#that’s not my neighbor modern day | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hoshigray · 27 days ago

Text

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐲 𝐃𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐍𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐛𝐨𝐫! | fushiguro tōji

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Not only are you drunk on a Friday night, but you’re a drunk, closeted succubus who is, unfortunately, under the care of the hot neighbor under your roof! Would you ruin the mood if he found out about your little secret? You don’t even wanna know!

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Toji x afab/fem! succubus reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern au! reader + Toji are neighbors - age difference; reader is in late-20s + Toji is mid/late 40s - crushing/mutual pining - drug/alcohol usage - fingering (f! receiving) - oral (f! + m! receiving) - clitoral play (swiping) - Daddy kink - sqǔitïng - anal play (m! receiving) - 69 + backshots + spooning + cowgirl positions - unprotected sex (psa: wrap it up, or get tf up) - creampies - praise kink - pet names (baby, doll, dollface, good girl, mama, princess, sweetie) - implied marathon sex - mention of drool/spit, tears, and cum - not proofread; will do l8r.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7.8k

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: pulled this story out of my ass; I literally spent a whole single DAY dedicating to writing it. please enjoy, and tysm for 11.9k loveliesss ☆ love and appreciate u all !!

��…shit.”

There’s no way.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit—”

Of all days for this to happen.

“Oh, my fucking God, not tonight!!”

Tonight was already an eventful night, with the full moon shining brighter than the stars. Life has put you so fast in a whirlwind that you can’t recall the last time you permitted your body to unwind. Can you blame yourself, though? From moving to a new neighborhood and scoring a new job, things have kept you undeniably busy for the past few months. And not too mention, it’s your fault for being a bit of a hermit and lacking a drive for social interaction.

That’s precisely why your old college besties – Shoko, Utahime, and Yuki – pulled you out of your hideyhole and encouraged you to join them this Friday night to have some fun! “C’mo~n, lighten up! No more thinking about work or whatever; have some fun!” “Yeah, y’know you’re my biggest drinking buddy. Now, hurry up and share this cocktail with me!” The ladies pressure you to relax and enjoy the start of the weekend with some good drinks and delicious food. And, you hate to admit, it worked like a charm – the longer the hours went, the more you felt free as if all the weight holding you down had been lifted.

The only problem is, like all good things, that it had to end and that you had to go home. Now check this out: 1) you left your car at home because, again, you were rigorously dragged out of your abode by your college companions. 2) You were all pretty much drunk, enough for neither one of you to drive on the road. And 3) you guys are in the city, and catching a lift is not only a gamble but SUPER expensive! Guess that’s what you get for choosing a Friday night to free-ball.

However, when hope was lost, and you wouldn’t be in the comfort of your bed tonight, you received a text on your phone, and you could practically hear the angels sing in the heavens above!

Recent Message from: Neighbor Fushiguro

Yo. You home? I’m out in the city picking up stuff for the house. Need anything?

Thank God for neighbors, am I right? The chances of someone you know being within the same vicinity of you may be low, but never zero! Did you feel bad that you texted back saying you needed a ride back to your house? Sure. Did you feel extra bad when you asked a huge favor for him to drop your friends off at the nearest hotel? …Yeah.

But luckily, he didn’t seem to mind. The only thing you had to endure was him teasing you about your little outing (with the help of your friends in the back of his truck) and your tipsy persona. “Never took you fr’ one who drinks.” He scoffs while putting you down on your couch after slinging you over his shoulder because you complained about your feet hurting. Damn heels! “Neither one who gets drunk.”

“It wasn’t my fauuu~lt,” you whine with a significant stretch while your neighbor roams around. “My fwiends, they forced me to–hic–to do it…”

“Mm, do your ‘fwiends’ always push you over to do things?” He shouts from the kitchen; you can hear cabinets opening and closing.

“When you’re the youngest of the group, they do.”

“Well, maybe I gotta get to know ‘em so they can push you into goin’ out more. And maybe you can quit avoidin’ me when I invite you over.”

“I don’t try to avoid you!” You sprout defensively. “And quit teasing me, Toji! You’re supposed’ta be on my side; I’m the victim here.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever ya say.” Heavy footsteps draw nearer to where you are, and your heavy eyelids open to see a hand stretching towards you with a glass of water. “I’m here takin’ care of ya now, aren’t I, lil’ victim?”

A smile pulls your lips as you take the glass. “Thank you,” you express before a sip, and your neighbor lifts your feet to sit on the cushion beside you.

“Y’re welcome,” he places your legs on his lap, grabbing the remote to turn on the television.

You haven’t been in this neighborhood long enough to say you have friends. Don’t get it wrong; everyone you contacted has been lovely and friendly, and some have opted to help with your move! But aside from the casual greetings in the morning or the nods of acknowledgment, you barely know people who scratch the surface of acquaintanceship. Not to mention, it’s your fault for being a bit of a hermit.

…But, there is one neighbor you could say you’re pretty close with. Someone nice. Someone dependable…Someone attractive that you’re on a mission not to stare too much.

Toji Fushiguro lives two houses down from you across the street. Remember I mentioned you had people assist with your move? This widowed, middle-aged man was one of the nice handymen who aided you and your friends with your boxes and heavy furniture. You remember it like yesterday, seeing this brawny man stroll up your driveway on the sunniest day of June. You nearly mistook him for an Olympic athlete.

“So, y’re the one movin’ ‘round here?” The calm baritone of his voice was unforced. “Nice to know there’s a cute face on the newbie. Need any help?” It’s how he asked – so sultry and alluring you almost spaced out before nodding absentmindedly to his request for aid, hoping he didn’t notice you watch how the scar of his lip moved as he spoke. “Welcome to the neighb’rhood, kid.” Rarely do you have butterflies running amok in the pits of your guts, but they were challenging to deal with that day.

And it doesn’t get any better from that day forward. No matter how hard you wished not to run into this immediate crush of yours, he would somehow wheedle his way into your path. It started slow, exchanging hellos or good mornings whenever he left for work or you took the garbage out. Then came the “Want me to do y’r lawn fr’ ya?” or the “House down the street’s havin’ a little barbecue, wanna get to know people?” You thought moving away from the busy city life would die things down. However, Toji making your head race every chance he gets wasn’t a move you could envisage. Think about how you felt the day he asked for your number to keep in contact “fr’ emergencies…or if ya need anythin’, shoot me a call,” how your heart jumped to your throat! Oh, the girls never stopped teasing you when you told…

Nonetheless, you can’t deny how much help he’s been. Well, outside of that, just being a great neighbor all around. Besides being an absolute succor, he’s an outlet you can come to for anything. Whether for the house, the community, or just personal conversations, Toji’s someone you can admitlingly say you’d depend on. With trust built from day one, sharing pieces of yourselves to break down barriers, it’s safe to say that he is undoubtedly a friend who made your decision to move a worthy risk.

…Yet, what’s even more risky is being alone with him, something you do everything you can to avoid. Why? Look at him! Would you trust yourself to be anywhere with this man alone? Of course not! This is why tonight is the riskiest night you’ve ever bestowed upon your drunk self.

“You got somthin’ to say?”

“Huh?” You perk to reality, anxiousness filling you once you realize you had been staring at the man. “N-No, I’m sorry.”

He stifles a snort, grabbing your feet to massage them from the pain. “Oh, wanna act quiet. You were all bubbly in the passenger seat with y’re friends. Now y’re all shy because y’re stuck with me, huh?”

“T-That’s not true!” A lie; he was right on the mark. Your heart has been beating nonstop once he sat next to you. “It’s just that…I’m sorry for making you drive and pick me and the girls up.”

“Nah, don’t apologize,” his focus is on your feet as he kneads and rubs the sole of your foot. “Told ya I was around the area doing some shoppin’, so pickin’ ya up on my way back was easy.”

You take another sip of your water. “Shopping?”

“Mm, my kids are down here for the weekend, so I had to go out fr’ a bit and grab shit fr’ my daughter.” Ah, yes, Toji is a father; you remember him telling you about his two children in college, a junior and a sophomore. “They’re at the house right now; saw ‘em after I dropped stuff at the house before bringin’ ya home.”

You hum. “Sorry for stealin’ you from them for a bit.”

He shakes his head with a humorless laugh. “Please, they probably don’t even know I’m gone. They’re big kids. Plus,” your breath hitches when emerald eyes trail to you. “Now I get to finally have you all to myself, no curvin’ me and whatever this time.”

“I’m not tryin’ to curve…”

“Yeah, yeah.” He goes back to massaging your feet.

“…Thanks again, Toji. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem, sweetheart.” Your abdomen flexes at the use of the nickname. “You know I always got you…Say, did you hit y’r head somewhere?”

You blink, eyebrows furrow. “No? Why?”

He points to his temple. “Because I see like a lump right here.”

You mirror his movements, your hand touching the spot he’s pointing. And your fingertips meet with a lump on a location that sparks too much familiarity. You gasp aloud and cover the lump with your hand, the other covering your other temple.

Oh, no.

Black eyebrows knit together. “You okay?”

Play it cool! “Y-Yeah, yeah, I’m fine! You’re right; I probably hit my head somewhere while out.” You take this time to remove your legs off the comfort of Toji’s lap and stand up from the couch. “I’ll put something on it to stop the swelling.” You can also sense something aching down your lower back at that moment. Oh, hell no!!

“Ya sure? Need me fr’ any—“

BZZZZ!! BZZZZ!!

Toji’s cut off from the vibration of his phone in his jeans, pulling the device out to see that someone called “Megumi” was calling. Good, a distraction!

“N–No, no, I’m good from here.” You say through gritted teeth, the alcohol taking effect and making your stance a little buzzy to uphold. “J-Just stay here, I’ll be back!” You don’t even wait for his approval, turning on your heel and heading out of the living room to the stairs. Your body feels wobbly with every step you take, but you don’t pay it any mind because you can feel the lumps beneath your palms increasing. “God, please, not now, not today…!”

You march as fast as you can to your bedroom, nearly stumbling on the floor as you haul ass to your bathroom door. You do a terrible job watching your footing fall after rushing to turn the lights on, and stuff from the counter falls because of the impact. But you didn’t care, shuffling up so you could look at the mirror. And the sight you see fills you with immediate dread.

Horns are the first thing you see from either side of your head; the tips curl as if to form a crown but point to the ceiling. Your eyes are no longer human-like, pupils shaped like slits as if morphing into a reptile. And your ears get horizontally pointier. “…shit.”

You then lift your skirt and tear a hole in your pantyhose above the hem of your panties, and your fear quadruples at the sight of something long and slithery protruding out of the hole. A long tail with a pointy end; you lose your mind. “Shit, shit, shit, shit—”

It’s then you realize why this is happening: you had forgotten to take your daily supplements that are meant to subjugate these features of yourself. You’ve been taking them for the longest time before you moved into this neighborhood, so you’re used to your typical human facade. Now, seeing these parts of yourselves is the very LAST thing you need right now!

And then something hits you, an unsettling feeling that you’re too scared to confirm. Your eyes travel down to your shirt, your hands hesitantly pulling the bottom tucked into your skirt and lifting to reveal your navel. You then tug the top of your skirt to expose a spot you’re honed in on the mirror. And the urge to scream grows tenfold once you see a black marking on the lower part of your belly.

A womb tattoo!?!?

“Oh, my fucking God, not tonight!!”

“YO, HEY!” And just when it couldn’t get worse, you hear Toji coming up the stairs and beelining for your open bedroom door. Wait, no— “I heard screamin’ and a big ‘boom,’ you alright? Where are y—“

Your neighbor stops dead in his tracks once he appears in front of the bathroom opening; his concerned expression shifts to an immediate neutral deadpan. He stares at you, and you stare back at him, the silence so thick you could cut it with a knife. A ring fills your eardrums, dissociating from this entire scene and all its complications.

You want to cry. Maybe scream, throw up, or just straight up die on the spot.

Because this wasn’t the night for someone to find out you’re a succubus.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“…”

“…So, what are you?”

Not even concealing your face in your pillow can hide you from the eventual questions of Toji, who sits idly on the corner of your bed. You cringe internally, never thinking this dilemma would befall you. The point of moving was to turn a new page in your life and leave the past behind with the city. Now, you are shriveling on top of your bed like a moody teenager, and your neighborhood crush is here to witness your depression.

“…What happened to your phone call?”

“It was my kid. I told him to lock the door since I’ll be out a little longer. Don’t try and deflect,” his blunt answer has you descend further to your inner turmoil. “How come I never seen these horns before?”

You sigh heavily; there’s no point in trying to divert now. “…I take supplements that hinder any features of my succubus appearance so I can look like an average human for the rest of the day.”

“Daily?” He sees you nod through his peripheral. “Succubus…the hell’s that?”

“Basically, I’m a demon that…that…” Yeah, no, let’s not finish that. “Never mind.”

“Bullshit. Tell me.”

“D-Don’t worry about it, it’s not—“

“Look here,” he speaks to you with a stern tone, a hand coming to your waist to shove you a bit. “I went ahead and picked y’re drunk butt up, made sure ya don’t puke up a storm, and now y’re here looking way different from before. The least you could do is explain.”

God, to be lectured by a human – totally humiliating…! “…I’m a demon that gets energy from…se–….sexu, uhh………..sexualactivitywithhumanbeings.”

The silence that trails after your ramble is beyond awkward.

“Oh.”

…

“Oh.”

God, just kill me right now!

The older man forces a cough. “So, you…have sex every day?” You can practically sense the tiny hint of discomfort from prompting that question.

“W-Well, I used to when I was younger. But I haven’t really…done it in a couple of years.” Jesus Christ, why is it so embarrassing to admit to someone other than yourself? This is the literal worst!

“Is that bad?”

“It’s, uhh…It can be?”

“So, why haven’t you done it?”

“Because…!” You snap your face out of your pillow and finally allow yourself to breathe correctly. “I just…I don’t have time like I used to anymore, and using my powers to make people forget afterward can get tiring. Also, the more times I do it, the more my drive gets intense from the last. The desire of a succubus can be dangerous, you know? And since it’s been a while since I’ve let my powers out, I’m sure it’s nastier than ever…”

“…Well,” Toji turns to face you. “Have you ever had the urge recently?”

“I-” Woah. That question came out of nowhere, almost answering it without proper consideration. “Wh–What do you mean by that…”

He shrugs. “Like—you know what I mean—like, even though you try to suppress it, do you still have those urges to do…ya know, it?”

