#technicolor-chocolate

[nova2cosmos]

Gonna give metatheater a big ol kiss and a cup of hot cocoa

MDPAU Bad Sanses Belongs To Me General Lunatic Story - Reference Previous Asks-Next Asks

[susartwork]

I wanna draw the data trio (File accept, File deny, and Basic) together but I don't have any ideas

Do you have any?

First off omg thanks if you're gonna draw my boy with 'em! (≧▽≦)

And to answer your question, here's some ideas: - Power Rangers pose. - They cosplay something or wear pretty clothes together. - Them trying to hack into Area 51 files.

[artistoons-blog-thing]

What's your favorite kind of candy?

I'm not sure which one is my favorite, but I like Hershey's chocolate, KitKats, and Twix

[shoutmonishere]

Hey mon green tea is supposed to smell like cigarettes right

(context: my throats sore and there's like a 50% chance I'm sick and I made tea. I put honey in it because why not. I'm pretty sure I've burnt the honey)

NO?!????

GREEN TEA ISN'T SUPPOSED TO SMELL LIKE CIGARETTES—

WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU BURNT THE HONEY—

[wonkastarshine]

hello this is just a reminder that Wonka’s coat on the dvd was purple and therefore it is headcannon he owns the same coat in many colors

[blinky-of-an-eye]

✒️Aughhh, okay, I’m literally so so so excited to share this with you all!! Bones has been helping me make a group shot of our little subsystem, and I’m absolutely delighted to tell you it’s finally done!! They did such a great job helping me, and I’m going to cry-🖋

[shoutmonishere]

This look and sounds about right hshshs

Important fact 1:

the Digimon franchise has a tradition of “failure” digimon, who were poorly raised or so over-eager to achieve a more impressive evolution that they badly screw it up and evolve into sometimes literal trash:

Important fact 2:

a lot of other Digimon, regardless of what they originally are, evolve into them big titty anime wifes:

Conclusion:

these two things are more than 20 years overdue to intersect and here is my hastily doodled idea:

[ktempestbradford]

I have been on a Willy Wonkified journey today and I need y'all to come with me

It started so innocently. Scrolling Google News I come across this article on Ars Technica:

At first glance I thought what happened was parents saw AI-generated images of an event their kids were at and became concerned, then realized it was fake. The reality? Oh so much better.

On Saturday, event organizers shut down a Glasgow-based "Willy's Chocolate Experience" after customers complained that the unofficial Wonka-inspired event, which took place in a sparsely decorated venue, did not match the lush AI-generated images listed on its official website.... According to Sky News, police were called to the event, and "advice was given."

Thing is, the people who paid to go were obviously not expecting exactly this:

But I can see how they'd be a bit pissed upon arriving to this:

It gets worse.

"Tempest, how could it possibly--"

source of this video that also includes this charming description:

Made up a villain called The Unknown — 'an evil chocolate maker who lives in the walls'

There is already a meme.

Oh yes, the Wish.com Oompa Loompa:

Who has already done an interview!

As bad (and hilarious) as this all is, I got curious about the company that put on this event. Did they somehow overreach? Did the actors they hired back out at the last minute? (Or after they saw the script...) Oddly enough, it doesn't seem so!

Given what I found when poking around I'm legit surprised there was an event at all. Cuz this outfit seems to be 100% a scam.

The website for this specific event is here and it has many AI generated images on it, as stated. I don't think anyone who bought tickets looked very closely at these images, otherwise they might have been concerned about how much Catgacating their children would be exposed to.

Yes, Catgacating. You know, CATgacating!

I personally don't think anyone should serve exarserdray flavored lollipops in public spaces given how many people are allergic to it. And the sweet teats might not have been age appropriate.

Though the Twilight Tunnel looks pretty cool:

I'm not sure that Dim Tight Twdrding is safe. I've also been warned that Vivue Sounds are in that weird frequency range that makes you poop your pants upon hearing them.

Yes, Virginia, these folks used an AI image generator for everything on the website and used Chat GPT for some of the text! From the FAQ:

Q: I cannot go on the available days. Will you have more dates in the future? A: Should there be capacity when you arrive, then you will be able to enter without any problems. In the event that this is not the case, we may ask you to wait a bit.

Fear not, for this question is asked again a few lines down and the answer makes more sense.

Curious about the events company behind this disaster, I took myself over to the homepage of House of Illuminati and I was not disappointed.

I would 100% trust these people to plan my wedding.

This abomination of a website is a badly edited WordPress blog filled with AI art and just enough blog posts to make the casual viewer think that it's a legit business for about 0.0004 seconds.

Their attention to detail is stunning, from how they left up the default first post every WP blog gets to how they didn't bother changing the name on several images, thus revealing where they came from. Like this one:

With the lovely and compact filename "DALL·E-2024-01-30-09.50.54-Imagine-a-scene-where-fantasy-and-reality-merge-seamlessly.-In-the-foreground-a-grand-interactive-gala-is-taking-place-filled-with-elegant-guests-i.png"

"Concept.png" came from the same AI generator that gets text almost, but not quiiiiiite right:

There are a suspicious number of .webp images in the uploads, which makes me think they either stole them from other sites where AI "art" was uploaded or they didn't want to pay for the hi-res versions of some and just grabbed the preview image.

The real fun came when I noticed this filename: Before-and-After-Eventologists-Transformation-Edgbaston-Cricket-Ground-1024x1024-1.jpg and decided to do a Google image search. Friends, you will be shocked to hear that the image in question, found on this post touting how they can transform a boring warehouse into a fun event space, was stolen from this actual event planner.

Even better, this weirdly grainy image?

From a post that claims to be about the preparations for a "Willy Wonka" experience (we'll get to this in a minute), is not only NOT an actual image of anyone preparing anything for Illuminati's event, it is stolen from a YouTube thumbnail that's been chopped to remove the name of the company that actually made this. Here's the video.

If you actually read the blog posts they're all copypasta or some AI generated crap. To the point where this seems like not a real business at all. There's very specific business information at the bottom, but nothing else seems real.

As I said, I'm kinda surprised they put on an event at all. This has, "And then they ran off with all our money!" written all over it. I'm perplexed.

And also wondering when the copyright lawyers are gonna start calling, because...

This post explicitly says they're putting together a "Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory Experience" complete with golden tickets.

Somewhere along the line someone must have wised up, because the actual event was called "Willys Chocolate Experience" (note the lack of apostrophe) and the script they handed to the actors about 10 minutes before they were supposed to "perform" was about a "Willy McDuff" and his chocolate factory.

As I was going through this madness with friends in a chat, one pointed out that it took very little prompting to get the free Chat GPT to spit out an event description and such very similar to all this while avoiding copyrighted phrases. But he couldn't figure out where the McDuff came from since it wasn't the type of thing GPT would usually spit out...

Until he altered the prompt to include it would be happening in Glasgow, Scotland.

You cannot make this stuff up.

But truly, honestly, I do not even understand why they didn't take the money and run. Clearly this was all set up to be a scam. A lazy, AI generated scam.

Everything from the website to the event images to the copy to the "script" to the names of things was either stolen or AI generated (aka stolen). Hell, I'd be looking for some poor Japanese visitor wandering the streets of Glasgow, confused, after being jacked for his mascot costume.

HE LIVES IN THE WALLS, Y'ALL.

[braaan]

Sunday Best (w/ Eunseo)

male reader & wjsn eunseo

fluff & smut, 3k words

As far as you’ve rationalized, it doesn’t make any sense.

For starters, you and Eunseo have been together since high school, and this is far from the first time she’s been in your apartment.

The first time, hours after a mutual friend’s birthday party gets cut short, Eunseo’s throwing up in your bathroom. It’s a tale as old as time: the Friday night of a long weekend, way too many groupchats, high school bravado kneecapped by Fireball shooters — it’s messy, and senior year. You get you’re her boyfriend’d into nursing her back to life, and one grueling night shift later, she’s under your covers while you’re trying to get comfy on your small-for-sitting futon. And despite how early she’s up the next morning, between the still warm almond croissants on your countertop, the deep hug she pulls you into before you can drum up anything sarcastic, and how much better your basketball shorts sit on her waistline — drawstring double-knotted, waistband rolled all the way up — it’s hard to stay mad.

