Ah.” “See,” you say, breath a little shaky as the words rush out, “I’m just not sure we can save your hair. I mean, it’s really a desperate case, Munson–but I do think it’s my responsibility to give it a try.” You smile slightly, trying to show him that you’re teasing, and he smiles back. Suddenly, he steps back, throwing an arm out to the side as he bends slightly at the waist to indicate that you should come in. You do, brushing his torso with the side of your arm as you cross the threshold. Hopefully he didn’t notice the goosebumps that immediately raced over your skin at the contact. You set your bag down, turning in a slow circle as you examine the room. The soft light is coming from multiple lamps around the space, and the room appears to be decorated in shades of brown. The living room is lined with a collection of men’s caps, and a shelf over the drawn curtains has a variety of mugs. You walk over to them, peering closely. “Garfield?” You say, pointing to one near the end. “My uncle’s,” Eddie says, coloring slightly as one of his hands reaches up behind him to fidget with his hair. When you smile, Eddie continues, explaining, “It’s a one bedroom. He sleeps out here and I have the bedroom.” “That’s nice,” you say, nodding your head a little as you turn to look at him. You really examine Eddie: in this soft, warm light he glows slightly, and his features look more gentle than usual, almost like how he looks when he claps one of his Hellfire kids on the back. He’s wearing a long sleeved t-shirt, the sleeves pushed up over his forearms, and your eyes linger on the edges of his tattoos before sliding down, noting the chain on his jeans and his bare feet. You continue to turn around the room, taking in every inch of the interior. For the town freak’s house, it all seems overwhelmingly…normal. 

“So,” Eddie says, clearing his throat to dispel the silence. “How do we do this hair stuff? What do you need from me?” He’s got his hands in his pockets, and something about the way he’s standing makes him look almost embarrassed. “Not much,” you say. “I brought pretty much everything we need with me, so we really just need a place to hang out for a while–oh! Where’s your kitchen?” Eddie looks at you, the skin between his eyebrows wrinkling as he points behind you. You turn, walking towards the darker room. Inside, flicking the light switch to turn on the soft, yellow glow, you look around. The kitchen is small but there’s a countertop going from one wall to the other, the sink set in the far right corner. The cabinets over the counter don’t leave much space, but that won’t be much of a problem. You turn back to the living room, surprised to find Eddie standing directly behind you. His hands come up instantly, resting directly over your shoulders and keeping you from bumping into him. “Oh!” You exhale. “Sorry. Um, this is fine. So where should we go to hang out?” 

Eddie leads you down the only hallway to his bedroom, your bag in his hand. “My uncle won’t be home until morning,” he says over his shoulder, “but I try to make his space his own, you know?” “Yeah,” you say, although you don’t, not really. Still, it’s nice that Eddie does that–actually, the way he looks every time he talks about his uncle is nice. It’s clear that Eddie loves his uncle, and you can’t help but think how surprisingly sweet he actually is under the tough persona he puts on for the people of Hawkins. You walk into his room and your feet immediately come to a stop as you take in the room around you. “Wow, Munson,” you say. Eddie stands to the side, running his free hand up the side of his neck to fist at his pulse, letting you look your fill. The walls are covered: posters, mostly from his metal bands as best as you can tell; art, some of which looks like hand drawn illustrations of, what you assume are, dungeons and dragons characters; even a pair of handcuffs hanging on the wall, like some trophy for his supposed run-ins with the police department (or, you think, blushing slightly, maybe he keeps them there for easy access). The window has a sheet stapled over it for a curtain, and it falls lightly over a large amp that you assume is used for the red guitar hanging over the mirror. Every surface in the room is cramped, on the verge of overflowing and spilling out oversized books, loose guitar picks, change, and little balls that, when you pick one up to examine, you realize are dice with too many sides. You set the die down, noticing a large box of cassettes on the floor next to a boombox with a tape deck. Actually–you look around the room again–there are cassettes on almost every surface. His nightstand, his dresser, his amp all have at least one cassette box on them, and the box on the floor is filled to the brim as well. 