Things get a little uncomfortable here; now you wish you kept your face in that pillow. Tojo’s gaze on you is distinguished — gentle yet stern, matching his demeanor. He's calm and calculating and is waiting for your response to his strangely personal question.

“I…I, I don’t know.” It was another lie.

“Why’re you lyin’?”

“I’m not…!” Toji clicked his teeth with a face.

“Fine, answer me this then. Have ya ever thought of doin’ it since ya moved here?”

Yup, this question was far worse than the other. His words echo inside your noggin, bewildered with every syllable relaying. And the widowed man lifts his brow from the lack of an instantaneous answer. You open your mouth, but words fail to aid you, your tail shying away behind your shadow. “I-I…I don’t—“

“Ever thought of me?”

“Toji!” You shout defensively. Sure, it might’ve been out of line to ask. However, it’s the fact that he’s breaking your exterior with every question — because of how on-the-mark he is. You could never prepare yourself for that inquiry, the heat on your face growing more unbearable. How could he know of the frenzy he puts you through just for existing?

“I’m not dumb.” You peep Toji, turning his torso and facing his entire front in your direction. “You think I don’t notice how often you try to push me off when I invite ya over or know when y’re lookin’ at me when you think I’m not aware’?” He dents the bed with his added weight, and you forget to breathe, watching him inch closer. “Or act all shy and cute when I got you to myself?”

You gulp, your brain short-circuiting at the feeling of Toji’s palm on your thigh. There have been countless nights where you’ve thought of your neighbor more than once, indulging in fantasies you could never speak of to a soul, especially Toji himself. To let the man know of the dirty things you’d want him to say to you, the names you wish him to call you, the erotic things you’d like him to do to you — death is the only option necessary not to let that happen. Unfortunately, he seems to have a good idea now that he’s cornered you like this, and you’re too stunned to utter a word.

“It’s okay, though,” he whispers low now that he’s close to your face, and you have to hold back on letting out a yelp when his hand comes to hold your face, his index finger toying with your sensitive earlobe. “‘Cuz I love it when y’re all timid, can’t even look me in the face…Like now.”

You try to avert away from him, but his thumb brings your chin back to him. “Toji, please,” his name feels forbidden to say all of a sudden.

“Tell me ‘no’.” His nose brushes the tip of yours, and you chew your lip. “I’ll stop right now and leave, let you deal with this y’reself…Or,” he ghosts to your ear, and you quiver. “I’ll stay with you and treat you to what y’ve been scared to ask fr’.”

“Toji, wait,” Fuck, you can’t remember the last time you had your ears so keen, his breath brushing it enough to compel you to meltdown.

“Say ‘no,’ princess.” You’re locked under his forest-green orbs, and you swear you could hear your heart hammering your chest. “Or I’ll treat you right tonight.”

Perplexed eyes can’t move anywhere else, and your lips are wet from licking them without knowing. Is this really happening…? An inquisition you had no time to answer for yourself once Toji closes the gap, centimeters nearer with every millisecond.

I…can’t…

His face draws near, and your eyes reflex to close.

I don’t…want to…

Toji pulls you in for a gentle kiss; your thoughts radio silent after the contact of his scarred lips on yours. No shot. Your neighbor was kissing you right now — there’s no way!? This had to be a dream…! This is truly a wild night: not only are you tipsy to the noggin, but your neighborhood crush has found out your secret, and now you’re kissing that exact crush in your room?? Your muscles go tense at what is occurring.

He peppers your lips with kisses, forced to catch up with him as he claims your lips, a palm snaking to the back of your head to keep you steady. He licks your bottom lip, chewing gently to prompt the softest gasps out of your mouth. “C’mon, baby,” he coos to your sensitive ears. “Relax wit’ me.” You nearly melt at the lick of your helix as his free hand courses from your chest to your waist. The brush of his fingers onto your tail makes you jolt.

“Toji, wait,” you mutter under your breath as he nibbles on your pointy ear, your hands gripping the back of his black wife beater. “D-Don’t; I’m so sensi—Nmmm…!” Jesus, the moan you held back! Toji trails his mouth to your chin down to your neck to suck on your skin. And your lower half throbs harder. “Ahhh…hahhh…”

He returns his lips to yours; this time, his tongue runs on your teeth vigorously to seek entry. You submit after a chew to your bottom lip, whimpering as the older man inserts his wet muscle to greet yours. Surreal, isn’t it, to be tongued down by your neighbor? You don’t know whether it’s the alcohol, the twitches between your inner thighs, or the flick of his tongue and the sound of his purrs that have your face getting hotter.

And fuuuuuuck, he’s such a good kisser — scratch that, he’s an AMAZING kisser! You’re practically turning into putty in the palm of his hands as he lips you, tilting his head to a proper position with a soft push to your face as he deepens the kiss. He sucks on your tongue, and you mewl, helplessly quivering when he teases the muscle with nibbles. Your waist has a mind of its own while it sways involuntarily, rocking as you sink into the zealous kiss. He’s not overpowering you in any way; if anything, he’s so overwhelmingly comforting, his hand caressing your cheek tenderly, and soft noises of lips smacking and breaking apart bounce one after the other.

Then, you shrill unexpectedly. “…!! Mmahhh! T-Tojiii, d-don’t—don’t touch…Haahhh…”

“Oh? Well, lookie here.” Your ears perk at Toji’s chuckle. Unbeknownst to you, distracted by the intense kiss, your neighbor sneaks his hand under your skirt and touches your private zone shielded by your pantyhose, fingers pressing up on your vulva area. “All we did is kiss, and ya already got your panties wet?”

Embarrassed? Of course, it’s been so long since you were touched like this and out of practice. Now, your repressed emotions start to crumble out of their straightened form the more Toji’s middle finger rubs on your panties. And let’s not even mention your thighs motioning to ride on the digit, your dignity starting to disintegrate. “Ohhh, Toji…”

“Mmm? What is it, sweetie?” He nuzzles to your neck after licking and sucking on your chin. “Feelin’ good down there?” He curls his middle and forefinger to push. “Got ya all excited?” He receives a confirmed hum. “Tell me how y’re feelin’.”

You gulped thickly, your breathing shaking. “I-I’m feeling—shit…” he laughs lowly at your swearing. “Nnnm! You’re making me feel…so hot.”

“I can tell, you’re twitchin’ like crazy right on my fingertips.” His fingers move into a circular motion, and your mouth goes agape. “Fuck, man…Hey, hold on, I wanna do somethin’.”

Toji removes his fingers from under your skirt before you can tell, the heat between your legs going tepid as he withdraws from your figure to lay his back on the bed. But before that, he unzips and loosens his jeans to his butt. A noticeable tent of his boxer briefs has your lips locked to each other, and your eyes widen when he subtracts the material. Just when you thought this night couldn’t get any more crazier, you are awake to witness the display of Toji’s erection in real-time.

How long has it been since you’ve seen a real-life, living, and breathing dick before your eyes? You honestly can’t recall that; the responsibilities of human life have made you grow numb to your demon necessities that it no longer feels innate. However, the sight of your crush’s solid, girthy, excited cock is marveling. How your mouth waters as you ogle at it is borderline humiliating, eyes glued to the uncut tip.

“Like what ya see?” He asks smugly, kicking his jeans and briefs off and slapping his thigh. “C’mere, mama.” Oh, fuck, the quirk of your insides was unavoidable at his comment, primarily as he guides you closer to him. “Let’s warm up.” You yelp as he effortlessly moves your legs to where you straddle him. He pushes your skirt up to your waist, and you can hear the tear from your pantyhose. His thumb comes to slide your panties to the side, and he whistles. “Damn, lookin’ all pretty and wet fr’ me.”

It’s either the fact that Toj’s dick is inches in front of your face or your bare pussy out in the air in front of him; either one of the two has your mind going in a whirlwind. And it all comes to a standstill the moment you sense something wet and firm glide across your labia, and it takes everything in you not to tremble. “Mmm, oh, fuck,” he groans after licking your cunt, throwing in another lazy one to have you holler. “It’s been so long…Shit.”Toji’s hands curl from your legs to cup your asscheeks, keeping your butt near him to lap his tongue around your chasm. You whine as he licks you down, your teeth clattering at the sensation.

Oh, my God, your head begins to ache. It feels so good, your body finally coming back to the groove of things as you move your butt around. The man under you quickly latches his mouth onto you, a firm grip on your ass to keep you in place for him to service you. Speaking of service, your eyes flick to the erect limb before you, your mouth salivating with the run of your tongue across your teeth. Fuck, it looks so good; you admire internally before inching your face close to the length, your head getting dizzier from the sheer size and musk. Damnit…I wanna taste him so bad…!!

“Go on, dollface,” Toji gives your butt a playful smack. “I know ya need this bad.”

God, he’s so right — you need this; there’s no point in denying anymore. You blow on it before placing a tender kiss, noticing how it pulsates as your hand wrings around the shaft. You lick your lips before pecking at the uncircumcised tip, and Toji’s hold on you goes tighter. He’s sensitive, you note. Adorable. You stick your tongue out to swirl around the cockhead, bathing it with your saliva before you inhale it with a delighted hum, gradually warming up your loosened jaw.

Fuck, the taste of a cock — something that felt nostalgic the moment he graced your tastebuds. Your eyes water a bit, trembles rocking your figure as Toji sucks on your wetness, and every inch you intake fuels the haze that fogs your brain. You stroke and suck him simultaneously, a forgotten method that rekindles now in this moment. You coat him with your spit the more you relax your jaw, slurping him unapologetically as if a different part of yourself takes over.

On the other hand, Toji feels the same way. It’s been way too long for the widowed man since the last time he has been intimate with someone, let alone have a bare ass right in front of him. It’s no secret that he’s had the hots for you once you moved here, but having you on top of him like this is like something out of his wet dreams. The way you murmur cutely as you suck his dick turns him on so bad, a guilty pleasure come true as he drinks your nectar off your damp naked folds. His tongue teases around the entrance of your vagina before pushing it in, fucking your opening with his wet muscle. You cry on his girth, your tail cringing in the air from the stimulation. He spots it and grabs it from the base; how your lower half jolts to the grasp is humorously darling to him. So cute.

The minutes go longer as you two keep pleasing each other, and a soft whimper escapes your lips when you release Toji from your lips, lips plastering long and sweet kisses on his shaft as you massage the tip. Your other hand palms and kneads his ballsack, the jerk of his thighs rewarding to see, so you increase the pace of your hand.

“—Thhh, nmm!” Toji curses from behind, sluggishly licking from clit to your slit while succumbing to your touch and mouth. “Shiiit, just like that, baby, suck me off like t—Mmngh! Christ, I’m gonna..fffuckin’ cum…”

But then, you remove yourself from Toji’s member, the cold air instantly blanketing him. Green eyes blink as you move off of his lying body, observing you bending over with your face to the cold sheets.

“Toji,” you plea to him desperately, hooded eyes shining eagerly. “Please, I need it…Here,” you spread your ass, fully exposing your slit wet from your fluids mixed with his saliva. Jesus, you were heathing as if you were in heat. “Do it here, I need it inside…!”

You had the man shook; the cogs in his mind stopped working briefly. The picture of you presenting yourself like this to him was unexpected, but goddamn, did it turn him on astronomically! Toji stands on his knees and advances to you, removing his tank top and discarding it to the floor. “Yeah? You want it that bad?” You nod impetuously. “Words, sweetie. Need you to tell me what to do.”

“Toji, pleeease…!” You wiggle your ass until he cusps it, kneading your flesh lovingly to the point that your tail curls around his forearm. “Please, put it in, I wanna feel it…!”

“Yeah, is that what my princess wants?” You and Toji bite your lips when he aligns his tip to your inner labia, teasing you with grinding motions. “Does my demon baby want Daddy to mess y’r insides that bad?”

Oh, we’re playing that card, too? Holy shit, you were getting so wet from this! “Yess, Daddy, pleasee! Mess me up with that dick, wanna be filled up right nooww…!”

He can’t hide the proud grin. “Good girl. Here,” Toji begins to push the cockhead to you, and your lips flatten at the wince of pain that accompanies the push. “Stay still, and lemme reward you,” his hips move slowly in your direction, you grip the sheets to prepare yourself, and your nerves are dialed to a plane of exhilaration you can’t regulate. Oh my God, is this happening? He’s gonna fuck me? So many thoughts cloud your mind, too excited and anxious for what’s to come because it’s been so. Damm. Long. How’s it gonna feel? Is your body ready enough? How does Toji feel about this; is he just as nervous as you a—

Your train of thought is brought to an abrupt halt at the sensation of Toji’s tip finally inserting itself into your vagina, too absentminded that your open mouth couldn’t say a word. Oh, fuck it’s in, it’s in! Your eyes widen, your muscles tense, and your voice struggles to cry. The older man continues to add himself leisurely, the length sundering your slit and stretching your opening as you take him inch by inch. Your back arches instinctively, wailing silently as you can feel the foreign limb intruding your tightness, quick quirks of your frame as he rubs your velvety texture. Ohhhh, my God…!!

When he slowly starts to rut into you, recurring waves of rapture hit your nerves every. Single. Time! You’re entire body is rocked to the core with every short yet gentle pound; the feeling of Toji’s veiny cock scrapping your channel has you shivering. And once he’s encouraged to push his entire member until the very hilt, you yelp aloud when the tip kisses your womb. “—Oooh??!”

“—Mmngh!” Your quick spasm surprises Toji. “Ohhh, shit, there it is. Hmm? Is this where ya want me, mama? Want me right…here?” He snaps his hips swiftly, the rushed movement and hit to your cervix knocks you winded. And another, you keep wringing his shaft acutely. “Ahhn, God fucking damn i—Iisshhffuck, fuck, I can’t, gonna…Hnghh!”

Toji’s body shudders above you, bucking into your warmth with a jittery pattern. The prolonged reaction of his orgasm claims him now, succumbing to the silky, tight texture and how well you’re grasping onto his girth. He comes inside you, moaning as he ejaculates earlier than expected. You sense it, humming to the immediate filling. So warm, so full of his cock already that your toes curl.

And Jesus Christ, it felt so. Fucking, Good! You were no longer drunk from the alcohol; now, you were intoxicated by the prowess and pleasure of Toji’s dick.