Another time, you’re coming back from date night, and before the front door even closes in on you two, she’s walking your apartment’s perimeter, pulling out supplies from a backpack. You’re trailing her, trying to simultaneously close the distance she covers and read the tiny labels on household items she leaves in her wake. Before long, there’s not a countertop unmarked by these tiny rubber characters (“They’re called SMISKIs”), all of your spaces start to predominantly smell like daisies, and you don’t recognize half of the brands in your bathroom. Any other time: you’d say something. Any other time: you’d stand up for yourself; puff your chest into the slight height difference. Any other time Eunseo wasn’t reappearing from your bedroom in a tiny cotton shirt and all eight inches of these plaid blue pajama shorts: yeah, you’d draw your boundaries.

Sometime after that, in the lull of quiet comfort and work from home, her legs are in your lap as you both bat away questions on individual video calls. Difference couldn’t be any more stark. Twelve minutes into your morning meeting, in between unmutes of your desktop microphone, you’ve tallied up a total of twenty words, and have entertained a serious-and-three-quarters imagination about where else you could call into this — your camera’s off, after all. Eunseo’s your in-office foil: her chocolate hair freshly straightened, her baby blue button up perm pressed, her small talk status quo. Eunseo’s full of shit. Just off camera, unobvious in her digital four walls, she hasn’t changed out of your heather gray boxer shorts she wore to bed.

So, really:

It’s not the first time you’ve seen Eunseo wake up in a pair of shorts.

It doesn’t make any rational sense how much it still gets a reaction out of you.

--

Granted, it’s an unreal view.

The sun hurries through your curtains to pool around her feet, daybreak serving as stepping stones as she pads to your en suite. Golden yellow melts into her milk chocolate hair, spinning already light browns into shades of almond and sand between sunlit highlights. A breeze picks up through the fabric, and the light breaks. One moment she’s haloed, cast in sunlight, all of her curves etched in radiance; the next, momentarily obscured, a dream in soft-focus, half-glimpsed and inviting whole-yearning. From where you’re propped up on your elbows, she flickers in and out of reality and reverie, real-deal and daydream. She’s a light show in slow motion, superposition between technicolor and transfiguration; sunkiss and shadow in perfect ballet, catching an everyday angel between the light that loves her and pockets of beautiful mystery that make her all the more alluring.

All of this to Eunseo: her morning routine.

She walks without hesitation. Even when it’s mundane, there’s a tangible confidence in the way she sprays sea salt into her hair, carding her fingers through her roots.

It’s the one thing that threw you for a loop about her, really: for a long time, you were waiting for the character to drop. Blended between candor and how you’d be able to read anything just off of her facial expression, Eunseo was headstrong, and always heart first. Early into your relationship, it was unnerving. Younger yous bounced between bouts of ‘wow, that’s frank’ and ‘what are you compensating for?’. You got where you were in life — to you: where most people didn’t — by never playing all your cards, and here Eunseo was all the same, hand face up on the table.

Though it doesn’t take you too long to eventually admit that forward is sexy.

It’s in the way she asks for what she wants, unbothered by the answer, discarding pretense and step-by-step; it’s in the way she’ll take the lead without warning, showing up after work at your lobby to take you on a night she’s pre-planned; it’s in the way that — because on the weekend, you wake up on her time — she’s six feet away from you, tip-toed, peeling at the curtains: all the way stretched out.

And outlined in daylight, you don’t miss a detail.

For starters, her shirt’s way too small. It’s this light material: cheap white cotton that curls in on itself at the hem. And as she reaches out at the Roman shades, revealing more and more skin, you can explore all the small of her back, run imaginary hands along where her shirt stops, down the soft line where skin kisses spine. You can trace your thumbs at the space just above her hips, skirting shapes at her waistline, dancing just above the navy soccer shorts Eunseo wore in tenth grade, faded far from school colors, and tiny as hell.

You could sit there for hours — you’d find new angles to obsess over.

You get half a beat.

“It’s rude to stare, you know?”

And in one motion, Eunseo closes the distance between where she was and where you sit, quickly cross-legged on your comforter.

“And even ruder to have fun,” she starts, patting the blankets grouped around your waist, “all by yourself.”

“Fuck off,” you spit, batting away at her forearm. The blood runs to your cheeks, and your ears are hot. “You might as well be wearing nothing — what am I supposed to do?”

Looking at you through her fringes, the edges of her lips pulling into the start of a smile, she doesn’t need any words — it’s a brutally honest admission.

“You’re saying,” she whispers, “it’s these you like?” Both of your eyes flick to where her hands find the trim of her shorts, tracing the stitching at her thigh, following a runaway stripe with a fingernail — matte white, all insidious, and teasingly slow.

“Eunseo,” you try again flatly. “Fuck,” and there’s a pause here, implicit now anything but, “off.” 

Which would be half convincing if you could take your eyes off of her legs.

You’re tracing her thigh in your head, filling the toned crease with your gaze, painting Eunseo’s legs with attention.

She leans into you, and makes it hard to think. Your thoughts are cloudy; in the moment. Nothing becomes more top of mind than the smell of daisies.

There’s a half beat.

Then a whisper against your lips: “Tell me what you like.”

Forward is so fucking sexy.

Kissing Eunseo is like fire: hot, and all at once. She’s running her hands under your shirt, snaking her legs under your stomach; she’s whimpering against your bottom lip, redirecting your hands onto her chest; she’s running her tongue against your teeth, wedging herself square in all of your focus — you’re trying to keep up.

You’re kneading at her chest through cotton, creating new creases, feeling the bud of her nipple get hard in your hands.

You’re tugging at her t-shirt, stretching fabric out of form.

You’re molding Aphrodite — palming, gripping, shaping. Sculpting divinity on earth called for hours of sanctification, and you were here to worship.

Eunseo’s like putty to it all — so sensitive, and pliant at your fingertips. She’s moaning at your mouth, then whispering praises. Hushed against your lips: more, more, more, more, more.

You blink life back into your eyes, and magnetically, inherent like gravity, they fall onto hers. Filled with the night sky — wine-dark, galaxy-wide, abyssal, fully oblivion — even now: hooded, sultry, and all shades of dangerous, they felt inevitable, like they were where yours belonged. They beckoned — like they were written in all of your universes, like all the right roads led back to them.

And it’s like Eunseo reads your mind, because all of a sudden: she’s scarlet, a very red blush dancing across her cheeks.

“Okay, pretty boy,” she starts, catching her breath. Then, gathering her hair into a ponytail: “I’m going to blow your mind.”

And without hesitation, because you’re still stuck in ten seconds ago: “You look so cute.”

And because now she has to: “I’m already going to put you in my mouth, you don’t have to flatter me anymore.”

--

Eunseo’s flipped over, her cunt inches from your lips, drawing lines along your length with her tongue. And you’d return the favor quicker, if not for how mesmerizingly methodical she was. You’re catching glimpses of bits and pieces in the negative space between your bodies. Through her t-shirt: a flash of the flat of her tongue as she reaches the tip of your cockhead, her white nails replacing her mouth around your shaft at the top of her dips, her pretty pink pout — how they all disappear as she takes your cock down her throat. She knows all your soft spots — what you like; where you like it — and always gave you what you loved.

It feels like it all makes sense -

Your hips bucking into her mouth on her downbeats, the saccharine song she starts humming mid-bob, the precum-stained kisses she’s leaving along your length in legato, the half-notes they send across your nervous system -

- all of you feels like it rhythmically belongs together.

“Eunseo,” you manage to grit out, and you feel her smirk against your cock.

You can narrate it in your head. Hm? she’s goading, minxy moxie maxed out. This is all it takes to make you cum? There’s a half-choke — a rough buck of your hips. Fingers curl around your shaft — the hum she has in the back of her throat picks up. A little bit of your cock in my mouth? You’re like a tuning fork to it all. You’re dizzy.

And you’d probably die then and there, if not for the last resort of your tongue on Eunseo’s cunt.

It’s one of the only things that levels her, really.

All the build up is cut in half, tempo slowed down to a grind as you swipe long, breathy flicks of your tongue on Eunseo’s pretty pussy. You’re pacing yourself against a water droplet–rhythm in your head. Arms hooked around her thighs, thumbs tracing circles counterclockwise on her skin -

Down.

Build.

Up.

Down.

Swell.

Up.

It’s unholy the noise she makes next.

Too adorable to just leave hanging.

“Look at you, Eunseo,” you taunt, where the start of a stanza would go, and then drop back into cadence — no air for her to respond — tongue back on her slit. 