You turn to him. “You really like music, huh?” You ask, eyebrows high and a slight smile playing on your lips as you pick up the cassette box closest to you. Eddie’s cheeks turn slightly pink as his hand slips down his neck to hide back in his pocket. “Yeah,” he says, looking around the room at the many cassettes he has scattered around. “I get a lot of them at garage sales. I buy some of them–I, uh,” he says, blushing again as he pointedly looks away from you, “I definitely stole a few here and there. And I made my own mixtapes, obviously.” Your eyebrows lift again as he looks at you. “So the rumors are true,” you say. Eddie’s face falls immediately, and his mouth hardens into a thin line. “What rumors?” “Relax, Munson,” you say, bringing your hands up. “I just meant that you’re a bad boy.” At this, Eddie laughs, harsh and loud. “A bad boy,” he says nodding, “I like that.” You cross the narrow space between the two of you, taking your bag out of his hand. “How about you pick an album to play for me while I do your hair?” You ask, and Eddie’s face is radiant. Somehow, you’ve managed to say the exact thing that could mean the most to him, and he genuinely seems to almost glow with excitement. “What kind of music do you like?” He asks. “I don’t really listen to a lot of music,” you say, lifting your shoulders noncommittally. “Just whatever comes on the radio at work.” “Ugh,” Eddie sighs, rolling his eyes. “The stuff you guys play in the diner is terrible. I mean, Jesus H. Christ, we get it, Madonna exists. That doesn’t mean I want to listen to her all the time!” You laugh, slightly shocked at hearing Eddie Munson even say the name Madonna. “I’ve got the perfect album for you,” Eddie says, holding up a cassette with dark blue streaks of what you think are lightning over the cover. “Metallica. Now, this is music,” he says, popping the cassette into the tape deck. 

He presses play, turning the volume down considerably. The gentle strains of guitar are joined by drums and quickly turn to a much more aggressive sound as you set your bag down on Eddie’s bed and begin to rifle through it, looking through the products you brought. You notice that Eddie’s bed is well made and suspiciously clean compared to the rest of the room, but you push the idea of him changing his sheets before you came over out of your head. “Come sit down,” you say, pulling out a bottle of conditioner, a comb, and a scrunchie. Eddie does as he’s ordered, sitting next to where you’re standing. He picks up the bottle you’re about to open and examines it. “Is this that shit Brooke Shields uses?” He asks, obviously skeptical. You can’t stop yourself from laughing, shaking your head with a smile, and he angles his head slightly towards you, watching you. “How often do you wash your hair?” You ask him. Looking scandalized, Eddie replies “Every day. I’m not gross.” You shake your head again, rolling your eyes slightly this time. “That’s half of your problem at least,” you say. “But at least it’s clean to start with right now.” You move, coming to stand in between Eddie’s legs, and reach your hand out towards Eddie’s hair, stopping before you touch him. Your hand hovers over his mass of black waves and you look down at his face. “Is it…okay?” You ask. “For me to touch you?” You think you see a slight flush steal up his neck, but he nods all the same. You allow your fingers to rest gently on his head before digging them in, quickly combing your hands through his hair. It is dry, but it’s also long, and brushing your fingers through it has worked up a scent of soap and a little bit of tobacco smoke. “Well?” He asks from below you. “Is it salvageable?” You laugh, looking down at him. Suddenly, you realize his face is almost completely level with your chest and the slight shock makes your ribs expand with a stifled gasp. Seeing this movement, Eddie looks up at you suddenly–the two of you make eye contact and flush at the exact same time, bright red staining both of your cheeks as you quickly look away. 

“I think we can save your hair,” you say, clearing your throat slightly. You start applying conditioner to his dark locks, working it well and truly into the roots before combing it all the way down to the ends. The feel of the smooth cream slides between your fingers, and you think you hear him hum slightly more than once, though you’re unsure whether it’s along to the music or in happiness. It’s nice, surprisingly, to work your fingers through his hair. When you’ve applied it thoroughly, making his dark locks hang in clumps, you slide his hair back up until you’ve brought it all together at the back of his skull. Leaning across Eddie’s torso, you grab your scrunchie off the bed and use it to tie his hair up in place. “There,” you say. “Now what?” He asks, tilting his head up to look at you. He looks cute like this, you think, the thought unbidden. “Um, now I’m going to wash my hands,” you say, holding up your conditioner-covered hands. “And then we’ll let it sit for a while.” Eddie points you to the bathroom, and you take a moment in the cramped space to stare at your reflection in the mirror. It’s okay to be friends with the freak, you think, but you’re not going to have a crush on him. It’s Eddie fucking Munson! 