“Hah, haaaah, fuck,” he throws his head back with a hiss, his abdomen relaxing from the earlier flex. Then, your tail glides up from his abs, feeling up on his skin and roaming on his happy trail. He snickers at your feline-like comportment, “Heh, actin’ all cute now that you got what ya wanted, huh?” You say nothing, bashful to his words, while your tail curls up to his chin. “Don’t go quiet on me now, dollface; I heard you squeaking and moanin’ seconds ago.”

Toji then returns to rut into you despite recovering from his climax, furled to have you shrieking uncontrollably for him. The smacks of his pelvis recoil the flesh of your ass, his come stuffed inside you now glued to his erection as he rocks into you balls-deep. “Mmmm, yeah, that’s right, baby,” he grabs your tail and wraps it around his hand to pull; you scream louder, and your vaginal walls clamp tighter than ever. “Arch more fr’ me, enjoy me—nmm…!—fuckin’ you real good.”

The pull of your tail makes your senses hypersensitive, perturbed by the stress of it being pulled, yet the enjoyment you feel from it is too inexorable to comprehend. Coherent sentences double down to undecipherable babbles, “—Daahh, hoohhfuuc—D-Daddyyy, Daddyyy…!!” Tears well up in your eyes as he inflicts blows to your ass, the pain too quick to prepare for yet the sting enough to make you rigid. “—Too much, ish t’oo muuuch…!”

Another smack to your butt, and you howl once again. “Huh, ya say that, but y’re milkin’ my cock like crazy.” He bends down to remove your hands that try to hide your face and horns with the pillow. “What, ya don’t like this? Hmm? Want me to stop?”

“No, nooo!!” You shook your head immediately; your vision blurred for a few seconds. “I loveee iit, I love this, love Daddy’s diick—Ahaaa!! More…I want moreee!” Fuck, this is bad; any more than this, and you’ll be addicted for sure.

“Good,” he whispers to your ears. Good Lord, you weren’t going to survive. “Because I ain’t done wit’ ya yet, princess.”

Before you can register his sentence fully, Toji straightens and lays on his side behind you, lifting your leg to create a suitable angle. He then plunges into you harder and faster, the different positions helping the sporadic cadence achieve deeper penetration while scraping your upper wall with ease. At this point, your body is too hot and sticky to care about anything else outside this room; your head pounding and too misty, your senses corrupted by the constant pokes to your cervix and the increasing haze that you don’t feel human anymore. Your succubus roots flourish, drool escapes your lips, and wanting nothing but this feeling to remain ceaseless.

“Gahh, ohhhDaddyyy, ahhahh,” eyes roll to your skull at the brush of your sweet spots. “Shhoo good, I fweel shoo gooood…! Harder, hardeeerr!”

“—Khhck, goin’ as hard as I fuckin’ can!!” Toji kisses your cheek after a lick, chewing on it after hearing you mewl submissively. “Jesus, this pussy, out of this fuckin’��Nnngh…world.”

You turn to him and claim his lips, and he reciprocates into your steamy kiss. Vulgar tongues exchange spit and encroach on each other’s mouth, and you helplessly suck on Toji’s after he shoves it, your puffy lips intaking the attractive noises he makes. And you slither a hand down to your clitoris to swipe erratically while your tail goes around Toji’s waist and curves into the crevice of his ass. Suddenly, Toji stiffens at the pointy end of your tail, tickling his anus, and the raven-haired man gasps at the insertion. Too stunned to speak, he can only move his hips rapidly, his white-ringed shaft digging deep into you with the help of stimulating his prostate.

“—Taahhh, y-you, lil’ minx…!” He breaks the kiss and bites your lip to hear you whimper. “Tryin’ ta make me cum again?”

You nod, breathing heavily. “Ohhh, Daddy, I’m so close…! Gonna come!”

“Me too, mama, me too…”

Hot moans and groans fly out of each other’s mouths, bodies stuck to each other as you both chase for release. Everything feels so fast, so hot, happening all at once; all you can think about is the grinding presses you push up on your delicate clit. Fuck, fuck! It’s coming, it’s coming…!”

Then, it arrives. Your cunt, aching for the climax, receives the crescendo you’ve been aching for this entire time. The walls of your vulva contract around Toji’s member, milking and wringing him as you come loose to your grounding. A clear liquid exerts out of your urethra, showering out to stain your panties, torn pantyhose, and bedsheets, your breathing losing its steadiness and falling to a jagged tempo. The same goes for Toji, who falls into his peak along with you; your fluttering folds force him to submit and release his second load into you with a hiss. The older man’s heaving frame keeps bucking into you until every drop fills you to the brim, burrowing his face deep into your neck to rest as the shocks rock you both.

Finally, everything goes quiet. The cozy atmosphere pulls you out of your heightened elevation and lays you down with silent clarity. Both you and Toji, sweaty and sticky all over, are still linked to each other as the high dissipates. Shuddering figures begin to calm down and fall at ease with the tranquility.

Toji kisses your neck, and you croon until he comes to lay his lips on yours for a tender peck, then on your soft cheek and your temple. He then removes his flaccid bulge, white fluids oozing out of your hole. “Damn, that was good,” he mutters breathlessly. “Hmm, how ya feel—“

The onyx-haired man couldn’t finish his question because of the sudden change of positions you abruptly conducted. He now lays on his back with you straddling him; the calm tone switched to an unexpected spiking mood.

You then hand grab his dick and arrange it back to your raised hips. Viridian orbs widen. Wait. The tip meets your labia once more before you descend it down. What the f—hold on— And then, his cock is swallowed back inside your wetness, and Toji grits his teeth.

“Sh-Shit, sweetie,” Toji’s hands come to your waist. “What’s up, aren’t y—“

“Sorry, Toji,” the man surveys with confusion, watching you strip off and throw your shirt somewhere. Your naked chest is now out for him to see, and his breath hitches when you place your hands on his pectorals while a span of bat-like wings springs out from your back. “…That wasn’t enough.”

Wasn’t enough?? He repeats with furrowed brows, noticing the half-lidded, lustful expression and the sharp dents of your canines. Then, it hits him:

“The desire of a succubus can be dangerous, you know? And since it’s been a while since I’ve let my powers out, I’m sure it’s nastier than ever…”

…Oh, shit. “Wait, we can talk about—“ You get your answer once you bounce on his cock without notice, Toji nearly choking on his tongue. Nope, no room for prattling.

“You let out so much, made my mind go so crazy,” you grind your hips on his pelvis, squeezing his limp cock while it gets firmer and firmer. “Feel so good…More, I want moreee…”

“C-C’mon now, baby, can’t we take a break for a minute at least—“You bring your face an inch away from his.

“Daddy,” your neighbor shudders at the gentle kiss you place under his chin. “Please take care of me like you promised, ‘kay?”

Your gaze lured him in, a trap he was foolish enough to fall for. Because now, he’s stuck under your bow as you begin to inflict an inescapable rhythm, rebounding on his erection until the base meets your folds. Choked groans suppressed by Toji, but take his lips with yours, enforcing a loving yet salacious spell with your satisfied moans. Now, your crush realizes you weren’t the meek, adorable neighbor he dotes on.

Tonight, he was yours to play like a fiddle…And shame on him for getting way more turned on than he should be!

Wow. Guess I’m dyin’ tonight.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

I should be fuckin’ dead right now.

Toji knew something was up when his eyelids opened, and his emerald eyes scanned the ceiling, instantly recognizing that he wasn’t in his master bedroom. The rays of sunshine are blocked from the curtains, yet the light of day crawls in and basks the room in a low glow. Chirps of birds outside greet him on the basking of a new autumn day, lying comfortably in the cold, silky sheets of the bed.

He wakes to a bit of a headache, mentally and physically groggy. Attempts to move are already tricky and aches all over his body keep him grounded in the mattress. Ugh, feel like I’ve lost all feelin’ in my legs; the man can’t even lift one leg without a grimace. And even his arms are challenging, one so oddly heavy as if it’s nailed down.

“Fuck, man.” His first words of the day are a curse, irritated by the drum of his head. He tries to lift himself; again, it’s not possible, agitating the man even more. And why the fuck is my arm so hea—

He doesn’t finish his sentence — the answer reveals itself once he turns his head to the left.

He sees you, surprised to view you in your natural form still. Horns have grown a little larger, yet still small enough for you to rest your cheek on his shoulder. You were sound asleep, faint snores picked up by his ears as he examined your face at ease with a peaceful slumber. Nude, the both of you, a hand wrapped around his left arm to stick close to you while the other is stationed at his chest, your bat wings shriveled together to not get damaged. And judging by the snake-ish feeling, your tail was curled around his bare thigh.

Strangely innocent to see after the events of last night flash into Toji’s recollection, funny to match such a lewd scenario to such a sweet face. He stifles a laugh, placing his right hand on the vulnerable one on him, his thumb caressing your knuckles as he grasps your fingers. Suddenly, some of the soreness he harbors feels light — glad I ain’t dead, I guess.

Your eyes jit behind your eyelids, a soft groan as you suddenly move and scrunch your face. Finally, your drowsy eyes sheepishly flicker open. Lidded gaze fighting the spell of sleep with every bat of your eyes.

“Mornin’, gorgeous.” Toji greets you.

“…”

In real-time, Toji watches your somnolent morph into a gradual display of mortification. He’s a little envious to see you spring up with no strain on your body, wings batting out of their relaxed state, and your hand still with his. “T-Toji??” You question directly, eyes surveying the nude neighbor in your bed, doing everything in your power to ignore the fact that you’re naked as well. Speaking of, you notice the subtle pink glow of your womb tattoo, and anxiety spikes to a high. “I–uhh–I’m so so sorry for last night! Sorry you had to bring me back home, and I didn’t mean to act weirdly on you with—Ooof?!”

“Relax,” he cuts you off by pulling you back to his lying frame, his left hand now free to snake on your shoulder. “Don’t talk so fast; my head’s poundin’ like crazy.”

You blink aimlessly, awkward now that you’re fully aware you’re in this man’s embrace. You can’t help recalling what transpired last night, suddenly feeling squeamish. “…You okay?”

“I feel like my life’s been drained by my dick,” he answers bluntly, adding more weight to your embarrassment. “Wakin’ up to a pretty face who nearly killed me with their pussy isn’t somethin’ I’d expect.”

“……sorry.”

“It’s alright,” calloused fingers glide and intertwine with his yours, stroking your thumb with his. “Had a good time either way. Wild, but good.”

“Really…?”

“Really.” You probably shouldn’t have peered up to see him look your direction. Albeit exhausted, his handsome face and sleepy grin ignite the heat on your cheeks. And your stomach flips, hearing a laugh when you meekly avert your gaze away. “How many times did we do it?”

“…Not sure,” long enough for my womb tattoo to be blatant.

“Me either. Does that happen often?”

“Sometimes? I guess it’s because I haven’t done it for a long time, so I went…off the rails because of the intensity.”

“Noted, because I never felt so old until now. I probably pulled somethin’.”

“….Sorry.”

“Y’re good,” Toji scoffs before moving to place a soft kiss on your forehead, and your heart skips the tighter his hand holds your hand. “Tell ya what, I can help you with that cycle of yours, probably…twice a month, so it doesn’t get too crazy like last night. And don’t use y’re powers or some shit to make me forget, either. I don’t wan’ that.”

You lift your face from his shoulder, the heat spreading to your ears. “You don’t have to do that, Toji, I wouldn’t—“

“Nah, I’m down; it’s what neighbors for. Besides, it finally gives me a reason to make ya interact with me more.” Again, his smug smirk causes knots in your stomach. “Like the sound of that, mama? Let Daddy take care of you?”

Your lips quiver, and you hide your face back onto his shoulder. The rumble of his laughter worsens the butterflies in your stomach, and your tail squeezes on his thigh. “Don’t say it like that, Toji!”

“Y’r tail seems to like it.”

“Stop it!”

♱ 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

3K notes · View notes

hunnieknight · 4 months ago

Text

Kitty Kitty Cat!

You are their treasured kitty!

[JingNyan, Blade, Kafcat, Luocat]

Extra

SPAY /NEUTERED YOUR PET, reader is not spayed yet because plot, Modern AU?, reader is a female cat, no proofread, BAD GRAMMAR

Context added to each 'chapter'.

@jymwahuwu wants cat, i give cat.

----

Jing Nyan

Yukong feels so lonely after her daughter left the house for college, she wants a company and someone to take care of.

She is happy to feed you, a stray one, and you officially become hers when she managed to put on a collar on you.

However, she is ill-informed about taking a stray as a pet and never crossed her mind to spay you.

Resulting her kitty to be missing for days, only to come back with filled belly.

On the other side of the neighborhood, Fu Xuan has this healthy fat cat, she foolishly thought her cat is so lazy as long as he is inside, it will be okay.

Oh how wrong she is that Jing Nyan is determined enough to meet up with the stray cat walking outside their house.

Imagine the surprise on Fu Xuan's face when she sees the status from her neighbor about the oh-so-familiar looking kittens.

The meeting started with both women apologizing for not spaying their cats, and ended up with Fu Xuan roasting the hell out her own cat.

----

Stellaron Stray

In a small studio house, the Express Family got an indoor cat, you, a very curious yet timid kitty.

The neighborhood got many stray cats but one of the most famous one are the so called Stellaron strays.

Two of the old cats taking a liking on Express's beloved cat. They don't worry much since every single windows and door are clo-

Oh my god how did the cat get pregnant?

March was quite upset, she has a male cat in mind to mate with her purebred cat. Only for you to just have kittens with the neighborhood gang cats. And how the hell you got a female cat to impregnate you

However, the Express didn't expect the strays to keep visiting, and even leaving animals that they hunt for you!

The Express decided to keep your babies too instead of giving them away.

Now Himeko is followed by kittens who always beg food to her.

And Dan Heng being haunted by the kittens who just....stare at him for some reason.

The Express also realizing these kittens are escaping artist, no matter how tight the door and windows are locked, the cats always find a way to get everywhere.

----

LuoCat

Your dad, Welt, doesn't approve your cat boy friend.