And against against your mouth, it’s almost like all of the candor is causal — all the forwardness just carefully-crafted camouflage to get you on her cunt — because reduced down to a mewling mess, white-knuckle around your bedsheets, spine arching to get even closer to the flat of your tongue, there is no back talk. Eunseo was yours, her cunt was all yours, and she was so willing to follow.

Doubling your efforts on her heat, lapping against her little pussy, tracing a thumb around her clit -

“Baby,” she whines.

- Eunseo knows she’s coming undone.

And in this full-on, two-part second that you’re completely lucid to -

- she does.

At first, it’s like time’s frozen. You can feel her tense up under your breath, cheat one last gulp of air, tighten her thighs against your forearms.

Then, everything’s in fast forward. Eunseo unravels. She’s scrambling on polyester, looking for a hold, any grip to support her through how hard she’s cumming on your tongue. The words caught in her throat catch up to her, and all the way through her high, she’s conjoining cuss words, peaking into falsetto as you line kisses along her cunt. Son Eunseo melts against you, onto you, unwound and fully fucked.

But never enough to return the favor.

Gracefully sensual, she straddles you, catching herself on your chest, sitting square on your hips, parking up against your length — you’re caught off guard by the sharks.

Plastered against Eunseo’s shirt: an elementary guide to enough shark species to line anyone’s trivia back pocket — Whale, Great White, Mako, Tiger, Basking -

And because now she has to: “My eyes are up here, perv.”

And without hesitation, because this time that’s genuinely low: “Oh, fuck you.”

And not a beat after that, right against your lips, and riding further up your cock: “You only wish.”

Eunseo’s mouth is on yours, and then so’s her tongue. And as she’s exploring your chest with her palms, thumbing at your nipples, you can only smile. You don’t know why you doubted yourself: with Eunseo, there’s no way anything’s a character.

There’s a beat that you both take, and in the next, there’s a shirt over your face.

You’re blinded, covered in SHEIN sheer, and — instincts taking over — you reach your hands out to grab at anything.

You find Eunseo’s waist as she takes you in her pussy.

It’s hot, it’s tight, it’s needy. She’s getting you both back on beat, picking up the pace, up-and-down on your cock, side-to-side on your hips — you’re trying to keep up.

Your grip tightens, and it’s downright unholy: your thumbs touch at her belly button.

She’s so small, so tight, so in your hands, and so fucked, so fucked, so fucked -

“Cum in me,” Eunseo exhales, then suffixes: “in me, in me, in me.”

Your head goes into overdrive — it’s a time bomb: pulsing, racing, tensing; it’s a million miles a second, and so fucking dangerous. You’re gritting your teeth, crushing her waist in your grip -

And because now you have to, and in lossless lucidity: “Eunseo, fuck off.”

She’s so fucked.

And you know in the moment that follows -

How quickly she finds her place under you, picking up where her fingers were last on your cock — kissing, twisting, sucking, her matte white fingernails hypnotic up and down your shaft -

How guttural the moan you let out feels, like it comes from your tailbone -

How hushed the holy shit is on your lips as Eunseo swallows load after milky load -

- how fucked you are, too.

(You always will be.)

--

There’s a little song and dance you play after Eunseo pops back out of the bathroom.

Again: it’s not either of your first times with each other, but like routine — still and forever — you’re falling into characters you know and love.

Eunseo’s laying it on thick, walking like a textbook taught her how to: drummed-up and exaggerated, heel-toe, heel-toe. Hands folded behind her back, she’s in this half-bend, lips pursed, eyes wandering: suddenly fascinated in the brushwork on your walls or how light catches random trinkets, bending over to the left, the right, and just under to make sure their shadows are still there. It’s all but complete, just missing a laid back whistle; it’s all comically stupid, just always the most adorable thing.

Of course — and only after two full minutes of the charade, drawn out and profusely slow-burned; only after you’ve rolled your eyes so hard they might stick, tension just under boiling point — her little exploration leads her to your bed.

And with that kind of setup: anything she said would’ve landed.

So “... you don’t want to put a kid in me …” absolutely does.

Her head’s in your lap now, face cracked in this darling half-giggle.

Outwitting Eunseo is a losing game. You never win. Not against the air that lingers around her, peppered sweet and spicy, intoxicating even when you were both sober. Not against her expert balance of prickly and precious, cutesy-cocky carefully-crafted. Not against the crescents in her eyes when you’re this deep into a bit. You don’t really have to.

She kisses you, and it tastes like the promise of time: that you’ll always have more.

It’s pre-teen sweet, spiked with hands brushing soft spots: it’s goofy, it’s whole, and you’re both giggling — trading tender breaths, sharing secrets in the exhales, melting smiles into each others’.

Here — in between the playful banter, nose-to-nose with Son Eunseo — you’re complete.

“Want a coffee?”

(And it’s probably the only thing you’ve done once and only once. You should make the coffee.)

“I’ll make us two.”

--

:')

feel like everything's been fast paced recently, so hope not cringe to say that this has been a serious refuge for me. domestic... interplay (?) is so fun to explore, and i could probably tease out established relationship footsies switchy blurry lines forever — hope you enjoyed!

thank you @majorblinks for the beta (my twin flame and no one is ever going to do it like us), @chunksworld for giving me the push to write eunseo (guys girl enjoyers!), and @passingnotions for everything in between (u next.)

[shoutmonishere]

*[Bonk sfx]*

[nova2cosmos]

What's your favorite type of candy?

Every sour Candy i Can find

And Tamarin Candy😋

[susartwork]

"missed me?"

Heyo Sus! Jsab-strawberry here, I'm sorry for disappearing

I had to delete my blog due to forces out of my control (family issues mostly), but I'm back now, and I plan on staying longer!

How have you been? It's been a long while

OMG HIIII °waves energetically° Happy to see you again! I hope you doing ok (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

I'm doing fine X3 I've just been a little inactive lately cuz I'm recovering from bournout oof, but I feel so much better now (^w^)

Also also I love this drawing of Alli and your new Wonderland AU redesign so dang much!! DA PRETTIES CAT BOY UwU♡

See you around :DD

[shoutmonishere]

Me and mermaimon fr fr

BSHRHWJBDHWU

Hh

Cool beans man shehshshh

[persephonesdreams21]

Sweet Tooth

A/N: Well let me say first and foremost. My bad guys. Lol I didn't mean to keep this rotting in my drafts for almost a year, but life got crazy. I hope you guys enjoy this

Warnings: Explicit. Oral(fem receiving) Body worship. Finger sucking. Squirting. Multiple orgasms. Willy being down bad.

Summary: You’re sweeter than any chocolate he could cook up, and Willy is all too eager to show you just how much he craves you. Your smiles, your attention…your taste.

The last few weeks of your life have been vibrant.

Filled with technicolor so unlike the dreary years you’ve spent in this town. Between the weather and the chipped cobblestone, England was so gray this time of year. Frigid and frozen over with winter winds and a constant flurry of snow.

It was on a particularly cold night that you’d found him.

Saved him, he’d argue whenever he told the story. Saved him from Bleacher and his mangy mutt.

“Don't you ever get tired of harassing people?” you'd sighed as you'd stumbled upon the scene. A familiar one- another poor soul about to get roped into Bleacher and Scrubbit’s barely concealed hoodwink. Everyone who’d grown up in this city knew better.

“Why don't you mind your business, Y/N. And leave us be. Both me and mister-” Bleacher looks to the man. The one with the sharp cheekbones and the ostentatious velvet trench coat.

“Wonka. Willy Wonka” And he’d said it with such innocence gleaming in those bright eyes that in that moment, you knew you couldn't let him fall victim to the cruel scam.

That’s how you’d ended up with an unexpected housemate.

The home you’d grown up in is nothing special and far from fancy, but you do happen to have a spare room. One with an old fold-out bed that’s more comfortable than it looks. It may have been stupid, but you couldn't help but trust him. Want to help him, feel this pull to him…

That was weeks ago. Almost a month now.

Willy living with you, under your roof, feels oddly natural. Like it had been years that the two of you had been co-existing, he fits into your space like he was destined to come to you. Like he belongs there; the two of you working together like a well oiled machine.

You cook dinner, he washes the dishes and wipes down the counters. The house has never been neater. Even though you try to deny them, every day when he returns from the Gallery Gourmet, he leaves silver shillings in the key bowl on the kitchen table.

“It’s not much…but I want to make sure I’m paying my way. I’m real appreciative of all you’ve done for me” he tells you so earnestly it makes you blush. You sneakily slip his sovereigns in the pockets of his trousers when you do his laundry.

