#fic: golden eyed
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so i went insane about @/lagsemantics's misfire/soundwave ship
also yes, i am posting this late because oopsies i forgot about it lol. anyway, it's self promo time
#wirli's fics#fic: golden eyed#oh yeah i talked about this at some point!#anyway hello and good day to you people#this is a little prequel thing to another fic i might be doing once i am more prepared#and less afraid of mid to long fic#i will be practicing. once i have practiced adequately then they'll be sorry/j#no beta we die like ... death idk man#no beta we die in general#tf misfire#tf soundwave#misfire/soundwave#miswave#soundfire#whatever it is#i like the sound of miswave#transformers#maccadam
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Summary:
âOh, Miquella.â She touches him, takes his cheek in her small hand and strokes him, thumbing over his cheekbone from nose to ear, slowly, as if she might commit his shape to memory. âYou have lost⊠so much.â âNot quite enough to become a God,â he counters. âYet.â He means it as reassurance. He means to say, I have lost nothing more than what I had to lose. What I set out to lose, for a greater purpose. And that is good. I am doing good for the world. But she is not reassured. She sighs, and it is not her sweet, familiar sigh but something so heavy that he is surprised not to see it take physical form and thud down between them. âBut enough so you cannot go back.â At that he laughs, and it comes out too brittleâor is it too hard?âto be amusement. âI do not wish to go back.â
#crackinthecup's writing#miquella#st trina#elden ring#elden ring shadow of the erdtree#elden ring fic#i don't even remember the last time i wrote a non-tolkien fic#this was fun and it was terrifying#also if i had a nickel for every time i got obsessed with a golden-eyed and golden-haired character who likes to delude themselves#i would have two nickels#which is starting to feel like a pattern
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idk whats going on with the patrick ginger discourse, but the true debate should be over whether petes eyes count more as brown, or as green. i vote green 100% btw. theres like a splash of brown in the middle, but thats it.
SORRY FOR THE LATE ANSWER I WAS GETTING RECIPTS
sheâs hazel. to me <3
edit: pictures for proof
#yeah i know hazel is just a term for brown green blue eyes#but in art he will be brown eyed and in fics he will be golden eyed#okay? okay#spi.answers
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southpaw
boxer!Ghost x reader, ghost is lefthanded and i won't argue about this cw: dubcon - 18+ mdni So this was supposed to be one long fic but then i got carried away, here's part one of two. forgive me. [read on ao3 if you want]
You met Simon at the pub, on a Wednesday.Â
It had been an arduous day at work, and a long week, despite having only made it halfway through - and you were on a knife edge, exhausted and sour. It was visible at first sight of you, you wore it like a greasy, raggedy cloak when you leaned slump-shouldered over the bar.Â
He had drawn your attention like a magnet the moment you spotted him, the towering buzzed-blond behemoth standing alone at a tall table, a half-empty pint glass in his thick fist. Youâd shoot furtive little glances in his direction, and each time they were caught.Â
Caught being the operative word - when you met his eye you were trapped there, forcibly hooked on him as he glowered at you like he was angry. His eyes were shadowed from where you were perched - requesting a gin and tonic, short - and you should have found that frightening. Instead the adrenaline in your belly fizzed like a pinger, a girlish buzz that made your hairs stand on end and your cunt all warm.Â
You would not have begrudged any male attention, in fact you were long starved of it; but you felt guilty, in a way, subjecting a man to the state you were in. Short-fused and frazzled, thin knitted scarf wrapped tight around your neck, autumn coat slipping from your drooping shoulder. You dug around in your bag for your wallet when the bartender handed you the card reader, scooping frantically through the piles of receipts and hairclips and loose tampons. Offered sheepish apologies to him; so sorry, itâs definitely in there. Iâm a mess! Long day, sorry. So sorry. Sorry.Â
You jumped when you heard the thud of a light slap on the counter, the low huff of an exasperated man, sick and tired. Looking up from your bottomless satchel, you saw the tenner left beside the card reader, and the bartender nodded in thanks before taking it swiftly.Â
âNo problem,â came the gruff voice from above you, implicitly chastising your lack of thanks when you tilted your head upward to blink at him.Â
He was pretty - your first thought - in a dirty, brutish sort of way. Heavy-browed and amber-eyed, with thick blond lashes and a deep golden stubble. He was adorned with freckles and little scars, slivers of pink and white, some fresh and some old. And when he smirked knowingly at your silence, a dimple pulled in his cheekbone, the crater of an injury once sustained.Â
He had just been to the gym, you could smell it on him; ripe and heady, a musk you should have been more repulsed by than you were. Instead you savoured it like some little animal, turned your head at the raw pheromones as though a doe sniffing out her stag during the rut. You could also tell as much from his gym gear, grey marled wife-beater under his unzipped black hoodie, stained with dried sweat, navy blue sport shorts that sat high on his hefty thighs and strained over their magnitude.Â
âYou didnât need to do that,â you said abashedly, giving him an awkward smile in the hopes of concealing your flustered embarrassment.Â
âI didnât,â he agreed, and he leaned on the bar by his elbow to get a shred closer to your height. Through a haughty growl, he insisted, âYou gonna thank me?â
His brazen arrogance should have put you off. You quickly got the sense he was well used to these encounters - a presumption that youâd be grateful for his interest, a raffish ease that reeked of habitual sex. You wouldnât have called him well-practised, nothing about him was suave or carefully preened. No, instead, he was viciously masculine in a primal sort of way, rugged and unkempt around the edges. A cold gaze and a serrated smile. The kind of man that oozed testosterone and potent virility without needing to utter a word in his own favour. The unashamed lack of effort was bait in itself.Â
You might have dismissed him if it were a Saturday, and you had friends to discourage you and drunkenness to embolden you. But, worn-out and sober, you felt obliged to entertain the man that had paid for you. Besides, something about him gave you the impression his attention was non-negotiable.Â
And once you had thanked him as requested, soon followed a superficially understated conversation, though every word felt laden with some lude prescience. A simple question, then a simple answer, each delivered with more weight than the last. Iâm a mechanic. Was in the army. This oneâs from a scrap, got hit with a chair. From Manchester. Donât normally come here on Wednesdays, maybe I should more often. No, not married. Yourself?
Minutes bled quickly to hours, and you didnât spend a cent on your own alcohol. Soon you had migrated to a booth, and your sticky table became the graveyard of three gin and tonics, tired lime slices floating in the melted ice as you mindlessly prodded at them with a soggy straw. You ogled him shamelessly from the other side of the table, resting your tilted head in your palm, elbow extended on the wooden tabletop.Â
He was a gladiator. Broad shoulders, pure meat - every part of him was thick with muscle and padded with a warm layer of fat. Winter bulk. You imagined his mammoth arms would be soft and pillowy if you were to squish them with your hungry hands, but that theyâd turn as solid as rock if he were to engage them more forcefully.Â
You asked him if he normally did this, went to pubs on weekdays to prey on bored working women and got them drunk so he could fuck them.Â
He shrugged, shook his head. âDonât need to get âem drunk.â
His tone was cocksure but insincere, and you didnât yet have a good enough read of him to determine whether or not he was joking. It wouldnât have surprised you if he were something of a lothario, given how quickly you had been sucked into his orbit despite his astonishing apathy - and yet, something told you he was more of a prowling wolf than a peacock. The kind of man that sets his eyes on his quarry and is unsatisfied until he has her between his teeth. It made your heart shiver to imagine yourself that meal.Â
âJust me, then?â You bit back, thanking the bartender when he brought over a fourth gin for you and a third pint for the Mancunian.Â
He dropped his pint glass down hard after he took his hefty swig. âYouâre putting up more of a fight than they usually do.â
âFighting the inevitable, am I?â You teased, facetious but not entirely unserious.Â
âYou tell me.â Is all he said.Â
When you checked the time and decided it was far past your bedtime, seeing four fuzzy hands on your watch, he offered to walk you home - never know whoâs out this time oâ night. You decided to take him up on it, the plentiful alcohol pumping through your blood blurred your already dubious sense of self-preservation.Â
His vast hand travelled boldly down your back while you walked, and in a more sober state you would have told him off. Instead you giggled demurely, flicked his hand away half-heartedly just to test how quickly heâd put it back. And when he took an audacious and greedy handful of your ass you yipped at him, falsely agog, but you did nothing more to stop him. He grinned as he did it, sharp teeth, kneading your soft flesh as though evaluating how it felt in his thick fingers. Determining its adequacy.Â
Arriving at your door he stood behind you like a shadow, watching you key the lock and breathing down the back of your neck. Such a lecher, already so bold as to assume youâd welcome him inside, spread your legs for him after so little effort. When his hand slithered to your waist and took a presumptuous grip, so confident, you felt your fortitude begin to waver. Would it hurt?Â
But as you spun on your heel you blocked him out with your body in the frame, and gave him a sweet and hazy smile. A chaste kiss on the cheek.Â
âNot lettinâ me in?â He asked, a grumble, with just enough mirth for you to lower your hackles.Â
You traced along the jamb with your fingernail. âMaybe next time.â
A test, you drunkenly thought, for if he were really an unashamed cunthound youâd expect him to sulk, or to get grouchy, or to call you a fucking bitch for leading him on. Maybe, you wondered, he might dismiss your refusal entirely, shove you into the apartment with an angry paw and make you fulfil your unspoken proposal. Not much of a fight you could put up, if he were such a beast.Â
Instead, he merely gave you a rakish grin, and brushed your chin with his thumb. âNext time, then.â
Next time came unexpectedly on the Friday, shortly after you had come home from work; freshly showered and lotioned, you answered the knock on your door in only a blue towel wrapped around your torso. Confronted immediately by the gargantuan man on your doorstep, you stepped back in fright.Â
There were smudges of oil on his ruddy cheeks, grime embedded deep into the fibres of his black work jacket. With his fists in his pockets, a cigarette jutting out of his pursed lips, he sniffed brashly in the cold. âYou busy?â
Your eyes scanned him shrewdly for a short moment before the memory came speeding back to you, flew across your face like a slap, and he gave you a fleeting smirk when he saw your eyes widen and your cheeks go red. The stranger from the pub remembered your address. Not something you considered as you stupidly welcomed him to walk you all the way home.Â
âIâm not inviting you in,â you murmured, adjusting your towel higher on your chest when you felt his gaze warm the cleavage it failed to conceal.Â
âCome out, then.âÂ
His imperious persistence was another warning you should have heeded, bright red and clear as day. Not often a man so obstinate is worth pursuing. Better avoided. His resolute silence compelled you, though, made unspoken demands that you dared not refuse. He wasnât asking, he was telling.Â
You didnât recall his name until he reminded you, after you had already gotten yourself dressed and met him out the front of your apartment; Simon. You smothered your more rational counterpart with a pillow, shutting her up when she warned you about going out with the man that showed up uninvited on your doorstep - particularly this one, who had your intuition screaming at you so ferociously. Play stupid games.
He hadnât planned a date, no prior effort had gone in beyond the sudden compulsion to come and try his luck.
âDidnât want you to forget me,â is what he told you when you asked.Â
You went with him to get fried chicken - his choice, an option wasnât given - and ate it together on a park bench. Unsophisticated and to the point, a din of crunching and sucking on toothpick bones, broken up occasionally by your coy laughter. He made no effort to conceal a potently authoritarian nature, one you had as yet only caught glimpses of, and you were ruefully drawn to it. Reared its head when he told you where to sit, how fast to walk, what not to talk about. When you had demurely requested a single small punnet of hot chips from the food truck, and he had snorted at you; âDonât take the piss. More than that.â
You shared a cigarette with him, sat under the bare elm tree and observed the chipmunks that came to feed on the crumbs of fried batter. Talked about nothing until the sun had set and the frost began to settle.Â
After returning you home he quickly had you trapped against the front door of your flat, laving your flushed neck with his ravenous mouth, tongue under your jaw like he was tasting you. Palmed your cunt through your jeans with a thick hand, uncaring of passersby, and you let him persist, just for a little bit - selfishly, you thought, because you werenât going to let him sink his cock into you yet.Â
It was simply an experiment, you told yourself. Some part of you was well aware of the fire you were playing with, warning you vociferously about what happened to the curious cat. And that you were - dangerously eager to know for how long he would pursue you if you abstained from presenting your cunt to him off the cuff. What might happen if you dangled your prizes in front of his nose and continued to withhold them.Â
His hand was so big, warm, strong like he might lift you up by it. He knew exactly where to press the heel of his palm to push a needy whine from your throat, right at the throbbing crux of your heat. If you had let him continue kneading you unfettered youâd have pathetically come inside your jeans before you had even taken him inside.Â
You clutched his wrist to thwart his efforts, flustered and out of breath. Sheepishly warned him; âI - I donât put out until the third date.â
Not a conviction youâve ever held firm on, but it has been a long while since the last time you had taken a man home. You were slightly fearful that the second you let him fuck you, heâd be satisfied and spent and move on to the next helpless woman at the pub who couldnât find her wallet. And, in truth, you relished in starving him. Delighted in the appetite you could see swelling in his belly, frothing at his jaws when he glowered at you under dark lids.Â
He huffed mournfully, patience waning, as he removed his hand from between your legs with a purposeful swipe. Grumbled huskily, âYouâre really testing my strength oâ character.â
You chuckled breathily as you fondled the door handle behind you, letting out a puff of relief when it gave way to you and you stumbled onto your back foot into the foyer. You could guess what he implied from his crude remark - barely a veiled threat, and yet you were only more eager to peer under the shroud.Â
âMustnât be very strong if you canât wait a little longer,â you prodded, emboldened by the false safety of being indoors.Â
He nodded, gritting teeth as he adjusted his jacket. âYou make it weak.â
Your throat nearly closed at that, the air suddenly warm and acrid. âWell, I hope you can hold strong till then.âÂ
He let out a hoarse groan, rubbing his neck with stiff knuckles. Dints pulled in his temple as he clenched his jaw, exerted no effort to mask his frustrations.Â
âWednesday count as date one?â He asked stiffly.Â
You pursed your lips as you thought of a response, conscious that if it were the first âdateâ - in heavy quotes - heâd expect your cunt on the next. You would likely not have bemoaned that, given the thumping you felt already in the peak of your swollen bud, the slick that you felt soak into the gusset of your underwear after such moderate attention. But it was a bit of a game, now, wasnât it? A creature within you, one whose nature was perhaps a cause for concern, wanted to see if he would crack. Wanted to know what he would do to you if he did.Â
âNo,â you told him.Â
With a terse nod, he shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket and left.Â
Date two came to pass on the Sunday, as presumptuously as the first, but he had at least sent you a text from an unsaved contact beforehand; picking you up in 10.Â
You didnât recall giving him your number, but wistfully assumed you must have put it in his phone on the drunken night you met him.Â
With nothing better to do, you replied, what am I wearing?Â
Dress.Â
Following his blunt text like it were an instruction from your manager, you dug through your closet for a dress that would suffice - nothing too dressy, you didnât want to expend too much effort - and nothing too provocative, lest you provoke him. Settled on something plain and black, dense cotton with a bit of flow and sat low on your neckline, but not too low. Once you were dressed you snapped a photo of yourself in your floor-length mirror, concealing your face with your phone, and sent it to him for his approval.Â
He replied after a few minutes; No stockings.Â
You frowned as you typed out your answer. Itâs cold though.Â
He never followed up, and you took off the stockings.Â
When he arrived to pick you up in his black off-roader pickup and you hopped inside - he didnât open the door for you - you immediately spotted a big purple welt protruding from his cheekbone, fresh and throbbing and speckled with broken capillaries. You asked him if it was the result of another âscrapâ, so he called it, and he shook his head.
âMatch last night,â he told you, before shrugging it off. Then joked - or, intended to joke; âYou should see the other lad.â
âMatch?â You asked him to clarify, perhaps stupidly, as he revved the rumbling engine of the four-wheeler and drove off like he was in a hurry.Â
The cab of his truck smelled like tobacco, and the redolence of old sweat embedded in his seat; from how often heâd hop in unshowered after working out, you guessed. There was a tired old Evian bottle in the cup-holder of the centre console, next to it a half-empty pack of cigarettes and a clear orange lighter. The passenger seat was stiff and dusty, you must have been one of very few people to have sat in it.
âBoxing,â he answered.Â
A boxer, you thought to yourself, eyes clinging to his bulky arm as it gripped and shoved the gearshift; forearm turning stiff as you had imagined it would, where it peeked out from the rolled sleeve of his black crewneck. Thick veins ran in webs under his skin. Tendons bulged in the back of his hand. Now that you looked more closely, you could see the bruises on his knuckles - some turned ochre yellow with age, others fresh and plum and looked tender to the touch. Heâd have to have been a heavyweight, given the fucking size of him. Built like a bear, wide set and heavy and so comically tall that he looked too large for the cab of his own truck.Â
He took you out for dinner, a proper date, he called it - a hole-in-the-wall Indian restaurant with four tables and a single waitress. Far more of a date than his last two attempts - you briefly considered counting this as date number one. He ordered himself two meals, an unsurprising quantity, and requested that both be as hot as the chef could make them.Â
You asked him about his boxing, and he said that he made some money from it but not quite enough to live on. That you probably wouldnât have seen him on the telly, because he usually fought in the undercards and didnât like the cameras.Â
Told you under his breath that he made more cash when the games were âunder the tableâ. What that meant you werenât certain, and he kept it thrillingly vague. âNo gloves,â was how he explained it, âand no referee.â You told him that sounded illegal and he only gave you a shrug.
âAre you any good?â You asked with a kink in your brow.Â
He smirked at you, mouth full of rendang. âIâm alright.â
Something in his tone told you he was being humble. You felt a little giddy. âYou ever knocked someone out?âÂ
âDid last night,â he admitted indifferently.Â
You questioned him a little more. âAre you a violent person?â
He tilted his head either way as though considering his answer, shovelling a hunk of beef folded in naan into his mouth and chewing it thoughtfully. âNot all the time.â
A little shaken, you asked if you should be worried.Â
âI can be gentle,â is what he answered, with a lidded glare and the faintest smirk that flickered in his lips. You didnât believe him.Â
After he paid for your meal - told you crudely to shut it when you offered to split the bill - he put you in his truck ostensibly to drive you back home. But when he missed the turn that he should have taken, you shuffled disquieted in your seat, lacking the bravery to mention it just yet. Perhaps he was simply taking an unfamiliar route.Â
He must have noticed your unease, because he turned his head to look down at you, but he did little to assuage your discomfort.Â
âTakinâ you to mine,â he declared bluntly, as though reminding you of a fact you already knew.Â
You blinked at him, felt the prickles of adrenaline creep down your neck like a nettle sting, an alert from your primal subconscious to a looming threat. âThis is only the second date,â you diffidently reminded him.Â
âI know,â he said, through a toothy grin, apparently amused by your skittishness, ââm not ready to let you go just yet.â
You nodded stiffly, chewing on the inside of your cheek and picking your nails in an anxious habit. You werenât frightened of him - despite the awareness that you should be - if you truly were, youâd kick up much more of a fuss. But he was quite unreadable, purposefully so, and what could you possibly do if he decided he wasnât interested in waiting any longer? Win stupid prizes.
âDonât panic, love,â he asserted, reaching his burly arm over and taking hold of your knee, thigh dwarfed by his hand as he gave your meat a quick squeeze. âNot interested in takinâ what I havenât earned.â
His terraced flat was modest and unadorned, a skinny three-storey house sandwiched between rows of similar boxes. Two windows per floor. A layer of tan stucco smeared over its brick. No garden, only some moss and a few sprouting weeds, and a wrought iron fence that lined the sidewalk out the front.Â
He pulled his pickup to a stop on the side of the road, killed the engine and barked an order at you as he opened the door, âOut yâget.âÂ
The street was barren and dark, and every breath you let out echoed in the lifeless silence. Not even after nine in the evening and the neighbourhood seemed to be devoid of inhabitants, only one or two windows glowed from within - an indication of at least some life. You felt a chill as you stepped out onto the road, tightened your arms around your torso as you wandered bashfully behind him to his front step. He huffed impatiently as he jammed his keys in the lock, shoving and shimmying them loudly until the door reluctantly gave way to him.Â
He marched into the depths of his flat, swallowed by the darkness within - didnât bother to turn on the light. You only saw which direction he had headed once a yellow light flickered on in a distant room down the hall. Shutting his front door behind you, leaving it unlocked, you quietly walked in the direction of the light.Â
His flat was painfully undecorated. Raw, messy with clutter and miscellaneous belongings, in stacks and piles, on tables and chairs. Torn open envelopes, old socks, misplaced boots. Jackets hung over the bannister and sweaters over the backs of his seats. You found yourself in an open kitchen and living room, bare save for the odd piece of secondhand furniture and empty bottles of beer dotted about the place.Â
You found him leaning into an open fridge, illuminated by its dim bluish light. âCan I getcha somethinâ?âÂ
 âUm,â you pondered, failing to conceal your unwelcome nerves, a shiver in your voice. âNo - thank you, Iâm okay.âÂ
He shrugged as he shut the fridge door with his elbow, a bottle of Carlsberg dwarfed in his hand. Stuck the top in his open mouth and popped off the cap with his teeth in a horrid crack, spat it aimlessly into the kitchen. âSuit yourself.â
He left you standing like a fool as he went to sit himself down on his sofa, landing in it with a gruff and satisfied sigh. Sunk into the cushions and spread his knees to make himself comfortable, big enough that he took up two seats of the three-seater. He reached for the remote and turned on the telly, volume low, but audibly some football game or other.Â
His eyes fastened on you, though - narrow and pointed as though you had been caught in his crosshairs. He tipped his beer into a jutted jaw, took a noisy and insouciant sip.Â
âAll shy now?â He asked.Â
A defensive no caught in your throat and it emerged as a quiet hiccup. You wanted to smack yourself. âI just - Iâm not sure why Iâm here.âÂ
He huffed testily. âWant to go home, do you?âÂ
You knew you should say yes. âNo - no itâs not that. Iâm - Iâm okay.âÂ
He cracked a grin, a flash of teeth before it vanished. âDo I make you that nervous?â
âIâm not nervous,â you retorted, voice higher-pitched than would otherwise be convincing.Â
âCâmere, then.â He gestured a lazy hitherto with three fingers, an edge in his glare.Â
Your feet were moving before you disputed. âWhat for.â
âSiddown,â he grunted.
Better judgement hammering at you, you hesitated before you obeyed, standing in front of him but just out of reach.Â
âWhatâre you so afraid of, sweethearâ,â he asked richly, and you blinked at him before looking down at your hands.Â
âIâm not,â you insisted. âJust not - not really used to this sort of thing.âÂ
âNo?â He questioned with aplomb, pride oozing from him like crude oil. âBeen a while, has it?â
You fawningly shrugged. âGuess so.âÂ
âAm I taking you home, then?â
The second time he had offered it, though this time there was something discerning in his tone; cocksure yet challenging, a last call. Resolved, you sat down mousily in the cushion next to him. Shrivelled so that you took up as little space as possible, held your arms tight to your body.Â
You shook your head, steadfast. âNo, thatâs okay.â
He let slip a grin at your answer, canines sharp and catching the glint of the dim television in front of him. You thought he might hang his mammoth arm over your shoulder, or rest a hand on your thigh; might test the waters with a noncommittal touch to see how you reacted to his crossing of the boundary.Â
But he had no such subtlety nor restraint - instead he slipped his hand behind you and hooked you by the waist, hoisting you one-armed from your distant spot with the ease of picking up a house cat. You let out a sharp gasp as he plonked you on his left knee so that you straddled it, back firm against his side as he riveted you in place with his forearm.
You yelped as you were made to forcibly bestride his thigh, left tongue-tied in your shock and momentarily unable to utter a word of dispute. Heart set to panic, scarcely able to subdue your hurricane of thoughts, you exerted all effort wriggle out of his grip - bucked and twisted and pulled, all painfully futile.Â
His strength was unfathomable and frightening, the muscles of his only restraining arm hardly even tensed to hold you in place. It was easy for him. He briefly leaned to the side to dump his beer on the side table.Â
You barked;Â âSimon - let go of-â
Me was muffled by the right hand that swiftly sealed over your mouth, fingertips burrowing into your cheeks, the top of his hand tucked under your nose and barely allowed you to suck in a breath.Â
He shushed you quick and sharp, and you let out a defeated moan as you persisted in your attempts to writhe free. You clamped your legs closed around his thigh as if you might seal off your cunt from him, but he simply let out a breathy chuckle - lightly bounced his knee to remind you that he had you wedged open as he pleased, and the force beared down on your centre with each jolt had you squeaking like a mouse into his palm.Â
âSettle down,â he chided, stern-toned, you felt the coarse stubble of his jaw scrape down the side of your face as he craned his head beside yours. âDonât you kick up a fuss now.âÂ
His colossal paw raked up your thigh, hitching the forgiving fabric of your skirt along with it and leaving pointy gooseflesh in its wake.Â
Still you squirmed, but your defensive tenacity was rapidly fizzling away - doused with the sobering knowledge that you had made the very bed he was now forcing you to lie in.Â
âYou knew what you were after when you came out, didnât you,â he snarled, accusing, lifting the hem of your skirt up to your belly.Â
You shook your head as ferociously as he allowed you to, his suffocating hand stifling both your movement and your breathing. You whined into his clammy palm, hoping heâd be able to translate the sounds you made in place of words; not yet.Â
Whether or not he understood, he ignored you; his fingertips clawed over your mound, catching in the thin fabric of the plain underwear you wore under your dress - dug into the leg hole where the hem sat against your groin, before yanking it to the other side. He tugged at the elasticated cotton, shimmying the gusset so it was entirely out of his way; cunt bare and exposed, your vealy lips rubbed raw against the rough denim of his jeans.Â
âLike a cat in heat, eh?â He grumbled, feeding his imperious hand between your legs where they were held open by his titanic thigh. Jammed his thick fingers into your folds without hesitation, indifferent to your whimpering.Â
His solid nose buried under your ear, right into the underside of your jaw, and he took a deep and wolfish sniff. âCan fuckinâ smell it on you.â
You winced as he pressed the pads of two fingers against your twitching opening, not yet slick; nudging at the precipice as though hoping to milk you of your nectar - but he didnât puncture you. Instead, he languidly dragged them back up to your timid bud where it was hidden under its hood, used your scant fluid to barely lubricate his incursion.Â
He bucked his knee, making you bounce into a better position for him. Began chafing circles with the tips of mean fingers, kneading out your clit with a steady pressure that made you sob into the palm of his restraining hand.Â
He was deft, knew how to make quick work of you - you felt your watery blood turn viscous and hot, it flooded down the middle of you as though spiralling an open drain. Pumped warm right into the centre of your bud and made it shudder and swell, twitched with hypersensitivity.
Morally, you spurned it, fought against it viciously - the man so arrogant and cruel as to forcibly pleasure you despite vehement protest. But your feeble body spoke far louder, betrayed you with its carnal appetite. Your acrid resistance turned to pudding under his abrasive hand.Â
No longer wrestling, your hips leaned into him, spine arching and curling, flesh so pathetically desperate for purchase that it begged implicitly in spite of your expressed dispute.Â
He sensed your blossoming acquiescence, heard your grunts and moans of defiance melt into high-pitched, needy whines; you felt his wrenching grip of you soften and a rough smile curl against your cheek.Â
âThaâs it,â he purred, low voice thrummed directly into your skin. You could only mewl into his palm like a trapped animal, his hand growing wet against your mouth. âThaâs what you were after, eh? All that whingeing.â
A wanton oh, fuck, was muted by his palm as he slowed and eased his pace, no longer toiling to subdue you. With two fingers flat against the crux of your folds, he ran them up and down your seam - uncovering your puffy clit with each upward stroke and making you flinch with the shock.Â
You tightened your legs around his thigh on reflex, curling your pelvis away from his touch as you grew so sensitive it began to burn - but your range of motion was sorely limited, and relief you could not find.Â
He removed his smothering hand from your mouth and smoothed it down your waist, finding the meat of your hip and taking a fastening grip. Anchored your pelvis still and held you down, exacerbating the pressure on your cunt; parting it like a butterfly and grinding his coarse denim against flushed lips, you felt your slick seep out of you and soak the fabric underneath it.
You rocked your head back against his collarbone, feeling its rigidity at the back of your skull, and your eyes fluttered shut; you felt his hot breathing on the side of your head, an airy chortle at your whimpering capitulation. He only slowed his infliction, gently grazing your yearning clit as though to tease it, to force you to debase yourself as you pleaded for his brutality.Â
âF-fuck-â You mewled, face flustered, skin febrile - you were suddenly so infuriatingly close, wracked by a surging current that shuddered into your core and made you spasm and shiver. The dawning heat was abruptly overpowering, and you leaned desperately into his hand to chase it. âSimon - Please - I-â
Every attempt you made to speak or complain was bitten off by an indulgent sob, weak and pleading cries, begging him to release you.Â
âPlease, what?â He gloated deeply, you could hear his smug grin without having to see it. âSpeak up.â
Your mind was frayed, and your tongue was fat and heavy in your mouth. You squeezed out your answer through a strained whine; âIâm - Iâm going to-â
âYâgonna come, are you?â He mocked, voice rumbling and cruel. Seemed to find immense satisfaction in your pathetic desperation.Â
He pressed down on your scalding clit and forced a pained cry from your throat when you failed to answer him.
âY-yes,â you bawled, driven close to pitiful tears.
He pinched your plump and angry bud between his fingers and made you jolt, before he let out a chuckle, and his hand glided out from between your legs. Left glossy trails of your syrup up your mound, your belly, as he abandoned you.Â
An agonised groan lept from your chest as you buckled forward, wrecked with desperation, suddenly and brutally hollow.Â
âTaste oâ your own medicine, eh?â He crooned, haughty, he smacked the side of your thigh with two firm pats as if to reassure you. âI donât put out easy, either.â
You only sobbed, deafened by the thunder of your throbbing blood in your ears, cunt still so ravenous you were rendered a slave to it. You were unconsciously grinding your cunt on his thigh, rocking your hips, hissing at the abrasion of the denim on your clit - but it was better than nothing.Â
âLook at you,â he snorted, leaning back on the sofa with his arms hung over the back, as if to enjoy the show. As he reached for his abandoned beer, he chided; âFuckinâ needy slut, arenât you?â
He glided a hand up your spine as you rode his leg like a little animal, and maybe you could finish yourself off like that, if you tried hard enough - but his claw settled at the back of your neck and took malicious hold. He yanked you back by it so that your head knocked against his shoulder, the angle he had you at starving your clit once more.Â
ââNuff oâ that, sweethearâ,â he muttered into your temple. âYou can wait, like me.â
You whimpered, the humiliation finally having caught up to you - it rained over you cold and bitter, and you suddenly wanted to run and hide.Â
He put both paws on your hips, then, and hoisted you up and off of him - dumped you into the sofa cushion beside him and you landed with a bounce.Â
You grunted bitterly, still panting. âYouâre such a-â you breathed, twitching. âPrick.â
âCareful,â he grumbled, scolding you, and you sealed your lips.Â
After a short and breathless silence, you heard him chuckle to himself as he stuck his beer between his lips, swallowing a frothy sip as if he hadnât just left you a wreck.Â
You glanced at him, to see what was so funny - and you saw him swipe his thigh with his thumb, a mortifying patch darkened by your slick, more than you had thought, soaked through.Â
âFuckinâ mess you made,â he jeered, voice low and harsh as though distracted. He grunted out a tiresome sigh. âGonna be tough to wait for date three, eh?â
You only nodded, mind blunt and blurry, suddenly remembering the rule you had set.Â
âWhatâve you got in mind,â you puffed, shimmying your dress back over your thighs to regain some of your stolen decency.Â
He sucked his teeth, rocked his head as he took another sip of his Carlsberg.Â
âCome watch me fight,â he said.Â
#simon riley x reader#ghost x reader#cod smut#cod fanfic#call of duty fanfic#simon ghost riley x reader#bitterfruit fics#bitten-fruit
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đđŒđđŒđ content warning: smut, innocence corruption, purity kink, sexualization of religious imagery, teasing, masturbation, voyeurism, mentions of sex toys, mostly just really suggestive, sub!virgin!matt, experienced!pervy!reader
đđŒđđŒđ author's note: don't read if you're religious. it's going to offend you a lot if you do, and i really don't want to offend anyone. this fic is a bit of a slow burn with a lot of lead up and sexual tension before they actually do anything. :) i anticipate this storyline to have several parts.
đđŒđđŒđ summary: a good little christian boy named matt moves in next door, and once you find out he's a virgin, you test his morals, determined to tease him until he caves.
the song was requested by @greer2301 đ (i hope i don't disappoint you with the storyline, and i'm sorry it took me so long to get to this one!)
me & u part one
It was a Saturday afternoon in your suburban neighborhood, the summer sun beating down on your face directly overhead. You stood in your front yard in a solid white t-shirt and jean shorts with a hand to your forehead, shading your eyes from the brightness, and your other hand on your hip as you watched a giant uhaul pull into the house next door that had been up for sale for as long as you'd lived there. An old, orange truck followed right behind it.
Were you finally getting new neighbors?
You watched as a handsome brunette with tattoos who looked to be about your age got out of the rust-colored vehicle. He was in a white tank top and faded blue jeans, and he was really cute. An older man, who you presumed was probably his dad, emerged from the driver's side of the uhaul.
The younger boy's blue eyes caught yours as he opened up the back of the truck to get out some boxes, and he shot you a shy smile and a small wave. You had to have him.
Several hours later, as the late afternoon sun was beginning to set in the sky, and after the boy and his father had a chance to unpack some of their belongings, you headed to your kitchen to bake a batch of chocolate chip cookies, so you'd have a reason to go over and talk to him. Maybe find out his name, maybe find out if he was single or not.
You got out milk, eggs, flour, and chocolate chips, and after mixing them all together, you portioned out perfect little dough blobs and stuck the pan into your oven, nearly burning yourself, and set a timer.
Once they were done baking, you beelined it for your new neighbor's house with a plate of fresh, homemade chocolate chips cookies and a glass of milk.
When you stepped onto the lawn, the blue-eyed boy was walking down the steps of his new porch, and he glanced up at you. "Hey. I'm your new neighbor. I saw you guys unpacking your stuff. I figured you could stand to take a break from unloading boxes and have some cookies," you said, offering him the plate.
"Hey, thanks," he said smiling, accepting the plate and the glass from you. He thought you were really pretty, and talking to you really brought out his shy side.
"What's your name?" You asked, studying all his attractive features up close in the golden hour lighting, his perfectly-shaped nose, his pretty teeth, and his luscious, pink lips. You loved the way the sun was hitting his gorgeous blue eyes.
"Matt," he responded timidly. You introduced yourself to himself as well. "You gonna invite me in?" You peeked over his shoulder and in through his doorway, walking past him and letting yourself in. "Uh, sure. There's not much in there yet," Matt replied, following you into his brand new house.
"Uh, sorry about the mess," Matt nervously apologized, gesturing towards the general disarray. "I get it. I've moved before," you responded understandingly. The walls were empty, and so was the rest of the room besides a kitchen table, some kitchen chairs, and several half-unpacked boxes, overflowing with dishes and kitchen appliances.
You admired the dark brown, hardwood flooring, the matching cabinets, and the gorgeous granite countertops. He placed the plate of cookies on the island in the center of the room and took a bite out of one. "Mmm. Still warm," he grinned at you, washing the sugary treat down with the milk you gave him.
"How old are you?" You asked him, your eyes drawn to his strong, veiny hands and his rings on his long, slender fingers. "Twenty-one," he told you. "Same," you responded while you watched him devour another one of your cookies. "These are really good," he complimented your baking, blushing and wiping a few crumbs from his mouth.
"Was that guy who was unloading stuff with you, your dad?" You asked him, and he nodded. "Yeah, he left to go get us some food for tonight," he mumbled in between bites.
"Naughty boy. Spoiling your dinner," you lowered your voice and smirked at him. You noticed his eyes subtly widen, and he stopped chewing for a second.
"You should show me your room," you seductively said, biting your lip. "Uh, sure. Again, there's not much in it," Matt shrugged, completely oblivious to your overt flirting.
You started up his stairs, admiring the sturdy banister, imagining how good it would feel to have him fuck you over it, and once you got to the top of the stairs, you turned around, noticing Matt behind you, his eyes glued to your ass.
You gave him a look that silently asked, like what you see? He pulled his gaze from your bottom to your eyes with a guilty look on his face like a puppy dog that had gone to the bathroom somewhere he shouldn't have.
"Which one's your room?" You asked him. "Third door on the left," he said, clearing his throat and trying to pretend he wasn't just checking you out. You led the way, even though you knew the layout even less than he did.
You turned the knob and pushed open his door. His bed was already set up with flannel sheets and throw pillows, and on the opposite wall, a desk with a laptop and a few books on it. As you peered out the window, you realized you had a direct view of his room from your room.
He had a connected bathroom, and as you wandered into there, you admired the sage green back splash of the shower through the transparent shower door. You imagined how steamy the two of you could make the glass.
Other than that, more scattered boxes decorated the area, some opened, some not.
"What are you gonna do with the place?" You wondered, pacing around his room. "I want to paint it," he said, scanning the room with his eyes. "What color?" You inquired, wandering back over towards the entrance to his room and subtly shutting and locking his door while he was distracted by deliberating your question.
"Still not sure. Wanted to go for something cooler, darker. Maybe a forest green or a stone blue. Something earthy," he mumbled, wondering if he had taken too long to answer your question. You could tell he was nervous and shy, and you found it extremely endearing.
"That sounds awesome. I'm gonna help you paint it," you stated, taking a step closer to him. "Sure, that'd be nice of you," he said agreeably. "What are you doing tomorrow? You should come see the badass treehouse I have in my backyard. It's really private up there. We can do anything you want," you chewed on your lip, looking him up and down.
"We can smoke some weed and just talk. Or smoke some weed and not talk," you said, standing on your tippy toes and whispering into his ear while you took your pointer finger and seductively caressed his chest. You noticed a small tent forming in his pants.
He liked how dominant and direct your demeanor was, but he was worried you may have misread his character. He had never smoked weed and had never had sex. Still, the way you spoke to him and touched him turned him on.
He grabbed a pillow off his bed and held it in front of his erection as if it were less obvious. "You'd better take care of that," you teased him, glancing down at his bulge. "Uh, I don't do that. My dad and I are going to church tomorrow morning," he swallowed anxiously, blushing at your observation.
"You don't what? You don't smoke, or you don't jerk off?" You asked, smirking at him. "Uh, I don't smoke," he nervously smiled. "Isn't it a sin to jerk off? You really are a naughty boy, aren't you?" You maliciously grinned at him. His breath caught in his throat, and he started to look at you in desperation, but he caught himself, immediately shifting his gaze around uncomfortably.
"You could come if you want," he offered, his eyes still darting around the room as if he were afraid to look at you. "I can cum if I want?" You teased him. "To church. You could come with us to church," he clarified, looking down and reaching behind his head with his tattooed arm to nervously rub the back of his neck. You loved making him nervous.
"Why? So you can watch me burst into flames?" You jumped at him, putting your fingers up behind your head, making devil horns while you playfully smiled at him, but he still jumped back, startled by your joke, and he nervously giggled at it once he realized you were probably kidding. A good little Christian boy.
"You know, you're cute enough that I'd consider going to church with you. But it's really hard to beat getting high in my treehouse and touching myself, so I think I'm gonna pass," you told him.
His jaw dropped and a needy expression overcame his face while he imagined you sitting on the floor of a treehouse, one hand holding a joint between your lips, and the other down the front of your unbuttoned denim shorts.
"Maybe I'll still be up there when church lets out," you tempted him. He couldn't believe how comfortable you were saying all that out loud. "You think I'm cute?" He asked, raising his eyebrows, still processing everything you'd just casually admitted in the last few seconds.
"Yeah, and you think I'm cute," you confidently stated, staring at the throw pillow in front of his pants. His cheeks turned a deep shape of red, and he wiped away a bead of sweat from his forehead.
Suddenly, you heard the low rumbling of an old truck and a car door shut. "Uh, I think my dad's home. I don't think we should be up here alone with my door shut and locked when he walks in," Matt said, wide-eyed.
He reached into his jeans to tuck his erection into his waistband. You watched in awe, hoping to get a peak, but he was too quick about it. He headed out of his room, and you trailed behind.
When his dad materialized through the front door, you and Matt were descending the stairs into the kitchen again. "Oh. Hi. You already made a friend, Matt?" His dad smiled at you, put the Cane's bag on the counter, and stuck out his hand for you to shake. His hands were rough and calloused. You daintily shook his hand, shot him an innocent smile, and introduced yourself.
"Yeah, she's our neighbor. She brought us over some cookies," Matt motioned towards the nearly empty plate. "I kinda ate most of them," he giggled. "How kind of you," the older man commented. "I'd offer you some food, but I only planned on feeding the two of us," he motioned towards his son.
"Oh, please. Don't worry. You guys moved in like six hours ago. I don't expect you to feed me," you responded. "I just wanted to pop in and introduce myself. Bring you something sweet," you innocently tilted your head at Matt's father.
"I'll give Matt my number in case you guys need any help unpacking or painting or anything," you grinned over at Matt. "Y-Yeah, sure," Matt stumbled over his words, fidgeting with his phone in his pocket, and handing it to you nervously.
You saved your contact in his phone with a peach emoji, a wet water emoji, and a heart beside your name, and when you handed it back to him, his eyes subtly widened, and he cleared his throat. "Thanks," he muttered. "I'll catch you around," you smiled and subtly winked at Matt, and then you saw yourself out to let the men enjoy their food and get a good night's rest after a long day of heavy lifting.
When you stepped out into the night, you got a closer look at their truck. It was a rust-colored Dodge Dakota from the 70's with a cross hanging in the rearview mirror, and there was a bible on the dashboard. You wondered just how strong Matt's morals were, and what you'd have to do to get them to bend - or even break - for you.
After Matt and his dad sat down at their table and ate together, Matt excused himself to go take a shower. It was the first time he'd had a bathroom connected to his room, and he appreciated the convenience. It took him a few minutes to figure out how the temperature and pressure dials worked, and once he did, he stood underneath the hot water, letting it hit his sore back and soothe the aching muscles in his neck.
He washed his hair, and ran his soapy hands all over the rest of his body. He tried to focus on cleaning himself, but he couldn't help that he was having dirty thoughts. He tried to push his impure fantasies about you to the back of his mind, but the more he tried to run away from them, the more they persisted.
He was pretty sure by now that you were flirting with him. He'd felt the sexual tension between the two of you while you guys stood in his locked bedroom together. He wished his dad hadn't come home when he did, because he wanted to know just how bold you were and how far you would have taken it.
He started getting hard again, and no matter how hard he fought the urge, his hand had a mind of its own. It was the one sin Matt was weakest to - lust. His fingers slithered down below his waist, and he started massaging his cock while his mind was flooded with you.
He imagined what it would have been like to see under your clothes, how your lips would have felt against his neck, and how your fingers would have felt wrapped around his dick like he had his now.
He pumped his hand back and forth over his length, caressing every vein and coaxing a few whimpers from his pretty mouth. Matt was saving himself for marriage, but he could still fantasize about you, right?
He pictured you on top of him with your breasts bouncing in his face. He imagined you straddling him, how wet and tight you'd feel enveloping his rod, and how pornographic your moans would sound. He fisted his cock urgently, his eyes rolling back and his jaw hanging open. The neediest sounds poured from Matt's lips as he replayed the way you sounded when you called him a naughty boy.
It didn't take much before ropes of cum were painting the shower floor, and Matt watched breathlessly as his hot, thick fluid mixed with the water and circled the drain. He immediately felt ashamed after, knowing God didn't make your body as beautiful as it was for Matt to fulfill his carnal desires with.
He figured you'd be disgusted with him if you ever knew. Little did he know, if you had any idea what he was doing behind his steamy shower door, you would have found it flattering.
He finished rinsing himself of his sin, and he grabbed a towel, one of the few things he had unpacked in his bathroom, wrapping it around his waist and stepping out of the shower.
It was right at this time that you were laying in your bed in the dark, trying to fall asleep when you rolled over and noticed Matt's bedroom light come on across the way. You caught a glimpse of Matt through your window in his room in just a towel, having just finished up in the shower.
You couldn't pull your eyes away from him. He looked so good with his hair all wet, and you admired his shirtless figure and the 'v' shaped lines that pointed down to his cock that you were dying to see.
You held your breath as he turned and dropped his towel. You couldn't see much, but you caught a glimpse of his bare ass for a few seconds before he slipped his pajama pants on, and you couldn't deny how cute it was.
Blissfully unaware that you could see him, he knelt down at his bedside and started to pray. You wondered if this was an every night occurrence, and for the most part it was, but Matt would spend an extra long time praying whenever he'd committed a lustful sin, which was more often than not. You peered at him from the comfort of your bedroom, wondering how good he'd look on his knees for you.
After about ten minutes of praying, Matt climbed to his feet, shut off his bedroom light, and crawled between his sheets to drift off to dreamland.