#imaginedraw #hsr imagines #jing yuan #blade hsr #kafka honkai star rail #luocha #jing yuan x reader #kafka x reader #blade x reader #luocha x reader #hsr x reader

3K notes · View notes

weirdgirlvampire · 1 year ago

Text

#^^^ me omw to wildly misinterpret the lyrics for my favorite gay boys #I’m fully part of the problem but it’s so [redacted]#ALSO the other day my neighbor was talking about how she was helping her younger brother with a writing assignment and ig the assignment #was to find a modern day application to ‘some essay about eating children due to poverty and corruption’#and I went OH. THE EAT YOUR YOUNG ESSAY?!!?&??!!???#THE ESSAY THAT INSPIRED ANDREW HOZIER BYRNES THIRD AND MONUMENTOUS ALBUM UNREAL UNEARTH??!??!??#THAT ESSAY????#and they were like oh. yeah #😁#unreal unearth #eat your young #Spotify

1 note · View note

rip-quizilla · 1 year ago

Text

1405 Peach Tree Lane

Pairing: Older!Neighbor!Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: You like to watch your older, tatted shirtless neighbor now his lawn. He likes to watch you laying by your parents’ pool in those swimsuits that make his mouth water. Eventually, the inevitable happens when he invites you across the street for a drink.

Word Count: 8.2K

Tags: 🔥SMUT, modern au, age gap (Eddie 40s, Reader 20s), daddy kink, praise kink, degradation kink, slight breeding kink, spitting, light dom/sub, unprotected sex (reader has an iud), oral sex, p in v sex, shower sex, masturbation in a hot tub

(A/N: This is some of the filthiest shit I think I've ever written. You're welcome. Also I was very quick with the proofread, so if you see any spelling or grammar mistakes, no you don't.)

💜💜💜

Everyone in the posh gated community of Forest Hills knew about 1405 Peach Tree Lane.

The house was beautiful, as were all the houses in the upper-crust neighborhood- but the house wasn’t what people paid attention to.

Every housewife in the neighborhood knew that if they were lucky and timed their morning jog just right, they’d catch a glimpse of the toned, inked-up adonis who lived there while he shirtlessly mowed his lush green lawn.

You might not have done much speaking with the housewives in your parents’ neighborhood, but you knew about 1405 Peach Tree Lane- you had a perfect view of its front lawn from your lounge chair by the pool in your parents’ backyard. Luckily for you, all that separated your backyard from 1405 was a short wrought iron fence and a narrow stretch of road.

You didn’t mind living with your parents during the summers you spent home from college; they gave you plenty of freedom and while they were at work during the day, you got to spend the afternoon lounging by the pool, reading a book and soaking up the sun.

As well as soaking up the view of the way that same sunlight glinted off Mr. 1405’s sweaty, ink-riddled skin.

You didn’t speak to him- what would you even say? “Hi, it’s nice to meet you, my favorite part of the day is guessing what your tattoos mean.”? Or maybe, “Hey there neighbor, mind if I count the freckles on your shoulders? It’s for science.”

Eventually, the inevitable happened- he caught you staring.

He didn’t make it awkward, though. In fact, from the way he simply smiled and waved at you, you wondered if he thought your eyes meeting him had just been a coincidence, and you hadn’t been ogling him for the past thirty minutes and some change. You’d smiled back, thankful for your huge sunglasses that hid the way your eyes had widened under his attention, and waved in return.

An even bigger surprise had been that he spoke to you this time.

“That book any good?”

His voice, heavy with labored breathing under the exhaustion from finishing up his lawn work, had caught you completely off guard. You’d laughed nervously, sticking your bookmark between the pages and pushing yourself up from your face-down position on the flattened lounge chair.

“Oh! Ah-ha, uhm, yeah!” you shifted your weight back until you were sitting on spread knees and looking up at the source of the voice. On the other side of your parents’ fence stood Mr. 1405 Peach Tree Lane, sweaty and slightly sunburned on the tops of his shoulders. His curly brown hair had been piled into a messy knot atop his head, and you took note of the details that you hadn’t noticed from far away- a smattering of silver studs that decorated his ears, along with one on his nose. Five o’clock shadow that dusted his jawline. A more detailed view of his tattoos, some of which looked older than others but all of which looked very, very sexy on this man who had so much sex appeal already.

The crinkling of his plastic water bottle as he squeezed about half of it into his mouth filled the silence between you. After a loud gulp he piped up again.

“What’s it about?”

Your brow wrinkled confusedly before you remembered that he had just asked you about your book. “Oh!” you replied dumbly, looking down at the book as if you had completely forgotten that books even existed- looking at him had taken up your entire mental capacity, apparently. “It’s, uh, it’s a memoir! It’s this cool old lady’s life story, she does not hold back, so the narration is pretty hilarious a lot of the time.”

The inked-up Greek god smiled and nodded, eyebrows raising in interest. “That does sound good.” he mused, and his voice took on a slyer tone when he added, “What’s your definition of old, like thirty-five?” He chuckled as if he’d just told a funny joke, but your smile had all but fallen from your face.

“That’s not old,” you replied, not taking the joke, “This author was in her late seventies when she published this book, but even with that being said, this book is just told through such a youthful spirit- it’s easy to forget how old the author is when looking at her words.” You gripped the paperback a little tighter in your sweaty hands. “Plus, old people definitely don’t have the energy to mow their own lawns, and I have a feeling you’re not thirty-five.”

That seemed to catch him off-guard. A surprised laugh escaped him, exploding from his lips before they formed an intrigued grin and his arms crossed over his tattooed chest.

“Oh yeah? How old do I look, then?”

You grinned back, making a show of removing your sunglasses so that you could peer at him with greater focus. “Hmmmmmm…thirty-six?”

Another laugh, this one heartier than the last. “You flatter me, sweetheart.”

God, his voice is like brown sugar.

You tried again. “Forty, then.”

“Older.”

“No way.”

His grin became a smirk. “Are you patronizing me right now?”

You threw up a girl scout salute. “Scout’s honor, I would never.”

He chuckled. “Well, girl scout, I’ll be forty-five next month.”

“I’ll be sure to warn my parents about the rager you’ll be throwing.”

He peered up at your house behind you, like he just now noticed its- and your parents’- existence. “Nah,” he said, “No ragers for me, that ship sailed when I was your age.”

You smiled sweetly, placing your sunglasses atop your head. “At least let me bake you a cake, then, wouldn’t be neighborly to let you have a boring birthday.”

“You’d bake a cake for ‘lil old me, sweetheart?” His tattooed hand splayed over his heart, sweaty and shining in the blaring afternoon sun.

You giggled. You could get used to Mr. 1405 calling you ‘sweetheart’.

“Sure thing, just tell me what name to write in between ‘happy birthday’ and ‘forever young’.”

A flash of dazzling white teeth replied, “Eddie. Eddie Munson.”

That was when you rose a step above the housewives of Forest Hills- to them, he was still Mr. 1405, but to you? He was Eddie Munson.

You entertained yourselves with little conversations here and there whenever Eddie worked out on his lawn. You, always in a swimsuit and him, never wearing a shirt. You would ask him about his tattoos- what they symbolized, which ones he’d drawn himself before they were replicated on his flesh. He would ask you about what you were reading- it was always changing. Sometimes nonfiction, sometimes romance, fantasy, lit fic… he seemed impressed by your insatiable reading habits.

One day, however, he’d been particularly interested in a book whose cover bore a bare-chested gentleman and particularly busty woman in a corset.

“What’s today’s read, girl scout?” Eddie had greeted you with a nod toward the obviously risque reading material and a knowing smirk as he let his arms dangle over the black bars of your fence.

You looked up, glowing from the sweat that’s gathered on your dewy summer skin and smiled tightly. “Oh, just a period romance. Ball gowns, forbidden love, the scandalous touching of hands without gloves on- things like that.”

“From the looks of that cover, I don’t think their hands are the only naked body parts touching in that story.”

You laughed, glancing at the cover as Eddie waggled his eyebrows. “You’re probably right, but who knows? I’m only on the second chapter. I’ll keep you posted though.” you punctuated that last part with a wink.

“Oh please do, princess,” Eddie said with a wolfish grin. “I love a good smutty romance novel.”

You gawked. “No way you read this shit, you’re bluffing.”

Eddie raised a hand as if swearing on a bible. “Scout’s honor.” he said, mimicking your swear from the day you’d met.

You shook your head, smiling ear to ear. “You must be the first man I’ve met who openly admits to reading smut, and I respect that.”

Eddie shrugged. “Easiest way to know what women want- they’re literally writing me an instruction manual. It’d be stupid not to read them.”

You bit your bottom lip before you could stop yourself, making a mental note of that little tidbit of information. “And you enjoy them?”

“It’s porn, sweetheart,” he said, gazing at you incredulously. “Who wouldn’t enjoy it?”

“It’s porn with a plot.”

“I’m a sucker for a good plot, especially if the plot involves sucking.”

You barked out a laugh. “And one could also argue that it’s more emotional porn than physical.”

“Are you insinuating that I don’t have a heart? Because I’ve got one, princess, and it bleeds, it yearns-”

Eddie pantomimed grasping at his own heart in his chest, putting on a fucking one-man show as he hung onto the fence for dear life as if his heart were truly bleeding out. You laughed- that was something that seemed to happen more when Eddie was around- you laughed more than usual, so much that you found your cheeks aching whenever he walked away.

This time, something else ached as you watched him return to his lawn. As you continued to read, you were acutely aware of the heat between your thighs, the wetness that accumulated as you pictured corseted girls and muscled viscounts making eyes at each other across a sea of dancing courtiers. You imagined yourself, cornered in a rich rose garden bathed in moonlight, struggling to stifle your moans as a man in a tailcoat left a mark on your neck. You felt his hand hiking up your layers of petticoats until it reached your thigh, the only thing separating skin from skin being the white fabric of his gloves. You pictured his eyes, brown and bottomless as he moaned at the feeling of your hands tangled and tugging on his soft brown curls-

Uh oh.

You took a deep breath, bookmarked your page, and slipped into the cold water of the pool. You sincerely hoped that Eddie hadn’t been serious about an update on the smut in your novel; you didn’t exactly want to let slip that at some point, you’d stopped picturing the viscount and started picturing him.

But would he mind? Would he be upset to know that you’d pictured his hands on you, his lips on your pulse, your fingers in his hair?

You weren’t sure he would.

In fact, you had a feeling he might actually picture you in situations that weren’t too different. After all, you weren’t blind- you’d noticed the way his eyes would flit down from your face when the two of you were talking. He didn’t seem to put much effort into hiding his once-overs, his raking gaze that seemed more than pleased by the way your swimsuits hugged your curves, pulled your cleavage together, cut higher on your hip than your shorts ever would. Whenever you pulled yourself up from lying on your stomach, you’d seen how his eyes followed your ass hungrily as it left his line of sight.

That was the moment that you realized- Eddie Munson, more than likely, wanted to fuck you.

And you definitely wanted to fuck him.

So the next time he came over to see you after mowing his lawn, you offered him a beer.

“I’m already halfway through mine,” you said, leaning back to give him a full view of the way the sweat on your breasts shone in the hot sun. “don’t make me day drink alone.”

A salacious grin curled on his plush pink lips. “I could be tempted,” Eddie peered at the cooler beside you. “What are you drinking, sweetheart?”

You opened the cooler so that he could see the six pack of light lagers in shiny green bottles. Eddie wrinkled his nose distastefully. “Alright, young padawan,” he sighed, unlatching the gate to your backyard. “It’s time you learned your first lesson from Master Munson.” He didn’t enter the backyard, simply opened the gate and waited for you to join him outside your parents’ property.

You quirked an eyebrow; this was new territory. That wrought iron fence had always served as a sort of barrier between the two of you, never occupying the same space and keeping each other at arm’s length- flirty banter, but with boundaries.

Now, you smiled shrewdly as you slipped on your flip flops and crossed the threshold into Eddie’s space, following him across the narrow street to his driveway.

“Oh so I’m your student now, Master?” you quipped, launching him into a dark chuckle and a shake of his curls.

“Christ,” he cursed under his breath low enough that he probably thought you hadn’t heard- but you did. “Well, your college friends are obviously shitty teachers if your drink of choice is a basic ass bottle you can grab at the goddamn gas station.”

You scoffed, “Oh, what- are you trying to say you’re one of those pretentious beer snobs who only drinks micro-brewed IPA’s named after bad puns?”

Eddie laughed out loud, smiling ear to ear at you over his shoulder. “Oh that’s exactly what I am, princess!” The harsh sunlight finally relented as the two of you crossed into Eddie’s garage, and you followed him in a beeline to the old refrigerator in the corner opposite from his impressive-looking toolbench.

You nearly moaned with relief when the cool air from the fridge hit you as Eddie opened the door and grabbed a couple of unmarked silver cans from the middle shelf. You eyed them cautiously, which Eddie saw and snorted at when he saw your expression. “Not poisoning you, sweetheart, no need to worry.” He opened a door beside the fridge that you guessed- judging by what you could see past the doorway- led to his kitchen. “A friend of mine is a home-brewer, he gives these to me and the guys for free. Way better than any cookie-cutter shit you’ll find at a college party.” He held the door open for you, nodding his head toward the doorway. “You coming inside? It’s hot as hell out here.”

You hadn’t expected him to invite you into his home; it occurred to you suddenly that you were still only wearing your swimsuit. Smiling shyly, you stepped through the doorway, the chill of the air conditioning rolling goosebumps over your damp skin. Eddie stepped into the kitchen and immediately began opening the cans, handing one to you.

You eyed the can cautiously, raising an eyebrow at him. “Do I want to know what I’m about to drink?’

He smiled mischievously, inclining his head toward you as he held his can aloft. “First lesson, padawan- trust your master.” He tilted the can in your direction, to which you sighed and tapped your can to his.

Your eyes widened in surprise when the cold, bubbly liquid hit your lips. It wasn’t anything like you were expecting- instead of the tepid wheaty taste that you were used to. At first the drink was tart, but after a second it faded into a fruity dryness that reminded you of white wine. Its flavor was so light that you couldn’t even tell you were drinking beer.

“This is beer?”

Eddie chuckled. “Technically it’s a sour, but yes- it’s a type of beer. Dustin said it was a champagne sour, so if you like wine then hopefully this’d be up your alley.”

You smiled as you took your second sip. “I do like wine.” you murmured, testing the flavors on your tongue. “Like this, too. Your friend ever think about selling what he brews?”

“Dustin?” Eddie asked, laughing as if the question were something funny. “Oh I have no doubt he’ll try to sell it one day, but he’s not going to even think about it until he knows he’s perfected his recipe.”

As you took another sip of the cold drink, you felt another wave of goosebumps run through you. Coincidentally, this was the moment that Eddie fell perfectly silent. You peered over your can- his eyes were fixed on your chest. You became acutely aware that the goosebumps had resulted in your nipples growing so hard, you thought if something-anything- were to accidentally brush against them, you might moan from the sensitivity.