He doesn't know it but he’s helped you too. And not just by scrubbing dishes.

You truly hadnt realized how lonely you were until he came along, and you were terrified of losing your found companion. You’d hold on to him for as long as he’d allow.

Your new favorite time of the day is the evenings; quiet ones. With a fire burning in the hearth and the radio playing softly. You and Willy curl up on the couch, warm in your respective quilts. And read. Well, you read to him. At his persistent insistence.

“Aren't you tired of me blabbing yet?” you tease as you pick up the dog eared copy of The Hobbit that the two of you had been working your way through.

Willy gives you a grin, all boyish and crooked “Never that. I adore the way you tell stories”

That makes your stomach swoop dangerously and you shake your head “You’re a flatter, Mr. Wonka”

“No, no. Your voice is more melodic than the bells of Notre Dame” and when he says things like that to you, how are you not supposed to swoon? From any other man it would make you scoff, but from Willy his compliments always feel different.

Like maybe he’s telling the truth…

You ignore it and change the subject to something that feels safer “One day i'm gonna put you in front of a map and make you show me all the places you’ve been”

“Honestly, It would probably be easier to mark off the few places I haven't been-”

“Oh ho ho ho. How modest of you, great explorer” You tease around a laugh and his ears redden a bit at your ribbing.

“It's not like that and you know it” Willy defends “It was a lot less glamorous than it sounds. I spent seven years under the deck scrubbing pots and then collecting ingredients for my chocolate whenever we made port”

“And wooing girls on every continent?” I ask and that blush on his ears spreads to the high apples of his cheeks.

He’s a pretty one and you know even though he pretends to be demure, might come off as innocent, he’s anything but.

You’d gotten a small taste of it, and hadn't thought of anything else since. But neither of you had quite mustered the bravery to talk about that yet.

The two of you settle in on the old worn couch with mugs of steaming hot chocolate, courtesy of Willy. He’d spoiled you rotten, made you develop a terrible sweet tooth. Any cavities you develop, you’re completely blaming on him.

“Willy” you whine.

“Just try it, please. I made this recipe especially for you”

You take a sip.

The first rush of flavor over your taste buds has your eyes fluttering.

“Mmm, oh my god” you can't help but moan. It’s the most complex thing you’ve ever tasted. Truly. He’s outdone himself- cinnamon and warmth.The kind that feels like a a lovers embrace. Sweet milk chocolate. Is that a hit of rose? “This is insane, what’s in this?”

At your praise Willy smiles like the cat that caught the canary “Cinnamon bark from Sri Lanka, Wild roses from China. Coconut milk”

You look over at him, appraising. Trying to figure out why his voice has taken on that husk. Why his eyes are boring into so intensely.

“What a peculiar combination of flavors” you whisper and Willy bites his lip.

“Its become my favorite combination lately” he admits “but I can't seem to get it quite right. You see, I was allowed to taste it only once, and its tormented me since”

Your breath hitches. Flashes of tangling tongues tongues and his lips pressed against yours. It had only been one kiss but it had wreaked havoc on you since.

You eyeball the mug in your hands. Maybe you weren't the only one suffering with the after effects after all.

“Is this chocolate supposed to taste like?...”

“You. Yes. Your kiss. Your tongue and your lips” Willy nods. “I don't know if anything can come close to the real thing, but I tried”

Your heart thunders behind your ribcage. The longing in his voice matches the one within your gut, the need that had been brewing.

“I’ve spent hours. Thinking of you, trying to imitate your taste so that I could have it one more time. Spicy, but not quite. More warm. Sweet…the floral note from your lipstick. I’ve been nearly everywhere and i’ve never sampled anything quite like it”

With his confession, the thin thread of control snaps.

You’d been trying, so hard. Trying not to scare him away. Trying to keep the intensity of your feelings at bay so that he’d stay, even after he secured his shop. That he wouldnt leave you when he found success-

You place the mug down on the old wood of the side table-

“Please” Willy’s pathetic as he grabs at your arm “Don't go, I understand if this was too much but I- I didn't know how else to show you”

You lean into his touch, not away and that seems to calm him if only just.

Of course this sweet silly man couldn't just tell you that he cared for you. That was not his style. He was bad with words, so much better with his hands. To him, he’d shown you the most sincere form of devotion, crafted your portrait with his most loved medium.

“I feel the same” you say, voice quivering just the tiniest bit. His eyes melt and he comes in close, forehead knocking against yours.

When you kiss him its hot from the start. It’s wet and electric, charged with emotion. With desperation. Willy’s sinewy hands are all over you, cupping your chin, squeezing your waist, so much more bold this time. The waiting had lowered any inhibitions he might have had.

It’s frantic, him unbuttoning your blouse and you tugging at his trousers.

You need more. Need to feel his dark silky hair between your fingers, his pale skin under your palms.

Nothing feels like enough. Not when he mouths at your garment covered breasts or when you wiggle out of your skirt.

You reach into his boxers, wanting to palm at the blood hot hardness you’ll find there-

He groans and pulls his mouth away from your neck, where he’d been suckling marks into the delicate skin. “Wait, don’t”

“Why?” you’re confused, you can feel him. Firm and needy under the cloth.

“Because I want to take care of you first. With my mouth. If you’ll let me”

And oh. Oh.

All you can do is nod. Lay back and let him take what he needs, you feel more vulnerable than ever before. When he blankets you with his body, you realize that you also feel safer. Adored by this man, by this odd beautiful man.

Willy is a tactile person. He wants to touch and taste. And so that is what he does.

There’s so much to feel. Your heavy breasts, peaked with hard little nipples that he swirls his tongue round. Your belly and wide hips, so soft, so much give, he watches his fingers dig in and indent. Your thighs, so plush.

He buries his head between them. And inhales, deeply.

“Willy!” you exclaim, scandalized, trying to close your legs, but he shoulders his way deeper.

“You smell so good” Willy reassures you, his nose pressed against the wet patch on your knickers. Groaning like it’s the best scent in the world.

He takes his time, savors the moment as he peels the damp fabric away. His eyes locked on how the strings of slick stretch and shine in the low fire light. You’re so wet, the puffy lips of your cunt sopping already. And when he takes his first tentative lap, he knows that he could do this for hours and there's no way he’d ever be able to replicate it.

Nectar from the gods. Earthy and sour sweet.

You whimper as he feasts, as he gorges greedily. The sight of his dark head bobbing between your thighs makes you shudder. It’s almost unreal. That he’s doing this, that he wants you. His arms are wrapped around the back of your thighs, holding them up, holding you open.

You come for the first time with your fingers buried in his hair, pressing his face deep into you. Riding his nose and tongue.

For the second time you’re arching away from the sharp pleasure.

“Willy” you choke on your whines as his fingers reach deep into you, hitting that sensitive place inside over and over. You’re shaking with overstimulation, but hes groaning like he’s the one being brought to orgasm over and over.

He pulls his wet mouth away every so often. To tell you how beautiful you are. How good you taste.

“I can’t” you whisper, warningly.

“Please” Willy insists, his breath against your clit “One more, one more for me”

You can't deny him anything, can you?

You arch right up from the couch cushions, squealing as you hit that peak again. But this time is different, this time something inside you bursts, pushing wetness out in a flood.

Willy lets out a gutted sound from where he’s smothered by your thighs, that have tightened vice like around his head during your orgasm.

Coming down from it is almost painful and you’ve never sobbed from pleasure but well. There’s a first time for everything. While you shake and shiver Willy’s gentle, petting your thighs and tummy in soothing circles. Pulling away from your over sensitive flesh.

He stares up at you, his gaze heavy and his tongue poking out every few seconds. Swiping at his wet lips. Like he can't stop tasting you. It’s debauched. Beautiful.

“You are the best thing i’ve ever tasted” Willy pants out the vow, raw with honesty. Drunk on the flavor of you.

Wryly, you wonder if he’ll try to manufacture it into a truffle. A fancy bon bon.

You smile as he climbs back fully on top of you, your arms wrapping around him and holding him close. You kiss the shell of his ear before whispering-

“My turn to taste you”

🍬🍬🍬🍬🍬🍬🍬🍬🍬🍬🍬

I never thought I’d be writing Willy Wonka smut but well. Here I am lol

[forget-you-morelike-fuck-you]

Eyes of a Stranger- E.M.