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You were pulled from your deep sleep the next morning at about 8 a.m. by the sound of your phone vibrating next to you. At first, you ignored it, thinking you were getting a text, but when the buzzing against your night stand continued, you realized you had an incoming call.
You didn't recognize the number, but you still answered. "Hello?" You sleepily mumbled into the phone. "Uh, hi," you immediately recognized the shy voice that responded to you. "Last chance for you to come to church with me. I'm leaving in half an hour," Matt told you.
"You wake up at 8 a.m. every Sunday to go to church?" You asked in a groggy tone. "Actually, I've been up for about an hour," he told you. "Do you have any coffee at your place?" You asked him, rubbing your eyes. "I don't even have a coffee maker at my place," he laughed. "I mean, I do somewhere, but it's still packed up."
"I'll come with you to church if we can stop for coffee on the way," you smiled into the phone. "Uh, yeah. We can do that," Matt said, attempting to conceal his excitement about you agreeing to go to church with him.
"Do I have to wear a dress?" You wondered. "You don't have to, but I'd like to see you in one," Matt replied, biting his lip. "I'll be over in like fifteen minutes. In my sunday best," you answered before you hung up.
You put on an off-white, vintage smock dress that synched at your waist and had long, puffy sleeves. You brushed your teeth, combed through your hair, and ran downstairs.
You were greeted by a confused look from your mother. "Where are you going so early looking so nice?" She asked, peering up from the book she was reading. "To church," you casually said, resting your hand on the doorknob. "Church?" Your mom said confused. "Yeah, I made a new friend. I'll be home later!" You called out before shutting the door behind you.
You made your way over to the boy next door's house, and you knocked while you waited patiently on his porch. A few seconds later, Matt opened the door and his eyes danced across your outfit. "Wow," Matt whispered, taking in the sight of you in a dress. He thought you looked like a fairy.
You looked him up and down as well, admiring his black slacks and black button-down long sleeve. You admired his emerald green tie, wondering how it would feel to grab him by it.
He had a notebook in his hand, and you glanced at his long, slender fingers again that were wrapped around the cover of the book, dreaming about how they'd feel curled inside of you. "What's the notebook for?" You asked. "Oh, nothing. It's just my journal."
"Your diary?" You raised your eyebrows at him. "You write about me in it last night?" You bit your lip at him. "No," he looked away and blushed. "Well, what do I have to do to get you to write about me in there, hmm?" You cooed, reaching for Matt's tie and fiddling with it while you flirted with him.
"Are you ready to go?" He asked, ignoring your question and looking a bit annoyed at you. "Yeah, are we just waiting for your dad?" You asked, gaze still fixed on his black-painted nails, and your mind still fixed in the gutter.
"My dad's not feeling so good. I think the elevation change kind of got to him, so he's staying home today," Matt responded, nervous to be alone with you, but you stared at him hungrily. "Just me and you?" You lustfully asked. You couldn't wait to be alone with him. He sheepishly nodded. "Well, I'm ready if you're ready," you chewed on your lip.
The two of you left to get coffee. You got a frozen caramel coffee drink, and Matt just got a black coffee.
Since Matt was new to the area, he had you navigate the two of you to the first place of worship that came up when he searched for Christian churches, and the two of you showed up just in time for the 9 o'clock service to start.
Matt backed his truck in to a spot on the side of the building, and the two of you slipped into the church, relieved that no one greeted you or asked if it was your first time there. You guys wanted to avoid the spotlight and just take your seats somewhere near the back.
An energetic man walked out onto the stage and immediately drew in the attention of the crowd. It didn't take long before you realized it was one of those weird, eccentric churches where the pastor claimed to be not like the other pastors, but he really just seemed like he was trying to use God as a way to get into people's wallets.
The sermon given revolved around the first book of the Bible, the Garden of Eden, original sin, and the way Adam and Eve gave into temptation. The whole time, you just listened quietly, your eyes shifting back and forth between the man giving the sermon and Matt, who seemed to be in a trance.
The service lasted about an hour and a half, and after the closing prayer, you and Matt shuffled out of the church along with the rest of the crowd, and you made your way back to the truck. On the way back home, you sat next to Matt in the truck that he and his dad shared, facing the shy brunette boy while you mulled over the service given today.
"Do you think Adam and Eve fucked in the garden?" You asked him, breaking the silence and looking at him seductively. Matt pulled his eyes off the road and glanced over at you for a second. "What!?" He asked in an appalled voice.
"Like the apple and the snake. You think those are just code words for something else?" You wondered, chewing on your lip. "I don't think you should be talking about stories in the Bible like that," he widened his eyes at you as if you were about to be struck by lightning.
"I mean, that's what they're alluding to, though, right?" You suggested. "I-I don't know. I never thought that far into it," Matt responded, dumbfounded. "You think Adam and Eve liked getting punished by God?" You smirked at Matt.
His cheeks grew red, he swallowed hard, and he started wiping his sweaty palms off on his button-down. He looked so cute when he was all flustered. "You think Adam was a naughty boy and liked getting caught eating Eve's fruit?" You said, slowly parting your legs and flashing Matt a sneak peak of what was under the skirt of your dress.
His eyes were immediately drawn to the little damp spot on the front of your white panties. "You're all wet.." Matt whispered, wide-eyed, unable to pull his eyes from between your thighs. "I know. I can't help it when you're around," you muttered, parting your legs a little further and gently petting yourself over your underwear.
"Please don't make me sin," Matt peered up at you with his needy, blue eyes. "I can't make you do anything," you teased him, brushing your finger over the soaked spot on the cotton fabric. "If you sin, it's because you want to."
"You're making this so hard for me," he whined, his eyes dancing between the road and the juicy treasure between your thighs. "You're right, I'll stop. I don't want us to crash," you smirked at him, pulling your hand away from your special place and slamming your legs shut.
The desperation on his face turned to disappointment. He didn't want you to stop, but he was riddled with guilt and shame about the way he was thinking about you.
"Can we stop at a store on the way home? I need to pick something up," you asked him. "Sure. Just tell me where to go," Matt responded quietly, still trying to clean his mind of the image of you spreading open your legs and gently rubbing the wet spot on your panties.
You led Matt to a parking lot with a sex shop in the plaza, and it was then that he realized you were up to no good. "Why are we stopping here?" Matt inquired, his wide eyes shifting back and forth between you and the shop you told him to park in front of.
"Don't worry about it. I just need to go in for a minute. It won't take long," you said, unfastening your seatbelt. "Well, you shouldn't go in alone," Matt killed the engine and started eagerly unbuckling his seat belt as well. "Yeah? You gonna protect me from all the dildos?" You chuckled, knowing he couldn't protect you from anything if he tried.
Secretly, he just had never been inside an adult entertainment shop, and considering sex was almost all he thought about besides God, he was curious. But he'd never admit it out loud.
The two of you walked in through the front door, clearly both in church clothes, and the girl at the front counter greeted you by name. "Who's this handsome devil?" The cashier asked, motioning towards Matt, and he blushed.
"This is my new neighbor. His name is Matt. We just got back from church," you told her. "Hot. It's always the religious ones that are a little freaky," the girl said, eyeing Matt and biting her lip. "I-I'm not," Matt quickly said, shaking his head.
"Yeah, he's a virgin," you whispered loudly. "A-am not!" Matt defensively said, turning bright red. "We're not here for him. I was actually looking into getting a new vibrator. I like the ones I have already, but I just want something with a little extra kick, you know?" You told her.
"I have the perfect thing for you," she winked at you, and she started to lead you towards the back. As the three of you walked past the magazines and DVDs, Matt's eye caught the cover of a few, and he started growing hard in his black slacks. He prayed neither of you would notice, trying to adjust himself as subtly as possible.
"This is the womanizer. We just got a shipment of them in this morning," the woman held up a toy. "And this part right here uses airflow and pressure while it vibrates to simulate oral sex," she informed you, turning on the toy and holding it out for you to feel.
"Wow," you said, your eyes twinkling as you felt the sensation against the tip of you finger while you imagined how it would feel elsewhere. "You sold me. Which color should I get, Matt?" You asked, looking over at your cute neighbor who was still trying to fix the erection forming in his pants.
Your eyes flicked down at the way the fabric strained around it, you smiled, and then you looked back up at Matt's embarrassed expression. "Um. Pink, I guess," Matt quietly responded. "Yeah? Like the color of your lips?" You smirked at him, knowing your comment was going to fluster him.
He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. "Whew. Is it kinda warm in here?" Matt asked, loosening his tie and turning an ever deeper shade of red. "I want a pink one," you said, turning back to the sex shop worker. She smirked at Matt and the tent growing in his pants before she wandered off to the back to go grab you a packaged one.
"You come here so often, they know you by name?" Matt quietly asked you. "What can I say? I like sex. Sex with myself, sex with another person, sex with more than one other person," you chuckled. "You've had sex? How many guys?" Matt asked, sounding a little jealous. "A lady doesn't fuck and tell," you whispered, winking at Matt before the woman reappeared with the vibrator you and Matt had just picked out.
"Are you sure you don't want a sex toy recommendation, pretty boy?" The cashier turned towards Matt. He glanced between the two of you like a deer in headlights. "Uh. N-no, thank you," Matt studdered, wiping sweat from his brow.
The three of you made it back to the front of the store, walking past BDSM gear and lingerie. "Okay, with your employee discount, it's gonna be $40 even," the girl smiled at you.
"Thanks, Carly. By the way, since I'm here, can I get my paycheck?" You asked, handing her the cash in your wallet. "Yeah, girl. Of course. I'll be right back," she told you after shoving your crinkled twenty dollar bills into the register.
"You work here?" Matt asked, looking at you wide-eyed. "Just part-time," you responded. "And your co-workers know," Matt gulped. "That you masturbate?" He whispered. "Yeah, I mean, if they're the ones thinking about it in their free time, that's their prerogative," you chuckled at Matt.
Carly reappeared from getting your paycheck and handed it off to you. "See you on Tuesday!" You waved goodbye and left the store with Matt trailing behind you.
"Why would you embarrass me like that and tell her I'm a virgin?" Matt asked you, starting up his truck. "Sorry! I didn't mean to embarrass you! I was just being honest. Plus, some girls find it hot," you smiled at him while you buckled your seatbelt.
"Really? Do you?" Matt inquired, putting the truck into reverse and backing out of the parking space. "What do you think?" You narrowed your gaze at him. "I-I don't know. Is that a rhetorical question?" He asked, still bright red from the interaction with the sex shop lady while he shifted into drive. "C'mon, Matthew. Let's go home," you turned your gaze back to the road in front of you guys.
"Okay, if you tell my dad we went into a sex shop, he's going to kill me," Matt looked over at you with a serious expression as he pulled into his driveway. "Why would I tell him that? Plus, you're not going home just yet. We're gonna go hang out in my treehouse. Remember?" You reminded Matt, slugging him in the arm.
"I-I don't wanna smoke weed," Matt admitted to you. "That's fine. You don't have to. I'm not gonna make you. But I am going to smoke weed, and you can hang out with me up there while I do, and we can just talk. Get to know each other better," you suggested, staring at Matt's lips and licking your own. "Okay," Matt hesitantly agreed.
He followed you through the wooden gate on the side of your house into your backyard where the two of you climbed the rope ladder up to your treehouse. Matt noted how much bigger the structure looked on the inside once you and he were in it.
You made your way over to a bag you had stuffed in a crevice in the wooden-pannel flooring, and Matt's nose wrinkled as a pungent smell filled the air when you opened it. Matt noted that it contained a lighter, rolling papers, and several nugs of a green substance.
"You keep your weed up here?" Matt asked you, his eyes widening. He'd never seen it in person, just in movies and in pictures where teachers in school were showing him what to stay away from. "The devil's lettuce," he remembered church leaders referring to it at sermons.
"Yeah, my mom's one of those people who's in denial about everything, so if I keep it out of her sight, she can more easily pretend I don't," you snickered. You sat down on the floor with your back up against the wall, and Matt was directly across from you, leaning up against the opposite wall.
You started to roll a joint, grinding the flower up with your fingers while you watched Matt's nervous expression. "So, why don't you smoke? Does it make you paranoid or something?" You asked him as you rolled. "I don't know. I've never tried it," Matt shrugged.
"Why not?" You questioned him, licking the joint sealed as you stared into his innocent, blue eyes. "It goes against God's word," he confidently told you. "Where does it say you can't smoke weed in the Bible?" You asked, lighting the end of the paper.
"The Bible says you shouldn't alter your state of mind," Matt replied, watching the smoke from your marijuana cigarette slowly drift out the window of your treehouse. "But you had coffee this morning? Caffeine is a drug and a consciousness-altering substance," you smirked at Matt, using his own logic against him.
"That's different," he said, rolling his eyes. "How? Is it because you're one of those cherry-pick Christians?" You taunted him, blowing out another plume of smoke. "You're gonna get me second-hand high," Matt snarked at you, unbuttoning the top button on his shirt and covering his nose and mouth with it.
"You didn't answer my question. Listen, I don't care if you pick and choose what things to listen to or not, but I was just curious as to how you know what you're gonna follow or not. And you're not gonna get high. I'd have to hold you down and blow it in your mouth," you sneered at him.
The idea of you pinning him down had Matt's palms sweating and his heart racing.
"You get turned on really easily, don't you?" You seductively spoke, taking another drag. The end of the joint crackled while you inhaled. Matt licked his lips and subtly nodded.
"Naughty boy," your lips curled into a malicious grin, knowing this would drive him crazy. Matt hugged his knees up towards his chest to hide the fact that he was getting another hard on.
"So, tell me, Matt," you took a final drag off the joint and put it out. "Do you think it's a sin to masturbate?" You inquired. "Well, yeah," Matt shifted around uncomfortably. "But you still do it," you smirked at him. He silently looked at you, neither confirming nor denying your accusation.
"What's the difference if someone else did it for you?" You stared at him lustfully, testing him. "I guess I'm not sure," Matt softly responded. "Well, you should think about that," you told him as you started opening the package that contained your new vibrator.
"W-what are you doing?" Matt asked nervously. "I'm just testing it out," you assured him. "In front of me?" Matt inquired, his eyes growing wider. "Relax. I'm not gonna get off with it in front of you. Unless you want me to," you smirked at him, turning on the vibrator and running it across your palm and your wrist.
"Here, feel it," you said, crawling over beside Matt and placing it on his fingertips. "Wow. That probably feels really good," Matt quietly responded, imagining how you'd sound and look with it between your legs. "I can't wait to use it tonight," you whispered in his ear, gently grazing his earlobe with your lip. Matt's stare flicked up to meet yours while you ran the toy across his palm.
"Are you gonna think about me?" You were shocked at the words that left Matt's mouth. It was the most forward he'd been with you, and it kind of turned you on. "Of course, I am. I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since I met you," you quietly whispered, your gaze dancing between his perfectly blue eyes and his full, pink lips.
The tension in the air was palpable, and you felt a magnetic-like pull as the two of you leaned in to close the distance that lingered between the two of you. And just as your lips were about to touch, you heard your mom calling your name from inside the house.
You pulled back, shut off your buzzing toy, and sighed. Matt was looking at you with a desperate and needy expression. You leaned in and whispered in his ear again, "I've gotta go. Text me. And when you write about me in your diary tonight, make sure you call me mommy."
part two posted here đ
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đŒÂ ; ONCE BITTEN, TWICE SHY | 1/2
summary: by the summer of 1987, eddie munson has mastered the art of dying and coming back to life again. but worse than that: he can't seem to stop running into the pretty lifeguard from hawkins community pool. the grumpy ol' vampire slowly learns to love sunshine in the afterlife. (23k)
pairing: vampire!eddie munson / ditzy!sunshine!reader
contents: fem!reader, strangers to friends to lovers, fluff, hurt/comfort, extreme canon divergence (most of the events of st3 and st4 still happen but starcourt is still standing, some people aren't dead, etc.) (i'm just here to have fun, honestly) cw for mentions of grief and ptsd, mentions of blood
( best listened with headphones, full fic playlist here )
                            ê·êŠê·ê·êŠ (ă(âąÌᔄᔄâąÌ)ă) êŠê·êŠê·ê·
          she lives in the place in the side of our lives
          where nothing is ever put straight . . .
                            ê·êŠê·ê·êŠ (ă(âąÌᔄᔄâąÌ)ă) êŠê·êŠê·ê·
Being a vampire sucks.
No pun intended.
Eddie Munsonâs too tired for puns. Heâs too tired for most things, really.
Thatâs what they donât tell you about being a vampire â itâs not nearly as cool as The Lost Boys make it seem. He isnât any stronger now than he was the night he died. He isnât any faster, either. And if heâs capable of shape-shifting into a bat, he hasnât tried because the thought of becoming the thing that killed him feels like more of a purgatory than what heâs been doomed to already.Â
He didnât even get a cool cape out of it, which is more of a bite than anything, honestly.Â
No pun intended.
All Eddieâs got to show for his death are the patches of marred skin on his stomach to prove it. And a couple of pointy teeth â which, so far, have only tasted his own flesh because heâs bitten his lip with them more times than he can count. And, yeah, maybe heâs got a heightened sense or two, but thatâs it. Itâs not nearly as cool as it sounds, either. Enhanced hearing and sense of smell are just code for being constantly overstimulated.
Eddie misses being alive. He misses not knowing what blood tastes like. He misses forgetting to eat all day and accidentally having ice cream for a first meal â which heâd then scarf down like a man starved until it inevitably made him sick, so that he could then complain about how sick he felt.Â
He misses the consequences of humanhood because now heâs half-corpse, half-god â a dizzying mixture for a boy who used to just be somebodyâs kid.
And what does Eddie do to cope with it all? He gets his weekly mint-chip cone at Scoops Ahoy.
Steve passes the ice cream over the counter with a kinder smile than Eddieâs used to. His skin is freckled and golden against the dark navy of his uniform. So full of life. The childâs sailor outfit hasnât stopped being funny, but Eddie scowls at him âcause heâs jealous. Heâs never been anything but pale, even before death, but he canât exactly catch a tan now, can he?
âYou look good,â Steve Harrington observes, distant but meaningful.Â
The wild-haired boy ahead of him doesnât seem nearly as poorly as he did a day or so ago, when he looked somehow more like death than the day he actually died. Heâs got his usual color back now. A telltale sign of a recent feeding.
Eddie flashes the boy a dubious, brown-eyed glance. âAre you flirting with me?â he jokes with his ringed fingers curled around the waffle cone, too monotoned to sound as playful as he means.
Steveâs face screws. âNo.â
âDamn.â
âSee! Thatâs what Iâm talking about!â the brunette proclaims proudly, waving an accusatory finger in the other boyâs direction. âEddie from yesterday wouldnât have made that joke. Eddie from yesterday wouldnât have said anything, actually.â
âWell, Eddie From Yesterday, hadnât eaten in two weeks,â the boy deadpans. (He isnât talking about food, either). âAnd Eddie From Yesterday was so exhausted and filled with an inhuman rage that death was funnier than making stupid jokes.â
Steve tries not to cower at his faux-seriousness. âTouchĂ©,â he nods.
Eddie hands the boy the last bill in his wallet. Steve makes out his change and, like a total idiot, dumps a dime onto his palm. The silver hits his skin like a drop of acid rain or molten lava. Eddie winces at the burn, hissing through his teeth as he jerks his singed hand back.Â
âWhy are you giving me dimes, man?!â he shouts over the sound of clattering coins.
âShit!â Steve grimaces. âSorry, dudeâ I forgot.â
âOh, you forgot?â Eddie bites in a mocking tone.
âYeah! Sorry if I canât remember everything aboutââ Steve pauses his rant to peer around the shop with cautious eyes. He quietens. ââVampires, alright? Sue me.â
Eddie watches the boy scramble to gather scattered coins ââ coth hat askew on his head, scarlet tie in his way. The sight alone makes him laugh. A sharp exhale through his nose, but a laugh nonetheless. âYou know what? How âbout just keep the change?â
âYou keep the damn change,â Steve grumbles under his breath.
âNice one.â
âShut up.â
Eddie takes a big bite from his fresh scoop. He lets the sharp peppermint and deep chocolate concoction melt in his mouth. The strange combination was always the best distraction from the coppery tang of blood lingering on his tongue.Â
Distracts because the metallic taste never quite leaves him, no matter how often he washes his mouth out. The taste of death always persists. Not in a poetic way, though. Itâs more like a mouthful of old pennies.
Only problem is, he canât really taste it now â the tart mint-chip or the pint of blood heâd choked down yesterday afternoon. The sensuous scent of hibiscus lilts along an otherwise still breeze, sudden and very overwhelming. Itâs powdery and floral, rich and fruity. A fragrance sweet enough to make him ill, and itâs accompanied by the rhythmic flip-flop, flip-flop of rubber sandals.
Eddie glances mindlessly over his shoulder, then nearly breaks his neck at the force of his double-take. The candied scent, he finds, belongs undoubtedly to the pretty face behind him.
You saunter into the ice cream shop like a rolling summer cloud â with a walk thatâs as soft and delicate as you look. Thereâs something thaumaturgical in the honeyed atmosphere that follows you in, still unceremoniously punctuated by the flip-flop, flip-flop sound of your shoes against the linoleum.
You are, unsurprisingly, as pretty as the raspberry, marshmallow, lily-of-the-valley scent radiating from your sunkissed skin. There is much of it on display now, and what little is covered is hardly left to the imagination.
Straight from a shift at Hawkins Community Pool, your mandated uniform clings perfectly to your torso â a pretty, scarlet one-piece that scoops deeply at the chest. Stamped on the center is a pool floatie and two surfboards that make a more summery skull-and-crossbones shape. âLifeguardâ is written just beneath it, right over the swell of your breasts.
You wear a pleated skirt on your lower half to match. The bouncy fabric rests scandalously, and perhaps unintentionally, low on your hips. A faint sliver of your skin is showcased in a way that drives him hopelessly wild. And youâve paired it all with a pair of too-big sunglasses on your head and a cherry sucker in your mouth.Â
Effortless. A total cakewalk of perfection.
Eddie Munson and Steve Harrington have never known much about either.Â
The latter is still trying to dump change into the tip jar when he goes to greet you. Your eyes link, the words get stuck in his throat, and the coins scatter to the laminate all over again. Steve tries to catch them at first before realizing how utterly uncool he must look. He makes a bigger fool of himself by just letting them fall.
âHey. Hi. WelâWelcome to Scoops Ahoy,â the brunette clears his throat. He props his hands along the countertop and feels a rogue penny stick to his clammy palm. âYouâre not lost, are you?â
Steve forces a lopsided smile at his sorry excuse for a joke. Eddie rolls his eyes. You blink at him and pluck the cherry sucker from your mouth â which has left your lips softly swollen and tinted a rosier shade.
âThis is where pretty boys in tiny sailor outfits sell ice cream, right?â
Your deadpan expression makes it difficult to gauge whether or not youâre joking. Steveâs face glows red at the sort-of compliment. He nods rapidly until the words catch up to him. âYeahâ Yeah, itâ It is, actually.â
You smile at him, tightlipped and warm. It fills the windowless shop with glittering sunbeams. âThen can I have a scoop of rainbow sherbet, please?â
Steve raps his knuckles against the counter and nods again. âYep. Coming right up.â
Eddie takes another hearty bite of his ice cream while you linger at his side â a couple of feet away but feeling much closer than that. As the minty chocolate melts slow on his tongue, all he can taste is the fruity-floral scent of you.Â
It makes his head go all swimmy because he knows your blood must taste the same. Like velvet. Or an expensive red wine people spend half a fortune on. He can hear the soft wooshing of your heart, too. Soft and unhurried. Gentle like an ebbing and flowing tide.
He shouldnât be thinking this way, he knows. He fed yesterday; he should be feeling halfway normal by now. But your scent is dizzying still, and much stronger than Eddie figures it should be. If heâd met you a day or more ago, when the need for a feeding was quite literally eating him alive, heâs not sure he wouldâve been able to contain himself.
He doesnât think he wouldâve hurt you, per se â because he hasnât actually hurt anyone yet. Not in this stage of his afterlife, anyway. But it wouldâve taken all the waning strength left in him to stop himself from doing something unthinkable. And that thought alone is somehow more terrifying than death.
Neither, however, is as scary as your gaze meeting his.Â
Your eyes lock, and only then does Eddie realize how long heâs been staring. His blood runs cold. Cold-er. An eon blinks as he tries to recover from his hopeless leering. (Heâs just as useless as Steve The Hair Harrington, turns out).
âHiâŠâ he murmurs through a mouthful of mint-chip once he realizes heâs got nothing else to say. Howâs a freak like him meant to talk to someone like you? A walking fairytale of ethereal chaos?
You move the cherry sucker to the pocket of your cheek with your tongue. Through it, you mumble, âYeah. I guess I am.â
Eddie laughs before he means to. His pink lips curl into a smile, and the inside of the delicate skin scrapes the fangs threatening to poke through his gums. They fit just perfectly over his canines, typically veiled by his gums until itâs time to feed. Or until heâs faced with a pretty girl who smells like Heaven and looks just the same, apparently.
He hides his grin behind his fist and scoffs a breathy laugh.
Your face twists in a delicate look of confusion. âWhyâs that funny?â you question once youâve plucked the piece of candy from your mouth.
His smile ebbs instantly. âOh. Itâs⊠Itâs notâ Itâs not funny, actually,â he stammers, chocolate eyes wide and round like a pair of buttons.
Your frown deepens. âSo you donât think Iâm funny?â
âNo, itâsâ itâs not that I donât think youâre funny, I justâ I think thatââ Eddie stumbles over himself trying to get the words out. He inhales deeply through his nose and swallows hard. âIâm a little confused, honestlyâŠâ
Thereâs a brief moment of silence that passes like minutes.Â
Thereâs something distinctly wild in your unwavering stare. It possesses a sort of magnetism that makes it impossible to look away from â though Eddie desperately, desperately wishes he could. But because he canât take his eyes off you or the fire swimming laps in your irises, he catches a flicker in your gaze. A flame. A spark.
A smile quirks at the very corner of your mouth before a brighter beam blooms there. A sunshine sort of giggle sputters past your lips. âOh, goshâ You should see your face right now,â you manage through a fit of laughter, swatting his shoulder with your free hand (a little harder than he thinks you mean to.) âIâm just kidding! Seriously. You can laugh now. Itâs okay.â
Eddie doesnât find it all that funny anymore, but your gaze is pretty and expectant, so he forces out a faint laugh just to appease you. He gapes in confusion the second you look away.
Youâre a strange thing. Pretty, yes. But still very, very strange.
When Steve passes you a rainbow scoop on a waffle cone, you fish a crumbled bill from the chest of your swimsuit. The boy takes it with a trembling hand â like touching the cash is touching you in some way â and struggles to recall basic arithmetic when he makes out your change.Â
Eddie watches you savor one last taste of your diminishing sucker, lips curled around the lolly before popping audibly off of it. âIs there a trashcanââ you ask and glance around the shop.
âThereâs one back here,â Steve offers mindlessly. âI can chuck it.â
Your hands brush when he takes the paper stick between careful fingers. Silky sunkissed skin sweeping against silky sunkissed skin.Â
Eddieâs almost jealous. He wishes he could touch you in such an innocent, accidental way â or anyone, really. But his blood stopped circulating about a year or so ago, and heâs had a glacial disposition about him ever since. Sometimes, when heâs just freshly fed, he feels sort of warm. Sort of normal. But that only lasts about an hour or so before his skin goes wintry and grey again.
âThanks,â you lilt with a kind grin, sandals squeaking as you step back from the counter. You arch a brow, and the sweet smile turns suddenly mischievous. âAnd donât worry about the change. Iâd hate for you to make a bigger mess.â
You tilt your head and take a kitten lick of your scoop, fighting back a giggle when the sailor boy gapes at you. You spin around and flip-flop, flip-flop out of the ice cream shop â back to whatever fairytale you came from.
The scent of ripe fruit and freshly-cut flowers leaves with you, along with the lavender haze Eddie had been swimming in since he saw you. Drowning in, more like.
Steve laughs at your sort-of joke until the mist passes. Only then does he seem to notice the coins still scattered across the countertop and the half-eaten sucker in his hand. His fluffy brows pinch together in a very evident confusion â like heâs just woken up from a dream.
ââŠWhat the hell was that?â he muses after a few long moments.
Eddie shrugs and takes another bite of his half-gone scoop, tasting it for the very first time now that youâre gone. âNo idea,â he answers through the mouthful.
                            ê·êŠê·ê·êŠ (ă(âąÌᔄᔄâąÌ)ă) êŠê·êŠê·ê·
          once you get it, you never wanna quit (no, no)
          after you've had it, you're in an awful fix. . .
                            ê·êŠê·ê·êŠ (ă(âąÌᔄᔄâąÌ)ă) êŠê·êŠê·ê·
Eddie finds you again several minutes later. Not between the pages of a fantasy book, but on a lone bench by the bus stop.Â
You finish your rainbow sherbet in silence, people-watching behind a big pair of Sharon Tate-style sunglasses. The sight of you alone makes him trip over his feet, like youâve got your own gravitational pull that makes him stumble on thin air just to be closer to you.
âOhââ The huff spills accidentally from his mouth when his sneakers scuff the pavement.
It garners your attention accordingly as you turn slowly towards him. You lift your sunglasses to your head again, just to squint at the vividity of the golden hour. You flash the boy an ice-cream-stained smile, tight-lipped and warmer than the setting sun â like heâs one of your old friends who deserves to be looked at so kindly. (Heâs neither.)
âHello!â you greet brightly as you lift the waffle cone to your mouth. You take another bite and add through the mouthful. âAgain.â
âYouâre still here?â Eddie squints, âcause heâs not sure what else to say.
âIâm on lunchââ you answer, slightly slurred through the melting ice cream on your tongue. A milky drop of pink and orange falls to the side of your thumb, and you lick it away mid-sentence. ââLate shift.â
Eddie hums with a slow nod, squinting one eye to block the sun.Â
His pale skin buzzes, even under his leather jacket and dark thrifted tee. It isnât because heâs hot, though. He hasnât broken a sweat â not even swaddled in the ninety-degree evening â because he lost the ability to somewhere between getting eaten alive and rising from the dead.Â
The sunlight just makes him feel a bit weaker than usual. Hungrier, too. And he hates being hungry because it makes him feel viciously ravenous. Like a total barbarian. Cruel and angry and inhuman. So he tries to stay out of the sun when he can.
He knows he should start plotting his way out now, but talking to you is like getting caught in a spiderâs web. He gets all tangled in his words, netted in his want to impress you. He ends up superglued in a trap he isnât totally sure he wants to get out of.
âMust be a slow day then, huh?â Eddie jokes dryly.
Your face twists. âHm?â you wonder wordlessly as your tongue darts to the corner of your mouth.
âI just meant thatâ Youâre a lifeguard and everything, right? And youâ Youâre dry, so⊠There must not have been a ton of lives to save today,â the boy explains, gesturing wildly with ringed hands. He laughs at himself and sticks the trembling limbs into his jacket pockets. âThatâs⊠Thatâs what I meant.â
You donât seem to notice his sudden floundering, or the way he can hardly make out an intelligible sentence when youâre looking directly at him. He canât tell if youâre just kind enough to ignore it or if youâre just totally aloof. He hopes for the latter.
âItâs a lot less swimming than youâd expect, honestly,â you confess as you analyze the melting cone in your hand. You twist your wrist with your face pinched in concentration â like deciding whether to bite into the pink, green, or orange bit is that intense. âItâs just a lot of, like, blowing whistles... And walking aroundâŠâ
You choose the raspberry pink side in the end, crunching as you bite into the waffle cone.
Eddie nods in response â not because heâs really heard you, but because he feels like he sort of understands you in some way now. You were sweet raspberry in the flesh. The color pink incarnate. Gold and glittering, like the sunset was fashioned in your likeness.
But then you smile up at him, with crispy wafer crumbs clinging to the raspberry-lime-orange concoction on your mouth, and the moment feels a lot less poetic than that.
âSometimes I just wanna be like, âJeezâ Canât one of you fuckers at least try to drown or something? God,â you mock in an accent thatâs hardly your own, giggling at yourself halfway through.Â
You flash Eddie another expectant smile. Grinning with all your teeth as you wait for him to laugh with you.
It takes him a second too long to force another chuckle â still trying to gauge how serious you are â but you donât seem to mind. âRight. Well, uh⊠Hereâs hoping, right?â Eddie quips with a crooked smile, lifting his right hand to flash his crossed fingers.
You giggle louder at that. Laughing with him, and not at him, for the first time since he started making a fool of himself in front of you.Â
His chest swells like heâs still got a functioning heart hiding there. Itâs sparkling and warm, full of pride, almost like heâs alive again. Truly alive. He realizes, then, that he never wants to stop making you laugh.
When your giggling ceases, you hum a contented sigh and take another sloppy bite of your ice cream cone.
Eddie watches you â unblinking, like a total freak â and tries to figure out if he made you up in his head.Â
You were like a fairy-tale princess come to life. An enchanted form of imagination, slightly childlike and effortlessly romantic in a way. You were the kind of girl who held butterflies on the tip of her finger, who reached out to touch the stars at night, who shared her secrets with the moon when no one else would listen.
Youâre the kind of thing that only exists in dreams. You have no real sense of reality, accordingly, which Eddie thinks only proves his point.
With sunshine glittering in the strands of your hair, your eyes flit back to his. Eddie averts his gaze suddenly (and very obviously) from yours, but if youâre perturbed by his leering, you donât show it.
Instead, you look at him the same way youâve been looking at him this whole time â like youâve got a world of magic secrets hidden in your eyes. Like you want him to come searching for every single one of them.
âDid youâ Did you walk here, orâŠ?â the boy trails off, eyes falling to your rubber sandals.Â
He hopes you hadnât. Itâs far too hot, and the pool is quite a few blocks from here. From what little heâs learned about you, though, he figures youâre probably crazy enough not to care.
âBus,â you answer plainly, pausing mid-bite.
Eddie blinks. âThe buses stopped running a half hour ago⊠You know that, right?â
You freeze. Melted ice cream pools at the edges of your mouth. A very loud answer, even in its silence.Â
Thereâs a very audible crunch-ing sound as you chew through the too-big bite. You bring your palm to your chin to catch rogue crumbs and blink up at Eddie with wide eyes.Â
ââŠWhat?â you wonder pitifully in response. Though, with your mouth still full, it sounds more like a deep, muffled, and utterly pathetic, âWahâ?â
âThey stop running here at six-thirty.â
You swallow, face screwed.âWhy?â
Eddie shrugs. âBeats me.â
You turn away â staring far off at the parking lot but looking at nothing, really. Eddie feels like he can finally breathe now, without your eyes strangling him.
He watches you go deep in thought and wishes he could see what the inside of your mind looks like. He imagines itâs full of confetti. Wild, glittering thoughts and a handful of sparkling confetti.
âWellâŠâ you huff after a few moments, a deep and whimsical sigh. You look down at the melting cone in your fist and try to find a silver lining in the swirls of pastel colors. ââLeast the ice creamâs good.â
âAre you gonna walk?â Eddie wonders aloud as his chest pinches with misplaced worry. He crosses his leather-clad arms over himself in a feeble attempt to soothe the ache there â to smother his palpable empathy, which makes him feel like your burden is his to carry.Â
He doesnât have to. Carry it, that is. Itâs not like youâre not asking him to. But he canât ignore the overwhelming urge to help you â this strange, elven princess who needs rescue by a lowly bard way out of his element. Itâs an instinct that borders on primal.
âDo I have a choice?â you respond rhetorically. Eddie shrugs and you shrug back, unfazed. âI can walk. The sunsetâs pretty⊠And thereâs a dog park on the way there, so⊠Thatâll be fun, I guess.â
Eddieâs dark eyes flit to the sky, where the sunâs slow descent paints the wispy clouds in vivid colors of blush and honey. He understands the simple beauty of it but rarely ever gives it a passing glance.
He spends most of his sunsets inside, hiding from the pretty golden hour behind closed curtains. He cowers under his blankets like a child (âcause his tiny square window is west-facing, painfully so) and tries to tell himself that heâs not as hungry as he feels.
That heâs not hungry at all.
That heâs still normal.
Eddie looks back to you a moment later, features twisted with uncertainty. âIâm pretty sure the parkâs gated after sunsetâŠâ
You donât ask him how he knows that, and heâs grateful. He figures you must assume that heâs got a dog of his own, which is a lie heâs happy to stick to.Â
Itâs better than admitting that Jim Hopper nearly caught him dealing a couple years back and had to make a quick escape through the park â where he then had to hop a locked fence he didnât know was there. It wouldnât have been so embarrassing if he hadnât rolled directly into dog shit when he fell to the ground. Thatâs a secret heâll take to the grave.Â
If the Chief takes mercy on him, anyway.
âWell⊠The sunsetâs still pretty,â you conclude with another sigh, because at least that canât be taken from you.Â
Eddie watches you take another bite and makes a very pointed decision not to tell you that thatâll be gone soon, too. By the time you walk back to work, the sky will be a muddy mixture of orange and lilac and navy. Hardly a thing worth looking at.
He lets you revel in your little nothings anyway.
âI shouldâ I should probably go. I have a⊠thing to get to, soâŠâ he trails off, chuckling at his own hopelessness. His worn sneakers scuff the pavement when he steps back from you. He scratches at the small curls twisted at the nape of his neck and tries to find the words to say goodbye. âUhâ Have a good rest of your shift, I guess. Hope itâs more⊠eventful.â
You smile at his stammering and his poor excuse for a joke.Â
âThanks,â you nod. âHave fun with your⊠thing.â
Eddie nods once. His smile wavers only slightly when he turns away. His cheeks puff as he exhales a deep breath â which he hadnât realized heâd been holding until now.Â
He stops short at the edge of the sidewalk. Doesnât even make it off the fucking curb before his guilty conscience catches up with him. It stops him like a force field and weighs heavy on his chest with a similar strength.
He turns quickly again, curls whipping around his face. âDo you⊠Do you want a ride?â he blurts with a squint in his deep chocolate eyes.Â
The offer is hardly from the kindness of his unbeating heart. He just wants to make himself feel better, if heâs honest. He wants you to decline, actually â so then heâd be alone, and his conscience would still be clear.
Your eyes widen softly at his offer. You shift on the hard bench. It squeaks quietly under your weight.Â
âWell, Iâ I wouldnâtâ I wouldnât wanna intrude,â you tell him, stumbling over your words for the first time in front of him.
Something about it, how shy youâve suddenly gone, makes you feel a bit more human compared to the glittering creature Eddie made of you in his head.
The boy shrugs. âYou wouldnât be.â
âNo?â
âNo. Itâs just⊠on the wayâŠâ Eddie insists, sighing to himself, because Hawkins Pool most definitely is out of his way. âSo, you know⊠Itâs no problem.â
There is a beat of fleeting silence, filled only by a whispering summer breeze and muddled conversation from distant mall-goers. Eddieâs eyes dart over your features, twisted softly with a faraway look of worry.Â
The anticipation has his heart in his throat. He isnât sure now what answer he wants to hear. Both might equally break his heart. A double-edged sword.
Your chest deflates with a dramatic sigh of relief. A lazy smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. âOkay. Good. âCause I didnât wanna be, like, too eager, you know? But that would be⊠super duper nice.â
âGood thing Iâm a super duper nice person then, huh?â Eddie jokes with a tightlipped smile, which ebbs into a scowl the moment he turns away from you.Â
He becomes a storm cloud of annoyance as he stalks across the parking lot. Less so because of you and more so because of his deep-rooted sensitivity, where everyone elseâs emotions demand to be felt by him and him alone.
Itâs a very strange thing, indeed: to be dead and yet still carry the crushing empathy of a person with a bleeding heart.
                            ê·êŠê·ê·êŠ (ă(âąÌᔄᔄâąÌ)ă) êŠê·êŠê·ê·
         real to real is living rarity, people stop and stare at me
          we just walk on by, we just keep on dreaming . . .
                            ê·êŠê·ê·êŠ (ă(âąÌᔄᔄâąÌ)ă) êŠê·êŠê·ê·
Eddie doesnât look back to make sure youâre following him. He knows you are. He can tell by your lingering strawberry-vanilla scent, and your rhythmic footsteps in rubber sandals that trail just behind him. The incessant flip-flop, flip-flop, flip-flop quickens as you rush to keep up with his longer strides, trying hopelessly to finish your ice cream and talk at the same time.
âAdamâ my managerâ heâs such a hardass. Like, if I was late today, he definitely wouldâve fired me,â you ramble and crunch hard into your cone. âWell⊠maybe not fire me⊠âCause weâre kinda short-staffed right nowâ But he definitely wouldâve given me a lecture! Like, dude, just because your dad owns the joint, doesnât mean you have any actual authority over me, you know?â
You giggle loudly at yourself. Eddie just nods in response, barely listening, and not bothering to glance back at you.
You continue anyway, through a mouthful, no less. âExcept, he kinda does have some authority, I guess. Since, you know, heâs the one who signs my checks and everything, but⊠You know what I mean.â
The boy ahead of you stops suddenly in place. Your sandals scuff the pavement to keep from running into the back of him. He turns to face you, brunette curls flouncing, and your heart skips at the proximity. Heâs much too pretty for anything else.
You can smell the cologne spritzed on his neck from here. A high-pitched and very boyish cedarwood that makes him somehow more endearing. Thereâs something floral in it, too â perhaps from the conditioner making his hair all shiny. And the subtle powdery scent, you figure, comes from his old Back Sabbath tee. An evident hand-me-down of some sort.Â
You can see more of him like this without having to ogle like a creep. His brown eyes are so dark theyâre almost black, but you can see flecks of gold in them, too. His pronounced nose is dotted with pores and faint freckles you think you could count if he let you. There are a couple of spots on his jaw, too â some still red, others already scared over â that make his scowling face more youthful.
Heâs got a couple of dark circles under his eyes, which you think means he doesnât get as much sleep as he should. Heâs got a pair of perpetual smile lines beside his mouth, too, which must mean he laughs a lot (even if he isnât now). And heâs got a subtle furrow between his bushy brows âcause heâs totally the quiet, observant type.
Youâd like to think youâre taking a closer look at him than anyone else in Hawkins ever has. Where they see a freak with crazy hair and a dangerous attitude, you see an old soul with young eyes and a wild mind.
âIs this you?â you wonder aloud, with ice cream clinging to the corners of your mouth.
Eddie lifts his hand and taps the key fob twice. The rusted tin can behind him unlocks with a hearty ca-chunk. He fakes a tight-lipped smile, âYep.â
You rush around the hood then, hurrying for the passenger seat and struggling to finish the rest of your ice cream. Eddie eyes you expectantly as he lifts himself onto the chipped pleather of the driverâs side. His deadpan face twists with amusement as you inhale the remaining bits of your ice cream.
Your eyes go wide when you catch him staring, cheeks jutted like a chipmunkâs. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, then swipe your palms together. âSorryâ Sorry, I didnâtââ you swallow hard and try not to choke. âI didnât wanna get ice cream all over your van.â
A laugh sputters from Eddieâs mouth, a more boyish sound than you thought he was capable of, and he hurries to cover his mouth with his fist. He can feel the sharp stinging of his fangs as they stab slowly through his gums, more prominent now that youâre so close to him â smelling as sweet as you look.
âWell, this isnât exactly a sports car,â he scoffs. âI donât think you have to worry about that.â
You swallow down the rest and hop in beside him. The faux leather of the passenger seat has grown distressed with time, sticking to your sunkissed thighs where your skirt doesnât reach and poking you in places. The smell of his cologne stains the interior, along with a more subtle, skunkier scent.
You have to tug extra hard on the seatbelt â once, twice, and then a third time â before it gives.
Eddie sticks the key into the ignition and twists. A heavy metal guitar solo blares suddenly through the speakers, rattling the old van and making both of you lurch with a momentary panic.Â
âShit!â the boy curses as he reaches for the blasting radio. He turns down the volume with pale, lanky fingers, wide eyes flitting from the console to the pavement as he peels out of the Starcourt lot. âShit⊠Sorry.â
You shrug a bare shoulder. âItâs okay. I listen to my music loud, too. Iâm pretty sure Iâve blown out the headphones to at least two Walkmans by now.â
âYeah?â Eddie hums with a lazy smile. âWhat kinda stuff stuff do you listen to?â
You purse your lips to the side and avert your gaze as you ponder the question. âVan Halen, definitely⊠Dio and Def Leppard occasionallyâ oh, and donât even get me started on Ozzy Osbourne.â
Eddie feels like his heartâs in his throat. It settles there and makes it hard to breathe while his anxious hands fidget on the steering wheel.
You canât be this pretty and like all the music he likes. Itâs just not fair. Itâs like the universe is trying to kill him. (Even though it kinda already did that once.)
âAre you joking?â he wonders aloud, laughing with furrowed brows. His chocolate eyes dart from you, to the winding road before him, and back again. The soft smile on your lips blossoms into a more mischievous thing, and he nods slowly to himself. âYouâre⊠Youâre joking, right?â
âI mightâve been looking at your cassettes, yeah.â
Eddieâs gaze flits downward to where he keeps his tapes stacked in a cubby beneath the console. His chest aches with a distant embarrassment. âRightâŠâ he huffs.