Stifling a smirk, you shivered and hugged your upper arms. “Brrrrr it’s cold in here!” you said coyly, “I guess my body temperature got a little too used to the heat.”

Eddie’s chest heaved slightly at the way your tits bounced and squeezed together when you shivered. He cleared his throat, looking down at the beer can in his hand for a moment. “I’ve got a hot tub, you know,” He spoke up, peering at you to gauge your reaction. “Downstairs. You’re welcome to it.”

You took another sip. “Only if you join me.”

His dark eyes snapped up to yours, lips curling up at one corner. “Yes ma’am.” he said, his voice lowered an octave and a bit huskier than before. You held his eye contact, mirroring his lopsided grin with a charged, heavy-lidded gaze.

Eddie led you to a staircase down the hall and said he’d be right back with a towel for you after he changed into swim trunks.

“Aw, no speedo?” you smirked. Eddie appeared unphased. “Mental note,” he murmured to himself, “the princess is eager to see my thighs.”

You giggled, “There might be more tattoos there I haven’t seen yet,” you countered, “How am I supposed to keep figuring you out if I don’t know the meaning of each and every one?”

Eddie placed his forearm above your head on the wall, leaning into it until he was close enough for you to feel his breath on your hairline. “You know, you seem to spend a lot of time staring at my body, kid-” You bristled at his blatant omission of the nicknames you liked. “-I’m starting to feel objectified.”

You forced the smile from your face, looking up at him defiantly. “I could say the same thing about you, Mr. Munson,” you replied, “-and I’m not a ‘kid’.”

His position didn’t change as his eyes raked over your nearly naked body, drifting from your eyes to your lips and catching on your cleavage. “Don’t I know it, sweetheart.” he whispered, before pushing off the wall. “Hot tub’s already heated, just push off the cover and hit the green button. I’ll be down in a sec.”

And then he was walking down the hall to what you could only assume was his bedroom. For a moment, you thought about following him… but if you were honest with yourself, you were actually pretty curious about this hot tub. So down the stairs you went, carrying a silver can of sour in each hand.

Eddie’s basement was cozy, but he had utilized the space to its full potential. The majority had been filled with workout equipment to create a home gym, the walls lined with floor to ceiling mirrors that created the illusion of a larger space than it actually was. Sitting on stylish wooden slats was the hot tub, topped with a brown leather cover. To the right of the hot tub was a door with a small window that was just at your eye level. Upon closer inspection… yep, that was a sauna. Eddie had a sauna.

Shaking your head in disbelief, you made a mental note to ask Eddie what he did for a living- as far as you could tell, he was the only one who lived here. How did a single guy in his forties have so much money to burn?

Placing yours and Eddie’s drinks down on a nearby surface, you removed the cover from the hot tub and pressed the green button as Eddie had instructed, and settled into the hot, bubbling water. God, it was relaxing. Just then, you heard footsteps descending the stairs.

Eddie appeared, his hair let down from his normal messy bun so that it fell in dark chocolate curls that cascaded over his shoulders. His swim trunks, simple and black with little white skulls lining the cuffs above his knees, hugged his thighs in a way that made you salivate. Tattoos you'd become all too familiar with danced across his skin, and you suddenly felt the need to taste them.

Eddie smirked when he saw you getting an eyeful without even trying to hide it. “How’s the water?”

You hummed, relaxing further into jets against your back. “Sooooooo nice.” You sighed.

Eddie climbed into the hot tub to join you, making you squeal as he practically fell into the water, splashing you as he submerged his head just enough to wet his hair and shake it out like a golden retriever.

You giggled, doing your best to ensure that your hair wasn’t wet enough to make you look like a wet rat. “I’m starting to think you’re a teenage boy trapped in the body of a middle-aged man.”

Eddie narrowed his eyes at you, tattooed arms stretching out over the edges of the tub as he relaxed into the seat across from you. “Hey now,” he said, voice laced with warning. “Careful with the term middle-aged there, kiddo.”

You matched his gaze, challenging. “Kiddo?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Eddie’s gaze was heavy, cocky as he looked down his nose at you. “Practically a baby.”

You grinned. “That one, I don’t mind.”

Eddie’s smile grew in tandem. “Oh, she likes to be ‘baby’, but not ‘kiddo’, huh?”

You leaned back into the water, looking up at the ceiling with a smug smile on your lips. “That’s right, grandpa.”

Suddenly, you felt a tug on your ankle and you were underwater. You emerged, spitting chlorine out of your mouth, struggling to force it from your nose as Eddie’s cackling rang in your ears. You gasped, sputtering in shock as you tried to catch your breath.

“You are a child!” you squealed as he tugged your ankle again- you hadn’t noticed his hold still grasping tightly- not forceful enough to bring you back under the surface but enough to remind you that he could.

“So not a grandpa, then?” Eddie teased, stroking the curve of your ankle with his thumb.

You gritted your teeth together, strategizing. “No, that would be too kind. You’ve got the maturity of a teenager. Luckily for me-”

Using Eddie’s grip on your ankle as leverage, you forcefully pulled yourself forward by your leg and launched yourself right into his lap, bending your knees so that a second later, you were straddling him.

You watched triumphantly as Eddie’s eyes widened, looking up at you with breath that hitched in his throat as you finished your sentence.

“-I know how boys like you think.”

The humor between the two of you dissipated in that instant, Eddie’s eyes blown wide and dark as he watched the way the water in your hair dripped down your neck and between your breasts, which were now inches from his face. If he leaned forward, he could catch that bead of water with his tongue. If he reached up, he could hold your tits in his hands, test their weight. Press them up, squish them together, squeeze…

You felt him growing hard beneath you, and smirked triumphantly. “See?” You said smugly, grinding against him teasingly. “Right on schedule.”

Eddie chuckled, his breathing strained as he shook his head exasperatedly. “Got me all figured out, do you princess?”

You nodded, finding your rhythm as you continued to grind against his hardening cock through his swim trunks. “I think I’m starting to.”

You shivered despite the warmth as Eddie trailed his hand from your ankle up your leg, your hip, your waist…finally resting at the apex of your sternum to splay across your neck. You hadn’t been expecting that- you faltered, breath hitching as he tested out a gentle squeeze and hummed to himself.

“Mmmmm…” He looked you over with passive attention, taking account of the way your eyes widened and your pulse quickened under his thumb. “...you know, I’m starting to figure you out too.” His other hand cupped your hip, pulling you to sit directly on his erection and holding you in place so you couldn’t grind. “You’re used to getting away with shit you know you shouldn’t do, isn’t that right, baby?” You sighed softly in response, pinned into place by his lust-blown eyes. You balanced on a precipice- on one side, obedience, which you knew would satisfy him. On the other, eventual obedience with a little bit more fight; more of a gamble, but you were willing to bet that he would enjoy that best.

“You really thought you could eye-fuck me every damn afternoon,” Eddie said, his hand on your neck moving lower to fondle one of your breasts over your swimsuit. “-and there wouldn’t be consequences?”

You breathed heavily, chest rising and falling under his hand. “I mean…” you drawled, still smiling smugly despite his authoritative tone of voice. “...I was kinda hoping for consequences.” you brought both hands out of the water, gesturing vaguely to the room around you. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

A second passed before Eddie’s hands suddenly grabbed both of your wrists, forcing them behind your back. You gasped, cheeks hot from the water and the position you were in, straddling his lap with both shoulders shoved back to force your breasts front and center. He saw the look in your eyes and leaned forward, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“I can get rough sometimes, baby.” he said, voice low and husky. “Tell me it’s too much at any point and I’ll stop, okay?” You nodded, a shy little mm-hm escaping your bitten lips. Eddie crossed your wrists over each other, holding them behind your back with one hand as his newly free one reached up to caress your cheek.

“Fucking Christ, you’re cute.” he mumbled. “Cute little baby, all alone in her parents’ big house all day, so bored she had to go and be a slut for the neighbor. That right, baby?”

Your eyes were wide and wet, mouth opened in a slight pout as you ground your freed hips on his hard cock once again, whimpering needily. You nodded your head up and down, eager to hear more filthy words tumble from his lips.

Eddie wasn’t satisfied with that. A hand came up to grasp your hair at the base of your neck, tugging on it firmly but not painfully to force your head to nod up and down emphatically. “Use your words, baby, say ‘yes, daddy, I was a slut.’”

You gasped, surprised. You’d never called anyone daddy besides your actual father, and you’d certainly never called anyone that in the bedroom- or a hot tub, for that matter. However, his brazen demand that you call him that while you straddled him like this sent rolling waves of pleasure straight to the apex of your thighs.

“Y-yes… daddy…” You struggled against your instinct to be embarrassed, arching your back against your restrained hands and looking down shyly at your cleavage. “...I was a slut.”

“Look at me.”

Your eyes flicked up to his, wide and obedient. He was smiling at you, beaming with pride and adoration. His hand slid from your hair to the back of your neck, pulling your face to his. “Good girl, baby.” he praised, “I’m gonna kiss you, is that okay?”

You nodded eagerly. “Yes, please!”

That earned you a chuckle. “So polite, baby girl, good job.”

Eddie’s lips felt like the most comforting thing that a person could feel on their skin. His kiss felt like fresh sheets still warm from the dryer. His tongue was like a strawberry that was perfectly ripe, sweet and wet and a rush of relief. He explored you, he learned you, his lips devoured all they could reach and whenever they couldn’t reach, his tongue took over to fill in the blanks.

As you whimpered and squirmed in his lap, Eddie cooed, “What’s the matter, baby, something wrong with your legs?”

You shook your head, moaning into his mouth. “I need something on my clit, Eddie.”

“Something? You’ll just take anything on that clit baby? Is that what you're saying?”

You panted, straining against his rock hard dick for some kind of friction. He was right, you would take anything. “Yes, please touch me, Eddie.”

He made no move to do so, only looking at you pointedly with his eyebrows raised. When you realized your mistake, you corrected, “Please touch me, daddy.”

He smiled smugly, a cat watching a mouse. “Good girl,” he praised, “but I’m not sure you’ve earned that.”

Your face fell, eyes going wide as your lips formed a full-on pout. “But-” you began to stutter, but Eddie wasn’t finished.

He let go of you, pushing you gently off you and guiding you under the water to one of the seats in the corner of the tub. The jets coming off it were strong, nearly too much on your back as you turned to sit, but Eddie stopped you before you could settle into the seat.

“Princess, I want you to keep your knees open and ride your pussy on that jet stream until you cum.”

Your jaw dropped open. Whipping your chin over your shoulder to look at him in his seat opposite you, you stared and waited for him to specify or maybe apologize for misspeaking- there’s no way you heard him right. But then he repeated himself, and you realized that yes, you had.

“Press your pussy up against that jet stream under the water, and make yourself cum. Don’t use your hands. Don’t rush. I want you to fall apart in my hot tub, and I’m going to stroke my dick while I watch you do it. That okay, sweetheart?”

You were learning a lot of new information about your neighbor today.

You smiled devilishly over your shoulder at him, taking in the sight of him lounging in the opposite corner of the tub as he took in the sight of you. “You’re a kinky motherfucker, aren’t you?”

Eddie reached across the tub and wound an arm around your waist, pulling you in for a quick but heated kiss. “Yeah, I am.” he murmured into your lips before pushing you back toward the jets. “Now make yourself cum, I want you tight.”

He laughed at the pathetic little whimper that you let slip involuntarily as you situated yourself against the jet stream. You balanced your weight on your knees, spreading your legs enough to open your pussy further inside your swimsuit. Once the pulsing stream of water made contact with your clit, your automatic impulse was to flinch away; the stream was strong, almost too strong. However, with a little shifting and repositioning, you eventually found an angle that pulled a moan from your mouth that sounded almost pornographic.

“That’s it, baby girl,” you heard Eddie’s rough voice behind you, and you couldn’t help but sneak a peak over your shoulder at him. Eddie sat with legs spread open and one arm slung over the lip of the tub, his other hand palming the erection you knew was only growing harder over his swim trunks. This told you he was a patient man, a man who liked to be teased a little before taking what he wanted. A man who liked to play with his food before he ate it.

You could play, too.

You pulled your eyebrows together, pouting your lips the way you’d seen him react to earlier. “Am I doing it right for you, daddy?” You moved your hips up and down against the jet, putting on a little show for him.

Eddie raised a brow, amused. “I don’t think I can answer that question for you, sweetheart.” he said, sighing heavily with pleasure as he tilted his head this way and that to take you in from every angle. “Don’t worry about me, baby, just make yourself feel good.”

You smiled shyly, nodding in response and turning your attention back to the jets. You maneuvered your hips against them, grinding on the strong jetstream as it hit your clit at angles that you didn’t even know existed. You lost yourself in the sensation, letting your eyes fall closed and humming little sounds to yourself as your heart rate picked up, that familiar pleasure bubbling up in your lower belly as your movements grew faster and more desperate.

Eager to see if Eddie was enjoying himself as much as you were, you glanced over your shoulder to look at him. What you saw was breathtaking- Eddie, his wet curls clinging to his dewy skin, muscles flexing under his tattoos as he fisted his cock underwater. You couldn’t see it clearly due to the raging bubbles, but the flesh-colored underwater blur was enough for you to know exactly what he was doing. You had known he would jack off to you- he’d outright told you he planned to- but seeing it was enough to turn you on so much that it became the thing that pushed you over the edge.

“Daddy, I’m cumming!”

You moaned, mouth hanging open as you rode out your orgasm against the harsh stream of the jets, overwhelmed and overstimulated by the physical feeling and the intense eye contact that you held with Eddie the entire time as your body gyrated and spasmed. He watched you with hungry eyes, lapping up the scene in its entirety and committing every second to memory.

“Good girl, good fucking girl, keep fucking that jet, baby.”

You whimpered, hips jerking away from the stream as it hit your clit at an angle that was a little too intense, and your limp, still-needy body floated over to Eddie. He chuckled, still stroking his cock lightly in the warm water. “Aw, I’m sorry baby, was that too much?”

You shook your head, still eager for him- he’d barely even touched you, and yet you were so desperate for this man. “No, I can take more.”

His eyes had a darkness to them that made your breath hitch. “How much can you take, sweetheart?”

You moved to straddle your knees on either side of one of his thighs, not close enough to grind against his cock, but certainly in a perfect position to rub your pussy along his leg, teasing him. “I’ll take whatever you wanna give me, daddy.”

A low groan sounded from deep in Eddie’s chest. “You might regret saying that one, babe.”