Did anyone ask for a Soulmate!AU? No! Did it bring me joy to write? Of course! Here you go my thirsty friends! Love you!

You move across the country to start looking for your Soulmate. Enter: Eddie Munson.

Masterlist

TW- Cursing, drinking, super fluffy fluff at the end

Pairings- Soulmate!Eddie x Reader

Word Count- 4,891

There’s a gap in your vision. There has been since you were born. It’s one of the facts of life. Everyone is born without their full color spectrum. There’s some chemical imbalance that prohibits it before the right time, and you hate it. You always have. Everyone talks about how beautiful brunettes are, or how delicious chocolate looks melting in a fondue pot, or bread, or even your childhood dog, but you can’t see it, and no matter how hard everyone tries to describe it to you, it never makes any sense when you look and see shades of grey. 

Your parents told you the stories of how they met, how their vision suddenly became full technicolor the moment they locked eyes on each other. How the colors finally swirled into place, completing the puzzle they’d spent their whole lives wondering about. It was one of your favorite bedtime stories, and you remember begging to hear it over and over again until their comforting voices lulled you to sleep.  

They were some of the fortunate ones. It’s not entirely uncommon for people to go their full lives without finding their soulmates. The world is wide, after all, but people can find love elsewhere, even if it’s not with the person they were meant on a cellular level to be with.  

As you grew, you found some small comfort in that fact, allowing yourself to explore the world past the missing warmth of brown that people describe. You let yourself have romantic partners no matter the color of their eyes, explored the nuances of casual and more serious relationships. How could you ever miss something that was never there, anyway? Of course, underneath that lies the crippling fear that you wouldn’t be one of the lucky ones. Sure, there are stories of people finding soulmates even in their last few years of life, but it doesn’t bring you any ease to think that there is someone out there, waiting for you, and the more time you spend apart is one less moment you’ll spend together.  

So, as you near your 23rd birthday, you decide to leave your hometown. You’ve spent your whole life intentionally meeting the eyes of nearly everyone you’ve come across, hoping to find the person that will make you whole, to no avail. It’s time you find new eyes to search.  

There are so many places, so many people that the only way you could ever decide on where to go is to not decide at all. You taped a map to the wall and threw a dart. First, it landed in America, then, on the American map, it landed in Indiana, and on the map of Indiana, it landed on a little town called Hawkins. “It’s as good a place to start as any,” You mumble, taking the dart out of the wall. The goodbyes to your family and friends are hard and tearful, but they know just as well as you how important this is. A couple of your friends had already found their soulmates, and every time you saw them together, your heart ached for their happiness.  

The journey to Hawkins is hard and long, moving all your belongings, finding an apartment with a rental agreement for just six months—if you don’t find your soulmate there, you’d move on to the next place—and a job that could support you while also giving you the opportunity to see a lot of people in a day. But you did it, and a few days after leaving home, you’re settling into your new apartment in the heart of Hawkins Proper. 

It’s small, and the plumbing creaks when you flush the toilet or turn on the shower, but it’s yours for the time being, and that’s enough for you. You arrange your sparce furniture the best you can to make it feel homey, and figure if things go well, you can always get more. The job you found is nice, and the people you work with are kind and funny, and soon you’ve made a little home for yourself in this strange, new place. 

“Y/N!” Your coworker, Steve shouts from across the Family Video. You look up from the shelf of movies you’re stocking over to where he stands behind the counter, his arms laying on the surface, shaggy bangs falling into his face as it always does when he doesn’t put a whole bottle of Farah Fawcett hairspray in it. 

“What’s up?” You call back, glancing between him and the movies as you put the cassette tapes back in their proper spaces. 

“I’m going on my lunch. You want something from the Dairy Queen?” You ponder his question for a moment, your mouth quirking as you think. 

“Yeah, can you get me an Oreo blizzard? And a chicken strip basket? I have cash in my purse,” You raise your eyebrows at him, and he gives a solemn nod. 

“I got you. I’ll be back in ten.” Steve turns and starts toward the back exit, and you go back to your work stocking the tapes, emptying the basket of returns as you meander from shelf to shelf finding the proper places. 

You hear the doorbell ring, and you raise your head, looking toward the door to the customer coming in. “Welcome to Family Video!” You greet. The man walking toward the horror shelves, and he looks over his shoulder in your direction and gives a nod. His eyes are obscured by a pair of dark sunglasses, which always irks you only because you won’t have the opportunity to look into his eyes.  

You walk back toward the counter to prepare to check the man out when he’s finished his selection when he looks back over to you. His dark, shaggy curls flop over part of his face as he calls out to you. “Do you guys have Pet Semetary in yet?”  

“Uhh, let me check,” You go over to the computer and type in the title. When the page loads, you let out a noise of recognition as you look back over to the man. “Yes, we do. But it’s still in the New Releases. Let me go find it for you,” You make your way around the counter to walk over to the New Releases wall, scanning the titles with your eyes, hands on your hips until you spot it. You bend over to pick it up and bring it back over to the counter, where the man is waiting for you to return. 

“Thanks,” he says, giving a small smile. He looks to be about your age. The hands he has rested on the surface of the counter are littered in heavy silver rings, and he’s clad in a faded, moth-eaten Iron Maiden shirt with an acid wash jean vest over it. There’s a small hoop in one of his nostrils, which glints lightly under the fluorescent lights hanging above you. The mostly black curls that hang around his face are highlighted grey where the light hits, so you assume it must be brown. He’s handsome, for sure. His relaxed features give him a refreshing air about him, like you know he’d be an easy friend to have.  

“No problem. Will this be all for you today?” You ask, your customer service voice lilting in the air. He pouts his lips for a moment, looking down at the candy selection below the counter before picking up a king size Reese’s and placing it and sliding it toward you.  

“This too, please,” he says, his pretty smile returning to his boyish features. 

“Sure,” You scan the candy and place it in a plastic bag with the movie. “Can I get your name please?” You ask, moving over to the computer to pull up his profile. 

“Oh, hey Munson. What’s up, man?” Steve comes from behind you, having returned from his break, and you look over your shoulder to his award-winning smile as he offers a hand to the man to clasp. 

“Harrington,” he says in greeting, a breathtaking toothy smile curling at his lips as he takes Steve’s hand in a light slap. “You know, just hanging out,” He shrugs. “What about you?” 

“Oh, you know, I’m just... here,” Steve lets out a small laugh. You watch the interaction, waiting for the two men to finish to complete the transaction. Steve looks over to you and gestures in your direction. “This is Y/N, she’s new in town. Maybe she should come out with us next time we go out to the bar. She needs more friends,” Steve jokes, and you hit him lightly in the shoulder, scoffing. 

“Oh, shut up, Steve. It’s not like I’m a loner. I’ve got you and Rob,” You justify. 

“Yeah, only me and Rob. There’s a whole wide Hawkins out there still to discover, Y/N,” You roll your eyes and shrug off the arm he’s casually rested over your shoulders at that and settle your gaze back on Steve’s friend, who holds a hand out for you to shake. 

“I’m Eddie, nice to meet you,” You take his hand and shake it briefly, a friendly smile forming on your lips. 

“Nice to meet you, too. I’m Y/N L/N,” He gives a quirk of a smile as your hands leave each other. Steve tuns to you, his hand on your shoulder as you look away from Eddie’s face to listen to him. 

“Well, I put your lunch in the break room, if you wanna go ahead and eat. I can finish taking care of Eddie if you want,” You give a nod, moving out of the way for Steve to take over the computer. You give one more small wave to Eddie. 

“It was nice to meet you!” You say. 

“Yeah, you too,” he says. “And you’re definitely welcome to come hang out with us sometime. We usually go chill at the Hideout at least once a week so, you know, you can get the details from Stevie, here,” You can see him quirk a playful eyebrow over his dark sunglasses as he reaches over to clap Steve on the shoulder. A chuckle passes your lips at the nickname, but even more at Steve’s dry reaction to it. 

“Okay, thanks,” You turn to Steve. “I’ll be back in 30 Stevie,” You give Steve a playful bump of your hip before turning and walking toward the back. 

“Yeah, ha ha, whatever, dude,” He scoffs, feigning annoyance. You give another laugh as you push the door open, the smell of your lunch wafting through the otherwise stale air of the back. 

The end of the day nears, and you and Steve are cleaning up the store preparing to close when he mentions Eddie again. “So, I think we’re gonna go out Friday night if you wanna come with us. It’ll be chill. Just some drinks, maybe some pool. Then we usually go to Benny’s after for some burgers. You in?” You shrug, pushing the dust mop across the floor. 