âReal answer?â you offer with a twinkle in your eye, spinning in the seat to face him more. You tuck your feet beneath you and count each name on your fingers. âCyndi Lauper, Madonna, ABBA, and Blondie. Thatâs my top fourâ Not in that order, though! I love them all equally.â
âThat makes⊠a lot more sense.â
âDo you have any of their tapes we could listen to?â
Eddie scoffs a faint laugh until he realizes youâre being serious. His tightlipped smile ebbs as he answers, âI canât say that I do. No.â
âThatâs too bad,â you huff and slouch further in the passenger seat. You gaze out the window with a faraway look in your eyes and start rambling before you mean to.
âIâll let you bum one of mine, if you want. You can borrow my copy of Arrival, thatâs one of my favorites! My most favorites. Or Super Trouper, maybe. I love that one, too...â You deflate with a heavy sigh. âShit. I canât decideâ Which one do you prefer?â
Eddie stammers for an answer. He feels like youâre barely speaking his language.
âScrew it. Iâll just make you a mixtape,â you decide firmly. âItâs impossible to pick just one.â
Eddie nods wordlessly to himself, unconvinced that heâll ever actually see you again â like this, anyway. With you making a home in the passenger seat of his van, which has never known a pretty girl like you before now.
âYou could always swing by the pool if you want,â you offer with a hopeful grin. âAdam lets me man the radio sometimes.â
âDoes he?â Eddie hums indifferently.
âWhen I wear my bikini, yeah.â
His face screws at the thought of someone taking advantage of you in that way, with you perhaps too gullible to understand. âWell, Adam sounds like a dickwad,â he grumbles and shifts his grip on the steering wheel.
âA massive dickwad,â you giggle like itâs your first time ever using the phrase. âOne time, I played my Billy Joel tape, and he called it pedestrian. Pedestrian! Not only is that, like, totally sacrilegious or whatever, but itâs also extremely pretentious. Just call it lame or something, you sound arrogant.â
When your rambling ceases, you can hear Eddie laughing. Really laughing. Not just that weird breathy sound he keeps making. It spills from his mouth like sunshine, though he tries to stifle it with a fist pressed to his mouth. And even though you donât remember saying anything particularly funny, you laugh alongside him.
âWhy do you cover your smile when you laugh?âÂ
âWhy do I do what?â
âYou always put your hand over your mouth when you smile,â you observe with a curious squint. âDid you know that?â
Eddieâs tongue darts over his protruding fangs, which peek in faint slivers from his pink gums now. You would only see them if you checked his mouth like a dog, but he gets self-conscious about it, anyway.
âNo. I didnât. Must be an old habit, I guess,â he stammers, lying through his teeth as he turns into the parking lot of Hawkins Community Pool.Â
The crowd there has seemingly ebbed with the setting sun, which heâs grateful for. He stays on the far edges of the property still, lest he draw any unwanted attention. âCause the only thing more recognizable than his wild hair is the tin can he rides around in.
His ringed hands curl around the gear stick. The van jerks softly when he puts it in park. Eddie clears his throat. âWeâre, uhâ Weâre here.â
You get distracted easily, and heâs grateful for that, too. You drop the conversation entirely as you reach for the seatbelt. The buckle clicks when you unfasten it. âThanks for the ride, Eddie,â you chirp with a pretty smile.
His head snaps in your direction with enough force to give him whiplash. His mouth opens and closes like a fish as he gapes at you. He struggles to find the words to say. He thinks heâd rather face a hundred demobats (again) than have this conversation.
âYouâŠâ he swallows hard, adamâs apple bobbing. âYou know my name?â
You shrug, oblivious to his otherwise very palpable fear. ââCourse I do.â
His heart would stop if he werenât already dead. He thinks the force of his current shock could jolt it into beating all over again. Though, he figures he has no right to be so surprised. He is Eddie Munson, after all â the town freak who didnât murder Chrissy Cunningham but left her to die instead.Â
No one knows that sheâd been long in the dying before Eddie ran like a coward. No one knows that there was nothing he could do to stop the dark wizard from killing her. No one knows that he died trying to avenge her death despite all that. And no one ever will â save for the handful of teenagers who saved Hawkins alongside him.Â
Eddie knew, from the moment he rose from the dead and made it out of that godforsaken hellscape, that he would never be seen as the hero. He didnât want to be. He just wanted to be a kid.
But here he is now. A half-dead and hated thing. A creature not worth loving.
And here you are, smiling at him like you intend to love him back to life.
âSo⊠So you know what happened with⊠With theâŠâ He talks with his hands and struggles to make the words out. He always has. He always will.
You nod before he has to. âYeah. I think I just⊠I figured that wasnât something you wanted to talk about with strangersââ
âI donât wanna talk about it,â he insists.
âThen me not bringing it up was a good thing, right?â
âI mean, yeah, butââ
âWell, Iâm hearing a lot of talking for someone who doesnât want to talk about it,â you mock, not totally unkind, just a little bit strange.Â
Eddie almost laughs at that. âIâm justâ Iâm confused.â
âAbout what?â
Now, he really lets himself laugh because the answerâs rather obvious.Â
âBecause most people are scared of me!â Eddie blurts with a cynical chuckle, gesturing wildly with his pale, ringed hands. âEveryone thinks Iâm someâ psycho-killing murderous freak.â
âWell, I donât,â you insist, all pretty in your way, as you shift on the worn pleather seat beside him. âThatâs gotta count for something, right?â
You unlatch the glove box ahead of you and help yourself to its contents. The junk inside clatters together while you search very obviously through it, rambling mindlessly to yourself as you do so.Â
âYou like mint-chip ice cream cones smothered in sprinkles. And your initials are sewn onto the waistband of your jeansâ like youâre gonna lose them or something. And⊠thereâs a Blondie tape hiding in here.â You giggle to yourself and flash him the cassette.
Eddie blinks at you like an owl. âThatâs not mine.â
âSecret girlfriend?â you tease with a scrunched nose.
âSecret tape,â he confesses before plucking it suddenly from your fingertips.Â
Thereâs a whole story behind it that heâd tell you if he could. About how he couldnât leave the house for some weeks after he came back to life and how his friends brought him things to pass the time. Robin Buckley had an elaborate assortment of board games that bordered on concerning, and Dustin Henderson had brought an entire library to his trailer.Â
The rest of them put together a selection of tapes for him to listen to. He canât be sure now if Nancy Wheeler really gave up her prized Blondie cassette or if Mike Wheeler did it without her knowing.
You struggle to bite back your laughter as you sort through the center console next.Â
âSee! That doesnât exactly read psycho-killing murderous freak to me, Eds. Honestly, it kinda reads as someone whoâs never hurt anyone in their whole life, who probably wants everyone else to stop hurting themââ You cut yourself off with a gasp. âAh! Here it is.â
You dig a rogue ink pen from the depths of the console. A bright smile tugs at the edges of your lips. Eddieâs still struggling to breathe when you reach for him. âCan I have your hand?â
âWhy?â he wonders with pinched brows.
âYouâll see,â you lilt mischievously and take his ringed hand in your smaller one.Â
He worries, briefly, that you might comment on how cold he is for the middle of summer. But if you notice it at all, you donât mention it as you scribble your number onto the back of his hand.
Eddie grimaces when the tip presses hard into his pale skin. âOwâŠâ
âSee? Youâre just a big baby,â you joke, giggling quietly to yourself. You click the pen with your thumb as you part from him. âThere. Now you have my number.â
Eddie flashes you a dubious glance, unsure of what he ever needed your number for.
You answer his silent question like itâs obvious. âSo I can give you the mixtape.â
âRight,â he hums with a slow nod.
âWell, Iâm gonna go clock back in before I get a total earful from Adam,â you sigh and reach for the metal door handle. âThanks for the ride, Eddie.â
âDonât mention it,â he shrugs nonchalantly as you slide out of the van. The back of your pleated skirt rises softly in the process, flashing a glimpse of your ass. He swallows hard and stammers. âJustâ Just, like, be safe, or whatever.â
âOr whatever,â you mock with a lighthearted chuckle.
âWell, this is a crazy world we live in, havenât you heard?â Eddie jokes to cover up his blunder. He tilts his wild head to his shoulder as a pink smile forms crooked on his mouth. âI hear psycho-killing murderous freaks are roaming the streets these days.â
He expects you to laugh, but you grow strangely serious instead, furrowing your brows as you mumble to yourself. âCrazy World... Thatâs a good song, actually. I should put that on the mixtapeââ
You forget to say a proper goodbye as you close the door behind you. The rusted metal hinges screech before slamming shut. You walk off towards the pool house without another word, flip-flopping the entire way to the front gate. Eddie watches you go with his features twisted in a subtle mixture of shock and awe.
Steve Harrington was right. What the hell was that?
                            ê·êŠê·ê·êŠ (ă(âąÌᔄᔄâąÌ)ă) êŠê·êŠê·ê·
         oh, how could i ever refuse?
          i feel like i win when i lose . . .
                            ê·êŠê·ê·êŠ (ă(âąÌᔄᔄâąÌ)ă) êŠê·êŠê·ê·
Three days pass before Eddie sees you again. Not that heâs counting, anyway. He debates, however, calling you on the second one â but by then, your number had long disappeared from his hand. He decided, then, to count his losses and pretend he wasnât as boyishly heartbroken as he felt.Â
Missing you was a double-edged sword. He never wanted to see you again, but he mourned for you always. He prayed heâd never run into you like before but searched for you in all the faces he met. It was agony.Â
When he drops Dustin off at Scoops Ahoy after a long afternoon of campaigning, Eddie tells himself itâs not with intent to run into you there. He tells himself it wouldnât be the worst thing, but not to get his hopes too high. That heâd only make a fool of himself. That itâd be better if he didnât see you at all.
Heâs left grieving anyway when he doesnât immediately spot your face in the dwindling crowd of the ice cream shop.
âIf it isnât the man of the hour,â Robin lilts from where she sits at one of the tables, obviously on her break and eating from a bowl of the rainbow gummy bears they use as toppings.
âYou dweebs talking about me?â Eddie scoffs as he shoves Dustin light-heartedly ahead of him.Â
As soon as he crosses the threshold of the small shop, you come very suddenly into view. You sit ahead of Robin, in your usual uniform, and with your usual rainbow sherbet cone. You steal a few rogue gummy bears from her cup and dip them into your ice cream, which has started to melt with your distraction.Â
He stills in place, struck with a bolt of blue. Your pretty, summer scent hits him full force, then â slaps him in the face and demands to be noticed. You flash him a small smile, and he has to remind himself to breathe.
âNot at all,â Robin answers with a knowing smirk.
Steve scoffs from where he wipes down the counter, tendons flexing in his golden arm. âOnly for ten straight minutes.â
âWe were talking about how I gave you my number. And how you never called,â you explain to the poleaxed boy, tilting your chin to your shoulder to peer at him from beneath your lashes. A mischievous smirk hints at the corners of your lips. âA girl could start to wonder, you know?â you tease, only partially playful.
Eddie stammers for an explanation. He feels like his heartâs in his throat, like itâs closing on him, and like he canât really breathe.
He blinks rapidly as his head starts to swim. He zeroes in on your heartbeat, though he knows he shouldnât. Itâs a soft and rhythmic whoosh, whoosh, whooshing â like that of an excitable baby deer. His hands ball into fists until his dull nails leave crescent shapes in his palms.
Dustin gapes at the sight of you. âYouâre real?â the strange, curly-haired boy blurts.
âMe?â you ask with pinched brows, motioning to yourself with the ice cream cone.
âDustin!â Eddie scolds, nudging him pointedly on the shoulder.
The boy cowers. âSorry. Itâs just⊠I thought you were, like, an imaginary person Eddie made up or something,â he admits, squinting his hazel eyes and crossing his arms over his chest. You flash him a dubious look until he elaborates obliviously. ââCause Gareth was making fun of him for not having any friends outside of Hellfire and stuffââ
âHey,â Eddie snaps to get the rambling boyâs attention, tapping the brim of his Thinking Cap. âShut up.â
âWhatâs Hellfire?â you wonder aloud.
âBook club,â Eddie lies.
You grin with furrowed brows. âYou talk about me at book club?âÂ
âI mentioned you. Once. âCause Gareth askedâ And I didnât call because the pen smudged,â Eddie answers all at once, swallowing hard when he feels bile building in his throat. He canât get your heartbeat out of his ears. Or your scent out of his nose. Itâs suffocating, all of it. âDoes that clear everything up, orâŠ?â
Steve hisses through his teeth. Robin scoffs. You blink at him with wide eyes, hardly expecting him to be so short with you. âUh-huh,â you nod with a forced smile.
Eddie would apologize for it if he didnât feel so sick. But now he teeters on the knifeâs edge of nausea, unsure if heâs going to faint or vomit or both. So he fakes his own smile and inches towards the exit. âGreat. Iâm gonnaâ I think Iâm gonna goââ
âAnd leave us with babysitting duty?â Steve scoffs. âHow nice of you.â
Dustin frowns and flashes the makeshift sailor his middle finger.
Eddie fumbles to come up with an excuse. âI just remembered, uhâ Wayne wanted me to record Cheers tonight, and I totally forgot. The olâ geezerâll kill me if he misses an episode, so⊠I gotta run.â
He ducks out without another word, grimacing at himself because heâs usually a much better liar than that. The others can surely see right through him. They know that heâs unwell â that heâs just hungry and impossibly overstimulated.Â
But you donât. You donât know him at all, and maybe thatâs exactly why you rush out of Scoops behind him.
Eddie shoves the glass exit of Starcourt Mall with trembling hands. The summer breeze rushes over him immediately, billowing through his hair and clothes. He takes his first good breath and the swimmy feeling of nausea starts to fade.
The hunger remains even still. The ravenous thoughts remain, too â of your heart between his teeth, beating on his tongue, and your blood tasting of sweet red wine.
When he starts to scare himself, his mind tells him that heâd never hurt you. That he hasnât yet, and that he never will. But still, the thoughts are there, and they hardly ever leave.
Your fresh berry scent covers him like a shroud as he rushes to his casket (his van, really, but the symbolism fits.) You struggle to keep up with his longer strides, pleated skirt flouncing as you hurry behind him â a kicked puppy who doesnât know when to stay back.Â
âI donât mean to annoy you, you know?â you call after him.
Eddie stills and spins sharply around to face you. You stumble back on rubber sandals to keep from running into him, trying not to cower when he towers suddenly over you.
âWhat?â he asks with his features swirled in confusion and distant suffering.
Your wide eyes dart over his pallid features, more sallow than you remember. You forget everything you were going to say as concern drips from your pretty features. âDo you feel okay?â
âI feelâ fine,â he stammers, less than convincingly.
âOkayâŠâ you nod, unconvinced, then repeat yourself. âI donât mean to annoy you, by the way.â
Eddie shrugs. âWhat makes you think you annoy me?â
âI dunno,â you answers, sheepish in a way he hasnât seen you before. You shift your weight on your scarlet sandals and talk wildly with your hands, looking everywhere but at him. âI kinda talked your face off a few days ago, and then I made that stupid joke about you not calling, and I just⊠I realized you donât know me all that well. And that I can be kind of a lot sometimes. Or, you know, a lot of the time. But itâs not like I mean to be, you know? I donât mean to be a burden or toââ
âYouâre not a burden,â Eddie blurts.
Your breath catches as you blink at him with wild, glassy eyes. He gets the feeling no oneâs ever said that to you before and tries to ignore the stinging in his chest.
âNo?â you echo in a mousy voice.
âNot even a little bit,â he answers instantly.
You inhale a shaky breath that leaves through your mouth in a sigh of relief. âSo youâre not upset with me?â
âNo,â Eddie scoffs. âYou havenât done anything to upset me. So far, anyway.â
You nod to yourself at the reassurance. âOkay. Good. I justâ I thought you ran off in such a hurry âcause you didnât wanna be around me or something.â
You chuckle to yourself, feeling silly about it now.Â
Eddie shifts awkwardly ahead of you âcause youâre not too far off.
âDo you⊠Do you want a ride?â he offers despite himself â despite his overwhelming feelings for you and despite the fact the buses are still running for another fifteen minutes.Â
He chucks his thumb over his shoulder and flashes you a sheepish look. Because he isnât sure of what to say now, or if he wants to leave you at all.
You duck your chin and scrunch your nose, too pretty for your own good. âIf itâs not too much trouble?â you lilt.
Eddie only grins. âWho says I donât like a little bit of trouble?â
                            ê·êŠê·ê·êŠ (ă(âąÌᔄᔄâąÌ)ă) êŠê·êŠê·ê·
         under those white street lamps,
         there is a little chance they may see . . .
                            ê·êŠê·ê·êŠ (ă(âąÌᔄᔄâąÌ)ă) êŠê·êŠê·ê·
He survives the golden hour, but just barely. Eddie hides from the setting sun underneath the covers, writhing on the thin mattress as he waits for the ravenous feeling of insatiable hunger to pass. It never does.
Instead, he feels the absence of you most ardently. He withers away as he grieves for you, like a wilting flower craving sunlight. But heâs nothing but a pale, gray, and exhausted thing now â an unloveable creature aching for a feeding.Â
âWayneâŠâ Eddie grumbles tiredly, half muffled into his pillow. When he receives no response from his uncle, he musters the strength to shout. âWayne!â
Footsteps trudge down the hall, bulky work shoes heavy on thin carpet. His bedroom door creaks slowly open, and his uncle stands beneath the frame of it â wearing the thick navy coveralls that has his name sewn in cursive on the chest. His weathered hands work at the buttons below the collar.
âWhat is it, Ed?â Wayne wonders in a gravelly drawl.
Eddie takes in a rattling breath, peeking one eye open to look at his uncle. His visionâs too swimmy for anything else. âCan you call Hopper?â he slurs like a sick child.
Wayneâs graying brows furrow in worry. He squints at his nephew across the bedroom, languishing beneath his covers and growing more waxen by the second. Heâs typically only this miserable when he hasnât fed in weeks.
âYou hungry again? Itâs only been a couple days.â
âI know,â the boy grumbles, squirming on the mattress like he canât get comfortable. âI just donât feel good...â
Wayne can see that much from here, so he doesnât put up any more of a fight about it. He fastens the cuffs of his sleeves with wise and suddenly anxious hands. âIâll give him a call before I head to work⊠You gonna be alright without me?â
Eddie nods against the pillow, curls frizzing around his head. He responds in jumbled slurs, âMhm. âM alright. âM just⊠real tiredâŠâ
âIâll call Hopper,â Wayne repeats, firmer this time, before shutting the door behind him.
Eddie spends the next half hour rotting away in the lonely trailer.Â
Jim doesnât bother to knock when he arrives, but itâs not like he needs to. He makes enough deliveries of the riboflavin kind to Forest Hills that he deserves his own key.
Besides, Eddie could smell him when he pulled into the driveway â the pint of blood he carried with him, more so. Itâs a deep, rich, and powdery scent. Nowhere near as sweet as you. But then again, he doesnât think anything could be.
âWhatâs the special this time, Chief?â Eddie jokes with a small huff as Hopper helps prop him against the headboard.Â
The mustached man is still clad in his khaki work uniform, gold badge glinting in the lamplight. His hardened face remains in its usual deadpan frown, though his bushy brows furrow in a subtle confusion. âDo you really wanna know?â
Eddie thinks for a moment, then sighs. âNoâŠâ
Jim opens the brown paper bag sitting on the nightstand. He pulls out a plain styrofoam cup topped with a lid typically used for coffee. The thing looks innocent enough, save for a few drops of crimson staining the white of it, likely from an overfill.Â
There was a time when Eddie could do it himself. Where he could puncture the blood bag Hopper delivered and pour it into one of the mugs he and Wayne have been collecting for years.
He stopped being strong enough for that a while ago, though. The sight of blood makes him queasy now, which is ironic for very obvious reasons.
The chief does most of it for him now, though Eddie thinks Hopper likes it best that way.Â
âHere you go, kid,â Jim says as he passes the boy his cup of liquid scarlet. He holds the lid of it in his other hand, face screwed at the coopery smell engulfing the small bedroom. âTry not to think about it too much, alright?â
Eddie takes the cup in a trembling fist and squeezes his eyes shut so he canât see its contents. He forces himself to down it in one go â equal parts because itâs easiest that way and because he doesnât want to be too much of a baby in front of the chief.Â
The blood tastes like a strawberry milkshake as he swallows it down, but thatâs always the easiest part. Itâs the after thatâs so ruthless. After the overwhelming bout of starvation passes. After heâs half normal again. Thatâs when the blood starts to taste like blood â all metallic, like a bunch of old pennies. Thatâs when he feels like a monster.
Eddie groans when the cup is fully drained. He passes it back to Hopper with his eyes still shut. The man takes it with one hand and pats him on the shoulder with the other. âGood job, kid,â he mumbles, dropping the empty cup back into the bag.Â
The boy relaxes against the pillows with a shuddering breath.
Jim waits until then to interrogate him.Â
âWhat happened between now and four days ago?â he asks with his arms crossed over his chest, towering over the boyâs bedside. âThis is the first time youâve needed to feed more than once a week. Hell, it took Wayne and me almost a year to convince you to feed more than once a month.âÂ
Eddie shrugs lazily, lips jutted and eyes lidded. âNothing happened.â
âI need to know, kid. So I can keep you safe.â
And so I can keep everyone else safe, too, but he doesnât say that part.
âItâs justâ This girl,â Eddie confesses, then grumbles with a sigh. âI donât know, alright. It doesnât even matter.â
Hopper squints. âWhat girl?â
âNo one,â Eddie insists, then cowers under the manâs glacial stare. âFine. Some-one. She justâ makes me go all weird or whatever. I donât know.â
Jim hums, nodding softly to himself and trying not to be too amused at the thought of Munson having a crush. He scratches at the coarse hair underneath his chin. âAnd is⊠staying away from this girl an option, orâŠ?â
Eddie ponders the question for a moment, then exhales a chest-deflating sigh. Just like he did when questioning the origins of the blood in his cup. You were a lot of the same in that way â a thing he needed to survive but wasnât strong enough to face.
âNo⊠I donât think it isâŠâ
                            ê·êŠê·ê·êŠ (ă(âąÌᔄᔄâąÌ)ă) êŠê·êŠê·ê·
Hawkins Community Pool is strangely liminal after dark. The property itself is illuminated by only a few amber streetlamps, with most of its light coming from within â from inside the wooden pool house and beneath the sparkling cerulean water.Â
Eddie parks his van on the darkened edges of the parking lot and tries to find the courage to leave it. The crowd is minimal now, having lessened significantly since he dropped you off some hours ago.
There are only a few stragglers left, most of them teenagers soaking in the last few minutes before closing. Heâs grateful for that much. The fewer eyes on him, the better.
If he wasnât being ogled at with gazes hardened with disgust or softened with pity, people werenât looking at him at all. Their attempts to keep from staring were perhaps more blatant than they realized.
Maybe they didnât want to be rude, or maybe they wanted to pretend he wasnât there at all. It made Eddie hyper-aware of himself either way, which is why he often preferred to stay hidden.
He idles by the chain-link fence, swaddled in the humid summer air that smells overwhelmingly of chlorine and dewy grass. It takes several agonizing moments to catch your attention.
You dance softly in place and mouth the lyrics to a song Eddie can only make out vaguely from here, while the girl beside you stands perfectly and unenthusiastically still.Â
You freeze when you catch Eddieâs gaze. Confused at first, then surprised. It takes a matter of seconds for both emotions to mix together and leave you a bumbling ball of excitement.Â
The boy raises a ringed hand in a curt wave, which you reciprocate with a much more enthusiastic one. You turn to your co-worker and mouth something Eddie canât hear before rushing to the parking lot to meet him. The flip-flopping of your rubber sandals grows as you make your way to him, along with the rustling of the windbreaker you wear over your bikini.
Itâs a modest scarlet two-piece, with a high waist and a halter neckline â but much more of your skin is on display than Eddieâs used to. (If there was any time he needed to be grateful for a recent feeding, it was now.)
âHiâŠâ you greet, panting heavily as you stand before him.
âHiya,â Eddie grins cheekily.
âI⊠I didnât know you were coming.â
âI didnât either, honestly.â
âDid you, uhâ Did you and Wayne get to watch Cheers?â
It takes Eddie a moment or more to recall his earlier lie. He nods rapidly in response, perhaps too quickly to be truthful, but you donât seem to notice. âUh, no. Not yet. Heâll watch it when he gets back from the graveyard shift.â
âOkay. Cool,â you beam, eyes sparkling as they dart over his features â which have seemed to gain a bit of their life back. Heâs still pale, but his eyes are less sunken in than they were. The dark chocolate of his irises swim with a melted honey color. âYou look a lot better, by the way. Than you did when I left, I mean. I was scared you were getting sick.â
âNah, I just⊠Needed a breather, I guess,â Eddie admits with a breathy chuckle. âI was with Hellfire all day, and⊠Babysittingâs a tough gig, turns out.â
You laugh alongside him, noticeably less forced. âNo, I get it. I basically spend all day babysitting, soâŠâ
âRight. I shouldnât be complaining.â Eddie scratches awkwardly at the back of his neck and grimaces when his rings get caught in his hair. It takes a very noticeable moment for him to gain the courage to ask the question on the tip of his tongue. âCan, uhâ Can I see your hand real quick?â
Your brows pinch. âWhy?â
âYouâll see,â he lilts with the same mischievous smile you used on him some days ago now.
He holds a ringed hand expectantly out for you. Your gaze glimmers with intrigue as you put your fingers in his paler, colder ones. You watch him dig in his jacket pockets for a moment before pulling out the same ink pen youâd rescued from the depths of junk in his center console. He clicks it with his thumb, and you jerk your hand out of his.
âWait!â you blurt.Â
Eddie flinches, feeling like heâs done something wrong, like he mustâve hurt you in some way.Â
Your features screw in a pinched look of concentration as you stick your hands in the pockets of your windbreaker. âIâm pretty sure I have a marker in here somewhereâ Ah! Here it is!â Youâre smiling all over again when you pass him the black Sharpie. âSo it wonât wash off before I get to call you.â
âRight,â Eddie hums with a slow nod, taking the marker from you. He bites back a smile when he catches you shoving a pack of sparkly stickers back into your pockets. âWhat are those?â
âStickers,â you answer, then grimace when you realize that much was obvious. You rush to elaborate. âFor the younger kids that have older siblings. They usually get dragged here, and nine times outta ten, they havenât learned how to swim yet, so⊠I try to make âem feel better with sparkly things.â
The grin Eddie tries to hide blooms very suddenly across the expanse of his pink lips. His chest swirls with a warmer feeling because youâre sort of his sparkly thing, in a way. A bright and glittering thing that makes him feel whole without trying.
You offer him your hand again, shier now. He wraps it in his larger one with fingertips that border on glacial. You fight back a shiver while Eddie uncaps the marker with his teeth. He mumbles through it while he scribbles his number on your wrist.
âDonât let this scrub off before you get to call me like other idiots do, alright?â he jokes, flashing you a sparkling stare beneath his lashes.
âIâll call you the second I get home,â you promise with a firm nod. âIâll write it down, too, so I wonât forget.â
Eddie caps the marker with a lopsided grin sitting lazily on his mouth. âAnd itâs only for emergencies, alright? Like, if you need a ride or⊠A spare Blondie cassette that I may or may not have in my glove box.â
You nod again, this time with a giddy and very poorly hidden smile. âEmergenicies,â you parrot, so he knows you really heard him.
(You call him the second youâre back from your shift, though Eddie expected nothing less from you. The emergency in question? You missed him too much.)
                            ê·êŠê·ê·êŠ (ă(âąÌᔄᔄâąÌ)ă) êŠê·êŠê·ê·
         this is stranger than i thought,
          six different ways inside my heart . . .
                            ê·êŠê·ê·êŠ (ă(âąÌᔄᔄâąÌ)ă) êŠê·êŠê·ê·
You decide to visit him that weekend, unannounced and unexpected â which is basically how you entered his life in the first place.
Youâre a smiling thing on his doorstep. A rival to the early morning sun beaming in rays behind you. Eddie squints one eye and grimaces at the brightness of each.
âMorning!â you chirp like a songbird.
âWhat are you doing here? Howâd you even find me?â Eddie grumbles tiredly, rubbing his sleep-swollen eye with his fist. He wears his slumber all over â in the wild curls, and in the wrinkled shirt that used to be Wayneâs, and in the baggy plaid pants sitting low on his waist.Â
The complete and utter opposite of you: an angel kissed with the summer season.
The sun sparkles in your hair. The warm breeze billows in your clothes. The scent of something sweet clings to your skin â of fresh cherries, vanilla cake, and swathes of dewy grass. Each is tantamount to your bone-crushing beauty, which borders on whimsical and intimidating now.
Itâs weird seeing you out of your uniform. A strange, but welcomed sight. Youâve traded the mandated bathing suit for a flouncier dress. The thin cotton fabric clings to your torso and drapes over your thighs like summer rain. Itâs a scarlet number, gingham-patterned, with two white bows for sleeves.Â
Eddieâs tired eyes rake over your pretty form despite himself. He gapes when he finds the raging scrapes you wear on both knees, a bright crimson color to match your strawberry aura. âJesus Chrâ Are you okay?!â
You follow his gaze, bending softly at the waist to peer down at your legs. You press the skirt of your dress down with your palms, and your chest pinches at the sight of your raw knees.
Your eyes flit from the fresh scratches to the concerned boy ahead of you. âWhich question do you want me to answer first?â you wonder with wide, sheepish eyes.
Eddie repeats, firmer now, âAre you okay?â
âIâm totally fine,â you shrug with a beaming smile before rambling an explanation, talking absentmindedly with your hands. âI decided to buy a bike after I got my paycheck, but I donât really know how to ride it yet, so Iâm trying to teach myself, and I⊠kinda accidentally swerved into a ditch on the way here.â
Eddieâs chest flares with a primal feeling. He canât stand the thought of you hurt â canât stand the thought of you hurt and him not being there to help you. âOkayâŠâ he wavers with his face still screwed.
âI wasnât stalking you, by the way! Scoutâs honor!â you blurt, holding up four fingers instead of three. âI just knew you lived at Forest Hillâs, and, I mean, the van is a dead giveaway, Eds.â
âFair enough,â he huffs.
âBesides, I really wanted to bring you something, and I couldnât wait until I saw you at Scoops because the anticipation was driving me crazyââ You lose yourself in thought and slide past him in the doorway without thinking.Â
Eddie just blinks and shuts the door behind you. âAnd⊠What is it⊠Exactly?â he wonders cautiously, only partially fearful of the answer.
It takes you a moment too long to answer him, as you get lost in the sights around you. The trailer was bigger than it appeared on the outside, not messy by any means, but very lived in.Â
Thereâs a folded cot in the corner beside the recliner and a small square TV across from it playing morning cartoons. Vintage baseball caps line one wall, and a collection of mugs line the other. Everything feels like a self-portrait of the Munson family.
âThe mixtape I promised,â you answer finally, spinning around to face him again. You pull a plastic cassette from the pocket of your dress and gesture with it in a nervous hand. âI was starinâ at this thing all night, and I couldnât stop thinking about youâ about giving it to you, I mean.â You correct yourself with a nervous laugh and rush to move on. âIâve always been super bad with giftsâ I canât keep âem a secret to save my life. Iâm good for, maybe, five seconds, and then Iâm just like, gosh, I canât wait anymore, you know?â
You realize youâre rambling and trail slowly off. You swallow hard, muster a wavering smile, and motion for Eddie to take the cassette. You watch as he studies it with a careful hand â pale and lanky and devoid of his silver rings.
âYou made this for me?â he mumbles after a few moments.
âWell, I told you I would.â
âYeah, but⊠You made this? For me?â he repeats, with a different inflection. âCause he doesnât know who else to put it. Doesnât know how to tell you he doesnât feel half deserving of anything you could give him.
You giggle in response. âYou said you didnât own anything ABBA. Or Madonna. Or Cyndi Lauperâ so obviously, I had to make you an entire compilation of their discography. Iâm not an asshole,â you laugh. âAnd I put a few of my favorite songs on there, tooâŠ. And songs that made me think of you and stuffâŠâ
Eddie smiles before he means to. Itâs a strange thing, he finds, to be thought of in such an innocent way â to be looked for in the places where he couldnât physically be. He ducks his chin and peers at you with glimmering eyes. âYeah? Like what?â he humors.
You donât miss a beat. âHeâs so shy!â
Eddie flinches at your singing â the volume of it, more so. Your voice rings across the quiet trailer, and a laugh sputters past his lips. âYeah. Alright.â
âThat sweet little boy who caught my eye!â you continue and reach out for him, digging your fingers into the junction of his neck and shoulder. His skin is milky white, smooth, cold to the touch.
âOkay!â he chuckles and swats you away with a playful hand. âI get it!â
âItâs the Pointer Sisters,â you grin.
âIâll take your word for it.âÂ
His chocolate eyes dart back and forth between both of yours, momentarily lost in the way youâre looking at him â with your eyes all squishy around the edges. Heâs not used to being looked at so softly. Or being noticed at all.Â
He swallows hard and averts his gaze. Your scrapped knees enter his vision again, weeping a bright scarlet that threatens to drip down your shins. He ignores any instinct of hunger.Â
âYouâre bleeding pretty bad, by the way.â
You only feel the ache when youâre reminded of it. Your stomach gets all swirly at the sight of your bruised knees, rubbed raw and stained with the grass that partially cushioned your fall.
âGoshâŠâ you mumble to yourself, clutching the skirt of your dress in your fists. You flash Eddie a sheepish look and a wavering smile. âAny chance I could bum a bandaid?âÂ
                            ê·êŠê·ê·êŠ (ă(âąÌᔄᔄâąÌ)ă) êŠê·êŠê·ê·
The bathroom is a tight fight, but you make it work.
You sit on the counter, per Eddieâs instruction, while he retrieves the first aid kit collecting dust in the medicine cabinet. He sits on the edge of the bathtub across from you, way out of his element (in more ways than one), as he cleans your cuts with trembling hands.
His throat is tight with nausea. His head swims with it, too. White stars speckle his vision that he tries hard to blink away. The sight of your blood, diluted and pink on the white tissue, makes him weak.
He isnât sure if itâs instinct or desire that makes him want to swallow you whole, but the primal urge to consume you is there â in the figurative sense, of course; to bury his teeth in your neck and have a piece of you forever.Â
Being between your legs in such close confines is ample enough distraction, though.
You push the skirt of your pretty gingham dress up the expanse of your thighs to give him space to work. You sit with them slightly spread, too â enough to reveal a sliver of your underwear, he thinks. Eddie isnât sure if itâs intentional or not, so he fights the boyish urge to catch a glimpse of the most private part of you.
âJesusâŠâ he huffs and chucks the napkin into the bin. With the blood and the grass stains now wiped away, he can see the scratches more clearly. Your delicate skin is abraded and raging with it. Like you fell and kept on falling. âDid you get mauled by a bear or something?â
âIn the knees?â you quip.
âLooks like it.â
âI just wanted to match my dress,â you shrug. âThatâs all.â
Eddie opens an alcohol swab with his teeth, then meets your pretty smile with a scowl. âYouâre hurt. Itâs not funny,â he deadpans after spitting the package from between his teeth.
âIt is a little bit, though,â you argue just to argue, scrunching the bridge of your nose. He presses the damp wipe to your knee, and you flinch at the sudden stinging feeling. âOw!â
He smiles at your pouting. âMaybe a little,â he concurs.
âThat was mean!â
âYou told me to distract you, so I distracted you. Sue me,â the boy shrugs, feigning innocence, as he reaches to toss the swab in the trashcan beside the counter.Â
The sight of wadded tissue, all stained with your ruby-colored blood, makes his breath catch in his throat. The ground starts to sway beneath his feet. His eyes go lidded and heavy. His mouth waters with need.
Eddie shakes his wild head in a feeble attempt to remove the ravenous thoughts from his brain, but all it does is make him dizzier.
He blinks wildly as he reaches for a bandaid in the opened container beside him. It slips from his clammy, tremoring hands. He fumbles to grab it again and slaps it to the counter beside you.
âYou okay?â he hears you ask, sitting right in front of him but sounding much further than that.
He sits up again and clears his throat, gaze dim and glassy. âYeah. Yeah, justâ Just give me a secondâŠâ He breathes hard through his mouth. Eyes squeezed shut. Knuckles going white around the edges of the ceramic tub.Â
You watch with a wide, inquisitive stare as you smooth the bandages over your knees yourself. Your concerned gaze flits from the pallid boy ahead of you, to the plasters on your skin, and back to him again.Â
âIf blood makes you queasy, you coulda just said,â you joke, trying to make him smile, âcause you hate seeing him so ill. âYou didnât have to torture yourself just to help me.â
âBlood doesnât make me queasy,â Eddie tells you, though heâs still slurring his words.
âThen why do you look like youâre about to hurl?âÂ
His glazed-over eyes are slow to open. âThatâs just my face,â he deadpans.
âNo. You have a pretty face, Eddie,â you insist as your giggling swells like sunshine in the tiny bathroom. âItâs just all scrunched together, like youâre gonna be sick or somethingâ like this.â
You swirl your features in a manufactured look of drama and pain. Brows furrowed, nose scrunched, mouth snarled. Eddie chuckles before he can help it. The sick feeling still lingers, though not as obvious now.Â
âYou are bizarre. Did you know that?â
âI did, actually,â you giggle.Â
Your entwining laughter fills the bathroomâs close quarters. The glittering noise echoes through the small trailer and finds Wayne at the doorstep. He toes off his work boots and pauses at the sound of giggling â one familiar and lower in pitch, the other foreign and sparkling.Â
His socked feet pad down the length of the carpeted ground until he finds the door between Eddieâs bedroom and the kitchenâs edge, already ajar. It creaks loudly under the manâs calloused palm when he pushes it slowly open.
His tired eyes widen at the sight before him â a pretty girl on the sink with a pair of scrapped knees, and Eddie sitting on the tub ahead of her with bloodied tissue in the bin beside him.
Wayneâs heart falls to ass like a steep drop on a rollercoaster.
You smile brightly at the strange man. âHello!â you greet with an enthusiastic wave.
He blinks slowly at you for a moment, then nods politely. âHi there,â Wayne says in a deep and gritty drawl before turning to his nephew. âWhatâs goinâ on here?â
âNothing,â Eddie blurts, all wide-eyed and fidgeting. He struggles to be casual as he swipes his clammy hands over his thighs. âWe were just, you know, hanging outâŠâ
âEverythinâ alright?â
Eddie nods quickly, then stops when it makes him queasy. âYeah,â he answers, clearing his throat. âYeah, she justâ fell on her bike on the way over, andââ
He flinches when you gasp.Â
âWait! Youâre Wayne!â you shout with a sudden recollection.
The man tries not to recoil at the volume of your voice â much too loud for so early in the day, like a chirping bird outside his window. He forces a tightlipped smile and nods again. âI am,â he tells you.
You smile so wide your eyes squint at the edges. âYou have Eddieâs nose!â
Wayne laughs, a single scoffed breath. âWhat can I say? Big noses run in the family.â
âWell, I happen to like âem that way,â you insist with a casual shrug, kicking your feet back and forth from where youâre perched on the counter. Your heels meet the cabinet in several rhythmic thunk, thunk, thunks.
When you look down at your bandaged knees, Wayne and Eddie share a look without you.
The older man raises his greying brows. This girl is bizarre, Eddie can hear him saying.Â
He nods wordlessly at his uncleâs silent observation, as though to say: I know she is, and I happen to like her that way.
                            ê·êŠê·ê·êŠ (ă(âąÌᔄᔄâąÌ)ă) êŠê·êŠê·ê·
         i guess youâre just what i needed,
          i needed someone to bleed . . .
                            ê·êŠê·ê·êŠ (ă(âąÌᔄᔄâąÌ)ă) êŠê·êŠê·ê·
The plastic case of the cassette you made him clatters on the dashboard of his van, filling a silence that would otherwise be occupied by you.Â
Eddieâs passenger seat, cracked and worn with age, feels strikingly empty without you in it. Which is strange, âcause your presence used to frighten him once. It does, still, he thinks â but now he mourns the haunt like an old, empty house.Â
He drives his rattling tin can across town to Hawkins Community Pool, with a cup of rainbow sherbet rattling in the holder at his side, like an offering for a ghost he no longer wants to exorcise from the home behind his ribcage.
âItâs gonna melt before you get it to her,â Robin remarked with a smirk as she scooped ice cream with an expert hand. âYou know that, right?â
Eddie bowed his head and tried to hide behind his curls. âNot if I run real fast,â he joked sheepishly.
The pastel sherbet softens quickly in the summer heat. (Not even the vanâs middling A.C., pointed right in its direction, could keep it sufficiently cool.) The muted hues of pink, green, and orange begin to swirl together as the milky concoction undulates in his ringed fist. He hopes you donât mind and prays you see past his feeble attempt to be kind.
âWell, well, wellâŠâ Billy Hargrove lilts with a pretty pink smirk at the sight of Eddie Munsonâs familiar face. He lifts his sunglasses to the top of his mulleted curls and rests his magazine on his lap. âThe dead has risenâŠâ
The poor boy sticks out without trying, despite his desperate attempts to stay hidden â all but swimming in his leather jacket, baggy jeans, and wild hair. Heâs a pale, death-touched thing floating in a sea of golden life.Â
But, unlike the contemptuous leers from the other patrons, (some who are still certain Eddie killed Chrissy, and others who have always seemed to look at him that way), Billy Hargrove only smiles. A fake, sardonic grin that shows none of his teeth and shines mostly in his eyes.Â
His squinted ocean gaze glimmers like he knows all of Eddieâs secrets â which is only half-true. Billy knows what the end of the world did to him, because it almost killed him too, once upon a time.
So, no. He doesnât know all of Eddieâs secrets.Â
Just the biggest one, maybe.Â
Despite being largely immune to the summer heat, Eddie still feels the burn of embarrassment stinging his chest. Clawing behind his ribcage like a thousand ravaging demobats. The hot-cold aching of wishing he were dead ebbs when you turn to look at him over your shoulder â when your wide eyes of sparkling hope lock with his darker, dead-er ones.
Thereâs an undeniable spark of delight in your irises, though Eddie doesnât know what for. No oneâs been this happy to see him in a year. No oneâs been this happy to see him ever.
Something about it makes his stomach hurt. Or maybe itâs just the way you and Hargrove are sitting behind the front counter together, like a couple of old friends, with glowing sunkissed skin hugged tight in scarlet bathing suits.Â
In that split second, Eddie feels like heâs in high school again â a loser, not yet dead, pining for the pretty girl way out of his league and praying the basketball jock doesnât shove him into the bleachers.
If you notice the momentary fear in his eyes, you donât show it.
And if you care that heâs a loser, you donât show that, either.
âEddie! Hi!â you greet, giggling as you push yourself off the countertop. Your pleated skirt swishes around your thighs as you rush to him. Your matching sandals pad rhythmically along the stone floor. The flip-flop, flip-fop sound echoes through the shaded breezeway.
Eddie doesnât know how wide heâs smiling when youâre finally standing ahead of him, but he can feel it burning in the apples of his cheeks.
âYou havenât been around for lunch,â he says in place of a greeting, fidgeting with the cup of melting ice cream in his fist. âI was scared that you keeled over or somethinâ.â
âYou were worried about me?â you wonder aloud, voice a few octaves higher than heâs used to. You purse your smile to the side of your mouth and scrunch your nose. âAwwâŠâ you croon and dig two fingers into the junction of his neck.
Your touch is soft and warm and less than gentle.
Eddie cringes, effectively set aflame by the electricity of you. He shrinks back with a wavering smile and finds himself grateful that heâs too dead to blush these days â or else youâd see how hopeless he is.Â
You ramble an explanation while his skin buzzes.
âIâm a little slow on my bike, turns out, and I couldnât make it back here in time,â you tell him, which rests his anxieties a little.
Eddieâs been worried about you ever since he patched you up in his bathroom. Everyoneâs been worried about you, in truth, âcause itâs a well-known fact that youâre a total klutz.
âAnd after being late for the third time, Adam got kinda mad at meâŠâ you continue, shifting on your feet. âHe got really mad at me, actually. I wore his favorite bikini, and he still threatened to fire me. I was, like, oh shit, Iâm actually in troubleââ
You giggle to yourself, but Eddie feels like thereâs a knife between his ribcage. A sharp, burning, and pulsing urge to get you away from all of these assholes. To get you out of this town. God knows it doesnât deserve you.
He swallows hard and tries to joke. âMustâve been real bad then, huh?â
You exhale a dramatic sigh. âYeah, so⊠Iâm kinda trying to get back on his good side and everything. Itâs easier to just stay here. I wouldâve called, but Iâ I didnât think you cared that much.â
âI care!â Eddie scoffs, pale face swirled with offense.