You couldn’t resist matching his warning with a challenge. “Bring it on.” you said sweetly, and it incited a little chuckle in him. He reached back and pressed a button on the hot tub, causing all of the bubbles to stop.

“Get out, dry off.” he said, nodding to the neatly folded towels he’d placed beside the hot tub. “You look like you could use a shower.”

You stayed put, confused. “You… but…”

He cut you off, cupping his wet hands against your face. You could feel the pads of his fingers on your cheeks, wrinkled from prolonged time under the water’s surface. “Sorry, sweetheart, I forgot you don’t like following instructions unless you know you’re getting something out of it.” You scoffed at his condescending tone, but all he did was smile. “What I meant to say was- get out. Dry off. I’m going to fuck you in my shower. Mmkay?”

Your eyes widened, excited by his words and elated by a strange submissive, post-orgasmic euphoria. “Okay.” you replied, but when you saw his testy look in response you quickly amended, “Okay daddy.”

“Good girl.”

The two of you dried off before heading back upstairs. Eddie let you down the hall to his bedroom, which you were sure was filled with so many interesting mementos on the walls that you were sure it would take you hours to study all of it. The first thing to catch your eye was the golden record, framed and mounted beside his dresser. When Eddie saw you looking at it, he supplied an answer without waiting for you to ask.

“Ever heard of a band called Corroded Coffin?”

You searched your brain but came up empty. “No, I don’t think I have.”

Eddie chuckled to himself, like you’d just participated in a joke you weren’t in on. “Most people haven’t. But I bet you’ve heard the song Upside Down on the radio, yeah?” He hummed a couple bars of the chorus, which you recognized instantly.

“Oh yeah! I love that song!”

Eddie grinned. “‘Preciate it, babe.”

Shocked, you glanced up at the record and back to him. “Wait, you wrote that song?”

He shrugged as if to brush it off, but you could tell he was proud. “It was a group effort, my band and I wrote and recorded it together. After that, though, when the offers for record deals and tours and shit started pouring in, it became clear to most of the band members that this wasn’t what they wanted to do for the rest of their lives- band broke up on good terms, we just had some differences when it came to future plans.” He reached up and stroked the frame affectionately with his thumb. “But one-hit-wonder money was still enough to get my name out there, make some smart investments. I’m a music producer now.”

So that’s how he made all this money. The big empty house made sense now. “That’s pretty cool, actually.” you said, smiling at Eddie. You relished the sensation of his hands as they slid around your waist.

“You wanna see something even cooler?”

Before you could answer, Eddie was scooping you up into his arms and tossing you over his shoulder. You squealed, laughing as his palm hit your ass cheek with a loud smack! He carried you into his bathroom, placing you on his vanity counter before kissing the laughing smile right off your face. You felt his hands as they worked your bathing suit off you, freeing your breasts from the confines of the damp fabric. Eddie wasted no time, pulling one of your tits into his hand and encircling your nipple with his mouth, sucking sensually. You moaned, hands fisting into his hair. He only left your skin to turn around and turn on the shower, giving the water a chance to heat up.

Once the bathroom had sufficiently filled with steam, Eddie picked you up from the counter, pulling your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. You kissed him greedily, wetly, and hungrily as he walked the two of you into his spacious tiled shower, which was larger than your dorm room closet back at school.

You relaxed your legs around him in a silent ask for Eddie to put you down, which he obliged. The moment your feet hit the wet tiled floor, you began to sink to your knees until…

You snorted.

“Why do you still have your swim trunks on?”

Eddie had taken the time to take off your bathing suit, but you hadn’t even realized that even after carrying you into the shower, he hadn’t even taken a second to undress himself.

He looked down, noticing this for the first time, same as you. “I, uh… I don’t know. I was-” he flashed you a smirk that was equal parts embarrassed and sexy. “-preoccupied, I guess.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you knelt before him, now eye-level with the drawstring of his swim trunks. “Well let me fix that, then.” you said softly, working your delicate fingers into the waistband and pulling his trunks down until they hit the floor.

God. He was a sight to behold. And you were right, he did have thigh tattoos. They were large, twisting images of hellish creatures, undoubtedly older but still in good shape since- judging by the paleness of the skin they decorated- they probably never saw the light of day.

You reached up, lightly tracing them as you turned your gaze to his cock. It was at full mast, eager and waiting for your mouth to encircle it and, hopefully, make Eddie moan your name.

Which he did.

The way your lips covered the head of his cock, the way your tongue generously licked the shaft under, over, around, the way your hands were warm and welcoming as they lightly played with his balls- all of it made him moan, gasp, groan your name. He called you baby, called you princess, moaned and pulled your hair as he fucked your mouth, and you just about burst into flames when he shoved his cock so far down your throat that you swallowed on it accidentally, pulling a growled “Goddamnit, sweetheart, fuck-” from his lips.

When he pulled you off his dick by your hair, his eyes were humorless and hungry. He crouched down, leveling your eyes under the hot water from the showerhead.

“Are you on birth control, sweet girl?” he asked.

You nodded, “I have an IUD.”

He kissed your forehead firmly, one hand still fisted in your hair. “Good girl,” he murmured. “Now I can grab a condom, they’re right over there in the cabinet under my sink.” he continued, nodding vaguely in the sink’s direction. “But baby, I have been fantasizing about the way your pussy’s gonna feel for a long ass time and I hate to ask you this, and you’re allowed to say no, but-”

“Fuck me raw Eddie.” You wanted it. You needed it. You needed him. “I fantasize about it too. I think about it every day, I touch myself to you before going to sleep and wake up wishing your cock was the thing waking me up. When I’m lying by the pool reading those stupid smutty novels and some lord is fucking a lady in waiting up against a wall, I can’t focus on it! I can’t because I want it to be you and I want to feel your cock inside me, and I want it to be your cum that drips down my thighs and your lips on my-”

He cut you off there, splaying his free hand on your neck and kissing you until you were laid horizontally on the hot, wet floor. He climbed on top of you, and in a moment your mouth fell open at the sensation of his hard cock splitting you open from the inside. He didn’t spend a moment waiting for you to adjust to his size or murmuring praises into your ear- he knew you wanted all of him, and you knew he wanted all of you, and that was all you needed. You moaned, you practically screamed, and above all you clutched him for dear life.

“Dirty girl,” Eddie growled into your ear, thrusting into you deep and hard. “Dirty books, dirty mind-”

He leaned back so that his face was directly above yours and grabbed your cheeks, squeezing to force your mouth open. Your lips parted, and Eddie spat harshly into your mouth before shoving your mouth closed around it. His eyes were feral, wild with lust and dominance. “Swallow.” he commanded, you obeyed in an instant. He felt your throat moving against his hand and smiled deviously. “Dirty mouth, too.”

He picked up his pace, spearing into you at a pace so relentless that you couldn’t even keep track of the noises coming out of your mouth- an incoherent stream of sounds and swear that would have made a sailor blush. He matched your dirty noises with his own, all the while dicking you down into his shower floor as your brain went haywire at the lewd noises of skin slapping against skin that echoed through the bathroom.

“God, this pussy is so fucking tight,” Eddie groaned, “good girl, cumming so hard for daddy back there. You gonna cum on my cock this time?”

You moaned, “Need something on my clit, daddy.”

Eddie pecked your lips with his own, and the way it made your heart skip a beat was like a reward. “Good girl, always tell me what you need, okay?”

You nodded, smiling giddily from the sudden subby euphoria. “Okay, daddy.” You made a mental note that kissing Eddie Munson while his cock was inside you gave you your new favorite kind of high.

Eddie reached down and began drawing small, soft circles with his fingertip on your clit. The richly gentle sensation was decadent, pulling deeper, louder moans from you as Eddie continued to fuck you. “Oh I feel you getting tighter, baby girl, that feel good?”

“Yes!” you practically yelled it.

“Yes what?” He taunted.

“Yes daddy!” you cried, arching your back against the tile. He was fucking you ruthlessly, ravaging you mentally, and the way his dirty words melted into you made your brain go so hazy that you weren’t sure if your vision was clouding or if it was just the steam in the air.

Your release was growing closer, that heat in your core coiling tighter and tighter, ready to burst with pleasure. “I’m gonna cum soon, daddy.” you whined.

Eddie’s dick hit you in that perfect spot inside over and over, and you leaned your face against his hand as he cupped your cheek affectionately. “Yeah? You gonna make a mess all over daddy’s dick?” You pouted, nodding ‘yes’ in response. Eddie smiled at the way you could be so cute and so filthy at the same time- he fucking loved it. “That’s probably gonna make me cum, sweetheart, you want that? That pussy’s gonna grip my cock so tight that it fills you with cum, huh?”

You were whimpering and pouting and letting the sluttiest little sobs fall from you now. “Yes, daddy, fill me with cum, please!”

“You want me to fill you with cum? Fuck all that cum inside you?”

“Yes!”

“Yes what, sweetheart, gotta tell me whose dick you’re cumming on-”

“Daddy!” you cried, “Daddy’s dick, I’m cumming on daddy’s dick!”

“Fuuuck, yes, cum on daddy’s dick you little slut-”

Eddie’s filthy words tumbled from his lips as your pussy pulsed around him, fluttering walls squeezing him tight from the aching pleasure that shot through you. His cum filled you, and the size of his load reflected just how long it had been since he’d cum into anything that wasn’t his own hand. When he finally pulled out, a stream of both your releases oozed out of your hole and onto the floor. Eddie stared at it, fascinated, and he silently used his finger to catch the milky liquid and push it back into your hole. You whimpered, overly sensitive and puffy, your pussy lips inflamed and screaming, but Eddie was gentle as he sheathed his finger completely inside you, ensuring that his seed stayed exactly where he’d put it in the first place.

He pulled you up to a sitting position, smiling gently. “Hi.” he whispered, placing a soft kiss on your temple.

“Hi.” you giggled, a giant smile stretching out across your face, blissed-out and more than satisfied.

Eddie stroked your wet hair out of your face, gazing down at you adoringly. “I’m sorry if that was a little… much,” he winced. “I may have gotten carried away, usually I would talk to you to see if that kind of stuff would be okay, but I was just so fired up-”

“Eddie,” you interrupted softly. “I loved it.”

He grinned, grateful and relieved. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Eddie pulled you against him, your body fitting itself nicely against his naked chest as water poured over the two of you from above while you sat holding each other on the floor of his shower. He sighed, completely and utterly content. “Yeah.”

***

The rest of the summer days in your parents’ neighborhood went like this:

Wake up imagining what you and Eddie would do today. Touch yourself when necessary.

Do whatever chores needed doing around the house, sometimes making batches of lemonade for Eddie when you knew he would be working on his lawn that day.

Lounge by your pool and read a book- this part hadn’t changed.

Spend the rest of the afternoon at Eddie’s. These afternoons usually consisted of activities like discussing the whatever book you were reading, drinking whatever strange new beer Dustin had come up with, and fucking each other’s brains out.

The next month, Eddie celebrated his birthday. He didn’t throw a rager (true to his word) but he did have a little get-together. To your surprise, he invited you.

You got to meet his friends, their kids, their dogs- and see the way Eddie smiled for hours without reprieve when they were around. This whole summer, you’d been figuring this man out bit by bit, but it wasn’t until that night that you truly felt like you knew him.

You baked him a cake, as promised. Three layers of funfetti sponge, vanilla frosting and decorated with oreo crumbs and rainbow letters that spelled out “Happy birthday, Eddie, forever young”.

He wasn’t this way with the rest of the neighbors. To them, he would always be Mr. 1405 Peach Tree Lane, but with these people? With his friends? He was Eddie Munson. Now, you were included in that group of people who were allowed to know him, and how wonderful he really was.

You felt so incredibly lucky that you were a part of that.

#eddie munson x reader #older!eddie munson #neighbor!eddie #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #stranger things fic #modern au

5K notes · View notes

madi-konrad · 7 months ago

Text

A DEMON'S NAME UPON YOUR LIPS

It is the curse of ADHD that, at least for me, I'm always running to the next project, and then the next, chasing the new shiny thing. And that has served me well in my creative endeavors, as much as it has stymied me. But I really do think that I caught something special in my first novel, A DEMON'S NAME UPON YOUR LIPS. And thanks to how my brain works, I rarely ever promote it! Which seems unfair for how much effort I put in, alongside my friends who patiently helped me edit it.

It's a sapphic romance between a (newly minted) Duke and the demon she summons. It's a fantasy which takes place in a secondary world loosely based on Victorian-era Europe, though without any of the queerphobic, or even sexist, hatred endemic to its real-world counterpart (or even to our modern day). It's fast paced, gay as fuck, and I poured my heart and soul into it.

I'd be honored if you picked it up; it's only $5.99. About the price of a Latte.

Grab it at the following places:

itch.io (PDF, ePub, and mobi all included!)

Kobo link (ePub version)

Apple Books, Smashwords, and a few others (ePub version)

Amazon (Kindle version)

Barnes and Noble (ePub)

Synopsis below the cut:

Lucia is a succubus, a demon with the power to shape the emotions and passions of mortals. Summoned often into the world of Melodia, she takes pride in upholding her demonic contracts to the best of her abilities. She likes to think she does her job well … though a string of recent failures say otherwise.

Talia, the recently elevated Duke of Fallmire, summons Lucia for a simple reason: to pose as her wife and fulfill marital obligations to the satisfaction of Parliament. All to say, just a few weeks of walking around the estate and playing nice with the neighbors before a conveniently tragic death. Quick and easy.

But immediately, Lucia smells blood in the water. Behind closed doors, the Duke plots vengeance upon those who killed her father—and the demon wants in. Revenge, after all, is much more fun … and more lucrative, to boot.

But can Lucia predict how hard she’d fall for the Duke? (Not a chance). And can the Duke find it in her vengeful heart to love?

Spice Level: lightly described nudity, fade-to-black sex.

64,000 words.

1K notes · View notes

moderndaymode · 6 months ago

Text

Some new doppelgängers for Modern Day Mode. You may have seen them on my TikTok already but I’m cross-posting to tumblr.

In order:

- Axel: Extra Arms

- Hatsumi: Red Eye

- Micheal: Broken Face

- Audrey: 0004

- Reece: Loose Skin

- Lillian: Hoon Girl

- ???: A totally legit neighbor.