“Yeah, sure. Not like I’ve got anything better to do,” Your eyebrow quirks in thought then as the silence comes back over the store. “Can I ask you something?” 

Steve looks up from where he’s wiping down the counters. “Sure, what’s up?” 

“Has Eddie... has he found his soulmate?” You try to say it casually, but Steve lets out a taunting sound, his elbows going to rest on the surface of the counter as he wiggles his eyebrows at you. 

“Ahh, you like him?” His sugary tone makes a heat break out on your face, and you roll your eyes, trying to brush it off. 

“Not necessarily,” You try to defend yourself. “I just don’t like it when people come in with sunglasses. It’s a pet peeve, I guess. I just don’t like the not knowing part,” You hear Steve scoff from across the store as you reach the far wall with the dustmop, turning around and starting back the other way. 

“Well, no, he hasn’t found his yet. What color are you missing?” He inquires.  

“Brown,”  

“Oh really? Eddie’s eyes are brown.” Steve muses. You scoff at that. You may find Eddie attractive, but what are the freaking odds that the first place you’d moved to would be the home of the one person on the planet you’ve been waiting for your whole life? 

“Come on, Steve. There are 7 billion people on this planet. What are the chances, really? I was just curious,” 

“It happens every day! Everyone’s got someone out there, Y/N. Why couldn’t it be Eddie? Hell, why couldn’t it be me? Or Robin? Or Keith? Just because the chances are slim doesn’t mean they’re zero,” It’s almost like he’s reminding himself of that, too. You’re not the only one that struggles with not having their soulmate. Steve is nothing if not a romantic, you’ve learned. You’ve caught him more than once smiling at the store TV on a slow day, with what as well should be heart eyes while watching some sappy romance movie. You can only imagine that he’s wishing that it were him with his soulmate. You definitely do, from time to time. 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. But that doesn’t change the fact that the chances are incredibly slim. Like, one in 7 billion slim.” You wouldn’t mind if it were Eddie. You wouldn’t mind if it were anybody. Maybe it’s your quarter life crisis talking, but you’d throw yourself into the arms of anybody who made you see brown. It’s all you’ve ever wanted. 

You used to imagine what your soulmate looked like as a kid. It was actually a school assignment once, in first grade or so. An art project. You remember your parents had it hung on the fridge for a long time, sloppy first grader scribbles with big grey circles for eyes and pink hearts littered around the piece of paper.  

Friday is busy. People like to rent movies in preparation for the weekend. All day it’s person after person as you, Robin, and Steve rotate around the store putting movies away, stocking candy and popcorn, and checking customers out at the register. You’re over near the 18+ section putting away the Z movies when you hear Eddie’s voice over the din of people milling around the store. “Hey, guys. We still on for tonight?” You glance over at Eddie, who’s in a black and white t-shirt that looks just a tad too small—a blessing for you as the sleeves hug his generous biceps, black ink peeking out from beneath— and torn jeans today. There’s a chain hanging from his belt loop and as your eyes look to his face, you see he’s not wearing sunglasses today. Maybe you’ll be able to look and finally put your nagging thoughts to rest. 

“Excuse me miss, can you help me?” You turn to look at the middle-aged lady who’s gently tapped your shoulder, taking in her blue eyes as you stand to talk to her. Like Steve said the other night, there’s a chance your soulmate could be anyone. 

“Of course, what can I do for you?” You keep your attention on her but flick your eyes toward the counter, where you see Eddie still talking to Robin. Just a peek. Just one, and you can stop thinking about it. The lady’s voice pulls your eyes away at the request for the location of a movie, and you dutifully show her the way, taking glances where you can, only to see the shaggy mop of curls obscuring a proper view of Eddie’s face, which you know has that pretty smile as he laughs at a dumb joke Robin threw his way. When you reach the right shelves, you have to bend down to get the movie she’s looking for, and you hand it to her quickly. As you turn back to where Eddie and Robin were standing, talking, laughing, just a moment ago, you find the spot empty. Damn it. I’ll see him later, you think, shrugging it off as you make your way back to the basket of movies waiting to be put away at the back of the store. 

The last dregs of the day give you a bit more energy as the store gets increasingly quieter as less and less people come in in the final hour of open time. There’s more laughter among the three of you, joking and talking about your plans for tonight.  

“So, do you want us to pick you up?” Steve asks, looking to you as you sort through new returns.  

“Yeah, that would be great!” You give him a smile. “Can you pick me up at about 10:30? We’re meeting Eddie at 11, right?” 

Steve nods, tying up a trash bag to take out to the dumpster. “Yeah, that’s cool,” He says. 

“Oh, and you don’t need to wear anything super fancy or whatever. It’s a pretty seedy dive bar, we’re going to, so jeans is fine,” Robin adds. You nod appreciatively at the advice and take a moment to write down your address on a stray post-it to hand to Steve. 

“Here you go, and my phone number is on there too, just in case you need it,” Steve takes it, looks at it for a moment, and then stuffs it into his pocket for later. 

“Awesome. Well, if you want to go ahead and clock out, Robin and I can finish up here. We’ve just gotta finish counting the drawer and take the trash out.”  

“Thanks! I guess I’ll see you in a bit, then,” You wave to both of them and make your exit to the back of the store to where your car is parked and drive home to your apartment. You decide to take a quick shower to strip the layer of grime accumulated from your work day from your body, letting the warm water carry away the stress down the drain. After that, you dry your hair roughly with your blow dryer before making your way to your tiny bedroom closet to look for something to wear.  

You know Robin said not to wear anything fancy, but you do want to look nice. There’s a 1 in 7 billion chance that Eddie is your soulmate, but even if he isn’t, it would be nice to have someone as good looking as him flirt with you for the night. You decide on a hand me down pair of bellbottoms from your mom that makes your butt look incredible and a simple black halter top. You pair it with a nice long necklace that trails down your cleavage, just to give a path for Eddie or whoever to look down and some small gold earrings. You want to do a nice neutral makeup look, but browns are obviously a difficult color to work with, so you make do with orange and peach tones. 

You’re only waiting for about 10 minutes until you hear a knock at your door, and you open it to a smiling Robin. “Hey! Are you ready?” 

“Yeah, let me just grab my purse,” You walk across the room to the kitchen counter to your waiting bag, already packed with your essentials for the night before walking back, key in hand to lock the door behind you.  

The drive over to the hideout is short, and Steve pulls into one of the only parking spaces available. “I thought you said this was a seedy dive bar?” You say, an eyebrow quirking up at all the cars littered around the lot. Steve makes a face in the rearview mirror as he puts his car into park. 

“Yeah, but it’s still one of the only bars in town. There aren’t many places to choose from on a Friday night,” You let out a scoff at that, but shrug it off as you click your seatbelt off and open the door to get out. 

You follow Steve and Robin into the bar, handing your IDs to the bouncer to look at before he gives you a curt nod and lets you through. The bar is pretty packed. It’s not very big, so it seems even more crowed as groups of people hover around the pool tables and high tops around the edges. There’s a small wooden stage near the front, and the light is off. There’s no one playing tonight, you guess. 

“Hey! What do you want to drink? First round’s on Steve!” Robin shouts over the din of the other patrons.  

“Rum and Coke?” You suggest. You don’t really drink much, so it was just the first drink that came to mind. Robin nods in acknowledgement and shouts your order to the waiting bartender. You look around, your hands fidgeting with the strap of your purse over your shoulder as the nerves set in just a touch. You make brief eye contact with anyone you can, trying to pass the time before Robin bumps your hip with hers, hands occupied with drinks. She hands you yours and you take a big gulp, grimacing at the taste. Okay, maybe you won’t order this one again.  

“Steve saw an open table at the back, let’s go!” You nod and follow her through the crowd, taking special care not to bump anyone and spill your drink. Finally, you reach the four-seater table pushed almost completely to the back wall, and you climb into your seat, pushing your purse against the side that’s on the wall to the side.  

“So, what do you think?” Steve asks expectantly, arms gesturing to the scene around you. You give a laugh and an incredulous shake of your head.  

“It’s exactly what I expected, but also the complete opposite at the same time,” Steve shrugs. 

“Yeah, it was for me, too,” He laughs. Just then, Steve’s eyes look over your head, and he stands and waves his arms above his head. “There’s Eddie,” He explains as he sits back down. You heart beats hard in your chest suddenly. Chill the fuck out, Y/N, it’s not a big deal, You think to yourself as you take another big drink from your cup. 