âYouâre the one that said emergencies only!â you mock through another pretty giggle.
âAbandoning me for a week is an emergency.â
You light up like a goddamn Christmas tree at that.Â
âSee! I knew you were worried about me!â
Eddie scoffs again and looks away. He focuses on the crowd bustling outside the breezeway because itâs easier than meeting your eyes. Until one of them catches his gaze and flashes him a leery look, anyway. Then he feels like he might puke.Â
âNot at all,â he answers in a playful deadpan, clearing his throat when his voice shakes. âThatâs definitely not why I decided to bring you a⊠half-melted cup of rainbow sherbet.â
His chocolate eyes avert to the plastic container in his fist, swirling the milky pastels again for good measure. When he looks at you again, itâs through his lashes and with his head bowed sheepishly.
You smile with your lips curled under your teeth â obviously giddy and trying hopelessly to hide it.
âI thought it was for me, but I didnât wanna assume,â you admit quietly, cheek squished into your shoulder.
âItâs basically a milkshake now,â Eddie mumbles and extends his arm. His voice shakes as much as his hand does. âSorryâŠâ
You beam at the pinched look of worry on his face. âI like milkshakes, too, silly,â you giggle and take the cup of melted ice cream from him.Â
Your fingers are gentle and strikingly warm as they brush his colder, paler ones. Warm like dragonfire, or an old house bathed in candlelight, or a freshly sharpened blade through the heart.
Eddie bleeds out on the pebbled concrete as you turn away.Â
You rush back to the counter you leapt from, balancing the container in one palm as you bend over the top of it. A satiny summer breeze rolls through the shaded shack and billows through the pleats of your skirt, lifting the thin fabric to reveal the thong of your one-piece â a sliver of soft scarlet running between your thighs.
Eddieâs undead heart lurches into his throat. He turns his gaze to the ceiling until the wind passes.
Billy looks up from his magazine to smile at you with his teeth. âThis your boyfriend, sweet thing?â he asks as you pluck your straw from the styrofoam cup you were just drinking from.
The nickname floats on the humid air and strangles Eddie accordingly. Your mouth curls around the end of the bendy straw before you give him a proper answer. You blow hard to dispel the remnants of room-temperature water before sticking the plastic into the milky concoction in your fist.
âYes,â you answer plainly, then take a long sip of the softened ice cream. You shrug with the raspberry-orange taste on your tongue. âHeâs a boy. And heâs my friend,â you lilt. âJealous?â
Billy laughs. Loud.Â
âOf Munson?âÂ
You nod quietly, straw caged between your teeth.
He laughs louder and slouches in his swivel chair. The golden muscles of his toned chest flex as he flashes you a quieter smile â one that might say he knows a lot more than you do if you cared enough to read the signals.
âI canât say that I am, no,â Billy hums, faux sympathetically.
âWell, maybe if you were a little nicer, heâd be bringing you food, too,â you tell him, very matter-of-fact about the whole thing, as you spin on the heel of your rubber flip-flop and saunter away.Â
Eddie grimaces when youâre ahead of him again. âPlease tell me this isnât the only thing youâve had today.â
Your face screws as you take another sip. âNo,â you answer with a firm shake of your head, though the word comes out garbled from the fruity concoction in your mouth. You swallow it down and confess, âI had half a Poptart for breakfast, soâŠâ
âThatâs⊠not breakfast,â the boy monotones, then motions his wild head to the cup cradled in your right hand. âAnd this isnât lunch.â
âWell, I told you I donât have time to get lunch,â you argue like a child, soft and sheepish, head bowed to avoid his unwavering stare. You stab at the softened ice cream with the plastic straw, leaving holes in the pastel swirls, as you mutter to yourself, âAnd I canât make it for myself, either. Iâm not adult enough for that yet.â
Eddie feels it again. The sting of empathy in his chest. The primitive need to help you that makes it hard to breathe most days.
He shrugs his leather-clad shoulders and crosses his arms over his chest, tucking his trembling hands under his armpits.
âWellâ Maybeâ Maybe I can, you know, bring you something?â Eddie offers, stumbling over himself the entire way through. He shifts on his feet and swallows through the frog in his throat. âLike, when I have the time, or whatever.â
He doesnât tell you that he always has the time. (âCause he only works nights at The Hideout now, and spends the rest of the dayâs many hours rotting in bed.)
Your face pinches into a girlish pout. Something soft, but sterner than he thinks heâs ever seen you before. âI canât ask you to do that.â
âYouâre not asking. Iâm offering,â Eddie argues. âAnd Iâm not doing it outta the kindness of my own heart, eitherâ Itâd just make me feel better to know youâre not totally withering away whenever Iâm not here.â
You try hard to keep your scowl. But then your chest starts to glitter like a thousand sparklers in July, and youâre beaming before you can stop it. Eddie watches the pretty smile curl slowly on your lips despite your futile attempt to hide it.
âWhatâs that look for?â he cautions.
âNothinâ,â you shrug, smiling with the straw between your teeth. âI just like you.â
Eddie forgets to breathe and dies all over again, right at your feet.
                            ê·êŠê·ê·êŠ (ă(âąÌᔄᔄâąÌ)ă) êŠê·êŠê·ê·
         only boys who save their pennies
         make my rainy day!
                            ê·êŠê·ê·êŠ (ă(âąÌᔄᔄâąÌ)ă) êŠê·êŠê·ê·
Most Tuesdays, some Wednesdays, and every Friday â (the mornings after his late night shifts at The Hideout) â Eddie Munson buys you lunch.Â
He stands at the counter of Bennyâs Burgers and pays with the rogue quarters and crumpled bills he finds in random pockets of his jacket. The bearded man looks on in slow-blinking bemusement while the boy counts out the $4.89 your sandwich costs.
Benny ends up throwing in free fries for the effort.
It takes Eddie an embarrassing amount of time to realize you were sneaking money into his pockets every time he visited you, even though he told you not to pay him back. Even though you swore you wouldnât. (Heâll never believe another one of your stupid Scoutâs Honor promises again).
Saturday comes, and Eddieâs cleaned out âtil his next shift on Monday.Â
He thinks heâs handling it pretty well â the very palpable lack of you â but the contrary is written all over his face.
Heâs sprawled out on the sunken-in couch in the living room with the headphones of his Walkman around his neck. Madonna plays muffledly (and far too happily) as he stares up at the ceiling, trying to make constellations of your face from the cracks and water stains.
Dustin watches his best friend grieve from the other side of the coffee table and sighs. âItâs the sandwiches, right? You guys hate the sandwiches?â he wonders aloud, but to no one in particular. âGod, I knew I put too much jelly in themââ
âThe sandwiches are amazing, Dusty-Bun,â Robin insists from Wayneâs recliner, with a mouthful of PB&J jutting out her freckled cheek. Her chipping maroon nails are stained with crumbs as they flash an âokâ symbol in his direction.
With grape jelly on the corner of his mouth, Steve mumbles from the floor in front of her, âDoesnât explain why Eddieâs still sulking over there, though.â
âExactly!â Dustin huffs, flailing his arms.
Eddie rolls his eyes. He exhales a heavy breath that makes his chest deflate, then turns to face the eyes staring back at him. âIâm not sulking,â he grumbles like a rain cloud.
âYeah. Itâs the pouting thatâs so convincing,â Max scoffs from Dustinâs other side, blinking at him from behind her glasses as she fakes a tight-lipped grin.Â
Eddie just squints at her. Sheâs not nearly as menacing as she used to be. Not when her ocean eyes are bugged out from such thick lenses, anyway. Now he finds her sort of adorable, in a subtly intimidating way â like a kitten holding a pocketknife.
âIâm not pouting, either,â the wild-haired boy retorts, features scrunched in a soft pout.
Lucas wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. âHe just misses Barbie,â the boy croons playfully.
Eddie blinks at him with a flat face. âBarbie?â he echoes.
âYeah,â he shrugs, voice high. âBarbie.â
âAm I supposed to know who that is, orâŠ?â
âOh, you know who she is,â Lucas nods with a boyish chuckle. âVery well.â
He keeps on laughing about it until Max elbows him hard in the shoulder. Steve misses the silent cue as he tears off a piece of bread crust, snickering to himself at the inside joke.
He pops it into his mouth and meets Eddieâs gaze, emotionless and expectant. His eyes widen as he stammers for a response.
âThe girlâ Your girlâ She was at Jazzercise the other day,â Steve explains, then swallows hard. âShe was with that pretty lifeguard, too. Whatâs her name again?â
He looks instinctively up at Robin for an answer. Eddie beats her to the punch.Â
âBilly Hargrove?â he monotones.
âHa-ha.â
âHeather Holloway,â Robin tells him.
âHeather!â Steve exclaims, snapping his fingers. âIâm pretty sure I dated her freshman year, actually⊠Or was that Heather Hart?â
The boy loses focus quickly as he goes deep in thought. Fluffy brows pinched, honey eyes squinted. A heavy silence lulls over the crowded living room, and Madonnaâs muffled voice grows louder. âCause we are living in a material world, and I am a material girl!â
Before Eddie has time to be embarrassed, Steve shrugs at himself.Â
âDoesnât matter. Anyway. She was at Jazzercise with Heather just, like, dripping in pink. Pink leg warmers, pink leotard, pink tightsâŠâ Steve trails off again, stare glazing over like he's imagining you all over again. âIt was crazyâŠâ
Eddieâs face swirls in disgust. Not at the thought of you, of course, but at the notion that your beauty is perceptible to others. That he isnât the only one who can see you, admire you. He is not the only one youâve threatened to kill with your piercing stare, and the thought alone makes his stomach twist.
âYouâre such a boy,â Eddie scoffs.
Robin leans forward, freckled face solemn and serious. She rests her elbows on her denim-clad knees and slowly shakes her head. âNo⊠It was crazy,â she echoes more earnestly.
It sounds different coming from her. It means something different coming from her, too. Eddieâs brows raise and disappear beneath his curly bangs. âOh, yeah?â he hums with bated breath.
âYeah,â Robin answers with a disbelieving sigh.
âHence, the nickname,â Lucas nods, seemingly missing the meaning âcause the only other girl heâs cared to notice besides Pheobe Cates is the redhead sitting beside him.
The girl with magnifying glasses over her eyes and legs that donât work as well as they used to. Despite the circumstances (involving dark wizards and a certain death), Max hasnât changed at all. And neither has the way Lucasâ teenage boy heart beats for her.
Eddie scoffs a tired laugh. He turns back to the ceiling and throws an elbow over his eyes. âIâm gonna tell her you guys call her that behind her back, by the way.â
âItâs a compliment!â Dustin defends, a few octaves higher than normal.
âOr you could tell her to her face,â Max offers with an absentminded shrug, folding her napkin into a weird shape in her lap â only âcause sheâs fidgeting, of course, not because Dr. Owens said it would help ease the stiffness in her fingers. (Being dead mightâve taught her some things, but listening to figures of authority is not one of them.)
âSheâs working today. Billy said so.â
Eddie peeks at her, flat-faced. âDid he?â
âYeah. Means you can go visit your girlfriend instead of bitching and moaning about how much you miss her all weekend.â
âSheâs not my girlfriend, Mayfield.â
âThatâs beside the point.â
âNo. That is entirely the point,â Eddie argues, laughing more sincerely now. âOther than the fact that the sun will literally kill me.â
Maxâs light eyes narrow into thin slits behind her clunky glasses. She says the hard thing out loud, without blinking. that the rest of them are already thinking, anyway.
âYouâre already dead, Munson.â
                            ê·êŠê·ê·êŠ (ă(âąÌᔄᔄâąÌ)ă) êŠê·êŠê·ê·
         hey, you, with the pretty face,
         welcome to the human race!
                            ê·êŠê·ê·êŠ (ă(âąÌᔄᔄâąÌ)ă) êŠê·êŠê·ê·
No wonder the streets seemed so apocalyptically empty, Eddie thinks to himself as he walks through the front gates of Hawkins Community Pool. Because every goddamn person in town has chosen to spend their Saturday here.
Benny from the diner sits by the kiddie pool next to the entrance, watching his daughter wade in the shallow water. He looks like a different person without his grease-stained apron on. His swim trunks are bright red and slightly too short for him, his Hawaiian shirt is unbuttoned to reveal his beer belly, and his face is burnt everywhere but under his sunglasses.Â
Jason, Andy, and all the rest of their goons hog the picnic tables while pretty girls sit on the tops of them â wearing their expensive bikinis and basking in the sun like itâs shining just for them. The boys laugh and shove at one another, trying to pretend like theyâre far too cool for it all.
Familiar faces fill the blue water, but itâs hard to make them out in the crowd. Everyoneâs swimming and splashing and stuffed within the chain-linked fence like cattle. They all go blurry, like a bunch of indistinct shapes before a backdrop of bright colors. Like a Claud Monet painting, if he ever cared enough to paint uninspiring Midwestern towns.
Itâs far too packed to feel self-conscious âcause this is the kind of horde you drown in. But that just means itâs catastrophically overstimulating. For Eddie, most of all, whoâs sorely out of place in his leather jacket and baggy jeans and dirty sneakers.
The boy cranes his neck to search for you, dark eyes flitting wildly over the crowd â once, twice, and then a third time.
Youâre nowhere to be found, and he knows this because your face is far too pretty and not easily missed. Your sweet hibiscus scent is equally absent, drowned out by the overwhelming smell of chlorine, sunblock, and sweat.
If you were around, heâd know it.
âSheâs not even here!â Eddie huffs, lifting his arms only to drop them dramatically at his sides. Any arguments about his pouting are surely moot now. Even he can feel the petulant scowl pinching his features.
Max, equally confused, stands at his side and pushes her glasses up her nose. âBilly said she was working today. I heard him on the phone. He definitely said it,â she observes, mostly to herself, âcause she canât stomach being wrong. âWell⊠He said he was opening with the two prettiest girls in town, so I figured one was probably Heather and the other wasââ
âBarbie?â Eddie finishes flatly.
âYeah.â
âWell, sheâs obviously not here, so⊠Letâs just go back home and doâ literally anything else.âÂ
Eddie spins on the heel of his worn sneaker with the intention of going back the way he came. His van is parked crooked, anyhow. Steve complained as much when he parked his shiny new BMW right beside him. He figures he should probably get back before someone slashes his tires. Again.
He nearly runs into someone the second he turns around. Someone standing far too close for comfort, in a bright red bathing suit and matching skirt, with too big sunglasses on the top of her head.
âWhoâs not working today?!â the person shouts loudly in his face, with the evident intent to scare him.
Eddie stumbles back into Steve, who promptly shoves him forward again. It takes him approximately that long to realize itâs you.
You guffaw when the rest of them jump in fright â a loud and heavenly sound that refuses to be drowned out by the droning of a million different conversations.
âI totally got you guys!â you exclaim, giggling so hard your head tilts back.Â
Eddie laughs with you, mostly in shock, as he clutches his chest where his heart isnât beating.
âAdmit it! I got you a little?â you say, pinching your thumb and forefinger and squinting through the sliver of space between them.
âYeah,â the boy huffs a forced laugh. âYeah, aâ a little bit.â
Visibly delighted by his words, you beam brighter than the golden hour sun.
âI knew it!â you grin before your eyes flit over his shoulder, to the group of friends gaping wordlessly behind him. You scrunch your nose sympathetically. âSorry⊠You guys were just collateral.â
âYou know I have a bad heart,â Steve complains for the sake of complaining, clutching his chest over his short-sleeved button-up. He flashes you a stern look and gripes, âThat shitâll kill me.â
Your eyes narrow in a challenging squint. âYouâre twenty-one years old, Steve.â
âYeah,â he scoffs. âAnd being around you ages me five years.â
âWell, then, I guess weâre gonna have a very long, very happy life together. Arenât we, Stevie?â you retort with a sickly sweet smile that Steve meets with a scruffy-faced scowl.Â
Eddie watches the brunette boy roll his eyes like he wasnât getting half-hard at the thought of you at Jazzercise an hour ago. It makes him only partly jealous.
He could never dream of being so casual around you. âCause when your eyes find his again, it feels like his stomachâs doing backflips. Itâs like he blinks, and he forgets how to speak.
âSo!â you chirp. âFamily trip?â
Eddie opens his mouth and doesnât realize until that moment that every word in the English language has left his brain. Robin shoves him hard in the back to put his head back on straight. The words fly from his mouth like a pull-string doll.
âI didnât wanna bother you, but these idiots forced me into it.â
âGood. You need to get out of the house from time to time, Edsâ Youâre getting so pale,â you ramble and reach suddenly for his face. Eddie freezes when you take his chin by your thumb and forefinger. The warmth of your velvety touch sets his skin aflame; more so when you look directly into his wide-eyed gape and say, âThereâs nothinâ wrong with needing a little sunshine, Eddie Spaghetti.â
âWeird,â Max muses with a sarcastic lilt. âThat is exactly what weâve been trying to tell him, too.â
Eddie shoots her a glare â the best he can, anyway, with your hand still cradling his jaw. He can only see the redhead from the corner of his eye, but the smug smirk on her freckled face doesnât go missed.
Your fingers slip from his face, and Eddie feels like he can breathe again. He feels strangely empty, still, without you touching him â like heâs starving, or like heâs never been touched before now. Sometimes, it feels like both are true.
He wonders if thatâs just the price he has to pay. If being near you means feeling like heâs dying and coming to life all at once. Thereâs a nagging voice in the back of his head that tells him heâll pay it, with your pretty fingers strangling his neck and all.
âYouâre MADMAX, right?â you wonder aloud to the girl with auburn plaits draping her freckled shoulders.
Sheâs mostly a stranger to you now, but you think she must mean a great deal to the rest of them. They talk a whole lot about the redhead with chunky glasses who acts like sheâs way too cool for it all but defends her Dig Dug high score like her life depends on it.Â
The girl nods and crosses her pale arms across her chest, flashing you a suspicious, tightlipped smile. âYeah. Which means you must be Barbie?â
âBarbie?â you echo.
Eddie chimes in then. âThatâs what these freaks call you when youâre not around,â he says, nodding his wild head to the group of aforementioned freaks behind him.
Your face twists as you bring your hand to the center of your chest. âThat is the nicest thing anyoneâs ever called me before,â you respond, strangely sincere.
Lucas smiles from over Maxâs shoulder, nodding like heâs proud. âYouâre welcome,â he tells you.
Dustin stands just beside him with a conspicuous paper bag under his arm. You squint past Eddie and over to the curly-haired boy. âWhatâs that?â you blurt.
It takes him a second too long to answer. âOh. Uh. A sandwichââ he stammers vaguely, extending his arm towards you. You take the sack from him without thinking twice and rifle blindly through its contents.
âPB&J?â you guess with an inquisitive arch to your brow. Dustin nods, looking pleased by your assumption. Your arm stills suddenly within the crinkling brown sack, and your eyes narrow into thin slits. âWith the crust cut off?â
âUh⊠no.â
âGood. Thatâs obviously the best part of the whole sandwich,â you respond, almost to yourself, as you pluck the snack from the bag.Â
You unwrap it from its plastic seal and take a hefty bite in one fell swoop. Your eyes flutter shut like itâs something gourmet, and not just something Dustin slapped together on his kitchen step stool at home.
âThank you for this,â you mumble through the wad of food in your cheek. âYouâre officially my new best friend, Dusty-Bun.â
âRude,â Eddie scoffs.
You swallow hard and fight back a smile, like you were hoping for that exact response. âAnd who said you were my best friend in the first place, hm?â you argue playfully, waving the half-eaten peanut butter jelly sandwich in his face. âThat is very presumptuous of you, Eddie Spaghetti.â
Your pleated skirt flutters at your hips when you spin on the heel of your plastic sandal. You flip flop, flip flop out of the shaded shack and towards the sunshine and unadulterated chaos. The rest of them follow behind you â save for Dustin, who migrates to Eddieâs side with a far-off gaze.
âSure sheâs not your girlfriend?â the kid wonders, never once taking his eyes off the back of you.
Eddie looks down at him with a flat face. âIâm sure,â he monotones.
Dustin grins wide, likely forgetting that other people can see it, too. âGood,â he hums to himself.
âDonât get any ideas, Henderson,â the older boy blurts before he means to, then tries not to cower under the expectant glance he gets. âYouâre obviously way out of her league.â
                            ê·êŠê·ê·êŠ (ă(âąÌᔄᔄâąÌ)ă) êŠê·êŠê·ê·
The group fits in pretty well despite being the self-proclaimed outcasts of Hawkins, Indiana.
Steve most of all, but that usually goes without saying. He looks like small-town royalty in his brand-name polo and too-expensive navy swim shorts. Heâs lost his touch since high school, though, as he tries and fails to flirt with Carol Perkinsâ sister.
âSo, Amberâ Whatâd you say you were studying again?â you hear him ask as he lingers awkwardly by the longue chairs.
âMy name is Autumn,â she corrects in a drawl thatâd give a valley girl a run for her money.
Steve, oblivious to his blunder, only smiles. âOh, cool. Thatâs, like, definitely in my top four favorite seasonsââ
Robin, in a strange turn of events, is much more casual in her flirting than her co-worker-slash-best-friend. She spotted Vicki the second she walked in, sitting with a few girls from yearbook and rubbing sunscreen onto her supple skin.
She pretended she didnât, though, which only made it that much more obvious that she had. Vicki waved at her once, then again to invite her over, and Robin was far too awkward to decline.Â
Now, she sits gracelessly with a bunch of half-strangers and her biggest crush, looking only slightly out of place in her frayed shorts and Steveâs baggy tee. She nods politely in conversation and thanks the universe for making it so damn hot today. At least now she can blame her burning freckled face on the golden setting sun.
Dustin and Lucas, meanwhile, stuff their faces with ice cream sandwiches in a feeble attempt to consume them before they melt. The softened vanilla leaves messes on their fingers and faces, making them look somehow more boyish than their respective Spiderman and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle swim trunks.
Max sits off to the side of them in her own chair, partly overstimulated, and trying to let the piercing sunbeams ground her again.
Eddie Munson, however, in his attempt to blend in, only draws more attention to himself.
He sits beside your post, shaded beneath a wide umbrella, in the same attire youâd see him in on any other day. The baggy jeans, and the thick leather jacket, and the Corroded Coffin merch. Heâs dripping in black and silver but hasnât yet broken a sweat. You donât know how, though. âCause youâre hot just looking at him.
You pluck your plastic whistle from your mouth to ask, âAre you sure youâre not burning up over there?â
Eddie laughs before he means to because the answerâs obvious to him.Â
The last time he felt an ounce of heat was when he was bleeding out on the dirt floor of an alternate universe â when crimson blood ran warm over the mangled skin of his chest and ribs. Heâs been colder than ice ever since. And he keeps forgetting you donât know about any of that.
âYeah. Iâm sure,â he answers, angling his head to face yours.
Thereâs a white cast on his grey face from sunscreen deliberately not rubbed in. It feels like a shield in some way. Not in the warm-blooded human kind of way, of course, but in the vampiric curse kind. The kind that would otherwise make him debilitatingly weak sitting outside like this. Now, he feels somewhat normal.
The golden hour sun sits like a halo behind your head. He squints one eye to see you better. âIf you wanna see me shirtless, you can just say that,â he jokes. âInstead of beating around the bush and everythingââ
âI wanna see you shirtless,â you blurt in a strange monotone that makes it hard to tell if youâre joking or not.
The boy falters. Tries not to choke on his own spit. There isnât a world where he can flirt with you where you donât immediately snatch the upper hand. Itâs like youâre immune to that sort of diffidence. Eddie wishes he was, too.
âWow,â he scoffs after the few long moments it takes him to recover. âWay to be blunt, sweetheart.â
âYou told me to say it!â
You give him a lazy shrug and a lazier smile as you swap the bright red lifeguard buoy to your other arm. Eddie shifts uncomfortably in his seat, as though physically affected by the way you look at him, and the plastic pool chair makes a weird squeaking noise beneath him.
âYeah, well, most people tend to be more subtle about it.â
âIâve never been subtle about anything in my life.â
You turn back around to scan the busy pool, and Eddie feels like he can breathe again. A laugh rattles through his tight chest as he quips, âIâm starting to realize that about you, actuallyââ
âGod. Stop flirting,â Max groans from your other side, who has otherwise been so silent that Eddie was starting to forget she was there. She doesnât turn to look at either of you from where she lazes on the lounge chair. âSitting with Steve would be more bearable than this.â
âYeah, Eddie. Stop flirting with me,â you grouse, obviously playful, and without missing a single beat. You glare at the boy over your mostly bare shoulder and try hard not to smile. (He canât see it in your eyes, anyway, though.) âIâm trying to talk to my new friend MADMAX. Goshââ
You spin on the heel of your plastic red sandal, and your matching skirt twirls with you. Eddie canât take his eyes off the back of you. He forgets how to blink when the fabric swishes to give him a brief glimpse of your ass.
Heâs always hated the sun, but he loves the way it kisses your skin â leaving you glistening and mouthwateringly supple.Â
His fangs threaten to make an appearance when a warm breeze carries your cotton candy cloud scent to him. His gums start to burn with the sharp ache.
ââHi, MADMAX,â you singsong to the scowling girl, grinning with your cheek pressed to your shoulder.
âYou can just call me Max,â she deadpans. âYou know that, right?â
âBut MADMAX is so much cooler. And it suits you way better.â
âDoes it?â MADMAX wonders with an unenthusiastic hum.
âYeah. Maxine is a name for an old woman. Or, like, one of those ridiculously expensive French poodles,â you ramble and turn back to the pool again, head bobbing as you scan the crowd. âBut MADMAX? Now, that is a name for a badass with really cool hair and a sick pair of reading glasses.â
Thereâs a beat of silence, filled only by the sound of splashing water and the buzzing of a thousand distant conversations, as Max tries to bite back a laugh. It sputters past her anxiety-bitten lips before she can stop it â a strangely airy giggle from such an intimidating girl.Â
She shakes her head, still, to pretend sheâs above the childish giddiness.
Your face screws in feigned offense. âDonât laugh!â you scold.
Which, of course, only makes her laugh harder.
Eddie lifts his head, finally taking his eyes off you to gape at the redhead across the aisle, who hasnât laughed like this since the world ended.Â
It must be something strange you alone bring out of them, he realizes. Something special in you that the end of the world didnât steal like it did everyone else.
âThese guys bothering you, newbie?â you hear your manager call to you, only partially drowned out by the surrounding laughter and shouting from the bustling crowd.
His voice is annoyingly distinct. Itâs deep and articulate in a way that makes him seem smart. You donât know if he really is, but you do know that heâs really a raging asshole.Â
Adam stands before you, gold and glittering under the setting sun like Godâs first creation himself. Heâs got veins up and down the length of his muscular arms, and a bulging chest that he waxes every two weeks like clockwork. Heâs Steve The Hair Harrington pretty without an ounce of the charm.
âHuh?â you call back, brows raised and eyes wide, just to make him repeat himself.
âI asked if these guys were bothering you,â Adam repeats, flicking his cleft chin back to get the blonde curls out of his eyes. âYou look distracted.â
âWhat guys?â you wonder with an innocent furrow to your brows.
The manâs emerald eyes flit instinctively over your shoulder at Eddie, who everyone has been trying and failing not to stare at this whole time.Â
You wonder if Eddie notices it, too â if heâs gotten immune to the constant leering or if heâs bone-crushingly aware of it all. Either way, no one deserves to be ogled at like that. Like some kinda zoo animal.Â
Everyone always walks on eggshells around him, refusing to look him in the eye out of fear he might bite. But you know he doesnât have the teeth for it.
Despite that, you look at Eddie over your shoulder like heâs a stranger. His eyes are wide and swimming with apprehension as the chocolates of them dart between you and the man made out of chiseled marble.Â
Adam knows that you know him. You know he knows it, too. Which makes lying to him all the more fun.
âIâve never seen this man before in my life,â you shrug.
Adam squints and crosses his too-big arms over his chest. âDoesnât change the fact that heâs loitering. Along with the rest of these kidsââ He looks around him with a visible disgust.Â
Max pretends he isnât there. Dustin and Lucas, meanwhile, forget to be casual as they cower under his stare with their ice-cream-stained faces.
âItâs a public pool, Adam. Everyone's loitering. Duh.â
You turn away and stick your whistle back in your mouth. You chew absentmindedly at the plastic and scan the pool for any reason to use it.
Adamâs neck twitches. An angry sort of tic he didnât know he had until he met you. âYouâre still on the clock, newbie. If I see you gettinâ distracted again, Iâllââ
You blow the whistle. Loud. And for far longer than you probably need to.Â
The high-pitched chirping rings in Adamâs ears from the close proximity. He flinches away accordingly.
âNo running, please!â you shout sweetly to the pudgy middle school-aged boy on the other side of the pool. (His babysitter always brings him here so she can sunbathe, and heâs always roughhousing in the deep end. Billyâs developed a personal vendetta with him over the summer.)Â
The suddenly quiet pool returns to its deafening chaos a second later.
You flash Adam a cheeky smile. âYou were saying?â
âI was saying that Iâll take it out of your paycheck,â the man bites, angled jaw clenched tight. âYouâre already on thin ice. Understand?â
Your lip juts in a feigned pout. You nod slowly, eyes wide like a puppy heâs just kicked.
âOne more strike, and youâre cleaning toilets, newbie.â
âAh, I knew thatâs what this was all aboutâŠâ you lilt seductively, lips curling into a mischievous smirk. âYou just want to see me bending overââ
You lean closer toward him until your spearmint breath fans across his chiseled jaw. Your bottom juts out in Eddieâs direction, until he can see the very bottom of your ass from beneath your pleated skirt. It makes him as flustered as Adam the Asshole, who stalks off on long legs quickly after, sufficiently embarrassed.
You laugh at the back of him until he disappears into the crowd again. The bubbly sound ceases the moment heâs out of earshot, and your smile ebbs into a girlish pout. âDickwad,â you mumble under your breath.
You recover from it all rather quickly while Eddie struggles to remind himself to breathe. His mind reels as he, for the first time ever, grapples with the very real possibility that he might actually be in love with you. Or that youâre not real at all, and that this is just Vecnaâs doing â long gone but still putting visions in his head somehow.
He doesnât know which is worse.
                            ê·êŠê·ê·êŠ (ă(âąÌᔄᔄâąÌ)ă) êŠê·êŠê·ê·
         oh, what a strange magic!
         oh, itâs a strange magic!
                            ê·êŠê·ê·êŠ (ă(âąÌᔄᔄâąÌ)ă) êŠê·êŠê·ê·
The golden-orange sky turns a milky pink and lavender. Eddieâs friends, sunburnt and sufficiently pruned, donât leave until the first star blinks faintly in the sky. The rest of the crowd goes with them, bustling bodies spilling out in a swarm.
It takes the rest of the gang several long moments to realize Eddie isnât behind them. (You told him you forgot your sunglasses, and he offered to get them for you, âcause heâs nice like that and everything.)
(He doesnât know the sunglasses are currently hiding in the pocket of your windbreaker.)
âWhat, whereâs Eddie?â Dustin wonders aloud to the rest of the group, head flitting wildly in search of the misplaced metalhead.
âHe went to the bathroom, I think,â you blurt the first lie you can think of. âHe was talking about a nervous tummy or something. I donât know.â
Steve scoffs like he senses a non-truth. âSo, heâs leaving me with babysitting duty again?â he quips with a cynical, lopsided smile. âHow predictable.â
âYou say that like weâre the spawn of Satan or something,â Lucas jokes.
âYou arenât?â the oldest boy deadpans.
Dustin flips him off with a chubby finger and a flat face.
They bid their leave tangled in mindless arguments and lanky limbs. You watch them leave with the understanding that Steveâs 733i will be a tighter fit than it should be, crammed with a bunch of rowdy teenage boys. You feel sorry for Max and Robin most of all.Â
Steveâs car peels out of the parking lot one moment, and Eddie returns the next.
âI couldnât find your sunglasses anywhere,â he confesses sheepishly, face twisted like a puppyâs as he scratches awkwardly at the back of his neck. âI donât know. I think some asshole mightâve stolen âemââ
âOh, no, itâs okay,â you shrug with a tightlipped smile. âI found them in the, uhâ In the lost-and-found bin.â
âOh. Okay. Cool,â Eddie stammers, nodding slowly, just before a smile tugs at his lips. You watch from beneath your lashes as the subtle realization curls on his face. âYou had âem the entire time, didnât you?â the boy wonders in a low voice that makes your stomach do whirl.
âYes,â you squeak in a mousy voice, then ramble before you can stop it. âBut only âcause I wanted everyone else to leave! You know, so we can have a real date and everythingâŠâ
âAs opposed to the fake ones weâve been having?â he jokes with pinched brows.
âExactly,â you nod, strikingly sincere. âCause the constant carpooling and melted rainbow sherbet dropoffs had to have meant something.Â
âAs tempting as that sounds, sweet thing,â he humors, scrunching the bridge of his nose. âI do think I might be actually coming down with sunstroke.â
You turn your head wordlessly to the entryway of the shack. Thereâs only a sliver of the night sky visible from here, but itâs navy blue and sparkling with so many little stars. You look back to Eddie with a dubious glint in your eye. âThe sunset twenty minutes ago, Eds.â
âYeah, but⊠Iâm still sick.â
He removes his hand from the pocket of his leather jacket and balls it into a fist over his mouth. He coughs once, trying hard to make it believable âcause he hasnât been truly sick since the winter of â84.
Thatâs perhaps the only cool thing about being a vampire â heâs basically got Supermanâs immune system now.
âWell, I actually learned how to treat sunstroke while I was in training,â you lilt with an air of mischief in your voice as you take a daring step closer. The scent of sunscreen and cheap musky cologne clings to his skin. Something about the combination of the two is maddening.
Youâre filled suddenly with the primal urge to bite into him like an apple. But you refrain, lest you scare him off.
Eddieâs caught in a similar dilemma, but with perhaps realer consequences than that. Your natural marshmallow-passionfruit scent suffocates him like a pillow to the face. His fangs threaten to force their way through his gums as his head starts to swim.
He ignores every vampiric instinct swirling in his mind and focuses, instead, on the pretty smile curling at your lips.
âBet ya didnât know that, did ya?â
Eddie swallows hard and shakes his head. âNo, Iâ I donât think you ever told me that,â he stammers, then clears his throat when the words get stuck there. He puts both hands back in his jacket pocket, balling them into fists until his nails bite into his palms.
âFirst, you gotta take off your clothesââ
âYouâve been trying to get in my pants all day,â the boy laughs. âYou realize that, right?â
ââAnd then you gotta cool off in a very luxurious community pool.â
Eddie gets what youâre playing at, then. His smile ebbs almost instantly. âNo,â he dismisses with a stern shake of his head. His deep chestnut curls, frizzed with the late-summer humidity, sway around his jaw. âNo. No way.â
âOh, cïżœïżœïżœmon! Please,â you whine. âThe pool closes in, like, half an hourâ Then itâll just be us! We can swim together!â
âI donât know how,â Eddie whines back, head tossed and face screwed. âSeriously. I grew up in a trailer park. No one ever taught me how to swim, alright? Iâll drown.â
Something about that seems to please you, as your pout curls slowly into another smile. You meet the boyâs wet brown eyes with a gaze that glitters something wicked.
Eddie can see your head spinning with a thousand bad ideas from here. His heart would race at the thought of getting into trouble with you if it was beating still.Â
Youâll bring him back to life yet.
âDonât worry, Eds,â you shrug with a sure grin. âIâd give you mouth-to-mouth in a heartbeat.â
                            ê·êŠê·ê·êŠ (ă(âąÌᔄᔄâąÌ)ă) êŠê·êŠê·ê·
The pool glows a vibrant sapphire color. It makes the surrounding amber streetlamps seem dull in comparison. The water is as blue and crystalline as an early summer sky. Eddie figures you must be the sun, swimming in the center of it all.Â
You wait patiently in the shallow end â out of both your windbreaker and pleated skirt for the first time in front of him â and swipe your hands over the water, letting it drip like liquid diamonds from your fingers. You hum quietly to the slow song playing on the boombox across the way, which now houses the mixtape you made that Eddie seems to take with him everywhere.Â
The boy shifts uncomfortably at the head of the pool, feeling awkward in the pair of swim trunks you found for him in the break room.
Youâve never seen so much of him before. His paper-white legs are a lot longer than you expected, âcause his baggy jeans hardly do him any favors. And his arms are a lot muscular, too â likely from moving band equipment and bussing tables.
Heâs already so pretty to begin with. You donât know what heâs got to be such a Nervous Nelly about.
Eddie knows heâs making it harder for himself. Itâd be a lot less awkward for the both of you if he just took his shirt off and jumped in the water. But heâs paralyzed by the misplaced panic that strikes that lightning in his chest. And by you, ogling at him like heâs a pretty thing that deserves to be ogled at.
âStop staring,â he calls to you, pretending to be playful but meaning every bit of it. âItâs makinâ me nervous.â
âWould it make you feel better if I closed my eyes?â
âMuch.â
You put your hands over your eyes, to make him feel better and all. Though, you canât help but peek between the slivers of your fingers as he strips himself of his Corroded Coffin tee.
His torso is as long and lean as you imagined, with sprinkles of hair on his chest and the pudge of his tummy that trails into his borrowed trunks. You try very hard not to stare too long at the gray scars embedded in his pale skin.
Everything seems to come easier to him when youâre not looking at him. He slides the black fabric off his pale, pale torso, tosses it to his feet, and hurries to hide in the water in one fell swoop.
The chlorine makes his nose burn, but the water feels like satin on his skin. Itâs soft and warm and smooth against the cold, sharp edges of him.
âYou can open your eyes now,â Eddie scoffs when he notices your hands still over your eyes. He can see you blinking at him through the slits in your fingers. âI know youâre peeking.â
âI was not!â you gasp, mouth agape with a playful offense.
âWell, you werenât exactly being discreet about it, sweet thing.â
âThese are very nefarious accusations youâre making, Eddie MunsonâŠâ you scold with arched brows and wide eyes. The water ripples faintly around you as you stalk towards him like a predator to prey, eyes narrowed in a challenging squint. âAre you prepared to back them up?â
The boy cowers slightly under your unwavering stare. âI donât like the way youâre looking at me right nowââ
And he was right not to. âCause youâre lunging suddenly towards him in a flash.
The water splashes violently around you as you wrap both arms around his neck and sweep him off his feet. Literally. You kick his legs out from underneath him, then catch him before he can fall completely backward. Both his downfall and his savior, ironically.
âHa!â you shout in his face, the tip of your nose brushing his.
âJesus!â Eddie gasps in response, still heart lurching in his chest.
âI asked if you were prepared!â you defend like youâre innocent, like you arenât still cradling him in your arms â the only thing keeping him from going under.
âNot for this!â he yells back.Â
Only then is he able to take a good breath in. He can smell the velvety scent of your blood from the achingly close proximity. He can feel your heart beating in his own chest from where youâre pressed so intently against him. It makes him instantly dizzy.
He fights back the primal urges that would otherwise drive him mad.
âJeezâŠâ he huffs, fangs burning. âYouâre a lifeguardâ Youâre supposed to stop people from drowning.â
âYeah, but no one ever needs saving,â you whine. âItâs so boring.â
His chocolate button eyes flit back and forth between both of yours. âYou tryinâ to save me, sweet thing?â he jokes.
You squint. âIs it working?â
âYeah, actually⊠If you let me up now, at least.â
Heâs grateful when you do, though he mourns the lack of you when you step back a few paces.
His damp hair sticks to his skin when he rises to full height. He shakes his head like a dog, and you giggle when a few rogue droplets fly your way.
âYou have freckles on your shoulder,â you observe distantly, eyes darting across the faint amber spots on his pale skin as you try to make constellations out of them. âI didnât know that âtil now.â
Eddieâs lips jut downward as he peers at his arm from the corner of his eye. âNot really,â he shrugs.
âYou do!â you insist. âThereâs not many, though. I could probably count âem if I wanted.â
âMaybe on our second date.â
âI didnât know you had a tattoo here, eitherââ You poke him in the chest, a little harder than you probably mean to.Â
Eddie winces and rubs his palm over the fading black widow under his collarbone. âWell, you donât know everything about me,â he quips. âI like it that way. It keeps you on your toes.â
Your face pinches into a girlish pout. âOnly âcause you never tell me anything.â
âI tell you loads of things,â Eddie laughs.
Your frown deepens. âYou never told me about the picture of Ozzy Osbourne you keep in your wallet.â
ââŠHow do you know about that?â
âDustin told me.â
âOf course he did,â Eddie huffs. âRemind me not to tell that little shit anything ever again.â
âYou never told me about how you got those scars, either,â you blurt, eyes trained on his milky white torso. Beneath the clear, rippling water, you can see the parts of his supple stomach that are marred and turning pink.
You donât realize what youâve said until your gaze flits back to his startled one. Your eyes widen as you ramble quickly, âYou donât have to! Iâm not trying to⊠Iâm justâ Iâm just saying. âCause, you know, Steve has the same ones⊠On his ribsâŠâ
âIâm not even gonna ask how you know that,â Eddie jokes with a (mostly) feigned jealousy.
âBilly does, too. Heâs got the same lookinâ scars on his chest,â you continue. âAnd then I started thinking, you know? I thought, since you all know each other and everything, maybe something happened to you guys. Like, in the earthquakes or something.â
Eddie swallows hard and debates on spilling his guts.Â
He swallows his secrets down like bile, in the end.
âYeah. Youâreâ Youâre not too far off, actually,â he answers with a breathy, bitter laugh. He scratches at the back of neck, if only to busy his anxious hands, and flits his gaze to the velvety night sky.
The blinking white stars there ground him when the world starts to swim â reminds him that heâs on Earth, in Hawkins, and not in the hellscape he died in.
That was his final thought as he took his last breath that spring. How strangely fitting it was that there were no stars in the Upside Down.
âWe, uh⊠We kinda went through hell and back, but, uh⊠âLeast lived to tell the tale, right?â Eddie scoffs at himself, then remembers Chrissy â how young and full of life she was one moment, and how her wide blue eyes were sucked out of her skull the next. He recoils then, feeling like heâs said the wrong thing. âWait. That wasâ That was insensitive. I didnât mean it like that.â
âWhat are you talkinâ about? Youâre right,â you assure him with a quiet, emotionless laugh. âYou guys survived. You got lucky. We all did.â
Eddie peeks at you beneath his lashes, through the wild curls sticking to his face. âWhere were you?â he murmurs. âWhen⊠When everything happened?â
âCrying into my milkshake at Bennyâs Burgers,â you answer without missing a beat. The memoryâs far too vivid for anything else.
A laugh sputters from Eddieâs throat. Heâs sure you must be joking. You blink at him like an owl, and he goes solemn all over again. âOh. Youâre⊠Youâre serious?â he mumbles.
âYeah, I was⊠feeling sorry for myself over something stupid, and then the ground started shaking outta nowhereâ like the universe was trying to say, âHey, this could be soooo much worse, dude,ââ you ramble quietly to yourself, skimming your fingers over the waterâs surface. ââŠBut then I found out people actually got hurt and everything, so I was like, âOh, maybe I shouldnât make this about my stupid broken heart, actually.ââ
Eddieâs tight chest deflates with a wavering exhale. He didnât know you back then, but something about knowing you were okay makes him feel better. âCause, yeah, he died and all, but he couldnât stomach the thought of Vecna taunting you.
âIâm glad youâre okay,â the boy confesses in a honeyed whisper.
A soft smile quirks at the edges of your lips. âIâm glad youâre okay, too, Eddie Spaghetti.â
Your hand reaches out for him. Almost instinctively. Like heâs a whole universe with his own gravitational pull.
Your palm settles soft and warm on the outside of his torso. Your thumb grazes the marred skin over his ribs, and Eddie tenses at the foreign feeling. You jerk back instantly.
âOh. Shit. Sorry,â you stammer, face twisted apologetically. âI didnâtâ I shouldâve asked first.â
âNo. Itâsâ Itâs okay. Seriously,â Eddie assures with a rapid nod. Thereâs a faraway look in his chocolate eyes, almost like heâs daydreaming. He feels like he is, anyway. âCause heâs never let anyone this close before.
âI just⊠I wasnât expecting it. Thatâs all.â
Do it again, he says in so many words. Please, I think I might need it.
You reach for him again, more hesitant this time. Your hand settles over his scars again, and you breathe hard through your nose.
Your stomach twists with a phantom sort of ache, like you can feel every ounce of the pain he surely experienced back then. Thinking about how hurt he mustâve been makes you hurt, too.
Eddie can see it written all over your face. How much you ache for him.
He canât stand it.Â
He cups your cheeks between trembling, unsure hands. His touch is softly calloused and colder than ice. He tilts your jaw gently upward, urging you to meet his gaze once more. Your eyes are wet and glittering when they lock with his heavily lidded ones. Your mouth parts to say something, anything. But your brain doesnât work fast enough.
âCause Eddie's kissing you before you can blink.