You come back from the bathroom right as the tape player clicks over to a new song. “Oh, you’ve got to listen to this one,” Eddie says. He grabs your hand as you approach the bed, tugging you down to sit next to him as the music plays. Even with the volume turned down, it seems to fill the small space, pushing the two of you closer. A bell chimes out, quickly accompanied by a guitar and drums. The beat is immediately addictive and you can’t stop your head from nodding ever so slightly in time to it. When the guitar changes, Eddie turns to look at you. He’s smiling, his eyes hopeful, and when you smile back at him his grin grows wider. By the time the singer joins in, you’ve already decided to like the song if only because of how happy it makes Eddie. “Hold on,” Eddie says. “Just–trust me on this.” You look at him, your eyebrows sliding together in confusion just before he places his hands on your shoulders–and shoves you backwards onto the bed. Your body hits the mattress, and you stare at the ceiling in shock. A thumping sound and a soft bounce next to you tells you that Eddie has laid down too, dangling his head over the other side of the mattress. “Some music is just meant to be listened to while you’re laying down,” he says softly. The rest of the song plays, and you have to agree with him–some songs are meant to be listened to laying down. 

You spend the next thirty minutes staring at Munson’s ceiling, listening to Metallica. He sits up after a minute and asks if it’s okay with you if he smokes. “It’s your room, Munson,” you say, still on your back. “Yeah, princess, but what I’m going to light might make you feel a little lightheaded.” “Really?” You ask, sitting up. “Are you smoking pot?” Munson nods, eyebrows furrowed. “Yeah,” you say, laying back down. “Go ahead and light up.” The smell was actually familiar to you–you had smelled it in the high school parking lot more than enough times, and it almost smelled good to you here, in the tight confines of Eddie’s bedroom. You found your eyes drifting softly closed after a few minutes, either a result of the exhaustion from your long week or the weed. “Hey,” Eddie said, quietly. “You okay?” “Just enjoying your music, Munson,” you muttered back, keeping your eyes just barely open. The tape clicked and you heard Eddie stand up, pop the tape deck open, flip the tape, and replace it before the music started again. When you felt the mattress bounce under your body, you knew Eddie had come to sit beside you again. Somehow it didn’t surprise you when you felt his fingers, calloused and cool to the touch, slide over the palm of your hand closest to him and wrap around your own. The two of you sat there like that–you on your back, eyelids heavy, Eddie sitting next to you, stroking long circles over the back of your hand with his thumb–until the tape came to it’s final conclusion. 

“Well,” Eddie said as you sat up, looking at you expectantly. “What did you think?” “It was…kind of incredible, Eddie.” He grinned at you, tucking his chin slightly as he angled his head. “Kind of incredible? Kind of? It’s fucking Metallica,” he laughed softly, rolling his eyes. “Okay, fine,” you say, “Really incredible. Now, can we go rinse your hair in the kitchen?” “Oh,” Eddie says, hand reaching up to the slick bun on the back of his head. The tattoos on his forearm flicker with the movement of muscle, and you can’t stop yourself from reaching out a hand to place over the art. Eddie freezes at your touch, his entire body stiffening until you pull all but your index finger back, tracing the black lines of the artwork on his arm. You bite your lip, just barely, and turn your eyes up to look at him. He’s staring at your fingers, watching your hand move over his skin and summon goosebumps to the surface of his delicate skin. When he looks at you, you drop your hand back to your side and stare at him for one, two seconds longer than you should. He stands up suddenly, almost startling you with how quick his movements are. “Rinse,” he says, and he extends a hand to you that you grip tightly as you regain your feet. You expect him to let go of your hand as soon as you’re standing, but instead he begins to walk down the hallway, pulling your wrist slightly as you trail behind him. He looks…beautiful, you think as you follow him down the hallway. The knot of hair on the back of his head, the chain glinting in the yellow lamp light across his hips, the rumpled shirt, even the casualness of his bare feet, all come together to paint a version of this man you had never considered before. A version that’s more than Eddie Munson, town freak, weed dealer, D&D player; a version that’s Eddie Munson, who loves his uncle, is always listening to music, and, maybe, can be gentler than you had ever dreamed. 