A few minutes go by, and Eddie still hasn’t made his way to the table, you assume because he’s busy getting his drink, so you take a brief glance back and see him, drink in hand, a flirtatious smile on as he talks to a pretty girl standing over by one of the pool tables. She laughs at something he says, her blonde ponytail swinging. You can feel a heat fan over your cheeks as you turn back around, and you try to continue your conversation with Steve and Robin casually.  

Come on, be serious. You don’t even know this guy. He’s just some cute dude that happens to know your friends. It’s not your business who he flirts with— 

“Hey guys!” A shiver shoots up your spine as you feel the sudden warmth of a body right behind you. The unexpected closeness of Eddie as he comes to sit in the chair next to you makes you lose all the nerve you had spent all day building up. “Sorry, it took me so long. I just ran into Chrissy,”  

“Don’t worry man, you’re good. You remember Y/N, right?” Steve gestures to you, and you give him a small smile, looking toward his face but directly at him, looking away quickly to take another drink. 

“Of course, I do. I couldn’t forget a face like that. How’ve you been?” He asks, voice lilting sweetly. You nod exaggeratedly as you swallow, pulling the cup away and setting it down a little too harshly on the grey table, his casual flirtation nearly making you choke. It does nothing to calm your nerves.  

“I’m good! You know, just... hanging out.” You can’t help the awkward overtone to your voice as you avoid eye contact. You glace over at Steve and he shoots you a “Buck up, buttercup!” look. 

“Y/N’s on a soulmate journey!” Steve exclaims suddenly, practically forcing you to confront your fear of looking at Eddie. Your eyes widen to the size of saucers, immediately regretting telling him when you had that conversation the other day. You bow your head low to try to hide the raging heat spreading over your entire body.  

“Oh, really? How’s that going? Where have you been so far?” Robin asks excitedly. “You know, I’ve actually been thinking about doing something like that, but I barely have any money to support myself, let alone to galivant across the country just to look at people,” She says. You lick your lips and nod, intent on keeping your eyes on Robin’s though you can feel Eddie looking toward you with interest. 

“This is actually the first place I’ve been. I’m only gonna be here for six months, then I’ll move on to the next place,” You explain. 

“Well, why Hawkins? This seems like a pretty nowhere place to start,” Eddie asks from beside you, and you shrug. 

“I didn’t really pick it myself. I just threw a dart at a map. Well, several maps,” Your eyes flick up as you remember looking everywhere for a proper map of Indiana before finally settling on a small, printer paper sized one you found on the internet.  

“Ahh,” You let your eyes wander over to Eddie’s hands, which lay on the table, decorated fingers wrapping loosely around his drink, which appears to just be whiskey on the rocks. “What color are you missing?” He asks casually. You freeze up, just for a second, your lips trying to catch up with the short circuit happening in your brain. 

“B-brown... What about you?” You’re tempted to peek, but you want to wait for his answer. You don’t know which answer would make you feel more at ease, but you’re on the edge of your seat in the moment it takes him to answer, and you take another drink to help calm the quick thrum of your heart in your chest, feeling a bit disappointed as you drink down the last dregs. 

“Oh, me? I’m missing Y/E/C.” He says. You can feel his eyes on you, and your quick glance to Steve and Robin give you encouragement, both of them practically begging you to look at him, and you take the leap. 

You look up to Eddie’s face, letting your eyes meander up his face until your eyes settle on his. They’re a rich black color, and you’re so close to looking away, the dejection building in your core when it happens.  

Your parents were right, the color really does swirl into place. You watch, mouth falling slightly open as the black transforms into this warm, dark color you can’t describe. How could you? It’s the first time you’ve ever seen it. Brown. This is brown. You let out a little laugh as more brown starts settling into the scene around you. The tables, the bar, the water stains on the plaster ceiling—all different shades of brown, and it’s immediately the prettiest color you’ve ever seen.  

“Oh, my god.” You manage to mutter. It’s all so overwhelming you feel like you could cry, but Eddie’s gaze on you keeps you steady. His smile widens, pure joy glinting in those beautiful eyes. 

“I had a feeling, but... I didn’t think it was possible,” Eddie breathes as he scans over every feature of your face. You scoff, thinking about all the time you’ve spent over the past few days thinking about him. 

“Me too,” You laugh. You reach a tentative hand forward, and Eddie takes it midair, guiding it to his face. You feel your skin vibrate as you touch him, your thumb gently swiping over his cheek. Your reverie is interrupted by Steve and Robin, who start yelling across from you. 

“WE’VE GOT SOULMATES OVER HERE!” The whole place erupts in applause, and you and Eddie giggle as the whole place starts chanting, “KISS! KISS! KISS! KISS!” There’s a hint of hesitation, but then a playful glint in his eyes as Eddie looks back to you. 

“Would that be okay?” He asks, brows furrowing as he reads your reaction. You give a little nod, briefly pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. 

“Might as well. Looks like we were made to,” You muse, batting your lashes flirtatiously. Eddie gives you a quick toothy smile before settling his hands on your face, and it’s like time moves to a standstill as your lips touch, gently at first, to test the waters, but then you slot your mouth onto his fully as the electricity streaks through your body. His lips move perfectly against yours, and everything around you becomes white noise as you throw your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. 

As you part, you’re both grinning like love drunk idiots, giggling as your foreheads rest against each other. “A dart on a map, huh?” Eddie muses. You shrug, laughing again at the sheer insanity of it all. 

“Yeah. A dart on a fucking map!” Eddie’s lashes barely brush yours, his warm, sweet breath fanning over your face. 

“Thank God for that fucking dart, then.” His lips search for yours again, and you meet him in the middle with a smile that has your cheeks aching.  

1 in 7 billion has never seemed better. 

[ataraxiaspainting]

It's Cold Outside.

Yan Chrollo x F Reader.

Synopsis: A stranger has weaseled his way into every aspect of your life.

Warnings: Yandere themes, non-con/dub-con (the reader is under the influence of aphrodisiacs but non-consensually), the reader is described as AFAB and uses she/her pronouns respectfully, threats of violence, stalking, manipulation, Chrollo the Creepster, and unhealthy relationships.

Word Count: 2.2k.

Ten Songs Like This Piece:

(You’re The) Devil in Disguise by Elvis Presley

Salvatore by Lana Del Ray

Who Is She? by I Monster

Kiss Of Fire by Georgia Gibbs

Money, Money, Money by ABBA

Sex with a Ghost by Teddy Hyde

4:00A.M. by Taeko Onuki

How I’d Kill by Cowboy Malfoy

Sonne by Rammstein

The Great Gig in the Sky by Pink Floyd

“I say let the world go to hell, but I should always have my tea.” — Fyodor Dostoevsky, Notes from the Underground

*~*~*~*

i. “Technicolor worlds with white clouds are bound to be destroyed by silver snow.”

When you step into your house, it is like you are instantly transported back to a year ago. Everything in sight, from the walls to the shelves, has decorations of some kind, whether going all out with the kitchen table having an entire feast of delicious holiday treats made by your grandparents, or just a green and red painting of a Christmas tree placed in your older sister’s usually monochromatic room. Perhaps the painting is yet another way she proves that she can somewhat react well to requests to change her room a little bit. Even if the painting is on the farthest wall from the door and is partially hidden from view by the many anime figurines and books larger than your head. Your mother claims that it is a miracle she convinced her to put up any holiday decorations in her room at all and thus doesn’t bother her further. 

Each room also has a different festive scent, your younger sister’s room having a hot chocolate scent mixed with the smell of piled up dishes on her desk, most coming from when she was ‘helping’ your grandparents cook by ‘testing to make sure the food isn't poison’.

How heroic of her to sacrifice herself for the family.

Your room, you think, looks much better than your sisters’ combined, having decked it out to the maximum by taking out all of your Halloween decorations and replacing them with Christmas ones. It took you the whole weekend, sure, and caused you to break the bank, but your love for accessories outweighs your logic and reason by quite a lot. Your beloved record player is back on your table that also simultaneously houses your television and jewelry playing Elvis Presley’s Blue Christmas. A wreath larger than your torso is on your door and your room smells like all the holiday air fresheners you found in your closet. Pine, peppermint, orange, lemon, cranberry… all mix to make a beautiful festive scent unmatched by even your parents’ bedroom. Everything is how it should be, and how it always is every year.