He tastes distinctly of nicotine and boyhood. Of midnight, full moons, and neon lights. You can feel every groove in his bottom lip from where he picks at it with his teeth. Every sensation is new to you, like cool sparkles of excitement in the pit of your tummy, but itâs strikingly familiar all the same. Nostalgia for something youâre experiencing for the first time warms the center of your chest.
You breathe hard through your nose. The gust of air tickles Eddieâs cupidâs bow as he parts from you, lips smacking apart in protest.
Your eyes, still yet to blink, remain wide and glazed over. âWhoaâŠâ you sigh to yourself.
Eddieâs unsure of how to gauge your reaction. His face swirls with horror.
âWhat?â he mumbles, still cradling your face between worried hands. He canât tell if your cheeks are heating or if heâs just colder than usual. Perhaps both are equally true.
âNothing,â you answer quickly, still slightly faraway. âI just⊠I got a weird sense of deja vu just nowâŠâ
The boy forces a quiet laugh. âWho else have you done this with?â he quips.
âNo one!â you blurt. ââŠBut I think I mightâve dreamt about this once.â
âReally?â
âDefinitely.â
âWas it better than you expected? Or should I just see myself out nowââ
You lean forward to chase his mouth. The cerulean water ripples faintly around you. Your lidded gaze never wavers from his rosy lips, which youâre realizing now are all but begging to be kissed. You donât know how you never noticed it before.
Eddieâs smiling too wide to respond appropriately.
âWhy are you laughing?â you frown.
âIâm not!â he responds through breathy chuckles.
âYou areââ
Eddie leans forward in a flash, pressing another chaste kiss to your pout.
Youâre all smiles again the second he pulls away, bursting at the seams with a sort of giddiness that could give the sun a run for its money.Â
He knows, somewhere deep down, that he shouldnât make you this happy. He doesnât even deserve the chance. But here you are anyway, smiling so wide at him that your eyes are starting to crinkle at the edges â showing him that thereâs still sunshine in the dark, reminding him what it means to be living.
âDoes this mean we get to do this forever?â you wonder in a mousy voice.
âWhat?â he chuckles. âKiss?â
You nod wordlessly, blinking up at the boy with wide, wet eyes.
Eddie nods quickly back.Â
âThen yeahâŠâ he wavers, chest aching and gums burning.Â
He loves you so much heâs gone hungry for it. For you.
He longs to devour you, in every way imaginable, and you want to devour him just the same. He can tell in the way you stare at him when you think he isnât looking â in the way you stare at him even when he is looking â and in every one of your movements that urges him closer, closer, closer.
Your gaze is debilitatingly intense. Your attitude is mind-bendingly strange. Youâre ruining his life, and Eddie canât believe there was ever a time he wasnât kissing you.
âYeah,â he repeats, firmer now. âAs long as you want.â
if you made it this far: i love you. so sorry for making you read something so long. i'd kiss you on the forehead if i could. also pls consider reblogging! this took me so so long to write, and it really helps a lot! thank u, love u (â°ËâĄËâ°)
#published by bug#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x you#eddie munson smut#stranger things x reader#eddie munson#stranger things#stranger things imagine#stranger things fic#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things fanfic#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson angst#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson fic#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fics#st oneshots#eddie spaghetti oneshot
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Cam Star
Camboy!Hyunjin x Camgirl!Reader
⥠Genre - Smut ⥠Word Count - 10k ⧠Masterlist â§
⥠Summary - You havenât seen Hyunjin since the CamStar convention but heâs been on your mind and youâve been on his. Todayâs the day of your collaboration with him, a spicy show for hundreds to watch but the cam is the last thing on your mind.
⥠A/N: I started this as soon as I saw that gif of Hyunjin on live. I wrote this based on one of the many thoughts that gif brought me but it took me FOREVER to complete this. I'm glad that I can at least post it on his birthday! This is the longest fic I've written on this account and I'm proud of it. I hope that you enjoy! đ+ reader is depicted as chubby/plus size and is a POC ⥠MDNI
⥠Warnings: Use of marijuana and alcohol, Foot worship/play, unprotected piv, exhibitionism? - That should be all, let me know if I missed any!
Youâve had a month to prepare for tonight's plans. Everything around you is perfect, your sheets are soft and clean. Your set is lit to perfection and the new matching co-ords that you're sporting for tonight's show were picked out carefully by you and your best friend, Felix, who happens to be a close friend of tonight's guest. Youâve confided in your friend for weeks about your guest's preferences to try and calm your nerves but he didnât tell you anything that you didnât already know.Â
You would think that maintaining a spot as one of the top five creators on CamStar for two years would make you feel more like a seasoned professional but that couldnât be further from the truth. Every time that you think about the fact that youâre about to collaborate with Hyunjin, one of the top three male creators on the site, you want to scream and kick your feet like a flustered school girl. Hyunjin is the epitome of beauty, that might sound a bit extreme but itâs true. Heâs captivating and shameless with what he does, always begging the chat to let him cum and making such intense and sexy eye contact with the lens that you feel like youâre right there with him. Youâve gotten off to his cams more times than youâd ever admit to him and according to Felix his friend has done the same to yours. Â
The mirror would be sick of seeing you if it were a person because here you are standing in front of it for the hundredth time tonight brushing off your short shorts and pulling up your tube top. The deep golden yellow fabric is nearly see through against you and you canât help but to think that maybe you should change. Maybe this is too much? I mean yeah youâre about to be naked on camera for others across the internet to see and youâre more than comfortable in this outfit but what if Hyunjin doesnât like it? Felix said that he thinks that his friend will go speechless when he sees you but what if heâs wrong? What if - oh fuck, heâs here.
The echo of the doorbell through your living room leaves you frozen for a second too long before you break into a soft jog over to your front door. You slide across the hardwood with your fuzzy pineapple print socks and take a deep breath as you twist the knob. There he is. Your eyes meet his for a second and you both smile as you take each other in. Heâs chosen his usual laid back attire for tonight's show as you expected. His oversized Hilfiger t-shirt and black cargo sweats don't surprise you one bit but you seemed to have caught him a bit off guard with your choice of threads tonight.
âHey, youâre early.â Hyunjin stares at you, wide eyed and silent for a second too long before heâs clearing his throat and lifting his gaze from your bare thighs to your eyes. Â
âYeah, I uh - roads were clearer than I thought.â You step aside, inviting him in and you can feel the nervous pit in your stomach deepen as he brushes past you.Â
âI told you they would be.â Once he slips his shoes off and drops his bag at the door the two of you stand in awkward silence as you steal glances and open and close your mouths for what feels like an eternity.Â
âItâs uh- good to see you.â He leans in for a hug, wrapping his arms around your waist and you follow his lead, lacing your arms around his neck as you sigh.
âWeâre being such losers right now.â The vibration of his chuckle as he pulls away brings a smile to your face.
âCan you blame me? I havenât seen you in what? Five months? Maybe six.â You hum, making your way over to your couch and plopping down onto the soft cherry red cushion.Â
âSix months, yeah. I mean, weâve kinda kept in touch since the convention.â
âCommenting on instagram photos and retweeting posts do not count as keeping in touch and you know it.â A blush creeps across your cheeks as he sits next to you, elbows resting on his knees and that damned smirk on his lips. Itâs the same one that he uses during his livestreams, the same one that youâve cum to over and over again.Â
âYeah I know, I know.â You cross your legs underneath you, turning towards him. âYou dyed your hair?â
âYeah, wanted to do something different. I havenât gone live with it yet so tonight will be the debut for this look.â
âIâm honored that youâve chosen to debut it with me.â Your fingers rake through his soft locks as you take in the new cut.
âOf course, Princess.â The fact that you arenât gasping for air right now and appear to be keeping your cool is actually magic. Pure witchcraft, honestly. How can someone make a pet name sound so good? âI need to get used to calling you that so I donât say your name on cam.â
Your blush deepens as you stare down at his lap. Right, you forgot that you go by Princess when youâre on cam. Heâs only calling you that cause thatâs what you go by, gosh are you that down bad already?Â
âI donât have to change much, Jinnie.â You sing his name a bit and he smiles at the sound of it.Â
âYouâre lucky that I go by my name or else youâd have to moan something outlandish like Your Majesty or something.â You fall into a laughing fit, falling onto his shoulder dramatically for support. âMaybe Iâll have you call me that since you seem to enjoy it so much.â
His laugh mirrors yours as he watches you, your head resting on his shoulder with your eyes shut and your mouth hung open as you try to catch your breath. Heâs never heard a prettier laugh in his life, he swears it. âPlease do not make me call you that I wonât be able to keep a straight face.â
âYou already wonât be able to do that though.â He grins as your laughing dies down and you take a final deep breath. Your previous laughter has started to turn into something else entirely. You can feel the heat start to surround the two of you but youâre not even on set or in front of the camera yet. This is what happened last time that you and Hyunjin were together. Everyone at the convention swore that you two had undeniable chemistry.Â
âI would say that youâll have to get used to moaning Princess but something tells me that you already have experience with that.â His eyebrows raise as he leans back into your couch.
âWhat gives you that idea?â
âWord on the street is that you watch my shows.â There goes that smirk again. He lets his head fall back against the back of your couch as he sighs a bit.Â
âIs that right?â He lifts his head, inspecting your matching smirk as he licks over his bottom lip. âWell what if I told you that I heard that you are a big fan of my shows too.â
Your blush is back as you tongue your cheek. Damn Felix and his big mouth! Why would he tell him that? Just play it cool. âWhere did you get that information?â
âFrom the same street that you got your information.â The eye contact that the two of you hold is strong and hot like a steady flame. You watch as his eyes trail from your lips and down the curve of your neck for just a second before rushing back up to meet your gaze but instead of his honey pupils meeting yours heâs met with the view of your own lustful gaze trailing down the slope of his toned arm.Â
Youâve done other collabs with people that you're close to and some that youâve only spoken to for a couple of hours at a convention so you can confidently say that you have never felt as titillated as you do with Hyunjin right now. To be fair, you didnât have a crush on any of those other people.Â
You may not talk to Hyunjin as much as you desire to but youâve watched every single one of his cams and SFW Q & Aâs as well as his YouTube vlogs that you only just found out about days after you asked him to collab with you. Heâs mentioned his art to you before but it wasnât until you came across his channel that you saw just how good he is with a brush or almost any other medium. That mixed with being able to enjoy his everyday lifestyle content and his breathtaking dance covers has made you feel closer to him than you felt before. Though you do find it kind of embarrassing that youâve gotten close to him through a screen instead of real life.
 Little do you know that Hyunjin is no better than you when it comes to consuming an unspeakable amount of your content. Every single cam that youâve ever done has been viewed by him at least once and heâs not ashamed to say that heâs even paid to view the premium content.
 He found out about your lifestyle and mental health blog around the same time that you found out about his YouTube channel and he proceeded to scroll all the way down to your first post and back up again. He watched each and every one of your advice videos on the site and has read every word that youâve ever written and posted. He found himself falling in love with the way that your mind works. He loves the way that you look at life and how youâre able to transform your feelings into breath-taking statements. He nearly forgot about your cams when he found your site.Â
âSo you think that Iâm used to moaning your name?â His question pulls your attention back up to his gaze.Â
âMaybe you moan it in your free time.â You shrug with a wink, turning away from him quickly but luckily you donât miss the smile and blush that he tries to hide from you.Â
âI could say the same for you.â He grumbles under his breath as he lets his head fall back against the couch again. You both sit silently, trying your best not to smile like an idiot in front of the other. âDid you pre-game?â
âUh no not yet, didnât know if you wanted to join.â You stand, raising your arms to stretch a bit and shamelessly giving him the perfect view of your ass in your shorts. âI know itâs not really your thing.â
âMm.â He must be enjoying the view. âIâm your guest, I follow your vibe. I donât mind joining you.â
You hum, making your way over to the black box on your TV stand. âYou smoke?â
âYeah, casually, mostly just with Felix or at parties and shit like that.âÂ
âI didnât know. Do you have a favorite strain? I have just about everything.â He falls into silent thought as you take your seat next to him, setting the box in your arms on the table and starting to set up.
âPurple Runtz, I think. I smoked that one before a cam once and I felt ten times more sensitive.â He sits up, leaning forward to watch as you open your box which basically serves as a mini dispensary. Your interest in weed goes way beyond just getting high for the fuck of it. Itâs been the best remedy for your anxiety since you tried it but then again you donât owe anyone an explanation on why you always have a blunt rolled and ready.Â
âOu, I love that one, I think I have some of that. My favorite is Apollo 11, it makes me feel so relaxed and fucking brainless. My anxiety evaporates as soon as I hit it.â
âAre you anxious tonight?â You donât look over at him. You simply grin as you continue to search for your favorite pipe. You actually arenât too nervous about tonight's show, something about having Hyunjin here is grounding.
âNot really but I still wanna take a hit or two.â He nods, reaching for the pipe that you laid out on your coffee table.Â
âHow the hell did you get your pipe so clean?â You giggle as you finally find the strains you both mentioned earlier and take a bit out for the both of you.
âThatâs a secret, your majesty.â You erupt into your second fit of laughter for the night when you look over and get a glimpse of the most wicked side eye youâve ever seen.Â
âFuck you.â
âYou will soon.â You pick out your favorite grinder and close your box. âWant anything else?â
âGot any soju?â You pause, turning around slowly to face him with a raised brow.
âYou want to get cross faded?âÂ
âNot really, I donât drink much just up to the first line of a solo cup. Thatâs more of my thing than smoking, really.â He shrugs, placing your pipe back down onto the table.
âI mean, if you think that you can handle it. I do want you to remember the night, you know?âÂ
âIâm not a teenager, I can handle it. Iâve done it before and itâs not like Iâm smoking an entire blunt by myself.â You proceed grinding the buds as he stands from your couch.Â
âYour kitchen isâŠâ He walks towards the archway of your living room and mumbles a small âthereâ when he spots the dark kitchen right across the narrow hallway.
âSoju is on the top shelf of the cabinet next to the fridge.â You call out as you start to fill the bowl of your purple glass pipe.Â
âSo high up for such a little person.â He calls back as you hear the cabinet close.
âSolo cups are on top of the fridge and fuck off tall person.â You can hear the faint echo of his chuckle as he fixes his drink. You take the couple of seconds that youâre waiting for him as an opportunity to light the bowl and take the first hit.Â
âA yellow solo? Really? You know that the red solo cups are the sexy ones.â You stifle a chuckle in a desperate attempt not to choke on the smoke in your lungs. He brings the cup to his lips quickly before taking the pipe that you're offering him.
âSexy?â You question following your exhale. âWhat makes the red ones sexy?â
âThe sense of mystery.â He mumbles as he exhales over his shoulder. âI just never see the yellow ones.â You hum, taking the pipe back and peaking into his cup.
âHyunjin, thatâs way more than just the bottom of the cup.â The corner of his mouth twitches as he offers you the cup.
âThatâs because I got just a bit more to share with you.âÂ
âI didnât say that I wanted any.â You tease.
âTrue, you donât have to have any. Just thought of you since I came to your house and started drinking your liquor.â You set your pipe down and take the cup from Hyunjinâs hand silently before turning to him completely and holding your pinky out.Â
âIâll have some but I just need us to promise something first.â He turns to face you completely, glancing down at your finger with a faint grin. âI get high before almost every cam and I know that youâre aware of that but Iâve never really done it with anyone else. Well, not on cam. I just want us to be comfortable.â
He holds his pinky out to you, wrapping it around yours without question. âI promise that Iâll be fine and that Iâm more than okay with everything that will happen tonight. If Iâm uncomfortable Iâll tell you, youâll do the same, right? I only want to make you feel good, nothing else.âÂ
âI promise that Iâll be fine too. Iâll tell you everything. Iâll communicate so much that youâll want me to shut up.â The two of you had already discussed your limits beforehand and youâve both done your research on the other person - whether it be for business or personal benefits varies - but you feel yourself relax further now that youâve heard him say that heâll be fine. Pinky promises are like a contract after all.Â
âImpossible, I could never want such a thing.â You let go of his finger and he follows, a grin on both of your faces as he reaches for his cup but you beat him to it. âWeâre sharing the bowl and the drink anyway, Itâll literally just be the tip of the iceberg.â Heâs right, this isnât enough to fuck you guys up, not with the tolerance that you have. Itâs just enough to make you both melt and feel loose enough to drop your masks a little faster.
âYou know what we should do?â He takes the cup as you pass it to him, drinking from the same spot on the cusp that you just did. Did he mean to do that? Was that like an indirect kiss? Or are you really that down bad for him already? Fuck, get a grip. âWe should start a bit early, maybe just sit and talk to set the mood?â
âYou canât smoke on cam though.â He takes another sip as you finish your second hit.Â
âLetâs start after the bowl then. We can share the drink and just chill? Get a feel of everything and vibe check the chat.â He hums, choking a bit on his inhale but recovering pretty quickly, he must do this more frequently than you thought. He clears his throat taking a sip of soju to substitute one burn for another.Â
âThatâs fine with me, Princess.â
âYou never told me if I look okay.â The two of you finished smoking maybe fifteen minutes ago and decided to move to your office to start getting comfortable on set.Â
âThatâs because I didnât trust myself to say something that didnât sound lame.â Hyunjin makes himself comfortable on your sofa bed, yellow solo cup in hand while he pushes his hair out of his face.
âThat was then, what about now?â
âNow I can confidently say that you look absolutely breath-taking.â The soft sound of R&B music playing across the room fills in the silence after his answer. Your content giggling and smiling while you set up your camera and adjust your laptop is enough feedback for him. âWhatâs the second cam for?â
âOh, collabs arenât available in my archive to try and encourage more people to watch them. So if anyone misses this theyâre assed out but I do like to record collabs for myself to watch back later.âÂ
âYeah? Gonna get off to me fucking you later?â The weed and soju are definitely doing their job for him. His playful and teasing nature has been on full display since the two of you finished smoking. Your mask is dropped too so you have no problem matching his energy.
âMaybe, better put on an unforgettable show.â He tongues his cheek, eyeing your glossed lips. He canât wait to smear that red tint across your cheeks, heâll definitely give you an unforgettable show. You settle next to him, draping your bare legs over his clothed lap.
âYouâve seen my cams.â His eyes meet yours slowly. âSo you know that I will.â
âThen letâs do this.â You lean forward to hit âGo Liveâ but Hyunjin stops you before you can press it.Â
âHold on, I wanted to do something first.â He takes your hand gently as he leans forward to sit the yellow cup on the table in front of the both of you. You hum, staring at him with pinched brows but when he pushes your hair from your face and runs his thumb over your cheek bone you canât help but to let go of the tension in your face.Â
âI donât really want our first kiss to be on cam, if you donât mind.â A grin creeps up on you as he searches your eyes, leaning in so closely that you can feel his breath tickling your lips.Â
 âCan I kiss you?â You answer him by leaning in and pressing your lips against his. He sighs into you as his lips move against yours. Soft, gentle and only for you. His other hand finds your waist and he pulls you closer to him until your racing heart is nearly against his own. You let out a soft moan as you feel his tongue trace the seam of your mouth. Once he hears that sweet sound he knows that he has to pull away or else the two of you will never turn that camera on and heâll keep every inch of you to himself. You notice his reluctance as he pulls away but the look in his eyes once they flutter open and meet yours makes you forget about everything except the feeling of him against you.Â
âYouâre smiling.â You turn away at his comment trying to hide your face from him but he turns your head back, a matching smile on his lips.Â
âYou kissed me, of course Iâm smiling.â
âDoes that mean that you like me?â You turn away from him, groaning playfully as you avoid his gaze.Â
âAre you ready now? Or are you going to keep flirting with me?â His chuckle brings back the smile that youâre fighting to get rid of and it excites the butterflies in your stomach all over again. Luckily for you Hyunjin is just as down bad as you are, his stomach is doing somersaults right now and he swears that his heart is beating out of his chest.Â
âIâm ready.â
The chat went from being chill with just about ninety people watching to absolutely overflowing as soon as your usual air time hit. Youâre used to having a large audience but the number on your screen is nearly more than double what it usually is thanks to your special guest.Â
Jinnie! You dyed your hair. They look so hot together omg Iâd do anything to be between the two of them right now Can he handle our Princess?
You and Hyunjin skim through the buzzing chat, responding to the comments that catch your eye.Â
âSo many comments about my hair. I just did it because I wanted to impress you all, did it work?â He winks at the camera, his signature smirk on his lips as he brings the cup up to take a sip. He tilts the cup towards you once he sips from it but you bring your hand up to play in his hair instead.Â
âItâs so soft, like, you all would not believe it. I really like the black on him, donât you?â His eyes meet yours as he licks his lips.Â
âAre you impressed?â Itâs your turn to smirk as you take the cup from him, brushing your fingertips over the back of his hand in the process.
âLetâs save the reviews for after the show.â You offer a quick wink as you sip from the cup. He tongues his cheek as he focuses back on the chat but his hands are only focused on you.
His fingers are having a field day as they trace sensitive circles and lines into your calves and thighs. He kneads at the flesh softly as he makes conversation with the viewers that he recognizes, but you canât seem to focus on chat right now. Not when your crushes' big hands are massaging every inch of exposed skin he can reach.
Hyunjin notices that youâre a bit spaced out, so he asks you a question to help you refocus. The conversation kind of turns into an impromptu story time that consists of you and Hyunjin telling the viewers and each other about the other collabs that youâve done. The further that you get into the show, the closer you and Hyunjin get. Youâve gone from just having your calves draped over his lap to moving closer and putting your arm over his shoulder. That has led you to how you are right now, his arm around your waist with your legs draped over his lap and your head on his shoulder. Your breath is tickling that sweet spot on his neck, and heâs trying desperately to focus on the timbre of your laugh instead of how eager he is to touch you. Youâre laughing about something that probably isnât that funny - thanks to the weed - when Hyunjin reads a comment out loud.Â
âLooks like you got a tip and a request.â He leans a bit closer to the screen, pushing his hair out of his face and licking his lips as he reads the request to you. âYour socks are cute but I want to see your pretty toes.â
âMm would you take them off for me, Jinnie?â He sighs at the way that you make his name sound so sweet yet sexy at the same time. Heâs already rock hard in his sweats from how close you are to him, he canât possibly handle your pretty voice saying his name like that too
âAsk me again.â Actually, he can take it. Heâll definitely explode later but right now he wants to take all that he can get. âYou sounded so sweet the first time I just need to hear it again.â
âWhat if I'm not sweet this time?âÂ
âIndulge me, Princess.â A mindless giggle escapes you as you lean in and run your fingers through his hair. You stop right when your lips brush the shell of his ear and whisper.Â
âWill you please take them off for meâŠâ You suck in a slow breath and Hyunjinâs eyes flutter shut for just a second. âYour majesty .â His eyes squeeze shut and he folds forward in a fit of laughter that you quickly reciprocate.
âYouâre so fucking stupid.â He sits up, trying to catch his breath the best he can so that he can fulfill your request.
âThen you should have no problem fucking me dumb.â You fake a pout at him through your laughter.
 âCome here.â You bend your knees, bringing your feet to his lap to give him better access. Your laughter quickly dies down when you get a feel of his hard cock under the soles of your feet. It would be a shame not to help him with that. As Hyunjin removes one of your socks you press the ball of your naked foot against his clothed shaft lightly, just enough for a delicious hiss to escape him.Â
He moves to remove your other sock and you repeat your previous actions, pressing against his hard cock with the other foot and then following with both. Hyunjin's hands run over the tops of your feet as he watches you massage his dick over his pants. Itâs too subtle for your mic to catch but you can hear his breathing start to pick up as you work against him. âPretty.â He mumbles, his voice thick with desire. You grin at him lazily, the effects of both strains of weed is starting to hit you a bit harder now that the heat between you and Hyunjin is starting to pick up.Â
âYou think my toes are pretty?â He nods, his eyes darkened with lust. One of his hands runs up your calf, his grip gentle but firm. You arch your back, pushing your hips forward and inviting him closer while he leans in, bringing one of your feet up to his mouth with a feather light grip on your ankle and pressing a soft kiss to the top of your foot. A shiver runs down your spine as you watch him.Â
âSo pretty.â His voice is barely above a whisper, just loud enough for your mic to pick up but quiet enough to know that heâs talking to you and only you. Itâs like heâs forgotten about the chat and if he is to be completely honest, he did, just for a moment. The feeling of your foot pressed against his dick is so intoxicating, how could he not? âCan I suck them?â
âIâve never done that before.â The wide nervous smile and breathy chuckle that follows your confession leaves Hyunjin smiling too. He presses another kiss to the top of your foot, this time itâs sloppier and it sends another chill down your spine, are you into this?
âDo you want to try it?â Youâve never felt shy when doing a cam before. Not even when you first started, so why are you covering your eyes and giggling like a drunk teenager at the mention of having your toes sucked? âArenât these feet just too pretty, chat? Shouldnât they be worshiped appropriately?â
Iâd give anything to be Princess right now Such pretty feet need to be praised
Hyunjinâs question received more than a few comments back and nearly double the amount of tips but truthfully, you were already sold the minute that he asked to do it. Who in their right mind would say no to having those beautiful blushed lips on them?Â
âIâll try it.â Your bright eyes meet Hyunjinâs for just a second as he silently asks for confirmation. You nod your head, a goofy smile on your face as you lean back on your palms. He presses soft sloppy kisses to the top of your foot, adding more pressure and tongue as he trails down. His eyes stay on yours when he kisses your pinky toe, adding so much tongue that heâs practically licking it into his mouth. Your smile drops as he does the same to the next toe, you watch with parted lips and bated breath as he sucks on the digit, swirling his tongue over your purple pedicure and effectively making you gush between your thighs.
âWhy the fuck does that feel so good?â Your question comes out as more of a quivering moan than you meant for it to but youâre way too entranced in this pleasure to give a fuck about how you sound.Â
He smirks, his eyes twinkling with a soft desire to unravel you further. âBecause I'm good at it.â His lips and tongue leave a trail of wet heat as he continues, his slow and deliberate movements build you up perfectly.Â
Something tells you that this is going to be a good show.Â
You can't help but let out a sharp gasp as his lips close around your big toe. Why is that one ten times more sensitive? âOh fuck.â Your eyes flutter shut and you throw your head back with your lips parted in a euphoric smile. You puff out a small sigh of relief followed by a mindless giggle as he continues to lavish attention on your toes. âThis is my new favorite thing.â
âHaving your toes sucked?â He plants a sloppy kiss on the top of your foot as he lowers it back to his lap. âOr having me suck them?â He moves his hands to your thighs and parts your legs he sinks the tips of his fingers into your thigh as he pulls you forward into his lap. You gasp at the sudden shift, trying your best to stifle a giggle.
âYou can answer that when itâs just you and me if you want.â His hands move to grab at the curve of your ass and you smile down at him, we canât let him have all of the fun can we?Â
The moan that escapes Hyunjin when you wrap your hand around his throat and pull his face towards yours is enough to make your ego explode. Itâs only now that heâs so close to you that you can see how his eyes have a faint red tint from the weed, theyâre droopy and have the tiniest fucked out glaze to them as they stare back into yours.Â
âYou sure are talking a lot for someone who needs me on their cock.â You swirl your hips against him, pressing your soaked core against the tent in his pants. You canât help to resent the clothes keeping you away from each other, you much rather be grinding on his bare length right now. âShouldnât you be begging for me instead?â
"Make me beg for it." His words huff out in a shaky breath, his large hands swiftly and mindlessly gripping your plush hips as you grind against him slowly.Â
"Show me how much you want it." He attempts to lean forward and catch your lips with his but you dodge him a bit before he can reach you. âUse your words, baby.â
The second that you call him baby Hyunjin swears that he could melt in your hands. Heâs no stranger to the sweet name but hearing it fall from your lips makes every other time someone has called him that feel bitter. âYouâre gonna drive me crazy.â
You halt all movement and he whines in protest. He attempts to buck up into you but you press down to stop him. âLet me hear you beg for me.â
 âPlease let me kiss you, let me taste you.â His pleading voice is barely above a whisper. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, his pounding heart is all that he hears as he awaits your response. Your hand slides up the back of his neck, lacing through his raven locks and pulling lightly. âPlease, I need you.â
âYou sound so pretty.â You lean in and kiss him, smiling against him as he cups your face with both hands and deepens the kiss. His lips move over yours with a hunger that youâve never experienced before.
 His rhythm is gentle yet desperate like heâs savoring the taste of you. Your hands run over his strong shoulders and trail down to explore each curve of his bicep. You brush your fingers over the muscles, moaning when you feel them flex beneath your fingertips, the simple reaction prompts you to grind into him a bit harder earning a pleased groan to vibrate through him. Your hands are caressing the smooth skin of his forearms when his tongue swipes across the seam of your mouth and you promptly grant him access.
 Your hands fall to rest on his chest, balling the fabric of his shirt into a fist and your brain blanks out, thereâs not a single thought going through that pretty head once the taste of him floods your tongue. He tastes more like Soju than he does weed and thereâs a hint of mint from the gum that he was chewing beforehand.
âChatâŠâ Hyunjin pulls back, his eyes stay on you while he talks to the audience that you completely forgot about. Forgetting that youâre live with hundreds of people watching seems to be a running theme tonight. âYou think I should take her top off?â His eyes trail down the curve of your neck until they reach the hem of your strapless top thatâs leaving very little to the imagination.
âItâs so tiny how the fuck does it stay on?â You laugh a bit harder than intended at his question causing your top to slip down a bit. âOh, fuck can you do me a favor? Bounce in my lap, I wanna see your top fall down.â
âYou want me to bounce in your lap?â You coo with a sweet yet teasing tone. âLike this?â You bounce lightly, grinding down on his pulsing erection each time you come down.
âShit, baby, please.â You continue to bounce in his lap lightly, feeling your top slip down little by little.Â
âIs this how you want me to ride you, Jinnie?â You bat your lashes at him, his hands find a home on your waist, digging his fingers into the flesh.Â
âSuch a fucking tease.â The smile on his face quickly dissolves once your top finally gives way, you continue to grind against him slowly as he takes in the sight. â Gosh, youâre gorgeous.âÂ
One of his hands slides up the curve of your waist and cups at your bare breast, kneading the mound slowly while pinching and twirling your nipple. It doesnât take long for his other hand to follow suit. âShit, theyâre sensitive.â You moan at the contact, whining a bit when he pinches harder.
âYeah? Can you cum from this, Princess? Gonna soak my lap from getting your nipples pinched?â You whimper, arousal flooding your - already ruined - shorts as you arch into his touch. â Her shorts should come off next, shouldnât they, chat?â
âNuh uh, Your shirt is next.âÂ
âCanât wait to get me naked, huh?â He reluctantly moves his hands to the hem of his shirt, pulling it off in one swift motion and revealing his beautifully built body to you. Hyunjin doesnât usually get completely naked for his cams, eighty percent of the time heâll keep his shirt on or just pull down his jeans enough to free his cock but he agreed to do it with you when the two of you were talking about your limits. âHappy?â
âVery.â You mindlessly run your hand over his chest, taking in every bit of him. Youâre interrupted by the warm feeling of his hands snaking up your thighs and messing with the hem of your shorts. He taps your outer thigh twice, his bottom lip is pulled between his teeth as he waits for you to follow his silent command. âCan't wait to get me naked, huh?â
You mimic his previous statement and he offers a dark and airy chuckle in return. The banter between you two is not helping how hard he is right now. Heâs always liked that about you, he likes that you always have something to say back. âDamn right.âÂ
You hook your thumbs into the waistband of your shorts, keeping steady eye contact with Hyunjin as you remove them. He moans at the sight of you bare before him, the previous petting your thighs has turned into him digging into the soft flesh in an attempt to control himself. âNo panties, Princess?â
âTheyâd just get ruined.â You grab at the hem of his sweats, fumbling with the drawstring and trying to not make your desperation too obvious. Once you undo the bow he helps you pull his pants off of his hips only to find him bare underneath. âNo underwear, Jinnie?â He smiles, chuckling a bit with a shrug.
âYouâd just rip them off of me anyway.â You laugh loud, hitting his arm and throwing his sweats to the side.Â
âI would not!â Hyunjin follows up with a joke that you only half laugh at, youâre way too busy taking in the sight of his dripping cock resting against his toned abdomen, how is this man even real? Hyunjin catches on shortly after, taking a chance to enjoy the flawless view of you.
His cock jumps once his eyes land on your glistening core, wet and ready for him to ruin, he has half a mind to just turn off the camera and carry you to your bedroom where he can enjoy you without the prying eyes of your viewers who you both forgot about the second that you got undressed, or maybe it was sometime before that, when was the last time that you looked at the chat? A familiar text tone pulls you out of your thoughts and hurls you back into reality. This is a cam show.Â
You donât even need to look at your phone to know who texted you. Youâve got Felixâs text tone memorized. He attends every one of your shows and watches the chat to make sure that no one gets out of hand and you do the same for him when he goes live. Tonight heâs accompanied by Hyunjinâs stream mod and roommate Changbin.
 You assume that Felix texted you to tell you just what you were thinking a second ago, you need to look at the chat. You force your attention over to your laptop screen, trying your best to focus on the comments and tips flooding in left and right.Â
âJin is distracting me from the chat.â You tease, leaning in to read some comments.
They are in their own world Princess is going to ruin him I want him to look at at me like that
âYouâre distracting me too.â He pulls you towards him by your hips so that you're straddling him with his cock pressed against your core. âAre you guys enjoying the show so far?â He asks after you send him a playful glare.
The chat lights up with comments and requests. Hyunjin knows that he should pick a request to entertain the audience. He knows that some people want to see him do specific things to you and you to him but he canât help but to feel a bit selfish right now. Heâs been dreaming about being this close to you for weeks. He doesnât want to spend his time doing things that others request. He wants to savor you.Â
âI know Iâm enjoying it.â You turn your attention back to Hyunjin, your eyes run over his features, taking in his soft lips and his shining droopy eye. He licks over his bottom lip as he looks you over too. Your eyes are barely drooping despite being high, your lips are kiss bitten and barely glossed but the red tint is still visible and itâs smudged onto your cheek ever so slightly. Just what he wanted.
âIâm sorryâŠâ Hyunjin mumbles as he switches focus between your lips and your lust glazed eyes. âIâm sorry, I canât pay attention to chat right now.â His lips are on yours in an instant, punctuating his sentence with a heated kiss. You gasp at the sudden impact, your heart racing as your tongue tangles with his. Hyunjin pulls away for just a second, his breath hot against your skin as he whispers, âCan I fuck you now, baby? Can I fuck you like nobodyâs watching.â
âYou wanna play with me, Jinnie?â You whisper back as your arms wind around his neck.
âUntil you break.â He dives back in, moving one of his hands to cradle the back of your head as he tastes you. You pull him closer until your chest is flush with his and you can feel the vibration of your shared moans rattling between you. You reach between your bodies with whatever space is left, lifting yourself up just enough to position him without breaking the kiss. He groans once he feels the head of his cock brush against your dripping slit, he breaks the kiss and leans back to take in the sight of his cock stretching your cunt. âThat cunt is so fucking sloppy.â His eyes roll back as you sink down on him and he drinks in every second of your cunt swallowing each thick inch of his throbbing length.Â
âO-oh, fuck.â He closes the gap between the two of you again with his hands on your hips to help guide you down. He leans his forehead against yours, gazing into your eyes as he fills you to the brim. Once you take him to the hilt you pause to catch your breath but Hyunjin has other plans. You cry out when you feel the tip of his dick kiss your cervix just right. The stretch of him is unlike anything - or anyone - youâve ever felt before.Â
âTiny fucking cunt taking my cock so well. âS fucking made for me isnât it, Princess? This cunt was made for me to fuck.â You move in tandem, timing when to swirl your hips so that he feels impossibly deep. You know that Hyunjin is the type to talk dirty during sex, youâve watched enough of his cams to imagine what he might be like. Youâre usually no different but the way that he feels inside of you is so dizzying that you might not be able to keep up with him tonight. The sweet buzz of the weed and soju makes everything feel like it could have you floating at any second. Even just trying to remember his name or your own for that matter is a full time job that your brain keeps clocking out of.
âJ-just for you baby⊠god, this pussy is yours just please donât stop.â Your fucked out eyes stare into his as you start to take more control, the sound of your skin colliding echoes as you bounce in his lap. His hands stay on your hips, periodically squeezing the flesh when you clench around him just right. Sweet whines and chants of âah ah ahâ fall from your lips but you become muted when Hyunjin sucks your bottom lip into his mouth and lightly bites it. He plants broken kisses as you arch into his hand tracing the length of your spine. He had to get you to be quiet, if you keep moaning like that this show wonât last very long.Â
âYou know I could have you however I want, right?â He groans as he practically melts beneath you. âI could pick you up and ruin this pretty cunt but I want you to use me. I want you to use my cock in front of all of them.â His hands fall from your back and settle on your ass. The soft flesh in his hands has him holding on for dear life. What the hell are you doing to him? Heâs never felt this good before. He needs you off of him now or else heâs going to explode.
 âFuck, baby.â He lands a firm smack that draws a whimper from you. âCome here, show that pretty ass to the camera.â He lifts you up mid stroke and turns you around, your ass and dripping hole on display for more than a hundred people to see. The thought of it makes you bite your lip as Hyunjin reaches over you to jiggle your ass for the camera, leaving a bruising slap on either cheek as he pleases.
âBeautiful isnât she?â He spreads your cheeks and leans over with puckered lips. Letting a stream of spit fall from between them and onto your asshole. He watches as it runs down and mixes with the sticky arousal of your pussy then drips down to pool on the sofa. A curse escapes him when he brings a finger up to tease your tight hole, rimming it gently then trailing down to tease your fluttering pussy.Â
âJin.â A mindless whimper escapes you and Hyunjin hums a moan in response. He wants nothing more than to taste you, heâd make you cum while he plays with both of your holes but he wants to take his time with that. He canât give you rushed head, you deserve better than that so heâll settle for sinking his finger into your pussy with his thumb rubbing at your pretty puckered hole. âOh my god.â
âThink I should add another finger chat?â Tips flood in as soon as the question leaves his mouth. You wiggle your ass at the camera earning a chuckle and a light ass slap from Hyunjin. âMy eager princess, want another?â You nod, drawing out an excited hum that promptly fades into a moan once his middle finger slips into you. He fucks into you, pressing against your walls and sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. His other hand trails up your back and you arch for him, pushing your ass into his hand. Your moans echo through the room like a porn site on loud speaker. Â
âJinnie I'm gonna - gonna -â He slaps your ass, sending you into a broken moan.Â
âGo ahead and make a mess for me, baby.â Youâre coming undone before you can process it. He fucks you through it, massaging your sweet spot and drawing out your climax. You collapse onto his lap, eyes closed as you try to catch your breath. âIâm the luckiest guy alive.â A smug smirk pulls at Hyunjinâs lips as he repeats the comment that he was able to catch before it went zooming by in the messy chat.
 Your eyes flutter open with the intention of looking up at him and throwing a smart remark his way but his throbbing cock resting against his stomach is too close for you not to pay attention to. Hyunjin is running his fingers through your hair as heâs still trying to read the chat. Heâs so engrossed in that that he only half notices when you move closer to his cock, sliding it into your mouth with a content hum
âOh baby, oh fuckâ His hand rests on the back of your head, instinctively guiding you as you take all of him and allow his tip to abuse the back of your throat. He marvels at the stretch of your pretty lips around him, taking every single inch of him until his tip makes your throat bulge and your mouth water. âPlease donât stop, donât stop.â He pants above you, his eyes are glued to your watering ones as you blink up at him and bat your thick lashes. You swallow around him with each bob of your head and use your free hand to pay attention to his balls. You massage them gently, covering them with the spit that dribbles down from the hilt of Hyunjin's cock.
âYou have no idea how good you are at that. You have no fucking clue, do you? Iâd give you anything, Iâd do anything just to feel this pretty mouth on me all of the time. Holy shit, Princess.â You choke around him when he pushes your head down a bit, holding you there for a second to indulge in the way your throat squeezes him. A tear rolls down your cheek and Hyunjin wipes it away with his thumb. He brings the finger up to his mouth and sucks it clean, keeping his eyes on yours as he swirls his tongue around the digit. You whimper around him and he throws his head back at the sensation. âYouâre gonna make me nut if you donât stop. I donât wanna bust in your mouth, I wanna fill your pussy.â
He makes a fist around your ponytail when you donât stop, pulling your head back with a grunt. âDonât fucking listen.â You offer him a messy smile, sticking your tongue out in an attempt to catch his dick in your mouth again. He takes the base of his dick between his fingers and slaps the tip on your tongue. âFilthy girl, so pretty. Look at me, Mhmm keep those eyes on me, fuck youâre unbelievable.â He groans, pushing into your mouth and moving his hips in slow circles. You gag slightly as he pushes deep, his grip around your ponytail tightening as he fucks your face.Â
âYouâre gonna drive me insane.â He pulls your head back again, a single string of spit keeps the two of you connected but itâs broken when he turns your head to the camera. âYou liked being dirty for me in front of them? You see how many people are watching you suck my cock.â Arousal gushes between your thighs and you press them together as the intoxicating feeling of embarrassment creeps up and paints a blush over your cheeks.
âI love it.â You hum and he smiles down at you sliding his thumb into your mouth âYouâre a dream.â You smile around his finger, swirling your tongue around the tip then releasing it with a faint pop.
 âWanna lay down for me? Let me fuck you dumb?â Youâre pulling yourself into position before he even finishes the question. The sudden urgency in your actions earns you a faint chuckle and a quick kiss to your forehead as you get comfortable. He gets up on his knees and slots himself between your legs. You bring them up to rest on his shoulders and he plants sloppy kisses along your calf while he strokes himself against your entrance, teasing your clit with his tip.Â
âHow ya feeling, Princess. You got a bit quiet on me earlier.âÂ
âIâm literally seeing stars.â Your loud laughs echo through the room and rumble through the mic in front of you. âIâm good, just on cloud nine.â
âAm I your favorite collab?â The answer is yes but youâll never admit that to him, especially not while youâre live. Truthfully this barely even feels like a collab. It just feels like you and your boyfriend fucking in front of a camera. Wait, boyfriendâŠ? What are you even thinking? Are you catching more feelings for him right now? Ugh, okay, you gotta sort that out later.Â
âAre you trying to get me in trouble?â You lightly push his chest with your foot before resting it back over his shoulder. He chuckles and kisses the inside of your ankle. âJust fuck me.âÂ
âMy pleasure, this is what weâre gonna do. Iâm gonna slip into this pussy nice and slow.â He runs his pointer finger between your slick folds and your back slightly arches off of the mattress. âThen youâre gonna cross your ankles over my chest and I'm gonna hold them.â
âIs this supposed to be some type of forbidden position?â He rolls his eyes, laughing at you as you smile up at him. âItâs gonna make that tiny cunt of yours feel even tighter.âÂ
You take a shaky breath in as he starts sinking into you. It feels like there canât possibly be enough air in your lungs. Theyâre burning but you willfully ignore it. âOh, come on baby, this messy cunt takes me so well.â His voice is thick with aroused exasperation as he fills you. He halts his movement for a second to allow you to adjust. âBreathe for me.â
You suck in a slow breath but thatâs all in vain when he starts rocking into you. âHyunjinâ Your eyes roll back as you moan his name repeatedly. Itâs amazing how perfect he feels, like he was made specifically to be inside of you.
 âCross your legs, baby.â You do as youâre told, moving slowly as you adjust to his languid strokes âThatâs it.â His gentle pace only lasts another second or two before he starts getting more reckless. He brings his hand up to his mouth and bites on his bent finger while your mouth hangs open in a silent scream.Â
âOh what the fuck, Jin. What the fuck.â The moan that escapes you is desperate and nearly has a primal ring to it. The pressure on your clit for your legs being crossed mixed with him feeling as deep as he does is a recipe to blinding orgasm.Â
âYouâre so fucking - Oh my god, youâre the only person I ever wanna fuck. This cunt is mine, can it be mine Princess?â He settles into an unrelenting tempo, he grips your thighs with both hands to steady himself while his desperation sets in. âTell me itâs mine please, please please.â
âY-yours, all yours, fuck me like Iâm all yours.â A deep groan rumbles through him, Thatâs exactly what he wanted to hear. He wants to be yours and he wants you to be his. He wants to be the only one who gets to feel like this. The only one who makes you cream on their cock. You look so pretty, you sound so pretty, fuck youâre so pretty.Â
You turn your face towards the camera so that they can get a better look at you, eyes crossed and drooling onto the sofa.
âMy brainless baby is drooling?â A broken moan interrupts him. âMy cock really got you fucking dumb, huh?âÂ
âI wanâ your cum, Jinnie, please. Need it. Need it inside.â
âYou want it? Babyâs gonna milk my cock, huh? Gonna make me creampie that cunt. Shit - Iâm close.â You clench around him and he swears that he can feel his soul leaving his body. He pushes all the way in, hitting spots that you could never reach alone. Your orgasm comes into sight when he hits your cervix just right. âYou gonna take it, baby? Gonna take all my - fuck, Iâm gonna cum.â
 âDonât.â He groans, slowing down a bit but you whimper in protest. âKeep fucking me like that, p-please please. Deep like that, youâre so deep like that, fuck - please.â
âPri-princess, I canât - fuck, I canâtâ He whines and buries himself deep into you, hips stuttering as he gets closer and closer to losing control.Â
âDonât you d-dare cum, Jinnie. Donât.â You press your thighs together in a desperate attempt at reigning in your orgasm. The pleasure build inside you, slowly creeping up your spine before it hits you all at once. Your body tenses as shockwaves rush over you and your walls spasm and contract around him.