In the kitchen, Eddie turns to you expectantly. “Okay,” he says, clapping his hands together. The noise startles you out of your reverie, breaking your eyes away from his body for the first time in a while. “Now what?” “On the cabinet, Munson,” you say, pointing to the long shelf formed by the countertop against the wall. His brows draw down in confusion as a half grimace twists his lips. “Excuse me, princess?” You walk over to the sink, patting the countertop next to it with two heavy slaps. “Up. Sit here.” Eddie comes over and turns around, putting his hands behind him on the counter as he jumps slightly, shifting his hips back in the same moment to perch on the surprisingly clean cabinets. “Lay down,” you say, “And put your head over the sink.” Eddie looks at you for a moment as he pulls your scrunchie out of his hair and slides it over his wrist, the hint of a smile playing at his mouth when he does as you command. Once he’s laying on his back, his round, wide eyes looking up at you, you turn on the water, slowly warming it up away from his face. You reach over Eddie, unfortunately aware of how close your torso is to his face in this position, and grab the small hose connected to the faucet. Testing the water temperature on your wrist, you find it satisfactory and start to gently rinse out his hair. The thick locks grow heavy with the weight of the water, and they feel smooth and slick under your fingers. One hand maneuvers the spray over his hair while the other supports his neck, occasionally scratching your fingertips into the base of his scalp. “Where did you learn to do this kind of stuff?” Eddie asks. You look at his face, and he’s watching you carefully, a sort of reverence on his face. “My mom used to do this for me,” you say, softly. “When I was a kid.” “Oh,” Eddie says, turning his eyes to the ceiling. “That explains why I’ve never done it, I guess.” 

You don’t say anything. You don’t know much about Eddie’s parents, except that they’re not around. You turn the heat up slightly on the water, focusing on rinsing the conditioner down into the sink. “She died,” Eddie says, casually, and you feel your hands still for a moment. In the silence, you look at his face. He’s still looking straight up, eyes on the ceiling, but he looks serious now. “It wouldn’t have made a lot of difference,” he says, “if she had lived. Munson’s have never been the good guys in this town. But I do kind of wish she had been around. To take care of me instead of my uncle.” He sighs, his breath coming out in a heavy stream. “It would have been nice, I think, to have someone teach me this kind of stuff.” His eyes come back to yours, a slight smile on his mouth. “This girl stuff.” You smile back at him, and your fingers scratch in the base of his scalp as you resume the water flow. He closes his eyes and lets out a sound that’s almost like purring. “God,” he hums, “that feels incredible.” You chuckle slightly, and he opens his eyes to look at you.“So this is something moms do?” he asks. You laugh, tilting your head back. “Are you implying that you see me as a mother figure, Munson?” “No! God no! Well, I mean, you could be a mom if you wanted–” You laugh, loudly, temporarily relieving the pressure on the handle of the hose so you don’t spray water directly into his face as he awkwardly dances around his own word choice. 

When you regain your breath and stop laughing you resume spraying, pretending not to notice his overserious focus on the ceiling and the patches of red on his cheeks as you brush your fingers across the edges of his temple, working the conditioner out of his roots. “It’s just something people do for the people they care about,” you say, intent on his hair as you answer his earlier question. “So you care about me?” Your eyes jump to his, your hand releasing the clamp on the hose immediately. He’s gazing up at you from the sink, eyes wide and warm brown, and you can feel the stillness of his body in your hands as you continue to support his head and neck. There’s a slight flicker of muscle along his jaw, the only sign that he’s waiting for you to answer him in the silence that sits between the two of you now. “I want to do this for you, Eddie,” you say, and it hits you in that moment how true that sentence is. His brows scrunch together slightly as the skin around his eyes crease. “Is that a yes?” You lean down, slowly, hand still in his sopping wet hair supporting his neck. Gently, nervously, you brush your lips across his mouth, the muscle in his jaw releasing as his mouth falls open just slightly. “Yes,” you say quietly, pulling back. His eyes are, somehow, even wider when he opens them, his lips somehow rosier as he looks at you. “Can I sit up yet?” He asks, voice low. You wrap your hands around his hair, squeezing tightly to wring as much water as possible out of his locks, and grab his hands, helping to pull him to sitting. He swings his legs down, immediately settling a leg on either side of your body as he yanks your hands, bringing your body crashing into his. The thump of his head hitting the cabinet behind him is loud, and you wince for him as he laughs. “Are you okay?” You ask, turning your face up to his. “Never better,” he says, tucking his chin as he leans down to kiss you. 