#thats not my neighbor #that’s not my neighbor #tnmn #that’s not my neighbor modern day #that’s not my neighbor modern day mode #that’s not my neighbor ocs #tnmn oc #axel palmer #Hatsumi Miya #Micheal Aiyden #audrey byrne #Reece Mangosteen #Lillian Dotson #Peach TNMN

14 notes · View notes

sodatea2024 · 7 months ago

Text

The old meets the new, probably part 1.

#thats not my neighbor #tnmn #tnmn fanart #thats not my neighbor fanart #that’s not my neighbor modern day mode #steven rudboys #mclooy rudboys #axel palmer #Norman Palmer

24 notes · View notes

azullumi · 1 month ago

Text

WHERE WE LIE ON THE EDGE OF SUMMER !!

premise— you didn’t think that being neighbors and childhood friends with scaramouche would come with many things. for one, you have a sassy loser pathetically in love with you. content tags & warning — pairing: scaramouche (w/ gender-neutral reader) | modern!au, childhood friends, puppy love, scaramouche can’t skip stones, secret pining (for scaramouche), scaramouche words of reassurance and act of service advocate, fluff, word vomit, unspoken confessions | wc: 4.8k ; one-shot

notes from a jellyfish — (repost) first fic for the eat your heart out event!! nearly lost my mind writing this, but enjoy!!

SCARAMOUCHE is a liar.

No truths spill from his mouth, that much is certain.

He could never understand how poets write the beauty of a single sway of grass in the wind nor see how artists condense a single moment into a small stroke of a brush and find it breathtaking when it will all be bound to rot, but he tells others that he does anyway because he is a liar.

His words would bloom withered in his mouth, a shameful garden of ache, and the petals would never feel the lingering warmth in his lips.

But he never liked the heat, the suffocating warmth, always preferring the winter cold. But it was summer when he first met you and he remembers your laughter as you threw pebbles across the water, your smile gently shaped by the warm sun.

i. standing in between here and there

“Are you okay?”

There was only a grimace of annoyance on his face when you turned to briefly look at him.

It was summer once more and Scaramouche dreaded summer more than anyone could, much more so now that he’s spending this hot day with a stranger—a child of his aunt’s friend, who is also their neighbor. The combination of sitting under all this heat and being forced to get along with someone he doesn't know is deadly. He can't even remember what their name was. Perhaps they had uttered it once only for it to be lost among the pebbled path or to be drowned in the river.

He raises his eyebrow at you, “Is it not obvious enough?”

“What’s with this sassy lost child? Jeez.” You mumble more words underneath your breath, something along the lines of him being grumpy. The summer breeze brushes across your skin as you stare at the river, contemplating. Perhaps you were debating if this stone will reach farther than the frog who jumped across just now, or maybe you’re just thinking of the boy—who your mother had asked you to get along with—sitting silently on the grass behind you since earlier.

You throw one stone over the water. It bounces once and twice, the surface responding with small ripples, sliding across before eventually sinking. You do this many times and he watches you every single time, eyes seemingly unable to look away. But curiosity is a hungry monster that consumed him, so he speaks to rid of the itch that claws at his throat:

“What are you doing?”

“Stone skipping,” you paused, witnessing the stone jump only once before reuniting with its old friends at the bottom of the river, “wanna try?” You blink at him, waiting for his answer. There was silence then came a grumble. He stood up from his seat with an expression that makes it seem like you forced him to do so.

You handed the boy a pebble, but he had to stare at it for a few seconds before he took it from your hand. You waited with an expectant gaze, your mind somehow anticipating that he’ll do better than you—Scaramouche looks like he’s good at everything that he does.

Oh, but how your expectations came crumbling down the way your breakfast cookie fell into your glass of milk.

“Go on, throw it.” You had told him and you didn’t know that he was that much of an obedient child because he really did throw it. Just not aimed at the water. He threw it like how one would pass a ball to a friend; his stone didn’t even graze nor come near the surface of the water.

But Scaramouche had the same perseverance of a rock against the wind. He picked up a pebble and threw it once more; this time, it is now aimed at the water but it only went straight ahead, sinking slowly to the bottom.

You don’t think you’re in the right time to say anything, so you just stood still and watched the struggle of a young boy who had a small stone in his hand, with the occasional rustling of leaves as the breeze passes and with the sound of a splash prodding at the silence that envelops you like a familiar companion. You wanted to go and teach him how he’s supposed to do it, that there is a certain angle that he has to reach and he’s not supposed to throw it just as it is, but your mind seems to tell you not to so you didn’t. It’s all quite a spectacular watch, after all, it was as if you were watching your favorite show at 7 PM after waiting hours for it to go on air.

No matter how many times Scaramouche tries to throw and make the pebble bounce across the river, it always just sinks the first time it comes into contact with the surface. He’s silent, but the frustration is evident in the scrunch of his eyebrows and the increasing aggression in his movements.

“Oh, wow, you’re terrible at this.” You were the first to break the silence—your words seem to have stabbed his unyielding spirit as he groaned and just went back to where he was sitting. An act of surrender after struggling for so long.

”You don’t want to try again?”

“Why should I?” The pebble will only sink anyway. What’s the point of doing something when you know you’ll fail in the end?

“Come on, just try it once more.” But you were a stubborn one and Scaramouche doesn’t have much of a choice, not when you’re already right in front of him, taking his hands into yours and pulling for him to stand up. You drag him back to where he was earlier, still holding one of his hands even as you pick up a pebble right at your feet.

“Here, do it like this.” Your hand is warm against his, gentle, in contrast to the crumpled look on his face. You guide him, saying words that he can’t process that much as he’s way too focused trying to fan the flames that danced across his cheeks.

He throws, in the same angle and form that you have guided him into before you had stepped back to watch, holding hope that he’ll succeed this time in the same hand you held him. The stone doesn’t immediately celebrate with his other failed attempts at the bottom as it bounces against the surface.

You cheered, the sound of laughter slipping out of your lips as it seemed to tickle the insides of your mouth the more you held it in. There’s a certain feeling of warmth that washed over him when the melody rings inside his head. The roughness of the feeling, sharp in its unfamiliar edges, is akin to a huge wave that crashed into his form, but the comfort of it as it submerges him reminds him of the afternoon light shining on the floors of his home.

“It only bounced once.” He says, trying to downplay it all to get rid of the feeling that consumes him.

“But it did. That’s what matters, doesn’t it?” The feeling only seemed to grow stronger as if it’s feeding on your every word, being fuelled by your gaze, by your smile, by the sound of your voice. He tries to drown it all by thinking of other thoughts, diving into a different topic instead, and all the while, copying you as you resume your stone-skipping activities.

“Do you not get bored doing this?”

You hum, contemplating for a few seconds before you answer: “I think everything is a little more fun when you do it during summer,” you beam at him, then return your gaze back to the river before you throw, “Like this, especially when you’re doing it with someone.”

To be honest, he doesn’t even understand what you’re saying. This childlike mindset—although, for one, you and him are just a pair of children, playing beside the river, feeling the heat prickling against your skin. The bugs only grow louder in each second that passes as the afternoon slowly comes to the pass, replaced with the onset of the evening. The sky is painted with various colors mixed together but all in harmony, oranges and reds mixed with something golden, tainted with purples.

And yet, he would always ask himself, what is even nice about summer?

“I don’t know why but maybe I’m just saying that because I like summer,” you say as if you had read his mind, as if you had noticed the lingering question on his face that asks you why. “Do you like summer?”

It takes him a moment to answer, letting the orchestra of the wind against leaves, of the stone splashing against water, of the cicada’s song last longer than his silence. He could have said no, he could have disagreed with you and argued with your answer. He could have said that he despised summer for its heat and bugs. But he didn’t and that was the problem.

“I… like summer.” There are razors in his tongue as he speaks, the utterance of the sentence making him bleed internally as he bites on his words. Perhaps the hesitation in his tone betrays his words or perhaps it was the twitch of his lips paired with the contort of his forehead that made it appear as untruthful as it actually was.

Even so, you were convinced. You gleam at him, eyes bright with excitement: “Really? You don’t seem to be one to like summer.”

“I do, why would you say that?”

You shrug, “You just seem like a winter person to me.”

That wasn’t exactly a lie. In fact, that was the whole truth and the actual lie was him saying that he likes summer. He still doesn’t understand himself for saying such words—maybe it’s the heat getting into his head or maybe it's the sound of your laughter that plays over and over inside his mind.

It feels like having a crush—He slaps himself mentally at the notion.

“We should always spend summer together then.” You’ll say, watching a pebble bounce across until it reaches the other side. A feat you have only achieved twice—the second time being this moment. You silently rejoiced for your success, clenching your hand into a fist.

He responds, “So we could just watch stones bounce on water the whole time?” and this made you chuckle before you refute: “Unless you want to, but there are tons of other things to do during summer.”

This went on and on: you, just listing out whatever activities you could do and saying whatever, and him, who listens to every word you say and would give you short responses. It is not until dusk had ended and the evening came, and now, you’re standing by the doorway, saying your goodbyes to the boy who’s terrible at stone-skipping.

“You don’t even know my name, do you?”

“I do.”

You laugh, “Liar.”

ii. take a step closer, won’t you?

Summer came to visit like an old friend you had known for years.

It’s a fleeting companion, a familiar stranger bound to disappear, gone as the wind carries your scent. The sun kisses your skin very delicately, the grass will hold your being as if you were its own child, and you will miss its embrace the moment it slips out of your hands quietly. But there’s a strange comfort welling up in your heart knowing that you will feel it once more in time and you won’t have to spend a lifetime missing it—or him.

“What are you being so slow for?” The dark-haired man stops from his track and turns to look at you, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips formed into a frown. “The sun will set before we even reach the river.” It’s the mayor of complaintown, throwing his usual complaints at you. You could only roll your eyes before you run to him, catching up to his pace before the two of you resume walking.

Scaramouche, somehow, kept his promise. Although it’s not exactly a promise because the two of you didn’t make any, he did keep his word of spending every summer with you. And right now, you’re in the middle of walking through the forest near your home—an adventure, you may say, despite the fact that you have taken this path multiple times already and you’re just returning to the place where the two of you usually spend your moments under the summer sun.

The gentle murmurs of the rushing water reach your ears, eventually getting louder as the two of you draw close to your destination. Not sooner than later, a familiar scene comes into view: the small river—a stream, to be exact—in all its glory displayed before you, a path of water stretching from here to there across your line of vision, carrying memories of when the two of you played around it.

There’s a small smile embedded on your lips. It’s the thought that it's only the two of you that knows of this place that makes you warm—it’s like a secret place for you and him.

You come close to the body of water, crouching down, staring at your rather unclear image by the water, and making out the contours and edges of your face. You try to reach out to your reflection, disturbing the surface with the tip of your fingertips, and you watch as it ripples underneath your hand. Although you’re way too focused on whatever you are doing that you forgot the existence of the boy who came here with you.

“Are you just planning on staring at the water all day long?” Scaramouche says as he crouches down beside you. He speaks as if he didn’t spend his time staring at you, admiring the way the sun holds you in its embrace, while thinking that he could just look at you for hours without getting bored.

You hum, “I really don’t know what else to do now,” you draw something on the water, the surface coming in creases.

“I thought you said there are a lot of things to do in the summer.”

“Yeah, but we already did nearly all of them.” You grumble, turning to look at him with a troubled expression. Indigo orbs meet yours in a gentle gaze; Scaramouche’s gaze, tender and soft, doesn’t often match the harsh bite of his words. It leaves you wondering, confused, if this is just his way of showing that he cares or if there’s something more. But you don’t like thinking about it—fools base their thoughts on foolish assumptions, and you are no fool.

If only you know what festers underneath his skin. Looking at you like this, honey light against your skin, he thinks you’re beautiful—the word isn’t even enough to capture the essence of your being. The world seemingly held its breath for this moment as everything came to a still except for the wind that brushes against your face. He is foolishly and utterly starstruck by the existence of you, as if you were meant to be in this place, to experience this small, fleeting moments with him, to be bathed under sunlight, to breath in the air of your surrounding, the feel the coldness of water against your feet—to live.

There's you and his mere image being reflected by your eyes, and he tries to see into the waters of your gaze for something that is akin to the just adoration he holds for you, hoping that you hold him under the same light too. He may speak of words that hold no meaning, no truth, but his feelings for you are intense and unwavering that it consumes him. Won’t you pull him a little closer?

You break the stillness, your surroundings seemingly coming back to life with the sound of your voice: “What are you thinking now?”

“Just how stupid you look.” The boy answers. Liar.

You acted as if you were offended by his statement, letting out a gasp and even placing your hand over your chest to show that you were quote on quote, hurt. He only rolls his eyes at your performance.

You jest, “Why are you so grumpy? Do you just hate being with me?”

“Stop assuming things, I didn’t say anything like that.” His attention is now to the river, watching as the stream flows and as the rocks remain unmoving.

You grab this moment to take advantage of his vulnerability and inattention. Snickering, you scoop a handful of water before splashing it to him, drenching him in the process. At the sight, laughter bubbles from your throat—he reminded you of a wet chick.

“So we're playing this game?”

“You started it.” You grin, splashing him once more but this time, he was able to shield himself from your attack.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Cold!” You exclaim as he repays you the favor.

It became a battle between you two. You’ll splash him with a handful and he’ll only retaliate after like two or three of your attacks, and even so, he’ll only fight back with only so little. Nevertheless, water drips from your head, down to your face and he, too, is left there on the side of the river with you, completely drenched and with his clothes sticking to his skin. His gaze is on you and yours are on him, and the two of you break into laughter—you think you’ll remember the sound of yours and his tangled together forever.

For a moment, it felt like the two of you were children once more.

“Ah, now we’re both wet.”

Scaramouche flicks your forehead, earning a groan from you. “And whose fault is that?”

“Yours, duh.” You sneeze as soon as you finish your sentence. Scaramouche doesn’t fail to notice you tremble, hugging your knees close to your chest as if to quell the growing chill.

He abruptly stands up, and you watch him as heads over to where his bag is. He’s been carrying that since earlier and you’ve been curious as to what it contains—you didn’t get the chance to ask him earlier but now, your question is going to be answered.

You follow after, standing and peering behind him to see the contents. Your eyes are able to make out a water bottle and some snacks—were those your favorite?—among the pile of things. Albeit you didn’t get to see anymore of it as he turned around and placed something on top of your head, obscuring your vision.

You realized it was a towel when he started to gently rub your hair and the side of your face with it, drying you with the soft fabric.