âHoly shit, baby I canât fucking take it.â His movements become erratic as he tries to help you ride out your high but the feeling of you flooding his cock throws him over the edge. His orgasm hits him like a freight train and he throws his head back and practically screams above you. He bites his lip in a desperate attempt to quiet himself but his efforts are not enough to keep his moans of euphoria at bay.
 He empties himself inside of you until his seed is spilling out in a helpless attempt to escape your plugged pussy. You uncross your legs from his chest and let them plop against the sofa once he releases his death grip on your thighs. With the lack of support Hyunjin falls forward but he catches himself before he collapses on top of you, his hips shake as he comes down from his high. Sweat drips down and runs along the valley of your breasts as he hovers above you and tries to catch his breath. You stay still, your body still trembling as the aftershocks of pleasure course through you. You stay like that until he finally pulls himself out and collapses next to you.Â
Only your labored breaths can be heard throughout the room as you try to fill your lungs but thatâs easily drowned out by the sounds of your hammering heart pulsing in your ears when you feel Hyunjin move next to you.Â
Heâs holding your hand.
His fingers intertwine with yours, giving you a light squeeze and you smile at the gesture, the butterflies in your stomach erupt into a clumsy swarm as the two of you lie in silence for a while longer..Â
âSo.â Hyunjin breaths out, propping himself up onto his elbow so that he can look down at you. âAre you impressed?â You push him down with a laugh and roll over on top of him.
âI am impressed.â You lean down and catch his smiling lips in a slow and soft kiss. You both sigh into it, his hands tracing up your sides as yours run down his chest. You break the kiss with a smile and whisper. âYour majesty.â
âIf youâre the Princess what does that make me?â Hyunjin teases with a smile and you stare down at him with a surprised blush. You attempt to hide your face in his neck and roll off of him but he pulls you in for another kiss before you can make your escape. The two of you melt into the exchange, getting so lost in each other that you donât hear Felixâs text tone going off. Actually, you havenât heard it go off for the past ten minutes that heâs been texting you. Changbin has been texting Hyunjin for the same amount of time if not a bit longer but the two of you have been so deep in your own world. Right now nothing and no one but the two of you exist. Youâre both completely and totally enamored with each other and you have no problem with everyone knowing thatâŠExcept no one will know that. Why?
Because the livestream disconnected twenty minutes ago.
Thank you reading! Please like and share, it makes my day!
ASLO, please follow my back-up acct. @minniee-verse âŁïž
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hiii! this is my first request on tumblr but i jus love alastor sm and there is NOT enough fics for me out there. so im asking uâ€ïž
what abt alastor being jealous of someone else in the hotel? for example: angel dust, he puts on music and you two are dancing with eachother happily not noticing the red eyed demon with a tight grin. đ„°
Hii! Honestly after writing this I realized I didn't follow the prompt exactly, less jealousy and more Alastor being overprotective. Oh well! Hope you like it anyway :D!
Be Back Soon (i)
alastor x reader (fluff? alastor is just overprotective) part i TW: Cursing/Angel existing if you want tagged in the next part, lmk! join my discord! âââ â ââââââââââ â ââââââââââ â ââââââââââ â âââ
Your fingers dragged down the skin around your eyes as you let out a long sight, sitting at Huskâs bar with shoulders propped on the cold counter. What a day it had been, running around in the typical chaos of the hotel as Charlie tried to get some group bonding activities finished. It was getting late, and you just finally had a moment of peace.
ââEy, toots!â The chipper voice broke your peace and you couldnât help it when another audible sigh escaped you. The culprit of the broken science paid no mind.
Turning your head, you narrowed your eyes and made eye contact with the lanky pink spider. You were a little salty at him in particular, being one of the main catalysts to the everyday insanity. He had an easy grin played upon his lips as he stared back down at you with his multicolored eyes, one pair of arms on his hips that jutted out a little too unnaturally in a mischievous pose. His golden tooth glinted under his light grin with a similar air of âhey Iâm up to no good right now.â
âYou look fuckinâ tired!â He barked a laugh, dramatically squeezing his eyes shut in a theatrical show of laughing in your face. It really wasnât that funny, and you couldnât stop the frown that touched your lips as you watched him. He took pride in being the way he was. Annoying.
âNo thanks to you, Angel,â You clipped back. You turned your head to watch Husk, who was leaning against the wall with his eyes closed. He had become an expert in ignoring the spider demonâs presence, which was how he managed to stay sane with said demonâs constant flirting and sexual nature.
âAnyway,â He waves away your targeted words with a wave of his hands as his eyes roll up. âI was thinkinâ we get outta here for the night? Me and Cherri were gonna have a âgirlâs night.ââ You briefly thought about the humor in Angel admitting to being âone of the girls,â but pushed the thought away to consider his invitation. âIt wouldnât hurt ta get some fresh air. This place is real stuffy sometimes, and a huge snooze fest,â he persuaded. He rested his face on one pair of hands, fingers laced under his chin, as he leaned against the bartop in anticipation for your answer.
You purse your lips in thought. It wouldnât hurt, right? You didnât go out clubbing a lot, and with Angel and Cherri with you surely nothing wrong would happen. They looked out for their friends, and you would (maybe regretfully) consider yourself Angelâs friend. You glanced at Husk for a moment, as if looking for advice, but his eyes remained close and his lips had an annoyed curl. Maybe you should get out of his hair.
âOkay, okay,â You grinned, a little sheepishly. While you couldnât really consider âfresh airâ to be a feature of Hell, you agreed that you needed to just Get Out of this place. Running errands for Charlie got mundane, even with all the strange characters that cycled through the place. One tends to get used to the chaos.
Angel stretched his arms up in a cheer, which earned a one-eyed, aggravated look from Husk. He uttered something under his breath before grabbing a bottle and walking to the other corner.
âAlright, sweet lips,â Angel cooed at you. âLet's get you dressed! You got anything decent up in your closet?â
Your hand found its way to the back of your neck as you answered sheepishly, âEh, not really⊠At least, not for a night out. I donât really do much outside of the Hotel.â Angel frowned at the response, tapping his chin in thought.
âLemme take a look,â With a swipe of his arm, your hand was suddenly being held as he dragged you up the steps toward the floor of your room.
Walking down at the same time, you briskly passed by Alastor, who had his eyes closed and a hum in his mouth. His blazing red eyes peered open as you and Angel rushed past him, a quizzical furrow in his brow seeing the connection between your hands. You shot him a shy grin and craned your head back to shout a quick âIâll explain in a minute,â before you disappeared around the bend of the stairs.
You didnât miss the dark gleam in his eyes.
Angel, in an attempt to dramatically burst through your door, slammed full body into the entrance. âAh- the hell?â He cried, roughly jiggling the handle.
âI keep it locked,â you snickered at him and the disheveled look in his usually preened hair. You saw him take his hands to brush it out as you fiddled with the lock, an annoyed mutter of words escaping his lips. The second the door clicked, Angel shoved past you and reattempted his dramatic burst through the entrance with a bit more luck this time around.
He went straight for your closer, rummaging through this and that. What a breach of privacy, this guy is, you thought with a strained smile as you stepped up next to him to try to guide him through your very Ordinary and Plain clothes.
You felt a prickling sensation on your skin, and you swear you heard a frequency of low static, but when you whipped your head around nothing stood there. Did that shadow just move?
Shaking your head, you looked at the piece Angel held proudly in his hands, one pair of arms gripping the top and the second pair pulling the bottom out to really get a full inspection.
It was incredibly simple, but still a bit more revealing than anything you were used to wearing. A deep red top, so cropped it may as well be a sporty bra, with a couple eye-catching accents of rhinestones. Connected with thin straps was a similarly tight pair of booty shorts. Your face flushed at the thought of wearing this. It was practically lingerie.
âIsnât it a bit, uh, tacky?â You tried in an attempt to dissuade him from this getup. He acted offended, one hand going and pressing against his fluffed chest. You didnât miss the way he took this as an opportunity and pressed up against himself to perk up his mass of chest fur.
âBabe, I wear shit like this all the time! You tellinâ me,â He started a rant, shaking the clothes in a fit of mock rage. âYou tellinâ me Iâm tacky? Hah! Me! Angel Dust!â He wiped away a fake tear in his laughter.
Your face flushed again looking at the getup. With a defeated mutter you swiped it from his hands and trekked painfully slowly to the restroom. You ignored Angelâs urgency for you to âhurry the hell upâ because it was almost time to get going.
You slowly stripped yourself of your day clothes, gingerly stepping through the tight shorts and tucking your arms through the straps of the top. You didnât even remember buying this thing, it had been stuffed far in the back of your closet. You couldnât help the feeling of dread thinking about the other embarrassing things Angel might have seen in there. Though, you doubt anything could phase that guy.
You had to admit, looking at your reflection, that it did accentuate your curves, even if you didnât have much to begin with. The rhinestone accents glittered in the bathroom light, obviously designed in a way to bring attention to the chest. The straps that connect the two pieces fit snugly against your exposed torso. You were suddenly glad Hell never got that cold.
âAlmost ready!â You snapped at Angel calling from the other side of the door. You quickly threw on some touches of makeup, trying your best to compliment the shades of your outfit and adding some glittery makeup around your eyes. You quickly dragged your fingers through your hair to style it comfortably.
You ripped open your door just as fists started banging on it. Angel stood there with two arms raised, stopped midair to keep himself from decking you in the head. You glared up at him, trying to maintain your earlier sourness to hide the fact that the outfit had grown on you.
âHey, sexy lady!â Angel teasingly leaned himself against the doorframe with a smirk. âLetâs fuckinâ go! You took too damn long! Cherri hates waitinâ.â
Grabbing your hand again, he ushered you out of the room. As you raced down the stairs, you tried to continuously preen your hair to keep it from flying out of shape as Angel practically drug you down each step.
He slowed at the bottom, releasing your hand, and stepping towards Huskâs bar to aggravate and flirt with the cat one last time before heading out. You tuned out his sexual innuendoes as you tried to glance over yourself one last time.
âMy, what a dame you are!â Alastorâs recognizably radio-afflicted voice ripped your attention away from picking at a loose rhinestone. He stood over you, a slight bend in his waist and an unnatural crane in his neck. His smile was there, but tight and uneasily wide as he examined you through squinted eyes. He leaned his weight against his cane.
Swallowing your unease, you examined his expression. You knew Alastor didnât care for such⊠promiscuous outfits. Especially on what he considered his. You knew his compliment was satirical, and you didnât miss that glint of anger flash through his expression.
âHeyy, Al,â You drew out your words, unintentionally accentuating the awkward tone between the two of you. He paid no mind, keeping up that seemingly cheerful grin of his as he just⊠stared at you. His fingers tapped impatiently on the radio of his cane, each tap bringing a warp to the frequency that always surrounded him. âIâm going out with Angel tonight. Yâknow⊠to get some airâŠâ
âMy dear,â His eyes closed in a laugh and he straightened himself out. âWhy would you ever go out there for fresh air? Now, you know those demons would just eat you right up.â A dark sneer infected his smile, lips curling and exposing the line of his black gums.
ââEy câmon, Smiles,â Angel stepped up next to you and lazily threw an arm over your shoulder. You saw that sneer only deepen as Alastor watched the spider get way too close to you. âGive âer a break! Sheâs always runninâ around doinâ shit for this bum-ass hotel! It makes her⊠boring!âÂ
You didnât know whether or not to appreciate Angel both defending and insulting you. You decided to just ignore his comments as you watched Alastorâs expression get darker and more sinister. You felt a cold sweat prickle at your neck as that static-y frequency of his became more prominent and aggressive as his eyes swept over the two of you, lingering on your exposed abdomen with a frustrated twitch in his brow.
âWhy, of course!â He suddenly cheered, brandishing his hands to his side in a slight bow. âButâŠâ He stepped towards you, looming over you. You felt that nervous tickle again. His right hand raised and, with a quick motion, a fairly modest jacket materialized around your shoulders. âAll better! Wouldnât want greedy eyes seeing whatâs mine!â
How bold, you thought. He was from the â30s, though, and very old fashioned. It made sense that immodest wear bothered him. Plus, you looked down at the jacket. It had a similar color scheme, and was light enough to not be too warm. At least it goes with my outfit. How sweet.
You felt a bit giddy at the permission Alastor had given youânot that you needed it. (You did). Youâre a grown ass adult. (It doesnât matter). You shot him a smile of thanks before dashing out the door, meeting Cherri who had been frequently laying on the car horn for you to Hurry the Fuck Up.
Before Angel Dust could follow, a tight grip on one of his wrists stopped him in his tracks. He hissed, yanking his arm but to no avail. Alastorâs grab was like iron, and his nails began to dig into Angelâs skin.
âHey you fuck, let me go! I gotta get out there before Cherri starts blowinâ this shit up!â
Alastor pulled Angel in closer, a sneer-like grin crossing his expression. There was a maddening look in his glowing red eyes.
âIf she comes home with even the smallest scrape,â He said in a low tone, the garble of his radio slightly distorting his voice. âIâm going to make you wish you never came to this Hazbin Hotel.â
Alastorâs grip didnât yield as Angel tried again in a futile attempt to release himself. He had a nervous laugh in his voice as he tried to act unintimidated by the Radio Demonâs threat.
âYeah, yeah, whatever, you creepy red fuck,â He gruffed back, âMe anâ Cherri will stick right by her. You donât gotta worry about nothinâ.â Alastorâs expression shifted in an instant, his cheerful grin reappearing. He stood up straight and smiled down at Angel. âGood man! Now, donât be too long,â He shooed Angel out of the lobby, who was more than glad to get the fuck out of there. He heard a faint âIâll be watchingâ from behind as he slammed the car door shut, muttering curses under his breath.
He knew Alastor would send that damn shadow of his to keep a close eye, so why the fuck did Angel have to babysit you in the first place? Plus, you werenât some weak, naive fool. Whatever. He knew Alastor would take any excuse to cause some entertaining mayhem.
He sighed as he looked at you, who had a nervous but excited grin as Cherri rambled and cursed about something.
Maybe he shouldnât have invited you out. He knew he was in for a long, stressful night. Good thing there would be a bar.
#alastor#alastor x reader#alastor x you#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel x reader#angel dust#ohdeerfully#cursing#fluff#alastor is overprotective#reader isnt weak tho#he just cares too much i think
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bird creature/hybrid keigo takami x chubby reader
KINKTOBER: breeding (+praise)
word count: 3.0k words / mdni ! 18+ / this turned into a full on fic and is pretty fluffy tbh <3 it has more plot than porn sdfgjhbmfbxfvcbsxn and i haven't read it through properly but ssshhhh
being kicked out of your party sucks, 'you don't fill the roll of beast tamer' or something, they've found someone more skilled and experienced so now you're stuck alone in the middle of a forest after accepting a quest which you currently regret taking.
it should be a simple herb collection quest but it's being more of a hassle than it's worth, you shred off the top layers of your clothes and tie it around your waist, dropping your sheep hide bag and gulping down some of your water. after a while you stumble across a clearing with a lake and it looks like you'll finally be able to have room to properly set up your tent.
you don't realise but you're being watched. golden brown eyes piercing down at you, watching you with hawk-eyed vision on high alert to his surroundings. you met him the following morning, as you were leaving your tent something suddenly blocked out the sunlight before landing next to you. a bird creature was in front of you or maybe he was a hybrid, you weren't sure but he was rather intimidating. this man has bright red feather wings with a huge wing span and sandy blonde and white small fluffy parts on his arms and chest covered with a brown flimsy tunic with a handsome human face with golden eyes and blonde windswept hair. you're already quite fearful but after you spot his talons that look like they could slice you in half you really start panicking.
you were able to calm down when he smiled and held out his hand, you flinched first but in his palms where berries. you know those berries, they were edible, very rare and very tasty. later you found out his name was keigo but everyone call him hawks, when he told you this he also told you that he wanted you to call him keigo. he has limited human speech and it was hard to communicate with each other but you both tried your best.
you don't know this but when you accepted the berries he gave you in his mind that made you his mate, it solidified it in his mind and he was very happy that you accepted his advances. he's your provider and he has to look after you. you don't know that he thinks like that though.
you should of left the forest weeks ago, there was no reason for you to stay... well apart from keigo. you knew he would stay in the forest it's his home, you couldn't ask him to go with you and why would he? 'i probably care about him a lot more than he does me, which is fine! he likely has plenty of friends and his own kind in the forest, i just miss company after what happened with my old party... i like his company.' you can't bring yourself to leave, not yet, even if that means you're getting close to the rainy season, and it's always dangerous to be out in the wild in the rainy season. it's so easy to wind up dead, your body never found either downstream or at the bottom of cliffs that people can't access.
"shit!" you were foresting for some berries when you felt a drop of rain fall on your head, that drop turned into ten, then twenty, then fifty, all in a matter of seconds. you nearly fell as you tried to turn back to the somewhat safer option of your tent but the ground below you quickly became mud and slippy causing you to trip, luckily you were able to catch yourself on a nearby tree before falling face first and getting back as fast but safely as you can.
you're soaked to the bone and as the tent finally meets your eyeline it's getting you to walk quicker. you hear something above and you look up the best you can, covering your eyes with your hand but still somehow some water gets in your eyes, looking above you see hawks flying to you. "keigo, what are you doing?! go home, get in the tent, get anywhere. i know it might be different for you, i know you're less fragile than me but it's still raining heavily. what if there's lightning!" you shout at him to the sky.
keigo lands down, water slashing you in the process and getting mud on your trousers. he's careful as he pulls you towards him, making sure his talons won't hurt you and you're pressed against his body, "come." you're confused and you try to move so you can reach your tent but as you look behind you your back straightens as you see your tent. you don't even know if you could call it a tent anymore. the wind has blown it so much that it's just broken cut up fabric tied down by one singular peg, the others already blown away. "come," he repeats himself and pulls you closer towards his warm body before flying away, you can't help but scream as you lift up off the ground and you swear over the rain you can hear keigo laugh. you always wondered what it would be like if he took you up in his wings to fly, you've always thought they were so majestic but you never envisioned it going like this.
it's hard to hear and talk over the heavy patter of the rain but you try anyway. "keigo where are we going?"
"home," he replies and you hear him loud and clear, you don't know if that's because he's louder than the rain or leaning close to you or if you hear it loud and clear because your heart is just beating out of your chest at the answer.
it seemed like a long while of flying but when you finally reached the floor keigo carefully landed and put you down. looking around to where you are you see that you're outside a cave but you don't know that you can call it a cave anymore. at a quick glance from the outside it looks like it was originally a cave but the opening is covered by rocks, wood and other building materials, keeping the inside warm and dry. there's a wooden door to the side and you think you can see a lock on it. the outside reminded you a lot of your childhood home but you can't pinpoint why. "come," he grabs your wrist cautiously with his talons and leads you inside.
a blast of heat hits you when you enter and you immediately warm up, even if it's just a little bit through your wet clothes. it looks pretty barren apart from some small trinkets along the wall and the bed is covered in blankets and other fluffy comfortable things, definitely more comfortable than anything you've been sleeping recently. you stay where you are not moving from the door, not wanting to get everything wet. keigo leaves but comes back a minute or so after with a towel for you and second one in his hand for him.
"thank you," you say quietly and shyly taking the towel from him. after doing your best to dry your hair and dry the rest of your clothes keigo leans down to your neck and nuzzles you while cooing, heat quickly rises to your cheeks and he pulls back and takes you further into his home before dropping your hand and he goes back into one of his back rooms.
you miss his hand in yours but when he returns he's holding a shirt, "for you."
"me?" you point to yourself and he nods. "i don't know if it will fit, i might be a bit small." you tell him but he looks back at you with an easygoing smile that puts you at ease. you know it probably won't fit right, you're not exactly small but you don't have much choice with how wet your clothes are. "thank you," you return his smile. you feel small under his gaze as he looks at you, it seems like he has no plan to leave you alone to get changed or look away. "um, okay, i'll-" you turn away from him and lift up your top. when you take it off and start to fold it keigo holds you from behind, wrapping his arms around you, his wings softly fluttering. you get flustered and wonder what you should do, this isn't normal human behaviour but keigo isn't human maybe this is completely normal for him, although he's never done this before, but maybe he knows how cold you are.
"k-keigo i need to put this on, i'll get cold." he's slow as he takes his hands off you, making you shiver in the process. you quickly get changed pulling on the top that you've been given and pulling down your trousers. you were right about how it doesn't fit you but at least you're dry. the top is thin and covers up to your mid-thigh, the fabric tight along your waist, stomach and breasts but it's still comfortable. you turn round to look at him and twiddle with your thumbs, he smiles at you again and rubs his face against yours, making your cheeks heat up.
"drink?"
"huh?" you ask slightly distracted by how intimate this is.
"drink? keep you warm." he gestures to you and then gestures to another room. you nod your head, not knowing what drink you're saying yes to but happy to be warm and experience what drinks keigo likes and drinks, it might just be tea you'll have to wait and see.
you feel a bit uncomfortable just standing around and you don't notice any chairs so you perch yourself on the bed, hoping keigo won't mind. when keigo comes back he's wearing different clothes and he's holding two mugs, you smile at him and you notice he doesn't smile back. 'did i do something wrong? he's not smiling. maybe i was wrong about him not minding about me sitting down on the bed, i should of just stayed standing up.' keigo is holding onto the mugs so tightly that his hands are turning white. "i'm really sorry keigo, i didn't mean to make you angry," you rush out as quick as you can, hurrying to get up but as you start lifting off the bed two feathers rapidly leave keigo's wings and pins you down to the bed by the top you're wearing. you've never seen him do that before so part of you is thinking about how impressive it is, the other part of you worried and confused hoping he'll forgive you for whatever accidental mistake you made.
keigo places the cups down on the side. "i'm sor-" before you can finish your sentence, he moves on top of you, making your eyes widen, at that moment you see his eyes, heavily dilated looking down at you tenderly but hungrily.
"do you like?" he asks stroking your chubby cheeks.
"like?" you ask confused.
"nest." he kisses your nose.
you're not one hundred percent sure what you're saying yes to but you think he's talking about what you're laying on and you do like it, it's warm and cosy and you could stay here for ever. "i like it very much. i could stay here forever."
keigo trills when he hears you say that, "did a good job?"
you never thought keigo would be one for seeking approval but you suppose everyone does. "amazing job." you nod your head and lift your hands up to his wings and run your hands through them making him shiver. after all that's happened you're still surprised as he gently bites your lip, a silent request for you to open your mouth and you grant him access, parting your lips, keigo taking the lead controlling the movement as your tongues intertwine and you kiss. you have no idea how much time goes by, so caught up in the moment, it could of been three minutes or thirty for all you know, all you know is how good everything feels.
as you move apart you open up your eyes to see him smirking at you, your cheeks are hot. he kisses the corner of your mouth and squeezes your plush thighs before gently trailing his knuckle up and down your inner thigh, slowly inching up your, his, top. keigo brings both his hands to your outer thighs and slivers up the rest of the top until he sees your hips, eyes practically glowing as he nuzzles your neck again.
at some point while all of this was happening he started rubbing his hard dick along your thigh, getting precum everywhere, you had no idea when was able to take off his clothes.
this time he uses his talons as he rips up your underwear leaving you bare and maybe you should be scared of how close his talons were to you but you weren't. he uses his knuckles again and brushes along your opening, he thrills when he feels how wet you are and before you even realise it he's slowly pushing himself into you. he sees you wince and kisses all along your neck and pauses for a second, then continues just as slow as he was before not wanting to hurt you. when he's fully in he waits and kisses you all over, touching all over your body, your hips and stomach especially, groping and squeezing. keigo feels you start relaxing around him and starts moving, slow thrusts in and out of you, not wanting to hurt you.
keigo's thrusts start to speed up uncontrollable as he kept feeling you clench around him and how wet you are, almost feral, animalistic. a white creamy ring forms at the bottom of his dick and he becomes more and more feral. you moan loudly and bury your head into the soft blankets and materials. "feel so good!" you cry out mumbled against the pillows. you ball your fists up into the covers, holding onto them tight and keigo goes harder.
"you feel good too. i'll keep making you feel good," he leans down to your ear and kisses your cheek. you nod your head even though it wasn't a question and keigo's eyes dilate even more than they have been. he touches you very gently, circling against your clit and kisses your pulse point, delicately sucking a mark on your neck. his pace stays the same, still fast. your back arches and you feel the coil in your stomach winding up more and more, so close to snapping. you whine as the coil in you snaps and you cum, body tight in an arch before shaking.
keigo smirks as he watches your body fall and go limp. he picks up your legs and folds you in half, gripping hold of your thighs tightly and his pace increases so fast that it leaves you breathless, your body bounces and he watches you ravenously. "gonna give you my seed, gonna make you a pretty mummy." keigo chokes a groan and holds onto you tighter. you should be trying to move away and tell him no but you don't, instead you clench tighter around him and nod your head rapidly in desire, you've never wanted something so badly. warm ropes of cum spills into you filling you up. keigo smirks and peppers your face with kisses.
"keigo have you seen how messy tsunagu's clothes are! it's a nightmare washing them all the time!" you complain scowling as you pick up your youngest sons shirt.
keigo chuckles and comes up behind you wrapping his arms around your waist, kissing you behind you ear, "he's such a troublemaker." you shiver as you feel his breath against your skin and his voice so close to you, he smirks.
it's been five years since you first stepped foot in your home, it's been five years since you and keigo first had sex. in those five years a lot has changed, your relationship included. you and keigo have no problem communicating anymore, both now speaking the same language with keigo learning how to write and read everything too. you have two boys together and they're wonderful. you got married and it was one of the happiest days of your life. you've practically abandoned human civilisation, by your own choice. occasionally you'll go into town if you need something but you stay in the forest most of the time. you've met keigo's friend and they all call him hawks, even the ones he's known since children. you asked him why he told you to call him keigo when you first met especially since everyone calls him hawks and he told you it's because he knew as soon as he met you that you were his mate and you would spend the rest of your life together.
"i know a way to calm him down." you hear the mischievous tone in his voice.
you play along, "oh?"
"i think he needs to be a big brother." he pulls you closer to him and rubs your soft stomach.
grinning wide, "really?"
keigo hums and kisses your neck. "yeah birdie, a little one he can help and look after will keep him out of trouble." he nuzzles against you and plays with your stomach. he turns you around to look at him, holding onto your hands and smirking. nonchalantly asking, "what are we aiming for this time? a girl or another boy?" he taps his finger to his chin, "i'm thinking girl."
"i'm thinking a girl too," you smile fondly and kiss his nose. keigo's wings flutter out when you kiss him and you giggle.
"i'll lock the door."
#keigo takami x reader#keigo takami x reader smut#keigo takami#keigo takami smut#hawks smut#hawks x reader#hawks#chubby reader smut#chubby reader#⥠mine / writing#⥠keigo#bnha x reader#bnha x reader smut#bnha x chubby reader smut#bnha x chubby reader#keigo takami x chubby reader#⥠kinktober#keigo takami x chubby reader smut#bnha#mha#mha x reader#mha x reader smut#bnha smut#mha smut#hawks x chubby reader#mha takami keigo#bnha hawks#bnha x you
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Unfortunate [Teaser] full fic has been posted
Sekido, Karaku, Aizetsu, Urogi x AFAB! Reader
Warning the full length fic will include the following: gang banging, dub-con / non-con, forced oral, forced orgasm, BDSM themes⊠which just means they arenât easy on you whatsoever, humiliation, bukkake, outdoor sex, brain washing, etc etc etc
A/N: so I will say, this fic is going to be a darker one. I donât think Iâve ever written like⊠full on non-con⊠honestly this fic will somehow lean towards dub-con anyways. Like letâs be honest, itâs gonna be a very morally gray fic. I mean we arenât moral people letâs be real.
You had fucked up, big time. âSuch a stupid thing! You couldnât figure out that we wanted you to do this?â The green eyed demon laughed again, watching as you looked between the three of them. Laughing just a bit harder as you realized only three of them stood before you. âI-butâŠâ there was a fourth. You were certain of it⊠so where the hell did he go? âKarakuâŠyouâre so loudâŠâ the blue eyed demon whined, eyes locked on you as he referred to the green eyed demon. âShut it, Aizetsu.â
The red eyed one spoke again, staff hovering just a bit off the ground as he scowled at you. âYouâre probably wondering where the fourth one went, huh sugar?â The green eyed demon taunted you, completely torn, you couldnât figure out where to look. If your eyes left the three of them theyâd likely attack. If you didnât try to figure out the location of the fourth, it was likely heâd kill you instead. âCâmon, little slayer⊠Show us what you gotâŠâ the blue eyed demon spoke, voice somber and eyes filled with sadness.
âUrogi, quit playing around.â The red eyed demon bellowed, another name, but your brain was going too fast to remember it. The flapping of wings pulled you from your daze, head whipping in the direction of the noise but it was too late. Two claws grabbed around your waist, the sudden thrust upward knocking your blade straight from your grasp. A scream of shock left you as you were torn straight off the ground, head flying upwards to see what had grabbed you. Somehow, it was the fourth demon.
He looked just as the other three did, the only differences being his eyes and his limbs. Golden eyes stared down at you, a familiar smirk on his lips. Instead of arms and legs, he had claws. His limbs resembled that of a bird or reptile, large wings expanding behind him. You jerked as he stopped, hovering in the air as he looked you over. It wasnât until he raised his legs that you realized he was using them to grasp you opposed to his arms. âWhat a pathetic thing you areâŠâ he laughed as he let you go.
You began to plummet to the ground, body and mind so disconnected from your reality that you couldnât even muster a scream before he swooped down to grab you again. Now, you were facing him, eyes wide and chest heaving. âYou humans are so easy to break⊠though I must say Iâve never seen the fighting spirit leave someone as quickly as it left you.â He admired your petrified face, slowly descending until he was in earshot of his other halves. âYah know, Sekido? We shouldnât kill her just yetâŠâ
His eyes trailed over your body, a cruel grin covering his face as he spoke. âWhy donât we have some fun with her? Itâs been years since Iâve gotten my fill of humanâŠdesire.â The implications had you feeling hot, panic ebbing up the back of your neck as you squirmed in his grasp. âOh? There it isâŠâ he dropped you a moment later. The fall wasnât a big one but it still hurt when you hit the ground. The panic was mixing with dread as you realized what the situation was turning to. âFun? Urogi why canât we just eat herâŠâ the blue eyed demon whined softly as he stared at you.
âOi, Aizetsu donât be such a prudeâŠâ the green eyed demon spoke, walking over to where you sat on the ground. He crouched before you, smiling in a way that made you want to run. âSheâd certainly have a good time, donât you think Sekido? You know we need your approval to do anythingâŠâ he turned to look at the red eyed demon, a soft thump behind you told you that the winged demon had landed. You met the red eyed demonâs gaze, swallowing thickly as you waited for him to decide your fate.
âThere are rulesâŠyou know. We each get a turn, no hogging her.â You got the chills, listening intently to the demons conversing about having their way with you. âListen here, sugar.â The green eyed demon grabbed your face, keeping your attention on him as he spoke. âWeâre gonna have a hell of a time with you⊠satisfy us and maybe weâll let you leave here with your life.â Behind you, the winged demon snickered, feet dragging on the ground as he too crouched behind you. âYouâll be able to satisfy the four of us with your body, right?â
#kny#demon slayer#kimetsu no yaiba#demon slayer imagines#demon slayer fanfic#demon slayer headcanons#demon slayer smut#kny smut#hantengu smut#demon slayer hantengu#hantengu#hantengu clones#demon slayer sekido#sekido x reader#sekido smut#sekido x y/n#kny sekido#sekido#kny karaku#karaku x reader#karaku smut#karaku x y/n#aizawa x y/n#aizawa smut#demon slayer aizetsu#kny aizetsu#aizetsu#kny urogi#demon slayer urogi#urogi smut
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2?
oh oop i didn't realize people would actually ask me stuff LMAO
2) talk about a notable time a narrative or character has looked you dead in the eyes and said âfuck your plan, hereâs what weâre actually doing.â
uhh an unpublished thing (my wip, which i hope to publish soon), i basically thought "okay, so you guys are meeting for the first time." and misfire and soundwave just went "actually, this isn't. we met like a really long time ago. by the way, i'm going to make it so this idea doesn't leave your mind and you now have to write this entire story this way."
that's the most notable i can think of? honestly if i think of something better too late, that's very me of me (forgetting until too late lmao) sorry if this is boring??
#ask#thank you for the ask?? lol i didn't think i would actually get asks?#fic: golden eyed#<< working title#wirli thinks about writing fic#the fic is half-written#wirli says things#ask game
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Eleven Weeks
- sebastian solace x gn!reader
syn: Your ex-coworker, Sebastian, suddenly comes back from the dead, completely strange and anew. You go to see him and realize how different he had become since you left urbanshade. Can you accept him as he is now? Will he allow you to?
tags: predator/prey, suggestive but no actual sex, fluff, heavy comfort fic, there are no gendered terms for reader, sebby has an ex-wife (Zaara)
a/n: eleven weeks by vansire was on repeat in my mind as I wrote this! tysmm for the love on my last seb fic, my hearts really gonna burst!! but in this fic seb escaped and is now working w the FBI to build his case. Also to clarify pls this is no diss on zerum
5K WORDS
part 2 for the FREAKS below |
đđŠđđ
You remember it.
The soft tan skin, the way his mouth would crinkle up and flash his pearly, straight teeth. You remember the barreling laughter, the prompt scolding. You remember the soggy bags under his eyes, you remember his sullen tears.
You remember it all, because he was human back then.
But now.
Your eyes shake as you stare at him now.
He's large, maybe even ten feet tall now. His large tail takes up almost the entire room; and the "men-in-black" you had to go through just to get to him was proof that this all was real. Sebastian had become something... He became something different.
His skin was no longer beautifully golden, instesd he was now blueish with scales, fins, and tails. He now has three eyes. Three eyed that are no longer those deep and black but abnormally large and blue. And his hands were now three shivering claws, claws that shook intensely, waiting for you to do something - anything.
Say something.
But you took your sweet time inhaling everything about him bit by bit at a time.
Minutes went by of you quietly staring at him, your shoulders tense, your fingers fidgeting together.
Weren't you going to scream?
Weren't you going to cry?
Weren't you going to do anything?
Please do something.
It broke him.
Sebastian abruptly squealed out an intense sob, his large hands covering his lips as he hunched over in shame. The wounded cry came straight from his belly, sounding as if the fiber of his very being was split into twos. He bowed his head more and more, trying his hardest to muffle his sprung cries. You couldn't let him be so alone like this. You, swept up by the bitter sounds, launched yourself forward, grabbing whatever you could reach: the coat sleeve on his smaller arm.
He pawed at his eyes with his large blue claws, and your lip quivered helplessly. He tried to pull away, but it was like the strength in him was gone. The spark, the everything. When you first walked in, he didn't say hello. His face, body, his soul had already lost its vigor. Simply going through the motions.
What should you say?
Your eyes flicker between the ones he covered from you. Your grip on his sleeve grew intense.
You thought he was dead. When the neww broke out of his crimes, you couldn't believe. You couldn't stick around long enough to find out because your contract ended. You couldn't tell anyone back home about anything that happened in Urbanshade at all. You alone had to bear it. Then you heard that a freak accident happened at urbanshade, and everyone died. You were alone.
But God, looking at him, he had gone through it worse. Not just physically.
You swallowed thickly, unable to keep your own tears back. But you smiled. You couldn't help this weird budding joy that sprang up in your chest, fondness that could kill even the sweetest daisies. As morbid as it is to be happy right now, you finally got your buddy back. Your annoying coworker who corrected over your work all the time. He was someone to talk to - someone you could finally console in. Your smile was profoundly big as you gripped onto him.
Sebastian Solace.
You're really back.
Your grip loosened.
"Say something, damn you -" Sebastian couldn't finish his loud, spiteful curses when his eyes finally met your gaze. Your bubbling gaze. You were amiling with glassy eyes, a quiet sort of smile, the kind that makes the air around you taste sweeter. His face twisted in horror, frustration. Why were you smiling? How could you smile at him?
His family couldn't look at him.
His wife.
His own wife shook and trembled, and she cried out in fear of him. Not only that, he had to learn that she and everyone else moved on a go time ago. Worse than that, his sweet wife told him she started a family with another man.
What the fuck was he supposed to do.
He spent all those aching years to break free, hoping for everything to return back - only for it all to be worser out here than in Urbanshade. Back then, at least he had something to hope for, to hold on to.
Here? Nothing.
Mind numbing questions seared through his mind. Why the fuck did he have to suffer like this when he was so badly hurt? Why couldn't she stay loyal? Why did he look this way? Why did they do this to him? Why.
Why is no one accepting him but you?
Why are you being so insufferable.
It made his heart burn. And your soft, secure grip on him made it even hard for him to run away. Did you not want him to leave? His heart is burning with corrupted fondness. He wants you to. To...
To touch him a bit more.
He wants you to look at him a bit more.
He wants you. If you're going to be so kind about it, look at the other weird parts of him with those sweet eyes.
Maybe the more you stare, you'll finally reject him. Confirm to him what the world has taught him. Or.
Or.
Just touch him a bit more.
Don't just stand there.
Don't just--
He suddenly remembers his voice. He croaks out the pitiful plea, "Don't... just. stand. there..."
The voice is commanding and terrifying, and it's proud and angry coming from such a large beast. His he trying to scare you off? If so, it's not working - he'll you barely register his words.
Just the sound of his voice sends your heart fluttering. Sebastian's alive.
You know he's been through so much worse, but.
Is it okay if you are a little selfish right now?
You reach forward, standing high up on your tippy toes to grab his right arm sleeve.
"What the hell are you doing!" He booms.
You pull him into you. He squeaks and cries, "Say something," He yells, loud even to shake your heartbeat. You're much weaker than him, but he falls into your shoulder so easily, like pulling a strayed kitten.
The weight of his head crashes into your shoulder harshly, the feeling a sharp thud, but you balanced it, still on your tippy toes. Your hands slip away from his arms, wrapping themselves tightly around his shoulders. While his neck brushed against your forearms.
"Hey Sebastian," his ears perk up in delight. Your voice whispers dear into his sharp fins, hushed, childishly excited, "Is your heart beating as fast as mine is?"
Yes.
Yes.
It's beating fast. It's beating so much faster than you know it. His breath exhales with a shivering snap, and he gulps.
You broke him again in an instant.
Sebastian grabs you, all of his hands finding their places on you; your back, your hips, your waist. As he pulls you up high into the air into a deep embrace. You drop all your weight onto him in the hug and nuzzle your nose into his neck. You laugh brazenly. It spikes into the air as your feet swing in the wind.
"Haha! Sebastian! We're so high," You squeaked, holding onto him like some sort of giddy child. Even he can't help but share the giddiness and giggle. You can feel his ears flick against your head.
"And look at you now, you're so big." You tease him, and his face crinkles up in a grin. You pull up to gaze at his face, drumming your fingers against his shoulder. You stare at his face, beaming. Your hands are moving to touch his face, "Three eyed freak," you snicker, "You weren't taller than me before."
His grin bursts onto a beaming smile through his face. "Wow... Wow. Look at you," The tone of his voice is partionizing, enoigh to make you already start laughing. "No class, per usual. I'm not sure as to why I even invited you to see me," he said. His were eyes lidded, his voice freed of any bite. The was hushed and sweet.
Your eyes lidded, too.
He looked sort of...
Handsome, in a way. Right now.
It was weird. Not too shabby for a... mermaid?
You looked away with a gulp. It's just hard not to feel something for someone when they're holding you like this. Like you're some sort of treasure. At least, that's what you told yourself.
"Don't you agree," he purrs. His voice is teasingly delightful. Embarrassment springs up as you back your palms back onto his shoulders. You try to hide your head back onto his shoulder, but he rejects you, pulling you back out to keep you. You swallow. Blood rushes deep to your face, your embarrassed hands playing with the ends of his hair.
"You're flushed," he whispers curtly. You suck in a breath.
"You're holding me like this... Anyone would be," you said.
His third eye twitches.
He grabbed his wife like this, and she screamed. The sound rings deep into his ears. Ah- ex-wife. His face fell bittersweetly, unable to succumb fully to sadness when you're so full of joy.
You're so special.
He smiles brightly again.
Your heart flutters, but it's a weird stutter.
"Ah! Alright, alright, put me down," you yell, beginning to squirm to no avail. "Damn you!" You bang harshly on his shoulders.
"I'm not sure I wanna," he laughed heartily.
"I mean it!" You screech.
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"This your place? The federation hooked you up," you said. When you finally got away, you could finally take a look at his home. It was on a military base, deep underground, behind many iron doors and pass codes. They even gave you a CAT to come on base to schedule visits with him. It took almost about a year to get clearance to see Sebastian.
Did everyone who wanted to see him have to wait this long? Go through so many briefings, sign so many contracts, just to spend 5 alotted hours? You couldn't imagine being him, living like this so alone for so long. Was he just counting down the days until he saw you, just like he did back when you two were teens?
Why did that idea make you feel so content?
"Mmhm. They're spoiling me," he grimaces, and you're pulled from your thoughts.
"What? Don't like feeling like a princess?" you asked.
"It's only because of a case we're building against Urbanshade. That's all." He hums. "I'm not planning on getting used to it."
His home itself and everything within it was large. With high ceiling arches, high doorways with large door handles. Everything is his size, even the chairs and couches. It must've been expensive to make this whole thing. He truly was heavily pampered in here.
"Make us tea," you bark.
"Alright," he said.
You looked back at his tail as he guided you into the kitchen. The slithering thing echoes a low humming sound. It moved so rhytmically, it was so odd. He truly was a snake.
This wasn't your first time seeing him either. In the hundreds of briefings the FBI and the base itself gave you, they got to tell you all about his anatomy, photographs, and health scans. They really wanted you to be comfortable with him, and you can't help but be happy about it. It was hard to fully believe until now. It still was a fresh shock just as the day they tried to make you believe this is what he really looked like now. You wondered if he had met with his family by now. If it went well...
They really took him and his case just as serious as he deserved it to be. These things are typically kept top secret, so maybe they allowed you to see him simply because...
Your think back to his soulless greeting.
Time to step up and be a good friend.
"Hang in there, buddy." You cheer, patting his shoulder with a knowing gaze towards the horizon.
"That's embarrassing," He snips.
Ah.
Typical Sebastian Solace, you comfort him, and he immediately corrects you. You sigh.
You look up at him, finally noticing the way his large little claw was holding your small one. Your face heated again. You look away quickly, gazing throughout his kitchen. Everything was so large, even the counter meets your chin.
"Why don't you go sit on the couch," Sebastian hums. He had a new air around him now, one that was sure and soft. You heard as he shuffled through cabinets the sounds of cups and things clattering around.
"How can I? I have so many questions. Sebastian, how'd you do it? God, you're big now! And, uh... What'd you all day? Was it dangerous?" You asked, your hands finding the whale tail. You stroked your fingers along the scales, stroking it dearly. You felt him shiver, but selfishly, you slid your hands up his dorsal fin and into the beginning of his snake-ish body.
"Well... A lot of it is classified but. I can tell you that I read a lot during my time at Urbanshade," he snickered.
"Well, that's obvious," you muttered as you looked back to his tail, "Hey, is this heavy?" You pressed all your weight against it and then sat down on him.
"Excuse me? What the hell are you doing?" He asks, but the tone is a soft bite. "I'm not a jungle gym," he sighs.
"Yeah, but... Isn't it so cool," you asked.
"So cool?" He grunts.
"A-Ah I'm -"
"No-no. Uh... Hmm... I suppose, after the rage wore off, my body became sort of... Interesting. But still, I'd rather be something a bit more like you... At least... I kind of miss being back shorter than you." He mumbles, sentimental fondness brimming in his voice.
You grin, "Hehe, you used to say a centimeter didn't count."
"It really does now." His tail wraps around you, grabbing you by your hips in a vice. They hold you suspended in the air, your hair hanging down as you face the ground. You squeaked, but he continued, "Come now. Tea's done."
He slithers away with you, not that you care. You giggle and laugh all the way to the couch, suspended in his tail. He plops you down onto the large plush couch and your cheek smush against the cushions in awe. It's so comfortable!
You turn back to him. He laid against the couch long ways, with his tail all perfectly held up by the large couch. All while he rests his elbow against the cushion, peering down at you with relaxed but incredibly intimate eyes. His tea is being held by his mini-hand, and the smoke of it rises to face.
He takes a long, slow sip, his lidded gaze never once breaking from you. You sucked in a harsh breath. He shouldn't look at you like that.