Well, almost. A man named Chrollo, a man who gives you anything but comfort, has been invited to your family-only yearly Christmas party. When your father, who has always been too protective of you and your sisters and never lets you spend time with the opposite gender, told you that Chrollo of all people would be attending, you tried to argue otherwise. You tried telling him that none of you had known Chrollo for so long, but he had rebutted Chrollo’s lie that you had known him for over a year with you two developing a close bond. You realized it was too late then, and Chrollo had charmed your entire family, with even your older sister always having a smile on her face whenever she saw him at her workplace. 

ii. “Like actors, each snowflake has a different role to play. They sing along with every step of a boot as a deceitful way to express their pain.”

The moment the doorbell chimes, its piercing resonance assaults your eardrums and causes an unsettling shiver to course through your spine.

You find yourself in an unsettling situation as your family eagerly awaits, and to your dismay, you are the designated individual tasked with the responsibility of opening the door. You two are such good friends, aren’t you? We wouldn’t want to get in the way of your bonding time.

You want to say he is lying, to tell them everything, every threat he has told you, him meaning them or otherwise. But as soon as they know of what Chrollo really and truly is, they will meet a painful end; that being pushed onto train tracks, their drink being laced with a poison that destroys the body from the inside out, or having nails thrusted into their bloody palms as they hang on their bedroom wall as you look in horror. Elton, Anya, and Robert all being examples of such… You don’t want to think of the bodies just waiting to rot around the Riverbend, your fault or otherwise.

You also don’t want to drown in this river. A river inhospitable to any aquatic life whatsoever, and only harbors a barrier of carnivorous plants that eat those who dare come close. Butterworts, large lilac purple ones that feel like they have been dipped in the most tempting butter mixed with forbidden fruit and honey produced by none other than the queen bee herself. Are you the fly, or are they? You have no idea, and you don’t want to find out.

“Hello.” Your response is concise and devoid of warmth, with a noticeable absence of your usual cheerful demeanor evident in your expression and tone.

Chrollo's smile is so sinister that even the most depraved devil's grin would pale in comparison, with all the large gift bags behind him swinging like a tail.

“Ah, [First]. Happy holidays. No need to be so cold, you know. The snow is already doing that for you. So-”

Despite your strong desire to slam the door in his face, you choose to step aside and allow him entry, in an attempt to silence him.

“Put the gifts by the tree by the kitchen table. The white table and not the black one.”

However, rather than fulfilling your expectations, all he does is elicit a burst of laughter so unique that it resonates within you, while discreetly handing over the most colossal gift bag, compelling you to accept it as if under some intangible force.

“Just a little something. I know it’s customary to wait until later but… I simply can’t help myself. Open it whenever you get the chance, dearest.”

…He means right now, in your room, doesn’t he? Perhaps he installed a camera in your room as you slept, he has certainly threatened to do that before. Or maybe he will just spy on you through the little space between the door and the frame. He has done that before, after all. 

…

You resisted the urge to scream when you saw a picture of your mother sleeping blissfully, the camera focused on her ring finger with the caption Should I take another souvenir? written on it, but the card, as beautiful as it appeared with a lace envelope and your name written in script on the card’s cover above Chrollo’s, proved to be even more of a challenge. When you read the words on it, your heart plunges so deeply that you fear your gastric acid will erode it.

Save your tears. For even if you cry to the whole world, it will never be enough to make me disappear. Meet me outside in five minutes, and make whatever excuse you deem necessary. No exceptions.

As you begin to read further, a wave of fragrant and delicate floral scents envelops your senses, instantly igniting a warm sensation in your head, leaving no time for contemplation.

Trying to ignore your slight dizziness, you read the rest of the card.

Just a little something to make sure you do this. We wouldn’t want your family to see you in… what state you are about to be in, do we?

…Just what did he do to you?

iii. “With the burden of wintertime ending, nature spends time creating beautiful trees and flowers. To accompany them, she makes twisted vines and weeds, for she knows that without them there cannot be balance or purpose in being comfortably numb.”

You were on your back, on his bed, within what felt like one second, not remembering the car ride over to his place, your wrists pinned beneath the strength of one of Chrollo's hands while he looked down at you within another, his other undoing the tie of the bandana on his forehead and showing you, for the very first time, of the cross tattoo underneath it.

All you can do is watch your whole world slow down and be replaced by a dream.

A blissful and sweet dream, as sugary as saccharine and as dissolvable as cotton candy, that is a veil and covers your eyes from what is happening; until it is too late, until you feel some of his fingers go into the band of your skirt and start pulling and pulling, downward, and that is when terror went to combat with your unwanted lust.

“...What… are… you… doing…? Chroooooo…” Your words slur as your mind buzzes with euphoria, and you can feel every sensation in vivid detail, every touch and every breath feeling heightening and intoxicating. As much as you want to, you can’t tell him to stop, not now.

“Shh, it’s what you want, isn’t it?” At least that is what you think he said, because as Chrollo spoke, you struggled to decipher his words amidst the haze that enveloped your mind. Reality fragments, leaving you unable to muster the strength to plead for him to cease. “It will feel oh so very good, I promise. Very, very nice and very, very good.” With that, you come to realize the wetness between your rubbing thighs, amidst the cloudiness and the larger-than-life headache that rips your skull apart. “Do you trust me?” The voice sounds almost heartfelt, not as intimate as it could be, but it was still more than enough for your hands to cling to him and pull him in closer, faster, so he could relieve you of this hell. “I will assume that that is a yes.” His hands move to the two buttons on your blouse, undoing them with ease, softly, gently, like it was a baby bird. 

“Faster… faster…!” You feel like a man who hasn’t seen water on any day of their life, and if you lose the location of the oasis you are sure to never find it again. 

Like a man lost in the desert, you choke on imaginary quicksand, soon to drown if water does not save you.

“Aw, such a precious little thing, aren’t you?” You are gently flipped over in an instant and he unbuckles your bra, quickly. 

“If you love me… really love me… make me feel better… please.”

“Don’t worry, I will.” He flips you over again and his fingers lower to your panties, pulling them down from your trembling legs, just like he did with your skirt. “You trust me after all, don’t you?”

You cry out yes after utterly desperate yes, as he watches, his smile getting wider as he starts undoing his belt. He puts a finger on your lips after he has heard enough, shushing you gently.   

“Then trust me when I say that this, my dear, is for your own good.”

Beneath the surface, whether it be shallow or not, you have no desire to comprehend his intentions.

You don’t want to know. You just want this to go away.

iv. “Through discoveries, there is a hint of madness that enters our minds. Only then can we see our world’s colors change from squid ink and bone to begonias and finches.”

Chrollo undoes his belt, then his pants, and then his boxers. You focus on his face to ignore what is currently nearly touching the side of the mattress by a hair or two, hard and enlarged and slightly pink and-

He takes off his shirt button after button, much, much, much slower than how he took off the rest of his clothing. There exists a deep-seated anger within you, yet it is accompanied by a sense of gratitude, as both you and he are aware of your mutual aversion towards this situation.

Despite both of you being aware that this is not your desired outcome, he still kisses you, gently, full of warmth, and tenderly. What you truly desire is to satisfy the ache within you. But he won’t give it to you yet, will he?

Time seems to drag on as his kisses get faster, and more hungry, with his tongue essentially becoming another of your muscles, wet, and neither wanted nor unwanted. 

Eventually, you get what you want, after enough begging for him to just get it over with. At the beginning, there is a gentle caress resembling a warm and velvety rose petal. However, as time progresses, the touch becomes increasingly forceful until his fingers enter. But it does not hurt. Should you be thankful for that? At least he is being nice.

He starts thrusting, and that also does not hurt. No soreness. You won't feel any discomfort until your eyes meet, causing a sensation that almost makes you want to throw up, were it not for the illicit satisfaction this dreadful encounter brings. It's a peculiar kind of pain, one that lingers like a ghost stealthily gliding through walls, catching you off guard before you can comprehend its presence.

Nothing hurts, and that in of itself gives you the most pain anyone could imagine. 

v. “Heat lightning gives way to summer storms and verdant wind. This makes for a hauntingly beautiful melody of ripples and thunder.”

“…And this maiden, she lived with no other thought than to love and be loved by me.”

vi. “The dead, fallen leaves of autumn come in many shades from bright red to a dull brown. They flow with the wind from one place to the next as invitations from those who passed on to the living.”