[principalinstigator]

sometimes I think I was a bit delulu for this ship then I remember this is literally how Supergirl and Lena Luthor met

[ghostbsuter]

The house of Nightingale & Constantine ( P. 1 )

> next part

.・゜-: ✧ :-

You know, when Batman reassured him (was it tho? His way of using words is a bit... confusing.) of bringing in a third person for their common problem, Phantom, Danny, didn't press nor worry.

He regrets it now, just a little bit.

—

Dick liked Danny.

The small guy has been an absolute delight!

(He isn't grinning when he and Damian duke it out, doesnt watch fondly when Danny and Jason exchange the most weirdest ways of insulting someone or when He and Steph gossip, Cass sitting behind him with her hands in his hair.)

(He can see from the corner of his eye the way Tim hides a grin behind his hand, texting Danny someone rapidly and their Guest laughing at random times, the way even Duke, despite wearing the sunglasses, seems to warm up pretty quickly to their new brother friend.)

(It's doesn't help that he has black hair and blue eyes either.)

Danny has been living with them for some time now, temporarily as it may be, and grew on them all pretty quickly.

Bruce told them when Constantine arrived at the cave, seemingly irritated for unknown reasons, and they all were ushered to the elevator.

There is no noise as they arrive, Danny few feet off the ground and engaged on a hot topic with Steph as they go down the stairs.

The moment Constantine is in sight however, has their resident ghost snapping out of the conversation and zooming in on the man from afar.

It's kind of funny? The way his black hair fluffs up like in a Ghibli Movie, the way his eyes narrow to slits, glowing a faint green.

Many shout in alarm at the sight of agitation (?), Dick sees Constantines own eyes glow a eery gold??

It's like two cats staring down one another, a showdown.

(Someone should record this.)

The two meet down in the middle of the cave, Danny is bristling and John scowling.

"Really Bats? A Nightingale?" The blond man scoffs, pushing his hands into the pockets of his coat, hands roaming for cigarettes probably.

"Excuse me? I thought the line of Constantine died out back then, with the way you handle your stuff." The teen hisses back, a hand running through his poofed up hair.

"Hah!" The Hellblazer gives a mocking laugh, cigar already in hand and lit. "'With the way we handle our stuff'? Weren't the Nightingales out of commission not so long ago?"

The glow might have died out, but the tension only rose higher.

Danny turns to Batman, glowering.

"Asking for the help of the house of Constantine? Are you crazy? Those nutjobs have no self-preservation!"

John's eye twitches at the remark.

"No self-preservation, my ass. Nightingales do nothing but mess with stuff they shouldn't, talk about self-preservation when you have it yourself, pipsqueak."

And Danny? Danny growls.

"All you do is trick every being to do your bidding! One day all of this will catch up to your house and me? I will watch as it burns."

The blonds cigarette snaps in his grip.

"Burn? Me? Doesn't the house if Nightingales hunt the beings we 'trick'? It seems to me that your lineage is already going down as we speak."

The argument (?) continues and the batclan does nothing but watch as if its a particularly interesting tennis match.

(John looks like he's about 5 seconds away from strangling Danny and the teen about to bite off John's head.)

"What's going on?" Finally, Batman steps in.

"What's going on? What's going on?? You said you'd bring in a third person! Not a constantine!"

The bat shows no signs of anything really, when both teen and man whip around to face him.

"I thought you'd know better than to involve yourself with the house of Nightingales."

"I was here first! No take backs!"

"And yet I know bats longer, don't I, pipsqueak?"

"Foolish trickster!"

"Imprudent necromancer!"

(Apparently, beef between two houses of dark exists and they had the chance to experience it first hand.)

(This is one of the many occurrences.)

[happypeachsludgeflower]

Who wants to bet Peerless Cucumber has an entire fan base within the pidw’s fandom? Potentially even bringing in a portion of pidw’s readers who just want to enjoy shen yuan just loosing it in the comments.

Like sure, some of the fandom’s definitely there for the toxic masculinity and papapa, but I guarantee you there’s an entire section dedicated to gleefully watching the fandom sewer rat being feral.

[urdepressedslut]

Just Like That

♡ Pairing: tfatws!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

♡ Summary: While you two were supposed to be repairing Sam’s boat, you end up giving Bucky head instead.