You couldn't help the way your palms got sweaty. The way your heart longed to touch him.
He's so different now. His whale tail pokes your back, almost annoyingly so. You grimance in distaste.
"Hey. Your tea's on the coffee table. Are you even paying attention? Or do you just like looking at me," he says, his voice fluctuating teasingly. But even you took notice of the interest gleaming in his blue orbs.
Your face heats up in both anger and embarrassment, two emotions you've grown incredibly fond of because of him. You "hmph," grabbing your cup and muttering something along the lines of, "you were oogling me too," that falls on authoritarian ears.
But God, you're so aware of his presence that it makes you hard to even take a sip, even though the aroma of chamomile was incredibly fragrant. It has a brilliant color too. Sebastian always had a brilliant eye for tea. "You know," you mumbled as you leaned back against the couch - as well as his tail, "I only started getting into tea after I heard you passed... C-Cause. Cause you'd drink it so much. You always thought you were too posh for us drinking coffee in the morning."
He laughs, a howling sound filled with nostalgia, "Haha! I did, I really did!" He clasped his larger two hands together, rubbing them in an automated smooth motion. Was that a new habit of his?
You couldn't help but beam a joyful smile. "You really haven't changed." You sighed.
An annoyingly dead pant takes his face, but you close to ignore his teasing. It's obvious he's sort of... "new" now. But still damn it! He's the same.
"I- I... You know what I mean."
"Really? Telling the clearly mutated guy th--"
"Shush."
"That you feel--"
"Shut up, god damn you!"
You look away with a huff, turning your whole body to the side to display your protest of his treatment. But he doesn't let you, and his whale tail curls around you. It's big fins redirecting you to face him with a jaunty push. You squeaked, trying to keep your tea from spilling. A ripple goes up his tail, bumping against your body contiously, forcing you to shoot straight up, or else you'll really spill tea all over you.
"What's your deal!" You yell, now on your feet. You don't look at his face, but you can feel the sadistic amusement in his eyes and hear the quiet, humored chuckles mixed into his breath.
"You... You were really thinking about me like that?" He mumbles. "Honoring me in your tea..." He can't spare your gaze, so he flees onto his tea cup.
God, your heart's beating so strongly.
"Of course. Everyone was. Like our section manager, and then Zaara," don't say that name, "your mother, hell even our high-school math teacher... I went by your wife's and mom's homes on occasion- just to see something of you." You mumbled, not noticing the way he tensed at the mention of his wife.
"No one believed you'd do something like that... Even Zaara... She took it hardest out of everyone," You mumbled. He stopped his snakish ripple, but you still took the chance to sit closer to his main, humanoid body, as you sat 2 feet away from it. Still, it felt too far, but you wanted to respect his space.
He looked down at the floor, trying to find something funny to say, but it all failed him.
"Did you hear... About... Zaara?" You whispered, treading softly on sensitive ground.
"Yeah... I heard. She uh... Gave me a picture of her daughter when she... visited me last year," his voice was weak.
"Yeah, little Selena... She's three years old now. Such a big girl," You whispered, staring down at the reflection of yourself in your teacup.
"You know... She couldn't e-even look at me," his voice cracked and groaned out, the sound still like a fresh wound to him.
"Oh god," was all you could manage out. You hunched over to your cup, shutting your eyes deeply. "And your mom?" You whispered, begging for it not to be true.
"It took her a bit, but... She writes me letters. I don't think she can visit me anymore either... It's hard seeing your baby boy so... S-So..." He pauses for a long time before the words finally come out, "C-Changed," he gasps.
Changed.
Change is good.
That's such a selfish thing to say. But.
You'll say it anyways.
"Change can be good. Change can be... H-Handsome," You chuckle, not sure if it was a mixture of your fear, embarrassment, or whatever else.
"You say whatever you want, you know. Don't you care about my feelings? Be gentler, what if you hurt me," his snakish tail pumps you roughly again, direction you to look at him. And you do, but it's filled with a burning, unadulterated fire straight your heart.
You flip your head towards him, leaning in, your hands keeping your tea steady underneath your zeal, "You don't want me to be gentle. Ypu want me to be rough. You want me to treat you like a human, so I will." Your voice is intense. The shiver it produces from him is proof of that.
The silence gives you confidence. You scoot closer, a hand fleeing from your tea to cup the side of his round blue face - he gasps. "You are still incredibly human. And you're still incredibly the same rude, pompous, annoying coworker, Sebastian Solace..." Your words are too intimate, and you know that. Your heart's about to burst, but you know that. You like it, even. You catch yourself, blinking away from him, "T-To me... To me, you're--"
Your face is grabbed harshly, your teacup falls and slips onto the floor, it splatters on your shoes, and it's the first thing you worry about. Not the fact that the new, monstrous frightening Sebastian is pulling you rapidly towards him. Not the fact that four intense claws have you by the face that could crush your entire skull between his palms. Not the face that you were being pulled by your face toward his lips-- No you were worried about wasting his tea, breaking his cup, or if the drink mingles with his carpet.
He pauses right before his lips meet yours, what's the point if within this rapid milisecond, you're not looking at him. He tosses his teacup to the side, the tea within it all gone, and so the clamor of the empty cup finally snaps your eyes towards his, not in fear, but in worry about him- of him.
And so, within the milisecond your eyes meet, He sinks his hands around your tiny body and kisses your lips deeply. You moan and shudder at the feeling, grabbing chunks of his button up, chunks of his collar as you climb greedily into his lap. The feeling of his lips, his mouth, is almost erotically different than kissing a human.
His mouth is colder, bigger, his lips a ragged shape. You'd be lying if the friction didn't send primal shivers down your back. Your human instinct tells you that the mouth of such a large and tenacious predator shouldn't be so near, but God, the friction felt so good.
The shivers were intense, as his pointed teeth poked you carelessly at times. Or when you'd feel the breath from his silt nostrils, the intense feeling of his sharp claws on your body. Primordial fear, nipping at your brain, and you shut it all off, letting the overwhelming situation pool as passionate fire into your suddenly peckish organs below.
Two sensitive people, slurping, lapping, mewling, and huffing into eachothers lips. The sight and sound of it was dirty, sloppy. But you drunk up the sounds of his hungry pants, growls, shivers. Sebastian cracks open his mouth to feed you his gloriously thick and intense tongue.
You slurp it up, welcoming the colder muscle into your hot, moist cavern. The large presence of him inside you is dominating as your fingers twitched against his button-up. He was so needy, was he like you in a way? Unable to get it off since the horrors of Urbanshade? No-- you can't forget. He's gone through it worse, so his need.
You pull back in an anxious shudder. He truly growls then. The sound so animalistic you body gave out, but he held you dear as he pulled you back into the kiss that you know you shouldn't be enjoying so pervertedly.
To him, all of this was your fault.
Saying such pretty words, out of such pretty lips, with such a pleasant voice. Surely, you're aware of how catty you are. Sebastian can't help but think that as he overwhelms your tiny tongue.
He's aware of how beautiful you became over the years. Somethinf he never took noticebto at Urbanshade. He's never been so aware of you. He's aware of you as his arms grab your hips and waist. He's aware of you as his right arm trails up your back to cup your tiny little head. He's aware that your head didn't used to be tiny before his transformation, but he's also aware of how good it is to have so much control over you.
To him, you were being so demanding and selfish and bratty this entire time. His predatory desire to bite you grows as you part for a breath. Sweat beads begin to bubble up on your forehead as you pant at the space between your lips. "Sebastian..." You mewl, he grips your hair and tilts your head back to flash your tantalizing neck muscles.
"You know," he says comanding, "I'm not that same little teen you met when transferred into our school year," you giggled at his words, but he continued, "I'm a man. I'm not only a man. I'm not that same man you went to Urbanshade with - I've evolved. I'm a beast, too. And we beasts have our desires." He growls a bit, the trilling sound mingles with his breath against your revealed neck. You whimper.
"And your breath, your... loud little heart beat. Your lips... Your voice... Your size... It provokes me to sink my teeth in and tear your neck open." He hushes dangerously. God his flirts were getting to you.
"T-The feds are right outside Sebastian," you mewl. "Think you can take them?" You whisper, drawing your hand up and tucking his hair away from his blue-ish face. It's then that you really register how mermaid-ish he had become. You cupped his face again, drawing circles under his under eyes, smoothing out the feeling beneath your thumb pad.
He was cold to the touch, his nose now two little slits. His eyes big big blue orbs, that trailing light bub attached to his head like an angular fish. You had to ask, you couldn't hold it back anymore, not in this moment.
"What are you," you whispered. "I know I read your briefing, but still... How'd they..." You grip chunks of his cheeks.
"I'm uh..." His grip droops as he awkwardly looked to the left. "You want to know now?" He quirks.
"Huh oh uh... I mean. I kinda wanna know." You stutter.
"Well? I-I guess. A little bit of everything. Angular fish, sea snake, whale, shark..." he looked away.
You rose up in his lap, pulling his attention back on you. "That's so p--"
"Are you going to keep killing the mood or... Do you just not want me to fuck you?" He suddenly smirks, and you gasp in horror. He pulls you close to him, purring in your ears, "What? Scared you won't be able to take all of it..." Sultry and slow, teasing.
"W-What... What did... What does that mean..." You don't want to entertain the idea, the possibility.
But his angular mouth creaks open to an even more dangerous grin.
One of his large claws flashes in your face, as he puts two large fingers on your belly button. He presses them there.
You legs almost give out. "Huh?" You stutter.
He looks at you, unwavering, he presses his two fingers against you rougher.
"To here?" You mumble.
"Two what?" He giggles.
"Two- To? Here... O-Oh god."
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#roblox sebastian solace#sebastian pressure#sebastian x you#sebastian x reader#sebastian solace x you#sebastian solace x reader#roblox pressure#pressure roblox#pressure#sebastian solace#sebastian solace roblox#urbanshade
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Pairing: General Marcus Acacius x Lucius Verus x Female Reader Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: Marcus and his soldier return from battle. You take care of them before they take care of you. Warnings: ALL PORN NO PLOT. SMUT, MMF threesome, soft dom marcus, subby lucius, double penetration, 69 (duuuudes), fingering, anal fingering, unprotected p in v, anal sex, creampie, anal creampie, pussy and ass eating, mutual dick sucking, lots of praise kink, oil, bathing, a tub that can fit three people, ignore how dirty the water would be, pretend itâs magical water that heals so they can fuck, when you go to the dick store and get the BOGO deal Words: 4,400.
A/N: Well. I've gone and written another threesome fic. Read their prior adventure here. This is the first time Iâve stepped into dude on dude stuff sooo I hope I did it justice. I told myself to kinda take a step back from posting so much but your girl just canât help writing filth while sitting on her patio with her headphones in. Life in America a month before an election is stressful AF so I escape with dicks. Thank you to @ohheypedrito for her 20 texts after she read it and @magpiepills for her encouragement. Please know this is just pure filth.
municipium: town | domus: home | subligaculum: underwearÂ
TrÄs Masterlist Masterlist
Word spread through the small municipum, General Acacius was victorious in battle. You wonder if they will return to your domusâ Marcus and his blue-eyed soldier. You dream about them, remembering the heat of their bodies pressed against you, the strength of their arms wrapped around you as you drifted off to sleep between them. But, by the morning they were gone. The only sign of them being there was your dress laying on the floor and the chair Marcus had sat in remained in the same spot he had left it.
â-
âAngel,â a gruff name calls out for you as heavy footsteps enter your domus.
Marcus.
You turn the corner and spot him, battle weary and tired looking. His face is streaked with crimson and soot. Lucius stands behind, his blue eyes are set deep in exhaustion.
Your heart races when you see them. Relief and desire bursting through your body. You rush over to Marcus, your hands reaching up to touch his dirty face.
âYouâre back,â you whisper, feeling the rough texture of dirt and dried blood against his skin.
He grunts, his large hands reaching for your waist, pulling you against the metal of his appliques that now press into your skin.
He breathes in your scent while you smell the remnants of metallic blood and smoke on him.
You look to Lucius, extending your hand to him.
âCome,â you beckon. He moves slowly, limping, his muscular body taut with tension. You pull him close, sandwiching yourself between the two men.
âYou both need tending. Let me take care of you.â
â-
The water from the fire warms the pool of water in the tub. The water ripples as you pour a small container of olive oil smelling of juniper into the bath. Sprigs of lavender float delicately on the surface.
Lucius dutifully helps Marcus undress. The strong general grimacing as he stretches his arms out to remove his armor. You watch them, working in silent cooperation with each other. Luciusâs hands move deftly, undoing each strap and buckle, doing everything he can to help his general.
As Marcus unwraps his subligaculum, all of his golden skin is revealed to you. Heâs now peppered with fresh cuts and bruises, signs of the brutal battle he has just survived.
He steps into the bath, groaning as he settles into the warm water. He sinks down, the water lapping at his broad chest, his brown eyes close as he allows himself to relax. You kneel beside the tub, grabbing a cloth and dipping it into the water.
âLet me,â you murmur, gently wiping the grime and signs of battle from his handsome face, the tension leaves it as you wash him.
Lucius stands to the side, still fully clothed, awaiting instruction from his general. You glance up at him. âYou too,â you say. âThereâs room for both of you.â
He hesitates. His blue eyes look to his general for permission.
Marcus opens his eyes and nods. âGo ahead soldier.â
Lucius sheds his armor and garments, the flickering light of the lamp highlights every well-defined muscle of his toned body. He stands naked and glorious, his cock stands throbbing in between his powerful thighs, obviously turned on by the sight in front of him.
His moan is low and quiet when he sits down, across the bath from Marcus. His body, like Marcusâs is marred by fresh cuts and bruises.
You continue to wash Marcus, your hands running across the wide breadth of his shoulders, kneading the tense muscles. He lets out a low rumble, Lucius adjusts in the tub, his bright blue eyes turning darker as he watches you move your hands down to wash Marcusâs broad chest.
The water clings to his skin, droplets collecting on the light smattering of hair across his chest. Luciusâs eyes watch your every movement, his nostrils flaring as his breath quickens when you lean forward, pressing a soft kiss to his generalâs shoulder, now clean and fragrant from the bath oil.
âAngel,â Marcus sighs. His eyes flutter open as he turns his head and captures your lips between his.
You part your lips, accepting his tongue into your mouth. A moan breathes out against his mouth when his calloused hand cups your cheek, a stream of water trails down your neck. He growls low in his throat when you nip his plush bottom lip, before soothing it with your tongue. You can feel yourself growing wet, aching for more of his touch, knowing that Lucius is just across the bath from you watching.
The cloth trails farther down, gliding across his torso and the plush of his stomach before dipping down to caress his thick thighs. Marcus hisses when you brush the soft fabric across his half-hard cock.
Lucius shifts again, a quiet whimper escapes his lips. You and Marcus turn your attention to him, your eyes locking with his. His chest heaves up and down against the surface of the water.
âCome here,â you beckon. âLet me take care of you too.â
Lucius glances at Marcus, silently asking permission again. His general nods. The water sloshes against his body as Lucius moves towards you.
You shift, the cloth moving down Marcusâs legs and onto Lucius's thighs as he kneels between Marcus's open legs.
He shivers as you move the cloth up his muscular body to his well-defined shoulders bathing him with the same care and attention you gave Marcus.
âThatâs it Angel. Donât neglect my brave soldier.â Marcus reaches over and begins untying the knot of your dress, his wet hand rubbing up and down the smooth skin of your back. âHe fought valiantly, protected me in battle, he deserves this, donât you soldier?â
âY-yes Master,â Lucius gasps as your dress falls from your chest and you lean forward. The washcloth runs across his handsome, chiseled chest, his blue eyes looking into your eyes the whole time.
âNow, Angel, join us,â Marcus instructs, grabbing your hand to pull you forward. Your dress falls off your body as you crawl into the water and lay your back against Marcusâs chest. He wraps his arms around you, holding you close. Luciusâs hands fist at his side as he still kneels, now between both yours and Marcusâs legs.
Marcus's hands slide up your sides, cupping your breasts. His thumbs brush over your nipples, causing you to arch into his touch with a soft moan. You feel his cock hardening against your lower back.
"Touch her, soldier," Marcus commands gruffly.
Luciusâs hand tremble slightly as he reaches towards you, his palms gliding up your thighs. You spread your legs wider, inviting his touch.
Marcusâs lips brush against your ear. âThatâs it, Angel. Show him how much you want him.â
You moan. The solid heat of the general behind you and his soldierâs hesitant hands exploring your curves lights a fire inside you. You recall what it felt like to be held in Marcusâs hands as Luciusâs tongue explored your cunt.
Lucius leans in, pressing a gentle kiss against your lips before licking his way down to press open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone.
âGood soldier,â Marcus praises, one hand leaving your breast to tangle in Luciusâs dark hair and guiding him lower.
Lucius take your nipple into his mouth, sucking gently as his hand cups your other breast. Marcusâs other hand trails down your stomach to between your thighs, dipping his hand in between your folds.
âSo wet for us already, arenât you Angel?â he growls, his thick finger circling your clit. His hand stays wrapped in Luciusâs hair yanking his head over to pay attention to your other breast.
Your hands reach up, wrapping one around the base of Luciusâs hard cock, the other forming around his smooth balls. He whimpers against your nipple, biting and sucking harder as you move across his length.
âShe feels good, doesnât she soldier?â Marcus asks against your neck before gently nibbling your skin.
Lucius grunts in agreement, too busy licking and sucking your nipple to say a word. Marcus pulls against his hair, lifting his head up. âAnswer me soldier.â
A wave of want crashes through your body at his firmness, a moan escapes your mouth.
Lucius blinks up, staring at Marcus. âYes Master, y-yes. She feels amazing.â
Marcus's powerful chuckle rumbles against your back. "Good. Now show her how grateful you are.â
Lucius nods eagerly as his hands roam down your body and dip below the water, his fingers replacing Marcus's at your core. He circles your clit slowly before sliding two fingers inside you.
"Oh," you moan, arching your back against Marcus's broad chest. His cock throbs against you as Lucius pumps his fingers in and out.
"That's it, soldier. Make her feel good," Marcus growls, his hands pinching and rolling your nipples as his soldier works between your thighs.
The water sloshes around you as Lucius shifts closer, his muscles pressing against yours. His lips find your neck, sucking and nipping as his fingers curl inside you.
"More," you whimper, overwhelmed by the touch of both men.
Marcus's hand slides down to join Lucius's, his thick finger rubbing tight circles around your clit as Lucius continues to pump in and out of you.
Youâre surrounded by their heat and strength, your body left writhing and overwhelmed by their touch and attention.
âThat's it, Angel," Marcus rumbles in your ear. "You took care of us, now let us let us take care of you."
Lucius latches onto your breast again, sucking hard as his fingers curl and hit that perfect spot inside you. You cry out, your hips bucking against their hands.
"She's close," Marcus says gruffly. "Letâs make her cum, soldier."
Lucius pumps you harder, Marcus rubs your clit firmer, the duality of their attention pushes you over the edge. Your orgasm splashes through you, much like the water does in the tub as you shudder between the two strong men. Your hands grip Luciusâs firm shoulders, slipping under the wetness of his skin.
âLift her soldier, move her to her bedroom,â Marcus instructs. âI have plans for both of you.â
Lucius gently gathers you into his arms, cradling you against his chest as he steps out of the tub.
Marcus rises, water cascades off of his body. The curls of his wet hair clings to his forehead and streams down his face and chest. Water hits the floor, dripping onto the tile as he steps out.
Lucius walks you into your bedroom. The cool night air on your wet skin makes you shiver, you press yourself closer to Luciusâs warm skin.
Marcusâ heavy footsteps follow closely behind, you look over Luciusâ shoulders at him. He gazes forward powerfully, as if heâs headed into battle.
The oil lamp casts an orange glow across your bedroom. Marcus moves to the middle of your room, his large body looms over yours and Luciusâ body.
He looks down at you, cradled in the arms of Lucius. His hand reaches to caress his soldierâs cheek, his thumb tracing over his lips.
âDo you want my soldier, Angel?â
You nod, lost in the darkness of his brown eyes.
âBoth of you, on your knees,â he commands.
Lucius carefully lowers you to the floor, before kneeling beside you. Your eyes both gaze up at Marcus, waiting for his next order. Water drops still follow the curves and planes of his body. His cock stands hard and glistening.
"Show me how grateful you are," Marcus says, running both of his hands through yours and Lucius's damp hair. "Both of you."
You lean forward, running your tongue along the underside of Marcus's thick shaft. Lucius mirrors your actions on the other side, his blue eyes flicking up to watch his general's reaction.
Marcus groans, his fingers tightening in your hair as you and Lucius worship his cock with your tongues. You swirl your tongue around the head while Lucius licks and sucks at the base, your mouths working in tandem to please him.
"Good," Marcus rumbles, his hips rocking slightly. "Such eager mouths."
You take him deeper, hollowing your cheeks as you suck. Lucius's lips brush against yours as he moves to lick and nibble at Marcus's heavy balls. The general's breathing grows heavier, his powerful thighs tensing under your hands.
"Enough," he grunts, gently pulling you both back. "On the bed. I want to watch you both.â
You both gasp for air as you scramble to the bed. Luciusâ back hits the softness of the mattress as your body hovers over his. His blue eyes are dark under his thick, furrowed brows as he looks up at you. He reaches up, running his hands along your neck down to your breasts touching you with something akin to reverie.
Marcus walks over to the bed, his body casts a shadow over you as he stands holding a carafe full of oil. âStay still,â he commands, his voice low and gravelly.
You and Lucius follow his direction, your bodies pressed together, skin still damp from the bath. Marcus tilts the vial and a thin stream of oil cascades down, landing first on Luciusâs broad chest. The oil pools in the dips and valleys of his muscles before trickling down his sides.
Marcus moves the vial, pouring a line of oil down your spine. You shiver at the cool sensation, goosebumps rising on your skin. The oil drips down the curve of your ass, some of it running between your cheeks and mixing with your own wetness.
"Rub it in," Marcus orders, his eyes dark with desire as he watches you both.
You begin to move your hands over Lucius's chest, spreading the oil across his skin.
Lucius's hands glide up your sides, spreading the oil across your back. His calloused palms knead your muscles as you grind against him, your slick bodies sliding together. You lean down to capture his lips in a deep kiss, moaning as his hands cup your ass.
Marcus's low growl sends a shiver through you both. "That's it," he says, his voice husky. "Show me how much you want each other."
You roll your hips, feeling Lucius's hard cock slide against your wet folds. He groans into your mouth, his fingers digging into your flesh.
Marcus reaches down, his large hand wrapping around Lucius's hard cock already slick from rubbing against your wet pussy. He pours the oil, letting it drip down the soldier's thick shaft. Marcus's hand glides up and down. Lucius moans at the sensation, his hips bucking up involuntarily.
"Turn around, Angel," Marcus commands as he sits on the edge of the bed. "I want to see you pleasure each other."
You obey, shifting and turning until his mouth is aligned with your aching cunt, your mouth positioned just above his cock, leaking with precum.
You run your tongue along the length of him before taking him into your mouth. He shudders underneath you, his hips jerking up slightly. His hands reach up to grasp your thighs, spreading them wider and pulling your cunt down to his mouth. His nose taps against your sensitive skin as he swipes his tongue against your clit, making you moan around his cock. His tongue devours your wet heat. He sucks your clit between his lips, flicking it with his tongue.
âBeautiful,â Marcusâs deep voice rumbles beside you. He gathers your hair in his hands maneuvering you up and down his soldierâs shaft.
âStretch her out for me soldier,â Marcus orders. âFuck her with your fingers.â
Lucius slides two fingers into your heat as he continues lapping at your clit. His fingers pump you, scissoring them to give you the delicious stretch you welcome.
Marcusâs hands tighten in your hair, guiding you faster up Luciusâ hard cock. âThatâs it Angel, take him deep,â he growls. Your throat relaxes, taking Lucius all the way down to his base. He whimpers against your cunt, his hips jerking.
âGood girl,â Marcus praises. âNow soldier, add another finger. Stretch her nice and wide for me.â
Lucius obeys, slipping a third finger inside you. The stretch burns deliciously as he pumps them in and out. His tongue circles your clit relentlessly, pleasure spreading through your body.
Marcus lets go of your hair, running his hand down your back and around the curve of your ass.
âLick her little asshole soldier,â Marcus instructs as he massages the puckered bud of it. âGet it wet for me.â
His tongue moves up your cunt to your asshole, licking and laving before he spits across it. Marcus hums an approving noise as he sticks his thumb in his soldierâs mouth and wets it.
Marcusâ thumb, slick with Luciusâs saliva, circles your tight entrance. You whimper and moan around Luciusâs cock as he slowly pushes the pad of his thumb inside. Itâs so intense, a new sensation youâve never felt, but your body yields to the pressure.
âRelax Angel,â Marcus murmurs, his free hand soothingly stroking down your spine. âLet me in.â
You breathe deeply around Luciusâs cock as Marcus works his thumb deeper. The fullness between his thumb and Lucius pumping his fingers in and out of your dripping cunt sends sparks throughout your body, lighting you from within. Luciusâs tongue laps eagerly at your clit as Marcus begins to slide his thumb in and out of your ass. Your thighs begin to tremble, your body quivering as you struggle to hold yourself up.
âThatâs it,â Marcus growls approvingly. âOpen up for me. Youâre doing so well. Isnât she doing good, soldier?â
âY-yes,â Lucius grunts against your cunt.
Your orgasm is right there, right at the cliff ready to jump.
âI think sheâs ready,â Marcus says, pulling his thumb out. âUp, Angel.â
Your body tightens. You whimper as Luciusâs mouth and fingers leave your aching cunt. Marcus helps you sit up, pulling you against his broad, warm chest. His hard cock pressing insistently against your lower back.
Lucius lays spread out on the bed, his hard cock standing at attention, twitching with need.
Marcus snakes a hand up your chest, spreading his hand against your neck and pulling you closer. "Now Angel, I want you to ride my brave soldier, I believe heâs earned it. And while you take his cock, Iâm going to take your sweet ass," he growls in your ear.
A shiver runs through you at his words. You nod eagerly, lust coursing through your whole body. Youâve never had anyone there before, and Marcusâs cock is quite intimidating, but you welcome the promise of feeling so full of these two brave soldiers.
Marcus guides your trembling body to straddle Lucius. He grips his soldierâs thick shaft, positioning it at your entrance before you slowly sink down. You both moan as he fills you completely.
"That's it," Marcus praises. "Take him nice and deep."
You rock your hips against him, adjusting to the stretch of Lucius inside you. He grips your waist, guiding you as you ride him. Marcus tips you to lean forward, your hands brace on Luciusâs strong chest as you feel Marcus position himself behind you.
âRelax my angel,â Marcus says, his large hands kneading the globes of your ass. More oil is poured on your ass. His thick finger circles your asshole, before he pushes it inside, stretching you for him further.
Your body tenses slightly, Lucius reaches up to cup your face, his blue eyes locked on yours. âItâs okay,â he whispers, thumb stroking your cheek. âJust breathe.â
Marcus moves a second finger in, scissoring them to open you up more for him. Your hips jerk, grinding down on Lucius as Marcus slowly moves his fingers inside you.
"Good girl," Marcus rumbles. "You're taking it so well."
You pant and whimper out into the cool night air, your body burning hot from feeling so full, and Marcus hasnât even fucked your ass yet.
Lucius still stares into your eyes, his movements gentle and caring, softly telling you youâre doing so well and you feel so good.
Finally, Marcus withdraws his fingers. You hear the sound of him slicking his cock with more oil and pumping himself. You feel the thick head of his cock pressing against your entrance, it feels so much larger than his fingers.
âBreathe, Angel,â he whispers.
You inhale deeply, steeling yourself as Marcus slowly pushes inside. Ohh, the stretch. It feels like so much, bordering on pain. Your head drops, Lucius presses soft kisses to your lip.
âI know. Relax,â he whispers. âLet him in.â
You exhale slowly, deflating your lungs, allowing your body to relax and accept him. Marcus slides in deeper with a long, low groan.
âSo tight,â he grunts. âPerfect.â
You moan, the fullness overwhelming you.
Marcus's thick cock stretches you wide as Lucius throbs within your cunt.
Marcus stills, allowing you to adjust even more for him. His hands grip your hips, holding you steady. âThatâs it, Angel. Youâre taking us so well,â he praises.
Lucius tenderly kisses you, his tongue sliding against yours as Marcus begins to move, slowly and pulling out before gently pushing back in.
Your body feels alight, burning with desire for the two men currently fucking both of your holes.
âMove, soldier,â Marcus commands.
âYes Master,â Lucius grunts against your lips, rocking his hips up into you as Marcus pulls back. The two men set a steady rhythm, one sliding in as the other pulls out. You gasp and moan, drunk on their cocks as youâre caught between their strong bodies.
âDonât s-stop,â you whimper and cry, your fingers digging into Luciusâs smooth chest.
The sound of skin slapping against skin and deep groans fills the room, soundtracking the two menâs movements inside you.
Marcusâs hips snap against you harder. âSuch a good girl,â he grits. âTaking both our cocks so well.â
Lucius matches his generalâs movements, thrusting into you harder. The fullness is overwhelming, pleasure radiating across every nerve in your body.
Marcusâs hand snakes around to rub tight circles on your clit, your body begins to tremble. âCum for us Angel. Let us feel you. Make your pussy cum all over my soldierâs cock.â
Your orgasm crashes through you in waves, your body clenching around both men as you cry out in ecstasy.
"That's it," Marcus growls. "Milk our cocks."
Lucius moans beneath you, his hips jerking erratically as your cunt pulses around him. "M-master, I'm close," he whimpers.
"Hold on, soldier," Marcus orders. "Not until I say."
Marcus's thrusts become more erratic, his grip on your hips tightening as he nears his release. His deep grunts fill the room as he drives into you harder.
"Fuck," he groans. "I'm close. Soldier, cum with me."
Lucius whimpers beneath you, his hips snapping up frantically. "Yes, Master," he pants.
With only a few more powerful thrusts, Marcus buries himself deep inside you with a loud roar. You feel the hot splash of his release filling you as he pulses within your tight channel.
Lucius cries out, his cock throbbing as he spills inside your cunt. The dual sensations of both men cumming inside you triggers another orgasm, your body clenching around them as waves of pleasure crash over you.
Marcus holds you steady as aftershocks course through all three of you. Slowly, he eases out of you, causing you to whimper at the loss. He gathers you into his arms, lifting you off Lucius's softening cock and cradling you against his broad chest.
âShh, Angel,â he murmurs, holding your shaking and overwhelmed shell of a body. Your back molding to his front. âYou did so good.â He looks over at his soldier, catching his breath, still laid out on the bed. âYou did too, Soldier.â He spreads your legs wide. âNow, clean her up.â
Lucius groans, sitting up and crawling across the bed to settle between your legs.
Lucius's eyes flicker up to meet yours as he lowers his mouth to your sensitive flesh. You whimper and squirm in Marcus's strong arms as Lucius's tongue laps gently at your swollen folds, cleaning away the mixture of your combined releases.
"That's it, soldier," Marcus rumbles approvingly. "Taste how good she is."
His mouth moves lower, licking against your asshole with gentle care.
Marcus's large hands caress your body as Lucius works between your thighs. He kneads your breasts, rolling your nipples between his fingers as his lips brush against your ear.
"You were perfect, Angel," he murmurs. "Taking both of us so well. Such a good girl for your soldiers."
Your hips rock slightly, seeking more of Lucius's tongue.
âGreedy girl, arenât you?â Marcus chuckles, his chest rumbling against your back.
He pinches your nipples, making you gasp. "Don't worry, we'll take care of you.â
Luciusâ tongue dives deeper inside you, to lap up every last drop of cum. His large nose bumps against your sensitive clit, sending little sparks of pleasure through your body.
âThatâs it soldier. Make her cum again on your tongue.â Marcus encourages before he kisses and licks against your neck. He holds you firmly against him, keeping your legs open wide for Lucius.
Lucius sucks your clit between his lips, flicking it rapidly with his tongue. The dual sensations of his mouth on your core and Marcus's hands on your breasts push you over the edge once more. You cry out, your body arching and shuddering as another orgasm washes over you.
Marcus holds you in his strong arms through it, praising you softly, in between open mouth kisses all over your neck and shoulders.
Lucius gently licks up your release before pulling away from your overworked core. His face glistening with your release.
Marcus gently lowers you onto the bed, your body trembling from the intensity of the night. He lays down beside you, pulling you close against his broad chest. Lucius crawls up to your other side, hesitating for a moment before Marcus nods his approval. The young soldier curls up against your back, sandwiching you between their warm, strong bodies.
The room is quiet, save for the heavy breathing of the three of you as you all come down from your orgasms.
âYou did so good for us Angel,â Marcus proudly tells you as his fingers lazily trail up and down your arm. âDidnât she, soldier?â
âYes Master,â Lucien responds, nuzzling against the nape of your neck. âSo good.âÂ
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Cursed Flame
Eris Vanserra x Reader
word count: 8k content: [ explicit sexual content, unprotected PIV, rough sex, oral sex (m receiving), fingering (f receiving), biting, oral fixation, enemies to lovers (as much lovers as I could fit into an 8k fic) | mentions of: blood, attempted murder via witch curse | strong language ] summary: When Eris Vanserra, heir to the Autumn Court, stumbles into a healer's shop under a mysterious curse, it sets off a chain of events neither could have anticipated. As the skilled healer works to unravel the dark magic threatening his life, tension and attraction crackle between them. author's note: SO EXCITED FOR YALL TO READ THIS ONE!!!!!!! i received this ask a bit ago and i couldn't wait to write it. i hope you all enjoy! as per usual, no beta, so if you see any typos no you didnt ⊠. Masterlist . âŠ
The shop is a warm refuge in the heart of the Autumn Court, its walls painted a calming sage green and lined with shelves filled with jars of dried herbs and roots. Sunlight filters through the tall windows, casting soft, golden light on a thick, woven rug. The scent of lavender and rosemary lingers in the air, mingling with the quiet crackle of a low fire in the hearth.
You move methodically around the shop, stocking freshly dried herbs on the shelves. Your fingers brush over the labels, ensuring everything is in its place. The rhythmic work is soothingâa welcome distraction.
Reaching up to place a jar on the top shelf, you're caught off guard when the door suddenly slams open. The force of it startles you, and you instinctively drop the pendant of your necklace from your mouth as you spin around to face the intruder.
Eris Vanserra stands in the doorway, his usually pristine appearance disheveled, his skin pale and lips tinged with an unhealthy shade of blue. He looks unwell â like something is gnawing away at him from the inside out.
âLooking a little paler than usual,â you murmur, your tone caught between concern and the dry sarcasm that usually colors your interactions with him. But even as you speak, youâre already moving toward him, instinctively assessing his condition. Grabbing your tools, you hurry to where Eris has collapsed into the armchair by the hearth.
âWhat happened?â you ask, scanning him for visible injuries but finding none. âWhen did this start?â
Eris leans back, his breathing labored, and then he coughs violently, a splatter of blood staining his hand. He looks at it with shock and frustration.
âTell me everything,â you demand, already rifling through your supplies for anything that could help diagnose whatever this is. âWhat did you eat? Drink? Did you come into contact with anything unusual?â
His eyes narrow in irritation as you continue to probe. âWhy does it matter? Just heal me and Iâll be on my way.â
You give him an incredulous look, stunned by the sheer stupidity of his question.Â
âWhatâŠ? Mother above- if you want me to help, I need to know whatâs causing this. Did you encounter any dark magic?â
You move to check his pulse, frowning at the erratic rhythm and his lack of response. âIf youâre going to be like that, just go to your familyâs healer,â you mutter, not bothering to hide your irritation. You place the back of your hand on his forehead, noting the strange combination of cool skin and unnatural heat radiating from his chest.
âDo you think Iâm here because Iâd like to be?â Eris snaps, coughing again, though this time with less blood.
You ignore his tone, turning your attention to the herbs and ingredients at your disposal. After a few minutes of methodically preparing and steeping the herbs, you hand him a steaming cup. âDrink this,â you instruct.
He takes the cup but eyed it skeptically. âWhat is it?â
âItâll react if thereâs poison in your system,â you explain, your tone firm as you watch him closely, waiting.Â
He lifts the cup reluctantly, sipping as you hover your hands over his chest, closing your eyes to focus on sensing any magical disturbances. âWhy canât you see your familyâs healer?â you ask, murmuring a chant under your breath as you work.
âHeâs busy,â Eris replies tightly, though his expression suggests thereâs more to the story.
You press your lips together as you complete your chant, waiting for any sign of magicâan aura, a pulse of energy, anything. But thereâs nothing. Frustration wells up, and you move to the shelves, selecting a vial of a potent potion that reveals the presence of dark spells. You hand it to him, but before you can tell him to wait, he lifts the vial to his lips.Â
âWaitââ you start, but itâs too late. He drinks the contents of the vial, grimacing at the taste as he swallows.Â
The dark tendrils of the potion begin to swirl beneath his skin, their movement barely noticeable through the fabric of his shirt. Panic surges through you, and without thinking, you reach forward and rip open his shirt, buttons flying everywhere.Â
Eris recoils slightly, a flash of irritation crossing his face. âDo you have any idea how much that shirt costs? More than you make in a month, Iâd wager.â
You shoot him a sharp glare, not bothering to hide your exasperation. âDefinitely not as much as making that potion cost me,â you retort, focusing on the dark tendrils now clearly visible beneath his skin. The potion is reacting to something, though itâs still not enough to fully reveal whatâs wrong.Â
Eris glares at you, but before he can respond, another wave of pain hits him, forcing a troubling series of coughs out of him. This time, blood stains his lips, and the dark tendrils pulse ominously with the movement.Â
Ignoring his earlier complaint, you press your hand against his chest, feeling the unnatural heat beneath your fingertips. The tendrils shift and twist just beneath the surface of his skin as if something dark is trying to break free. âAre you usually this hot?â you murmur, more to yourself than to him, as you watch the tendrils fade back into nothingness.
Erisâs lips curve into a smirk, despite his condition. âI wasnât aware you found me so irresistible,â he drawls, his tone laced with that familiar cocky arrogance.
You roll your eyes, not even dignifying his comment with a response, refocusing on the task at hand.
With a sigh, you grab the vial from him and set it aside, biting your thumbnail as you wrack your brain for ideas. You decide to turn to a more traditional method. âStand up,â you instruct, grabbing a fresh egg from a small basket. Eris raises an eyebrow, but you donât give him a chance to question it. âIâm going to perform an egg cleanse. Itâs an old method, but itâs effective for detecting curses.â
He complies, albeit reluctantly, standing from the chair. You glance up at him, realizing you canât quite reach the top of his head. âBend your knees a bit. I canât reach that high.â
Eris smirks, but obliges, lowering himself slightly so you can reach the crown of his head. You begin by holding the egg just above his scalp, moving it slowly around the top of his head and down his neck. You notice his jaw clench, the muscles tightening under your careful movements.Â
You continue to work your way down, the egg warming slightly in your hand as it absorbs the negative energy. The air feels thick with tension as you move the egg over his shoulders and bare chest, noticing how he tenses when you pass it over his thighs. His body reacts subtly, with a slight shift in posture, a clenching of his fist at his side, as if heâs fighting to keep his composure.Â
âAnything yet?â Eris presses, his tone light, almost as if heâs making conversation, but you can hear the underlying tension. âOr are you just playing with eggs for fun?â
âHold still,â you mutter, ignoring his jab as you complete the cleanse. When you reach his feet, you pause, feeling the unsettling energy still clinging to the egg in your hand. You ask him to lift each foot slightly so you can pass the egg underneath. He does so with a small huff of annoyance, muttering something you couldnât bother yourself to care about.Â
Finally, you finish the cleanse, bringing the egg back up to his head and closing the circle. The egg feels heavier in your hand now, almost throbbing with the energy itâs absorbed. You step back, holding the egg up to the light, examining it carefully.Â
âWhat are you seeing?â he asks, his voice steady, but you catch the edge of something beneath the calm facade. âWhatâs wrong?â
With a frown, you walk to the counter, grab a glass, and fill it with water. Eris watches you, curiosity and impatience on his face as you crack the egg into the glass.
The moment the shell breaks, your breath catches in your throat as the realization hits you like a physical blow. The web-like structures forming in the eggâs whites, the dark red blood swirling through the yolkâthey arenât just signs of any curse. Theyâre markers, symbols that reveal the curseâs origin. A curse that dark, that potent, could only come from someone with a deep, intimate connection to the target. Someone who shares his blood.
Eris leans over your shoulder, his eyes narrowing at the sight. âThatâs not normal, is it?â he asks, his tone still deceptively casual, but you can hear the sharp edge of concern creeping into his voice.
You shake your head slowly, staring at the cursed egg. âNo,â you reply, your voice low and tense. âEris,â you begin, your voice trembling slightly as the weight of your discovery settles in. âThis⊠this isnât just any curse. It was arranged by someone whoâs tied to you by blood. They must have paid a witch to curse you.â
His eyes widen, the casual facade slipping as your words sink in. He straightens, stepping back as if physically recoiling from the truth. For a moment, heâs silent, his usually sharp mind racing to process what youâve just told him. But the tension in his jaw, the way his hands clench into fists, betrays the anger simmering beneath the surface.
âOne of my brothers,â he murmurs, his voice low and deadly. Thereâs no question in his tone, only cold, calculated fury. The possibility of betrayal from within his own bloodline cuts deep, and you can see it in the way his expression darkens, in the way his shoulders stiffen as if preparing for battle.
You nod slowly, still staring at the cursed egg, your mind racing as you try to make sense of it all. âWhoever did this didnât just want to hurt youâthe curse is meant to kill, Eris.â
His gaze flickers back to you, and for a brief moment, you see something vulnerable in his eyes, something raw and unguarded. But then itâs gone, replaced by the cold determination that youâve come to expect from him.
As you stare at the cursed eggâs results, frustration and determination mix in your mind. You need to figure out where the curse is coming from. âWait here,â you tell him, already moving towards the shelves.
You start rummaging through your collection of enchanted tools and artifacts. You pull out a magnifying glass with runes etched into its frameâdesigned to detect magical auras. With it, you examine the eggâs remnants, trying to find any additional clues. Still focused, you then grab a small jar of salt, used for creating protective circles, and a vial of basic anti-magic tincture.
You hold the magnifying glass over Erisâs body, carefully examining for any magical disturbances. The glass shows a faint, dark aura around his entire form, but itâs still unclear where the source is. The salt is meant to amplify magical reactions, so you grab the jar and sprinkle some in a protective circle around him. As you observe, the dark aura becomes more pronounced, shifting and swirling. Still, itâs not pinpointed enough to identify the exact source of the curse.
You then use the anti-magic tincture, dabbing it on various parts of him: his hands, shoulders, his ankles, and on his clothing. The tincture reacts, but again, it does not specify where the curse is anchored. You decide to turn to a more direct method.
You remove one of the rings from Erisâs hand, placing it on a small tray before examining it closely with the magnifying glass. The ring is stunning, with a polished tigerâs eye stone that seems to capture and reflect the light with every movement. The stone is set in intricately crafted silver, engraved with delicate, swirling patterns reminiscent of flames. Itâs a ring befitting Eris Vanserraâelegant yet undeniably powerful. This time, you notice the dark tendrils of magic intensify around the ring, more clearly than on the other items.
âThis ring,â you say, realization dawning as you see the dark magic swirling more intensely, âHave you given it to anyone lately?â
Erisâs brows furrow in confusion. âNo, why would I do that? Itâs one of my favorites.â
You raise an eyebrow, crossing your arms and biting your lip in thought. âAre you sure? Any recent changes, anyone who might have had access to it?â
He hesitates, shifting uncomfortably. âIâwell, I didnât give it to anyone, butâŠâ He sighs, sitting back down and looking down at the ring. âI woke up one morning and found it missing from my jewelry box. I only found it a few days later, yesterday, under the dresser.â
You nod, your mind racing with the implications. âThatâs significant. The timing fits with when the curse seems to have taken hold. Itâs likely that someone who knew about the ring might have tampered with it.â Erisâs expression darkens, and he clenches his jaw.
You give him a sympathetic look. âLuckily, it seems whoever cast this curse used extremely rudimentary techniques. I should be able to take care of it relatively easily⊠Go lie down in the back room,â you tell him, pointing at the door behind the front counter. âIâll be there in a bit with what I need to start the healing process.â
Eris nods and heads to the back room, his demeanor more subdued now. As he disappears behind the door, you turn back to the counter, gathering the rest of your supplies. The task ahead is daunting, but youâre determined to see it through.
As he disappears into the back room, you take a deep breath, centering yourself as you gather the necessary items for the healing process. Your mind is consumed with the details of what you need, and you absentmindedly reach for a pen from the counter, sliding the end of it between your lips as you think through your listâcleansing herbs, protective talismans, and special antidotes to counteract the curse. You pull out a small wooden box and start preparing the mixtures, setting out vials and jars with practiced ease.Â
You move through the shop, grabbing the fresh batch of herbs and an old family recipe for a purification salve. As youâre about to head to the back room, you pause, realizing you need one more item. You hastily grab a small vial of enchanted water, known for its potency in breaking curses.
With everything in hand, you head towards the back room, your nerves steeling for the task ahead. You open the door and step inside, where Eris is lying on the sofa, looking more subdued and less defiant.
âAlright,â you say, laying out the items on a nearby table. âI need you to strip, so I can massage the salve into your skin.â
Eris raises an eyebrow, his posture relaxed despite his condition. He lounges on the plush sofa, the luxurious fabric seeming to contrast sharply with his unwell state. He is draped elegantly over the cushions, looking effortlessly refined even in his weakened state. âAre you always so forward with your clients?â he asks, a lazy, yet sardonic smile playing on his lips.
You shoot him a wry smile. âOnly the ones who show up at my door covered in curses. I promise, Iâll try to keep it as professional as possible.â
Eris arches an eyebrow, glancing down at his torn shirt before meeting your eyes with a smirk. âIâll be curious to see just how âprofessionalâ you manage to be, given the state of my shirt.â
âI suppose my attempt at professionalism might seem a bit questionable after that,â you respond, trying to match his playful tone. âBut given the circumstances, I promise to keep my focus on getting you sorted out.â
Eris smirks, clearly entertained by your response. âIâll hold you to that,â he replies, making no move to cover up as he removes his shirt. He casually kicks off his boots and slips out of his pants. He starts to remove his underwear, but you quickly hold up a hand, a hint of discomfort in your voice.
âUh, you can keep those on,â you say, your tone awkward. âI really donât need to see more of you than I already have.â
Eris raises an eyebrow but complies, lying back on the sofa in his remaining attire. He stretches out, his posture relaxed despite his state.
You try to maintain your composure as you prepare to apply the salve, aware of the subtle flush on your cheeks at the sight of him.
You take the salve and begin applying it to his skin, your hands gliding over the thick, soothing mixture. The salve is warm and slightly sticky, and you work it into his flesh with careful, deliberate strokes. His skin is pale and warm under your touch, marked with faint, livid lines where the curse has taken hold. Despite his condition, his muscles are firm and well-defined.
You try to focus on the task, but the proximity and the intimate nature of your work make your cheeks flush. Your hands move methodically, spreading the salve evenly over his torso, smoothing it into every defined contour. The tension in the room is almost tangible, and you do your best to maintain your composure, concentrating on the rhythm of your movements.
After a few minutes, you glance up at Eris, only to find him watching you with a smirk. You assume heâs noticed your nervousness and it makes your blush deepen, feeling the heat spread across your cheeks.
You hum as if asking âWhat?â, but it comes out a bit strained.
Eris chuckles softly, the sound low and knowing. âWhatâs the pendant on your necklace?â
You pause, momentarily distracted by his question. You glance down at the pendant but realize youâve been toying with it between your teeth. You drop it, a sleek piece of black tourmaline set in a delicate silver setting. It catches the light, its dark, glossy surface reflecting an eerie, protective shimmer. âItâs black tourmaline,â you explain, trying to keep your voice steady as you wipe your hand on the skirt of your dress. âItâs known for protection.âÂ
You reach up and carefully open the locket, revealing a small, intricately illustrated image nestled inside. The illustration depicts you and a scruffy little dog, your faces pressed close together. His warm brown eyes are visible, reflecting the affection between you. The artistâs delicate strokes bring out the softness and warmth of the scene, with a gentle, glowing quality.
âHere,â you say, offering the locket for Eris to see. âThatâs my dog, Cedar. Heâs my best friend.â
Eris glances at the illustration and raises an eyebrow. âCute dog,â he remarks, his voice softening slightly. He takes a moment to admire it before you close the locket and turn your attention back to the task at hand.
You resume applying the salve, your hands moving carefully over his thighs. Your proximity is close, and you canât help but be aware of the intimate nature of the task.
Eris breaks the silence, his tone is casual yet curious. âI wouldnât have pegged you as a dog person. Whatâs he like?â
You continue working the salve into his skin, your hands deftly spreading it. âCedar? Heâs a little bundle of energy. Loves to play and is always up for an adventure. Not very fond of arrogant redheads.â
Eris chuckles softly. âSounds like quite a character. Iâve got a few ghost hounds myself. Jasperâs the mischievous one, Emberâs more reserved but loyal, and Thorne... well, heâs a bit of a troublemaker. They each have their own quirks, but theyâre a handful.â He smiles faintly, a hint of fondness in his eyes.
You nod, trying to focus on the salve while managing the awkward proximity. âSounds like theyâre quite a pack.â
Erisâs eyes twinkle with a mixture of amusement and affection as he regards you. âThey are. All twelve of them.â
You clear your throat, doing your best to shake off the distraction of Erisâs body under your hands. âTwelve? Thatâs⊠quite a lot,â you manage to say, hoping your voice doesnât betray how flustered you are.
Eris gives a small, almost smug nod. âTheyâre quite the company.â
You force a small smile, quickly refocusing on the task at hand before your scent gives you away. âAlright, I need you to flip over so I can get your back,â you instruct, your voice steadier now.
Eris moves with a grace that belies the curseâs toll, turning onto his stomach. As he settles, you catch yourself marveling at the expanse of his back, the way his muscles shift beneath his skin. You work the salve into his skin, starting at his shoulders and moving downward. Your fingers glide over the planes of his back, kneading the thick mixture into his skin with slow, deliberate motions.
When you reach his lower back, you canât help but notice how firm and tight his muscles are. You swallow hard, trying to focus on the task and not on how ridiculously sculpted he is. This close, his scentâwoodsy and warm, with a hint of spiceâmixes with the herbs of the salve, creating an intoxicating blend that makes your heart race.
With the salve fully applied, you stand and step back, wiping your hands on a cloth. You retrieve the small vial of enchanted water from your supplies. The liquid inside shimmers faintly, a sign of its potency.
You kneel beside Eris and unstopper the vial, letting a few drops spill into your palm. âThis will help neutralize any residual dark magic,â you explain, mostly to fill the silence as you pour the water into your hands. Itâs cool to the touch, sending a slight tingle through your fingers.
Gently, you begin to rub the enchanted water into his skin, starting at his shoulders and moving downward again. You feel a faint warmth where the water touches his skin, a sign that the curse is reacting to the cleansing magic. You mutter a soft incantation under your breath as you work, tracing the lines of his muscles with your fingertips to ensure the water reaches every part of him.
Eris lies still beneath you, but you can sense his awareness of your every move. The tension between you is palpable, like a coiled spring waiting to snap. But you focus on your work, pushing aside the awkwardness.
You clear your throat softly. âFlip back over. I need to do your front.â
Eris obliges, rolling onto his back again. As you begin to apply the enchanted water to his chest, your hands instinctively move in slow, deliberate circles. The cool liquid glides over the hard planes of his abs and pecs, and you find yourself distracted by the feel of his muscles beneath your fingertips. His skin is smooth, marred only by the faint, dark lines of the curse, but the tautness of his body is impossible to ignore.
Your thoughts begin to wander, unbidden. The definition of his abs under your touch, the way his chest rises and falls steadily with each breath, the heat radiating from him despite the coolness of the waterâall of it feels too intimate, too close. You lose yourself in the rhythm of the massage, each movement deliberate, but tinged with an awareness you wish you could ignore.
When you finally finish applying the water, you take a step back and wipe your hands again. âThat should do it,â you say, though your voice comes out softer than you intended. âNow we just need to give it time to work.â
Eris slowly sits up, his movements careful and deliberate. He glances at you, and for a moment, his usual guarded expression softens. "Thank you," he says quietly, the words carrying a weight that surprises you.
You nod, unsure of how to respond to the sudden shift in his demeanor. "Just... make sure you rest. The curse should start breaking down now, but you'll need time to recover-"
Eris cuts you off, his tone turning teasing as he leans forward. "You always seem to be keeping that mouth of yours busy, don't you?"
You blink, caught off guard by the sudden comment. "Excuse me?"
His gaze drops pointedly to your hand, and it's only then that you realize your thumbnail is between your teeth. You quickly pull it away, trying to mask your embarrassment with a frown. "I wasn't-"
"Oh, you were," he interrupts, the smirk playing on his lips growing. "First your necklace, now your nails. And don't think I didn't notice you biting your lip earlier. Tell me, is this a nervous habit or something else?"
You huff, the irritation building slowly. "It's nothing. Just a habit, alright?"
He tilts his head, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he's dissecting your every move. "A habit, hmm? Interesting."
You roll your eyes, exasperation creeping into your tone. "Look, it's really none of your business. I just did you a favor, saving your life; can't you drop the smart remarks for once?"
Eris's smirk doesn't waver. "A favor? Let's not pretend you didn't enjoy getting your hands all over me," he says, his voice dripping with mockery. "You were practically drooling over me."
Your face burns, and you take a step forward, anger and embarrassment now battling for dominance. "I was doing my job, Eris. If I took any extra care, it was because I had to-your life was in my hands, not because I wanted to."
He arches an eyebrow, clearly amused by your rising frustration. "So you admit you were being thorough."
You let out a frustrated breath, the tension between you crackling like a live wire. "You're insufferable, you know that? Not everything is about you."
His voice drops to a low, teasing whisper. âIf itâs just a job, then why do you look like youâve been caught red-handed?â
Your eyes widen at his insinuation, and you struggle to find a retort, feeling both flustered and infuriated by his smugness.
Your heart skips a beat at the intensity in his gaze, the raw challenge in his words. "What does it matter to you?" you snap back, though your voice falters, the heat of the moment starting to overwhelm you. "You're just trying to get under my skin."
Eris's gaze flickers to your lips, and you feel the air between you grow heavy, charged with an undeniable tension. "Maybe I am," he murmurs, his voice a low, seductive growl. "Or maybe I'm just waiting for you to admit you want this as much as I do."
Your breath catches, and for a moment, the world narrows down to just the two of you, the magnetic pull between you impossible to ignore. You shake your head, trying to maintain your composure despite the heat in your cheeks. "You don't really want this," you retort, your voice coming out more uncertain than you intended.
Eris's smirk widens, and he stands impossibly close to you, his eyes dark with intensity. "Oh, but I do."
You meet his gaze, feeling a surge of defiance and desire. "Prove it," you challenge, your voice barely above a whisper.
Eris responds to your challenge with a fierce intensity. He closes the space between you with a sudden, forceful kiss that takes your breath away. His lips crash against yours, and the kiss is a wild, heated clash of desire and frustration.
Your lips meet with a ferocity that makes your head spin, his hands gripping your face as if he's afraid you might pull away. His mouth moves against yours with a demanding urgency, his tongue pushing past your lips to tangle with yours. The kiss is rough, almost desperate, as if he's trying to prove something with every touch.
You feel his teeth nip at your lower lip, sharp and insistent, and the sudden spark of pain only intensifies the heat between you. Your hands find their way to his hair, gripping it tightly and pulling him closer if possible, as if trying to merge your bodies together.
Eris's fingers tangle in your hair, his grip firm as he tilts your head to deepen the kiss. His movements are driven by a raw, unrestrained need, and you can feel his breath come in ragged gasps against your skin. Each touch, each movement is a battle, a clash of passion and frustration.
You respond in kind, your own fingers digging into his scalp, your nails scratching lightly as you try to keep up with the fierce pace he sets. The kiss is a war of wills, a struggle for dominance that leaves you both breathless and hungry for more.
Finally, the intensity of the kiss subsides, but only slightly. You pull away just enough to look into each other's eyes, both of you panting heavily, faces flushed. The moment is charged with an electric tension, a mix of anger and desire that hangs in the air between you.
Eris's eyes are dark and intense as he stares at you, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "Is that proof enough?" he asks, his voice low and rough.
Your lips slam into his again, and you press your body against his with a forceful urgency, your hands roaming over his bare torso. Erisâs initial surprise quickly turns into fervor. His hands move over your back and sides, his touch rough but deliberate. His fingers brush along the fabric of your dress, tugging it slightly as he pulls you closer. His hands glide over your waist, up your sides, and finally settle at the small of your back, pulling you so close that thereâs no space left between your bodies. Your hands explore his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath his smooth skin, and you canât help but dig your nails in slightly, relishing the shudder that ripples through him.
âYouâre such a pain,â you murmur against his lips, your voice breathy but laced with irritation. âAlways so arrogant, thinking everyone wants you.â
Erisâs response is a low growl, his lips curving into a wicked smile as he pulls back just enough to look at you. âAnd yet here you were, begging me to strip under the guise of helping me. I guess my arrogance isnât so misplaced after all.â
Your retort is immediate, biting. âGuise? I did help you, donât flatter yourself. This isnât about youâitâs about shutting you up.â You punctuate your words by biting down on his lower lip, hard enough to make him hiss in a mix of pain and pleasure.
He chuckles, the sound low and mocking. âIs that what youâre telling yourself? That this is just about shutting me up?â His grip on your hips tightens, his voice dropping to a rough whisper. âKeep lying to yourself if it helps you sleep at night. But we both know youâre enjoying this.â
You shove him back slightly, just enough to regain some space, your chest heaving with both desire and defiance. âYouâre delusional. If anything, Iâm doing this to prove you wrong.â But even as you say it, your hands are already trailing lower, brushing over the hard lines of his abdomen, testing his resolve.
Erisâs smirk never falters. âKeep telling yourself that,â he says, his voice thick with lust and challenge. âBut we both know the truthâyou canât resist me any more than I can resist you.â
âResist?â You scoff, though your voice wavers with the intensity of the moment. âWho said anything about resisting? Maybe Iâm just enjoying the moment before I throw you out.â
His eyes darken further, a primal edge sharpening his features. âYou talk a big game, but I can feel how much youâre into this.â His hand slides up your thigh, pushing the fabric of your dressâs long skirt aside with forceful impatience. âOr do you want me to stop and see if you beg?â
You meet his challenge head-on, your eyes blazing. âBeg? Iâd rather die.â
He grins, his teeth flashing in the dim light as his hand continues its relentless exploration. âWeâll see.â
With that, he kisses you again, the force of it pushing you both back until youâre pinned against the wall, his body pressing into yours with an intensity that makes your head spin. Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling hard, and he groans into your mouth, his own grip on you tightening as the need between you becomes impossible to ignore.
"You're insufferable," you hiss, though your fingers are still digging into his skin, still trailing over the hard lines of his chest.
Erisâs mouth swallows your frustrated words. âThen shut me up,â he murmurs against your lips, his voice dripping with challenge.
You take the bait, pulling him closer as you bite down on his lip again, harder this time, drawing a low groan from him. His hands slip under your dress, the roughness of his touch sending a shiver up your spine. âThat all youâve got?â he taunts, his voice ragged.
You pull back just enough to meet his gaze, your eyes locked with his in a heated stare. âI can do a lot more than that,â you shoot back, your voice dripping with defiance.
âProve it,â he snarls, his hands tightening on your hips as if daring you to push the boundaries further.
Your gaze never wavers from his as you slowly begin to sink to your knees in front of him. Eris's breath hitches slightly, his eyes darkening with a mix of surprise and something else, something far more primal.
âCareful,â he warns, though thereâs a rough edge to his voice that betrays his anticipation. âYou might find yourself in over your head.â
You smirk, defiant as ever. âIâm sure I can handle you,â you say, your voice low and challenging as you settle in front of him, pulling his underwear down and freeing his cock. It springs up, slapping against his skin. Eris's breath catches again, this time more audibly, as your fingers wrap around him, the warmth of your touch eliciting a shudder from him. For a moment, the air between you is charged, thick with tension. His fiery gaze locks onto yours, his usual cool demeanor cracking just enough to reveal the raw desire simmering beneath the surface.
âIs that so?â His voice is a rasp, heavy with lust, yet there's still a trace of his usual arrogance, as if heâs not entirely convinced you know what youâre getting into. His hand slides into your hair, not quite a caress but not entirely a threat either.
You look up at him through your lashes, your smirk never fading as you lean in, the tip of your tongue teasing the sensitive head of his cock. Eris's grip tightens involuntarily, and you feel a surge of satisfaction at the way his control is already starting to slip.
âKeep pushing me, and I wonât be able to stop myself,â he growls. But you donât intend to stop. You want to see him unravel, to take him apart piece by piece until thereâs nothing left of his carefully constructed composure. Your mouth closes around him, taking him deeper, your movements slow, savoring the way he swears under his breath, his hips jerking slightly as if he canât help but respond to the pleasure youâre giving him.
âFuck,â he mutters and braces his hand against the wall as you cup his balls. The last of his restraint frays as you take him deeper, the heat of your mouth and the slick glide of your tongue driving him mad with pleasure.
His dominance, his ever-present need to be in control, is slipping through his fingers, and you can see it in the way his eyes flutter shut, in the way his head tips back, exposing the strong line of his throat. Youâre pushing him closer and closer to the brink, and the power you feel at this moment is intoxicating, heady, and utterly addictive.
His hand tightens in your hair, and just as you feel like youâve taken control, he pulls you back with a sudden, forceful yank. The motion is swift, leaving you gasping as he tilts your head up, pressing it back against the wall. His eyes, dark and wild, lock onto yours, and you can see the moment he decides to take the power back.
Without a word, he thrusts forward, his cock pushing past your lips in a smooth, deliberate motion, filling your mouth completely. The sensation is overwhelmingâthe taste of him, the pressure, the way his hips move with a raw, unrestrained need. Heâs no longer holding back, no longer letting you lead.
His hand in your hair tightens even more, holding you firmly in place as he begins to fuck your mouth, each thrust rougher, more demanding than the last. You can feel the tension in his body, the way heâs fighting to maintain some semblance of control, but itâs slipping fast, and you know youâre the one driving him to this point.
âIs this what you needed?â he growls, his voice rough with the thrill of dominance. âAlways biting your nails, playing with that necklace... I knew you needed something more to keep that mouth of yours busy.â
His words send a jolt of heat through you, the dark thrill only intensifying your desire. You try to nod, but his grip holds you in place, his cock filling your mouth completely, muffling any response you could give. The way heâs watching you, eyes narrowed, intense, tells you he knows exactly what heâs doing to you.
âTell me,â he demands, thrusting deeper, his voice low and laced with a dark satisfaction. âYou like this better, donât you? Better than biting down on that lip of yours? Youâd rather be sucking my cock, wouldnât you?â
The words, the sheer audacity of his tone, make you whimper around him, the sound vibrating through your throat, and his grip tightens almost possessively in response. His thrusts become more erratic, each one pushing you closer to the edge, the friction, the heat building between you until itâs all-consuming.
âLook at you,â he murmurs, his voice filled with a mix of mockery and admiration. âSo desperate to keep your mouth busy. Is this what youâve been wanting all along? Something to fill that pretty little mouth, something to keep you from biting down so hard?â
You hollow your cheeks, taking him deeper, and the way he shudders makes you feel a surge of satisfaction. Youâre pushing him right to the edge, and he knows it, the way his hips snap forward betraying how close he is to losing control entirely.
âFuck,â he groans, his voice cracking with the intensity of it all. âYou feel so fucking goodâtaking me so well. Just like that. Keep going, and Iâll make sure you never have to worry about looking for something to occupy that pretty little mouth with ever again.â
His words send you spiraling, your own desire mounting as you submit to his dominance. You can feel him throbbing in your mouth, the desperation in his movements telling you just how close he is to unraveling completely. His grip on your hair is almost punishing, but the way heâs losing himself in you is worth every second of it.
âDo you like this?â he taunts, his voice low and rough. âBetter than anything else youâve ever had between those lips?â
And just as you sense heâs about to tip over the edge, he pulls back, panting heavily, his eyes blazing with a mix of frustration and lust as he tries to regain control. But itâs too lateâheâs already there, the pleasure too overwhelming to stop. With a low, guttural groan, he wraps his hand around his slick cock as he strokes himself to completion.
His hips jerk as he comes, hot and thick, painting your lips and tongue with his release. The taste of him floods your senses, salty and rich, and you canât help but savor it, holding his gaze as you swallow every last drop. The look on his face is pure, unrestrained satisfaction, but thereâs still that edge of frustration, like heâs not quite finished with you yet.
Before you can react, he hauls you to your feet, his grip firm, almost possessive. His eyes never leave yours as he reaches out, his thumb brushing against the corner of your mouth, gathering the last traces of his release. The movement is deliberate, his expression dark and unreadable as he holds his thumb in front of your lips.
âOpen,â he commands, his voice rough, and without hesitation, you part your lips, sucking his thumb clean. The taste of him lingers on your tongue, and the way his eyes darken tells you heâs watching every second, every subtle movement.
His thumb slides free from your mouth, and for a moment, thereâs a heavy silence between you, charged with the aftermath of what just happened and the unspoken promise of whatâs to come next. Erisâs chest heaves with each breath, but the hunger in his eyes hasnât dimmed. If anything, itâs only grown stronger, the intensity between you far from spent.
Erisâs hands find the laces on the back of your dress, his fingers deft as he begins to undo them, each tug of the fabric sending a thrill of anticipation coursing through you. His breath is still heavy, uneven, but there's a renewed focus in his movements, a meticulousness that makes your pulse quicken. The dress loosens gradually, the cool air hitting your skin as he exposes more and more of you, and the sensation of his fingers grazing your back is maddening.
You can take in the sight of him nowâbare, unrestrained, his usual elegance stripped awayâit sends a jolt of desire through you. But before you can revel in it, his hands are on you again, rougher this time, pulling the dress down your body until it pools at your feet.
His eyes drink you in, taking in every inch of your now-exposed skin, and the way he looks at you makes your breath hitch. Thereâs something almost reverent in his gaze, but itâs laced with a hunger that promises heâs far from done with you. He steps closer, and the heat radiating off him is palpable, his chest brushing against yours as he reaches down between your bodies, his hand yanking your underwear down and finding its way to your core.
Your hand slips between you, stroking him, and he groans low in his throat, the sound vibrating through his chest and into yours. His fingers slide against you, a delicious friction that makes you gasp, your grip on him tightening reflexively in response. His eyes are half-lidded as he reaches behind you to undo the clasps of your bra, focused entirely on the way your body responds to him, and it sends a shiver down your spine. Itâs a reminder that despite the edge youâd gained, heâs still every bit as dangerous, every bit as intoxicating.
With a growl, Eris suddenly lifts you, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he presses you back against the wall. The cool surface contrasts sharply with the heat of his body, and the sensation is almost overwhelming, his hard length brushing against your inner thigh, teasing, tormenting. You can feel the tension in his muscles, the barely restrained need as he grinds against you, his hand still between your legs, stoking the fire thatâs been burning between you both from the start.
And then, with a swift, powerful thrust, heâs inside you, and everything else falls awayâthe tension, the teasing, the power struggleâuntil all thatâs left is the raw, unrelenting desire that neither of you can deny any longer. Heâs relentless, driving into you with a raw, primal need that matches your own, each movement sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. The sound of your bodies colliding, the wet slide of him inside you, fills the room, mingling with the ragged breaths and low moans you canât suppress.
âIs this what you wanted?â he growls against your neck, his teeth grazing your skin before he bites down just hard enough to make you gasp, the pain mingling with the pleasure in a way that only intensifies the sensation. His voice is rough, laced with a dark satisfaction as if heâs finally giving you what youâve been daring him to unleash. âYouâre so fucking desperate for it, arenât you?â
âShut up,â you snap back, but your voice comes out breathless, betraying how much youâre already unraveling. His words send a thrill through you, the taunting, the edge of danger in his tone only making you want him more. Your nails dig into his shoulders, leaving marks on his skin as you try to meet his thrusts, the pressure building inside you almost unbearable.
He smirks against your throat, his breath hot and uneven. âThatâs what I thought,â he murmurs, his lips brushing against your pulse point before he bites down again, harder this time. âYou want me to break you, donât you?â
Your hands fist in his hair, yanking his head back so you can meet his gaze, the defiance in your eyes only fueling the fire between you. âShut up,â you hiss, your voice trembling with the force of your impending release.Â
A dark chuckle escapes him, and he slams into you harder, the movement sending you both crashing further into the abyss of sensation. Each thrust drives you higher, the pressure in your core building, threatening to shatter you into a million pieces. His movements are wild, erratic, and yet thereâs a precision to them, a calculated determination to make you lose control before he does. But youâre not about to give in easily, not when the taste of victory is so close.
âFaster,â you demand, your voice edged with desperation, and the way his eyes flash with something primal tells you heâs just as close to the edge as you are.
He obliges, his pace becoming almost brutal as he pounds into you, the sound of your name falling from his lips like a curse, like a prayer. âFuck, you feel so good,â he groans, his voice cracking with the intensity of it all. âIâm going to ruin you.â
âIâm sure youâd love to,â you manage to choke out, but the words are barely coherent, your mind a haze of pleasure as he drives you closer and closer to oblivion.
And then he reaches down, his thumb finding your clit, circling it with just enough pressure to send you spiraling. The sudden, overwhelming sensation makes you cry out, your body arching against him as your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, drowning you in bliss.
Eris isnât far behind, the feeling of you tightening around him pushing him over the edge. He buries himself deep inside you, his own release ripping through him with a ferocity that leaves him shaking, a guttural moan escaping his lips as he finds his own release, the tension thatâs been coiled so tightly between you finally snapping.
For a moment, neither of you moves, the only sound in the room is ragged breathing as you both come down from the high. His forehead rests against yours, his breath hot against your lips, and for a fleeting moment, the war between you seems to fade, leaving only the raw, unfiltered connection that this moment has forged.
But itâs only a moment.
âDonât think this changes anything,â you murmur, your voice still breathless but laced with that familiar defiance.
Eris chuckles softly, the sound a mix of exhaustion and satisfaction. âOh, I wouldnât dream of it,â he replies, though thereâs a softness to his voice that wasnât there before, a hint of something more beneath the layers of antagonism.
#eris vanserra#eris vanserra x reader#eris vanserra x reader smut#eris vanserra smut#acotar smut#acotar#acotar fanfic
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THE ACT OF SPITE
â satan x f! reader MC feat. lucifer
syn: The Avatar of Wrath knows just what would infuriate the prideful demon the mostâthat is, fucking you against the door to Luciferâs secret office, all while heâs inside it.
18+ MDNI; nsfw, smut, exhibitionism, semi-public sex (inside the HoL library), unprotected sex, creampie, masturbation (m), horny luci, satan being a lil shit to lucifer, pet name (darling), not proofread.
word count: 1.9k
notes: divider: cafekitsune. hello! this is a repost. this fic was previously posted on my old deactivated account so iâm not plagiarising anyone. enjoy :>
this was wrong. sinful. lewd. hell, those words were far beyond what you and satan were doing right this very momentâthere werenât any words to describe how naughty your actions were but with every single thrust of the fourth-bornâs hips, those thoughts of hesitancy slowly slipped from your mind. buried with the surge of lust clouding your thoughts as satanâs pace didnât let up, not even once. his hips pushing into your own with such drive, and desperation that your lower back painfully digs further into the edges of the shelves.
thatâs right. you were inside the library, most importantly, your back flush against the door to luciferâs secret officeâsatan made sure of it. the worst part wasnât even having sex in the library, it was the fact that you two were doing it right outside luciferâs private study while heâs inside. oh, satan has seen the way his eldest brother looks at you with intent. the way luciferâs scarlet eyes hungrily trace your figure with each opportunity he gets, not even trying to hide the fact that heâs practically eye-fucking you. satan still remembers the swirling storm inside him, the anger that bubbled at the pit of his stomach from the way his older brother eyed you. now, he just canât help but remind lucifer who you belonged to.
the soft ember glow from the fireplace cast the side of satanâs handsome face, sweat glimmering from the fire, painting the colours of the sunset upon his fair skinâgolden hair that stuck to his forehead tinged with streaks of reds and oranges; emerald irises full of lust mixed with a scarlet hue, his features fading into an angry red. wrath. you were sure thatâs what he was feeling, he always did. your nails dug into the fabric of his shoulders, legs wrapped around his slender waist tightening with every jolt of your body. âs-satanâah!â you moaned, heated and desperate just how he liked it. the corner of his mouth tugged upward, satan was sure that your erotic sounds were loud enough to reach the other side of the door. enough to disrupt lucifer from his work.
satan bit his lip from the way you felt around him, your warm walls hugging his cock so tightly, so deliciously that it made his emerald eyes roll to the back of his head. he knew he wasnât going to last much longer with how you squeezed him, and that was fine but he needed to make the most of itâhe needed you to be louder. satanâs nails painfully dug into the edge of the bookshelf, heavy balls slapping your ass with every thrust of his hips. arousal dripped down to his balls, creating wet noises that filled your earsâa white ring forming at the base of his cock. fuck, it was naughty. the vast library was filled with yourâs and satanâs sounds mixed with wet squelches, and the crackling of fire. you didnât need to worry about being caught by the other brothers; belphegor was up in the attic, fast asleep, and leviathan was having a TSL marathon while the rest of them had gone out, leaving satan and lucifer down here.
thud. thud. thud. the door to luciferâs secret office cried from satanâs unwavering pace. inside the private study, a blanket of blush covered luciferâs face, cheeks heating up from the obvious activity happening outside the room. he didnât know whether to curse his younger brother for vexing him like this, or to feel flustered at the lewd noises coming from your throatâthe way you cry out satanâs name every now and then with such desperation, such passion that he almost wished it was his name rolling off your tongue. that he was the one making you feel pleasured. luciferâs free hand curled into a fist, the papers beneath his palm crinkling at the movement. the tent in his pants grew with every sound you made, erotic images of you clouding his mind; imagining the way your brows furrow in pleasure, lips parted, completely lost in lust.
luciferâs heart pounded against his chest, the half-done report before him sprawled on his desk, already forgotten. âsatan. . what will i do with you. . ?â his voice was quiet but it seethed with fury. he knew his younger brother disliked him but not to the extent of fucking you right outside his private study. lucifer didnât exactly know what satan gained from . . this but he wasnât surprised with how territorial his brother was. especially when it came to you. the thuds of the door mixed with your heated moans engulfed luciferâs ears. he didnât even notice his eyes were closedârelishing in your soundsâuntil he snapped them open, startled from the wooden ink pen breaking in half from the tight grip.
dropping the broken pen on the desk, he leaned back into his chair, placing a forearm atop his closed eyes while the other rested on his thigh. it tingled. his palm tingled against his clothed thigh, as if urging him to do something about the growing problem at the apex of his legsâurging him to relieve himself with the help of your sounds. it wouldnât hurt anyone, right? merely fisting himself at the thought of you wasnât going to be the most sinful thing heâs done. lucifer had already committed the gravest sin of his life, it led to his downfall. this is nothing.
back in the library, your soft moans didnât satisfy satan, he needed more from you. removing his hands from the shelf behind you, satan snaked them down to your ass, palms flat against the heated bare skin. a string of loud moans and curses left your parted lips as he bounced you on his cock. âo-oh myâfuck . .! aah! just like that, satan!â ây-yeah? you like that?â satanâs lips ghosted over your own before sealing you into a kiss. the kiss was messy, spit coating the corners of your mouths, teeth clashingâhe chased your parted lips with every bounce of your body. satan made sure not to swallow your whimpers down, he needed lucifer to hear how good he was making you feel. he needed lucifer to know that heâs the only one who can make you moan like this.
your eyes rolled to the back of your head, bottom lip trapped between your teeth from pure bliss. the slight change in angle enabled his cock to reach much deeper into you, allowing you to feel every ridge when you clenched around him. satanâs cock had a slight curve to it, and the way it repeatedly hit your cervix over and over again made it more pleasurableâsending electrifying shocks up your spine. goosebumps formed under the fourth-bornâs lips as he pressed open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, and down the side of your sweaty neckâsucking and biting at the supple skin, leaving a hues of dark red and purple. satan marvelled at the masterpiece peppered on your skin before licking a long, flat stripe up your neck and nibbling at the lobe of your ear.
he didnât shy away from groaning directly into your ear, harsh pants escaping his parted lips, mixed with broken, endless praises. satan knew the effect his voice had on you, especially when he sung praises to youâhe didnât miss the way you squeezed around him with every praise muttered into your ear. he cursed at the pleasure, a heated gasp and a desperate whisper of your name coming from him. this spurred him on, harshly bouncing you on his cock with all his strengthâyou swear heâs about to leave handprints on your ass with how hard heâs gripping them.
it was getting too much, you could feel the coil deep in your stomach beginning to unravel. your body grew limp from pleasure, simply leaning onto satanâs front and letting him have his way with you. all you could really do was cry out his name and run your nails down his clothed back. satan groaned, relishing at the way your moans travelled straight to his earâspecs of white slowly clouded his vision, and his fingers dug into the supple flesh of your ass. he was close. âs-satanângh! fuck fuck fuck! âm cumming!â broken shallow pants left your lips. holding his emerald gaze, lids heavy with lust, âthatâs itâhaah! let go for me, my darling.â satan breathed out, knees buckling from pleasure. he was close too.
leaning against the other side of the door was lucifer, pants unbuttoned, and pulled down just enough to take his cock out. his wrist between was between his teeth to muffle moans as he fisted his cock to your sounds. it was heavenly, even the angels up at the celestial realm couldnât compare to the way your voice sounded. he let out harsh breaths, each one shaky from how his fingers curled around his hard cock. lucifer teased the sensitive slit with his thumb, knees almost giving in from the immense pleasure. with his back against the door, he could hear things much betterâthe skin slapping, the wet noises, the heated gasps, all of it. how lewd but lucifer didnât care, he had one thing in mind: cumming. he sped up the pace, synching it with your shallow pants and hoping to reach his orgasm the same time as you.
both of you sung in unison, cries of pleasure filling the entire library as you reached your orgasm. your legs tightened around satanâs waist, every muscle in your body turning taut as shocks of hot, white pleasure ran throughout your body, making your toes curl. satan let out one last cry of your name before sheathing his cock deep inside you and letting goâthick ribbons of white shamelessly painting your insides as he came. he rode out both your orgasms by giving you shallow thrusts, fucking his cum deeper, and earning a small whimper from you.
lucifer couldnât believe himselfâhe came to the sound of you desperately moaning his younger brotherâs name. white, hot liquid dripped coated his digits and down to his wrist; chest heaving up and down, attempting to catch his breath. lucifer stayed that way for a while, leaning against the door to try and compose himself as his head spun with pleasure. his lust-clouded mind soon cleared, pleasure that coursed through his body faded into fury. he was seething with rageâenough for satan to smell the scent of wrath. his brother dared to disrespect his private space, not only that but also by performing such a brazen act.
he knew. lucifer knew this was just to spite him, that was part of satanâs personalityâto defy, and vex him. it was fine, he handled everything satan threw his way but using you? oh, thatâs a whole different story. lucifer felt like satan has got him wrapped around his finger with how he practically jumped at the opportunity to fist himself to your sounds. it mocked himâputting him in his place, and letting him know that he was never going to experience the pleasure of being inside you because you were satanâs.
satan smirked into the kiss as he caught a whiff of the familiar smell that emanated from the other side of the doorâthe smell of wrath. the essence that he was more than familiar with; the essence that embodied his very own existence. pulling away from the kiss, his emerald eyes traced your features, giving your sweaty forehead a chaste kiss, âyou did so well.â satan breathed, eyes glimmering with adoration. you didnât miss the hint of mischief behind it, though.
but before you could reply, satan parted his lips to speak once again, a smug look on his handsome face,
âisnât that right, lucifer?â
#âËà· YUE WRITES!#satan#obey me#satan smut#satan x reader#satan x you#satan x y/n#obey me smut#obey me x reader#obey me x you#obey me x y/n#smut#mdni
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hiii can i pls request shy!reader where eddie teaches her guitar but she keeps getting distracted by her crush on him and then they confess to each other đ„° idk I'm just obsessed with eddie and guitars in general haha
ty for requesting!! â in which eddie calls his two favorite things sweetheart, his guitar and you (friends to lovers, fluff, 1.7k)
bug's summer fic fest (â êâ áŽâ êâ )
Eddieâs bedroom is heavy with an early summer heat. Thereâs one square window above his bed where the golden hour sun filters through directly. It spotlights the guitar hanging above his dresser, sparkling with bits of swirling dust in the air.Â
âSorry Iâm late, sweetheart,â Eddie greets the instrument, as though it were a real thing with feelings. You idle behind him and watch in the mirror as he kisses two of his fingers and presses them to the strings. A crooked smirk sits lazily on his mouth at the graceless sound it makes.
âIs that its name?â you joke in a mousy voice, clammy hands wringing as thoughts of nonbelonging strangle you. You feel utterly out of place here, in this mess of boyish chaos â with heavy metal posters of bands you donât know and movie prints with references you donât recognize.Â
The boy standing beneath it all turns to face you. He looks at you with the smile he always looks at you with â distant, pink, and quiet â like he doesnât even know itâs there. And you feel at home all over again.
âHuh?â Eddie chuckles.
âSweetheart,â you add.
âSure,â he shrugs, scratching at the wild curls coiled at the nape of his neck. Another laugh sputters from his smiling mouth. âMight as well be, I guess. Iâve been callinâ her that since I got her.â
âOh⊠Itâs a she now, too?â
Thereâs a foreign twinkle in your sheepish gaze. A mischievous sort of glint Eddie only gets to see when youâre feeling brave enough to show it to him â comfortable enough, anyway. It makes his chest warm with pride, knowing heâs cracking away at the shell you so often hide behind.
âUh-huh,â Eddie cajoles, nodding as he scrunches the bridge of his nose. With his hands on his leans hips, he walks the short distance to you. His sneakers sound heavy on the worn carpet. âSheâs got all the features of a beautiful woman, too, you know? Strong but delicate. Easy to understand when you get to know her, but always slightly complicated in her own way.â
You forget to blink until heâs looming over you. Until his towering form blocks the flow of the tiny fan whirring on his desk. Until you can smell the pine of his cologne and the mint of his aftershave with every trembling inhale.
The petaled smirk on his rosy mouth makes your breath catch. His dark eyes are round like buttons, and they glimmer like melted chocolate as he peers down at you â like heâs talking to you directly.Â
You feel utterly see-through beneath his unwavering stare. With your heart in your throat, you turn away. âWell, youâd know better than me, I guess,â you falter, voice trembling as you force a breathy laugh.Â
Eddie doesnât seem nearly as fazed by the proximity. His eyes narrow in a challenging squint. âWanna learn how to play?â
You flash him a wide-eyed stare in response. A distant smile wavers at the edges of your mouth âcause you figure he must be joking. Eddie only grins in response, raising his brows in an expectant look, and you cower all over again.
âOh, I⊠I donât⊠I donât know,â you stammer hopelessly and twist your anxious hands into a knot. âI donât think I have, you know, theâ the deftness for it or whateverâŠâ
Eddie scoffs a faint laugh and steps back from you. He plucks the instrument from the wall in a few short steps. âWell, how about we just pretend I know what that word means while I teach you?â he jokes with the guitar cradled in an expert hand.Â
His rings match the silver strings and the metal dials you donât recognize. The black paint pairs well with his leather jacket, and the cracked scarlet pattern with his Hellfire tee. It looks like it was crafted with only him in mind.Â
The mattress squeaks under his weight when he plops along the edge of it.
You shift on your feet in front of him, visibly unsure. âI donât wanna break it,â you fret.
âYouâre not gonna break it,â Eddie laughs with a smile that reveals all his teeth. He tosses his chin back to shake wild curls from his face, then squints solemnly at you. âUnless youâve got, like, some kinda super-strength I donât know about⊠Youâre not a superhero, are you?â
You tilt your cheek to your shoulder in a sheepish look. âI can neither confirm nor deny,â you answer in a sarcastic murmur.
âHm. Thatâs exactly what a superhero would sayâŠâ he teases, just to make you laugh, then smiles as he pats the bed beside him. âHere. Câmon. Sit down.â
Despite your better judgment, you sit in the spare spot next to him. The mattress is hard beneath you, worsened by your inability to get comfortable with Eddieâs body so close to yours. It makes you tense, so aware of yourself and him and this moment.
You keep a couple measured inches between you, which Eddie closes with little effort. His thigh presses to your thigh as he ushers the guitar into your lap. He maneuvers himself behind you, with an arm wormed around your back, so heâs got your left hand in his. His chest is flush against your shoulder. His wild curls tickle your neck. You have to remind yourself to breathe.
âPut your hands⊠like thisâŠâ Eddie mumbles as he guides your fingers over the neck of the guitar. When heâs set them in a stair-step pattern over the strings, he ducks his head to look at you. His wide eyes dart over your face. âThat feel good?â
You nod wordlessly, skin buzzing under his touch.
âGood. Now, all you have to do is strum.â
You lift your wrist and hope he doesnât notice how your hand shakes. Your fingers brush the steel strings. A quiet, distorted noise fills the quiet bedroom.Â
Eddie grins wide despite your feeble attempt. âSee? Youâve already got the hardest part down,â he beams. When you donât laugh at his futile effort to make you laugh, his smile wavers. âHey⊠You can relax, you know? Sweetheartâs not gonna bite you.â
âNo, I know,â you waver, then remember to breathe.
âThen whyâs it feel like Iâm sittinâ next to a rock?â
ââCause this is, like, your most prized possession,â you laugh. âAnd Iâm⊠the clumsiest person on the earth, and youâre letting me touch it anyway.â
ââCause youâre my second most prized possession,â Eddie quips.
You meet his smile with a knowing squint. âYou donât own me, Eds.â
His eyes narrow similarly. âDonât act like youâre not flattered.âÂ
His breath fans across your cheek at the proximity. A dizzying concoction of nicotine and spearmint gum. Your eyes flit to his lips, for a flicker of a moment, and you realize heâs close now enough to kiss.Â
Something about it makes you panic. Words spill from your mouth in stumbled rambles accordingly. âI justâ I know Iâm not gonna be any good at it, and itâs just gonna be a huge waste of time for both of us, soââ
Eddie scoffs. âIf you donât wanna spend time with me, you coulda just said.â
The mattress squeaks when he starts to shift away from you. His chest moves off your shoulder and leaves you cold, even in the suffocating humidity. Your heart wrenches. âItâs not thatâ donât go,â you plead in a tiny voice.
Eddie, who hadnât really wanted to leave in the first place, gravitates to you again with little effort. âSo you do wanna spend time with me?â he wonders, equal parts teasing and searching for assurance.
You swallow hard, then nod.
âJust, maybe, without the guitar?â Eddie presses.
âI think weâd both be better off if I just watched you play it, honestly.â
âOoh,â the boy croons, brows bouncing beneath his fluffy bangs. âSo you like to watch, huh?â
Your eyes roll. âDonât be daft.â
Eddie laughs and presses himself against you again â chest against your back, arm against your arm. âHere. Câmon. Just try again, alright? For me.â You let him guide your hand back to the neck of the guitar. His warm, ringed fingers cradle your own. âPut your fingers likeâ there you go. Look at that, youâre a pro already.â
He tries to bite back a smile at the look you give him. He fails.
âAlright, nowâŠâ he trails off, shifting impossibly closer until heâs flush with the right side of your body. âTry not to be so scared, alright? Sweetheart can sense fear, so just⊠Act natural.â
You exhale a wavering breath. When Eddie feels you relax against him, he tells you, âNow strum againâŠâ
You twist your wrist and bring your fingers down in a motion that feels more natural this time. The sound that fills the bedroom, then, is much more pleasant than the one that came before it.
âAt this rate, youâll be better than me within the year,â Eddie muses.
You squint and try not to smile. âDonât patronize me.â
âIâm serious!â he argues, laughing despite himself. âYouâre a fast learner! With some proper lessons, you could do my Master of Puppets solo in no timeâ with your eyes closed.â
âLessons?â you echo, brows pinched.
âYeah,â Eddie shrugs and tries to play it cool. âI mean⊠You might have to come over from time to time. You know, so I can show you the ropes and everything, but⊠After a few months together, Iâm sure youâll be a total professional.â
You know exactly what heâs playing at. The notion makes your heart thrum hard against your ribcage.
âWell, what about after a few months?â you tease with a quiet smile. âWhat then?â
Eddieâs eyes flit to the ceiling for a moment as he ponders the question. âI donât know⊠You keep coming around, I guess? And I make you the best damn guitarist this side of Indianaâs ever seen?â
A beam blossoms on your lips despite your attempts to keep it hidden. âThen I guess Iâll stick around.â
âGood,â Eddie grins.
âGood,â you parrot.
It takes you a second too long to realize heâs leaning in to kiss you. By the time you notice, his eyes are already fluttering shut and the tip of his nose is nearing yours. Your eyes widen. Your breath catches. You lick your lips in anticipation.Â
You forget yourself too quickly, though, and your hand falls lazily against the strings of the guitar in your lap. You can feel the funny, distorted sound in your chest. Your heart lurches at the sudden noise, and you flinch back from the boy in front of you.
You sigh a second later, mourning the missed moment.Â
Eddie chuckles to himself, cheeks flushed. âTold ya she could sense fear.â
#published by bug#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#stranger things x reader#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson#stranger things imagine#stranger things#stranger things fic#stranger things fanfiction#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fic#st drabbles#eddie spaghetti drabble#event: summer fic fest '24
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