♡ Warnings: SMUT, blowjobs, deepthroating/face fucking, slight praise kink, literally no plot just filth

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MINORS DO NOT INTERACT | 18+

He couldn’t stop his hips from thrusting into your lips, the way your tongue ran on the underside of his dick— tracing the bulging vein.

“Doll… oh my… fuckkk.” He moaned out, his flesh hand tangling their fingers into your hair.

You hummed, sending vibrations into his dick. The action had him gripping your hair tight, the slight pain from your scalp shooting straight to your core. The throb had you whining around his length.

“Making me feel s’ good baby.” He praised breathlessly, easing his grip on your hair— petting it down soothingly.

You flattened your palms on his thighs, pushing forward until the head of his cock bumped the back of your throat.

His hips bucked instinctively, almost crying out at the way your throat was squeezing him. He grabbed the doorway of the boat, the wood splintering in his metal grip.

You pulled all the way off of him, before swallowing his entire length again— gagging as his head hit deeper in the back of your throat.

“S’ fucking good baby…” He whimpered, his head tilted back in ecstasy.

You snuck a hand down, playing with his balls, letting your other hand pump his length. You glanced up at him— spit leaking from your lips. You watched with lust filled eyes as he panted and whined.

“James… you’re so hard,” You purred, his head snapping down at you, “Bet you’re close, huh?”

He let out a pathetic whine as you squeezed his balls—his face contorted in pain.

“Words baby.” You demanded, leaning forward to swirl your tongue around his head.

His hips twitched slightly, the sensation of your tongue massaging around his tip heavenly. He let out a deep moan, feeling your tongue lick over his slit.

“S’ close doll— just like that.” He praised, letting his fingers comb through your hair.

There was something about you kneeling before him, eyes glossed over with lust, as the tears trailed down your cheeks— that made him absolutely feral. The position was so submissive, yet you held all the power. He was melting at your touch— his body putty at your hands.

You pumped his achingly hard length, giving his tip kitten licks. With your free hand caressing his thigh, you could feel the muscle twitch under your palm.

“Gonna cum James?” You asked hoarsely, his hazed over eyes meeting with yours.

You captured his length again, deepthroating him until your nose was buried into the hairs at the base of his cock. You gagged again, the convulsion from your throat making him growl in pleasure.

“Oh… that— keep doing that baby fuck…” He begged, his hips having a mind of their own, rocking into your face.

You whined around him, trying to breathe through your nose as he began to fuck your throat.

You reached around, grabbing handfuls of his ass— kneading the flesh. The action only made his thrusts deeper, his moans needier.

His thrusts were harsher, his needs a priority and if he had to use your face to chase his high— so be it. You on the other hand, we’re dripping. Your pussy was throbbing, him manhandling you making your entire body tingle— ache with desire.

He was nearly crying, his pants mixed with whines, getting impossibly close to the edge. You whimpered around him, his sounds only edging you on.

“Fuck baby… yes— you’re fucking mine,” He growled, his length growing impossibly harder at the image of you crying around him, “All mine.”

Your nails dug into the skin on his ass, your face drenched in tears, salvia leaking out of your mouth and down your chin. You gagged again, spurring him on further, his thrusts quicker. He grabbed your head, fucking your face with such force and suddenly he was pushing impossibly deeper in your throat, your jaw aching.

With an animalistic groan, he was spilling his seed down your throat. His breathing slowing, the waves of euphoria flowing throughout him. He stayed like that for a moment, relishing the feel of your throat around him.

At last, he released his death grip on your head. Slipping his cock from your throat with a hiss, his head sensitive. You gasped, panting in attempts to fill your lungs with the needed air.

With hooded eyes, Bucky gazed down at you with pleasure hazed eyes. His cock twitched at your flushed face, the tears tracks mixing with your spit— and his cum that had snuck out. Your eyes were slightly bloodshot, but as you gazed up at him— you were looking at him with such desire. You looked as if you were just getting started, and you wanted to devour him again.

“Such a good girl.” He whispered, voice hoarse.

He cradled your face, caressing your clammy cheek. He gently pulled you up, helping support your swaying state. You leaned into his palm, holding his gaze with adoration.

“I love you James.” You spoke into his palm, placing a kiss on his rough skin.

“I love you more baby.” He told you, wrapping his metal arm around your lower back, pulling you flush to him. “Now, let me return the favor.”

[dirtgrubber]

sooo i spent all day drawing one of my favorite scenes from the amazing fic by @morningstarwrites