“I didn’t know you had that much prepared.” You comment, letting him seemingly take care of you. Sometimes, it feels like you’re indebted to him with how much he looks after and cares for you. It feels unfair; you take so much from him and he never takes anything from you. He never lets himself indulge, settling on here and there, but never by you. You wish he would come close, he wishes you’ll hold him closer.

“I think we’re going to get sick after this.” You ask with worry lacing your tone; the water was cold and none of you brought any spare clothes, save for the towel he had prepared. And while he’s the one who got drenched the most, he’s here, focusing on you instead.

(You’ll always find yourself being bathed underneath all of his attention, whether you notice his gaze or not.)

“You’re the only one getting sick between the both of us.” He answers, draping the towel all over your shoulders before he goes and takes out a smaller towel to dry himself. There’s a small pout on your face when you hear his words—you can’t say anything in retort.

“Are we going home now?”

“If you want to, that is.”

The sun is already setting and darkness is slowly creeping into the day as time passes. Your surroundings are dyed with a warm golden, fading into blue. The animals that dwell in the night are revealing themselves as the ones who thrive during the day are returning to rest. Eventually, you also have to go home too. Exhaustion has seeped into you, settling into your weary bones.

“Can you carry me?”

“What? Can’t you walk on your own?”

“Oh, please, almighty Scaramouche. My legs are hurting and I’m tired.” Your hands are clasped together as you speak, batting your eyelashes at him.

Scaramouche could have complained a little more, dismissed your request, and walked back on his own, but he didn’t. And it’s not like he did not want to, but he just could not. How could he ever deny you? You were all that he could ask for, you were only asking him for one thing. Rejecting you at this moment was just like turning away from you—even though he knows that you’re most likely bluffing and are capable of your own.

(But, oh, he’s simply nothing without you. After all, you make up half of his soul even if he’s not even a fragment of yours.)

“You’re so troublesome.” You’re his favorite problem anyway.

Dusk is settling in the corners of the forest, and in the midst of the trees and along with the harmony of cicadas, is you and Scaramouche. The dark-haired man carries you on his back while you keep him occupied with your chatter of whatever that comes to your mind.

And just as he notices every small thing about you, you can’t ignore the dark hue his skin is painted in:

“Your ears are red.”

He takes a few seconds, mumbling, “It’s too hot.”

(Maybe it’s summer that is warm, or maybe it’s you.)

The next day, however, Scaramouche got sick and you had to nurse him back to his health—out of worry and guilt. Although you held that fact over your head, treating it as some sort of trophy.

iii. aren’t we already close enough?

Something knocks at Scaramouche’s window.

That’s how most horror movies start, but this is no horror movie, and it doesn’t take much for him to know that it was just his neighbor trying to grab his attention.

Another knock came. He heads towards the noise, pushing the curtains aside, and immediately seeing you across in your own room, standing by your open window. Upon seeing the man, you enthusiastically wave at him.

You mouthed, even doing some hand gestures to throw your message across to him: “Do you wanna watch the stars with me?”

It seems like he didn’t understand what you were trying to say as he only stares at you with a confused expression. You sighed and gestured for him to wait, disappearing from his line of sight for a moment before returning with a pen and paper in your hand; you scribble something on it and he watches you with a curious gaze.

With your words written by ink, a few of it crossed out, it reads: Let’s go stargazing.

He mouths, “Right now?” In which you responded with a nod and a smile. Then you return to your pad in hand, turning to new page before writing:

There’s going to be a meteor shower tonight. Let’s watch it together.

Scaramouche puts down his reply on his paper that he has gotten as you were writing.

Where?

The forest has a small clearing, it’s perfect for stargazing.

Right, and why are we talking like this?

It’s more fun this way and I don’t want to wake people up.

So, do you wanna go???

Okay. Yeah.

YAY !!! I’ll meet you outside.

But just as you were about to leave, he threw his pen at your window, an attempt to grab your attention although he did end up startling you.

It’s cold.

Wear something warm.

You beam at his display of his concern and give him an ‘Okay’ sign.

A few minutes flies by and you come out, jacket in hand. A certain man, with hair as dark as midnight, greets you. He’s clad in sweatpants and an oversized shirt, layered with a jacket on top—he was dressed comfily, as if he were planning on sleeping prior to this.

“Were you planning on going to sleep?”

“I was, until you called.”

“You could have just turned me down. I don’t mind watching the meteor shower alone.” You feel guilt rising in your chest, looking down at the ground you were rooted on. Thoughts whirl like a hurricane, creating a vortex of doubt that wreaks havoc inside your head. You don’t know what’s wrong with you, feeling all of these all at once over a simple and small thing. You were the one to insist, always the first one to come barging into his door.

But somewhere between your thoughts and his own, between loving you and adoring you, he knows you in ways that no one could. You’re the only one he ever knows.

“You’re not bothering me,” Scaramouche ruffles your head, messing up your hair. He speaks in the same note of his touch, soft and gentle, and it feels foreign and familiar at the same time; you want this, you could get used to this—the small thought that remains inside your mind echoes as he dispels all of your worries with just a few of his words. “Besides, I also wanted to watch the meteor shower.” With you.

“Really?”

“Where’s the stubborn and strong person who’ll drag me out of my room every summer that I know?” He flicks your forehead, making you wince and rub the spot to ease the pain. He adds, a small smile etching into the curves of his lips, “You were the one to say that everything is better when you do it with someone.”

“Well—”

“There’s no need to worry over such useless things,” He heaves out a sigh, “If I hated you, you would have known.”

He doesn’t know what took over him to have his hand seek out your face, caressing your face so tenderly like a lover would. The dance of his fingers left a trail of warmth across your skin, blooming and spreading like fire, and maybe it was your fault or maybe it was his that your face leans closer to his touch as if desiring for more of his softness. He doesn’t fail to notice the look on your face, the fire that festers within you spreading to him.

Scaramouche is mesmerized by the miracle that is you.

He clears his throat, looking away, afraid that he’s going to be consumed by your light the more he keeps his gaze on you:

“Let’s go before we end up missing it.” His tone falters into something sweet, and his hand, too, falls into something kind—his fingers slipping into your own. You could only nod your head in response, afraid that your words would break in your tongue before you could even speak.

It doesn’t take long to reach the spot you were talking about. But it did feel like time moved slowly with the silence as neither of you let go of each other’s hand; you battled with your reasoning, thinking that it will help you walk better in the dark and not trip over anything even when you’re already familiar with the path. Or maybe it was just too cold, you don’t know; it’s not like you want to let go either.

(And in the same cadence of your thoughts, his soul whispers to you: “I don’t think I want to stop holding your hand.”)

Tonight, the stars are a witness to the wake of something foolishly beautiful. As the streaks of light fill the sky like a stroke of a painter’s brush on an empty canvas, lush grass forms into nothing as it sinks beneath your being, intertwined with his as he clutches your hand tight—the sky holds the stars as the earth bears your weight all the same. When the warm breeze leaves and when life all becomes nothing in the absence of indigo merging into golden, can you stand with him a little closer underneath the fading warm?

“Kuni.” What does his name taste like in your mouth?

“Hm?”

Scaramouche isn’t stupid, but you make him feel stupid, and he loves you stupid, like a loser stumbling over the stars in your eyes. He understands why poets write the mundane and how artists portray a fleeting moment bound to rot by time. It doesn’t take much but he spent a long time seeking comfort in the warmth to know the answer—he knew what it was when he wished you were with him to enjoy the sun.

You reside in the deeper parts of his soul, tangled in the loose threads of his being. Scaramouche prays—even when he doesn’t necessarily believe, but what is a god’s gaze for your love?—to whoever is listening that you’ll stay there forever. Can a human ever stop their heart from wanting?

“Don’t you want to go home now?” You had asked him; the meteor shower has finished and the clouds are already hiding the vast blanket of stars above you. There’s not much left in this night, just silence and a pair of people who had nothing and everything at the same time, lying on the grass as if they’re the only ones who matter in the world. He has always existed right there beside you and he has belonged to you in ways that you may never know.

“I’m still not sleepy yet.” But his mouth gapes into a yawn and you laugh.

“Liar.”

Call him whatever you want, he just wants to stay with you a little longer.

Scaramouche may be a liar.

But he likes you, that much is certain.

taglist: @felibrary, @yunicide, @bittersweetmiko

425 notes · View notes

jeonride · 1 year ago

Text

joshua reading list / fic recs !

don't forget to like + reblog the fics that you like to support the authors <3

navigation

FICS ! ✧*

Hoax (smut, angst, mafia!shua, strangers to lovers) by @lovelyhan

Isohel (modern royalty au, prince!shua, smut, angst) by @toruro

Eyes Meeting, Hearts Apart (mild angst, prince!shua, smut) by @lovelyhan

Mr. Nice Guy (smut, neighbor!shua) by @toruro

Under The Rose (fluff, smut, frenemies childhood to lovers, kinda historical au) by @just-come-baek

Honeyduke Lovers (hogwarts au, unrequited love, hufflepuff!shua x slytherin!reader. yep this is the story of how slytherin becomes undyingly soft for hufflepuff) by @http-mianhae

Steamy (smut, next door neighbor!shua) by @duhnova

written by @onlyhuis :

Cranberry Concoctions (smut, a little angst & fluff, 1920s, prohibition au)

Leaning on The Everlasting Arms (angst, smut, some fluff, bible college au)

Fine Line (fluff, smut, angst, figure skater!shua) by @heartkyeom

Prove it, You Won't (fluff, angst, humor, tattoo artist au) by @leejungchans

Oceans and Engines (fluff, exes to lovers, a lil' angst) by @renjunphile

Lover Boy (regency era romance, commoner!shua x aristocrat fem!reader, historical drama) by @starlightxsvt

Gentleman (angst, fluff, sugar daddy au) by @starlightxsvt

Wildest Dreams (bestfriends to lovers, fluff, humor) by @viastro

The Type (smut, fluff, college boyfriend!shua) by @bitchlessdino

Your Gentleman (smut, camboy!shua) by @wonwussy

Fighting for Your Love (smut, threesome ft. jeonghan) by @rubyreduji

Half Past Five High The Series (ft. mingyu, smut, angst, minor fluff, rich people au, love triangle, cheating. supermodel!gyu, photographer!shua x influencer fem!reader) by @multi-kpop-fanfics

Paint Me Numbers (fluff, shallow angst, guitarist/bandmate!shua) by @chocosvt

Domino (fluff, crack, smut) by @universecorp

Nasty (smut, fluff) by @soonigiri

Menace (smut) by @jeonghantis

You're All That Matters (fluff, bf!shua) by @heartsfromia

Be My Date (fluff, minor angst) by @heartsfromia

Mine (smut) by @luxekook

Meant for Each Other (fluff, soulmate au) by @slytherinshua

Golden Hour (best friends to lovers, fluff, slice of life, summer vacation au) by @dkfile

An Interview with An Angel (meet cute, fluff, reporter!shua) by @hannyoontify

Our Fairytale (smut, fluff) by @zuhacore

DRABBLES / SCENARIOS ! ✧*

at every table, i'll save you a seat (fluff) by @suhnshinehaos

bad habits (exes with benefits, smut, mild angst) by @lovelyhan

pretty when you cry (smut) by @cheolhub

quiet time (smut) by @number1mingyustan

acouasm (smut) by @angelwoozi

when you can't sleep but shua is right next to you (fluff, comfort) by @wonwoonlight

one-up (smut) by @sluttywonwoo

golden boy's mercy (smut) by @bitchlessdino

17. 12 (smut) by @lovelyhan

14. 13 (smut) by @toruro

after a long day (smut) by @sevngmin148

title (fluff, established relationship, ceo) by @leejungchans

relax (fluff, smut, established relationship) by @playmetheclassics

shower (fluff) @husbandhannie

stay up (fluff) by @bitterie-sweetie

about you : valentine's special (fluff, angst, friends to lovers) by @shuawonie

fruit (smut) by @onlyseokmins

i love you, always (fluff, comfort) by @monnn

10.32 (fluff, bf!shua) by @elysianeclipxe

clingy (fluff) and smitten (fluff) by @slytherinshua

we won't change because we're engraved in each other's heart (fluff) by @wooahaes

4K notes · View notes

ghost-proofbaby · 6 days ago

Text

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

"HALLOWEEN PARTIES"

EXTRA CONTENT- "BEYOND THE HOURS"

→ pairings: modern!college!eddie x college!fem!reader → warnings: strong language, mentions of breeding kink, mentions of possible future pregnancy, lots of suggestive conversation and making out. not edited. upside down does not exist, minors dni → wc: 9.9k+ → a/n: @take-everything-you-can plagued me with thoughts of what our idiots would get up to on halloween, and i just couldn't help myself. it definitely spiraled out of control though. my bad. ALSO, QUICK DISCLAIMER: please if you get a snake don't do what reader and eddie did. snakes a homebodies. we are just going to pretend it's okay in this context for the name of fiction, alright? obligatory snake owner ramble over. let's GO.

enjoy the main story's masterlist here

The thumping of the bass was audible before you’d even exited the elevator fully.

Any other day of the year, you’d assume your group of friends would be earning an instant noise complaint for the volume of the music coming from behind Steve and Robin’s apartment front door. But it wasn’t just any other day – it was Halloween, and somewhere amongst the rhythm of what surely had to be Steve blasting Abba, you could make out fellow neighbors playing music just as loudly.

If anything, the overly quiet apartments were more concerning than the noisy ones.

“Do you think Lestat is going to do okay with the music?” Eddie suddenly frets, one hand reaching to tug on what little fabric there was of his costume. It almost made you smile, a reminder of what exactly your usually ‘scary’ boyfriend was donning.

Britney Spears, circa 2001. One of her most iconic VMA performances.

He’d decided it the moment you two had come home several months ago with the most important accessory that was draped around his neck – a juvenile ball python named Lestat, who looked surprisingly content as he hung onto Eddie’s shoulders.

“I don’t know,” you hum, looking over at Eddie, a little bit concerned now that he’d brought it up, “Maybe it’s a bad idea-”

“I’m texting Nance to turn the music down.”

“What if it freaks him out?”

“It’ll be fine.”

“What if he gets stressed and bites you, Eddie?”

To any onlooker, the sight of you might have been a bit funny. Furrowed brows, arms crossed, sticky blood spread out across your stomach and sternum.

The theme tonight for the two of you had been iconic performances. Eddie insisted, and part of you knew he was just afraid to dress up so extravagantly all alone when it came to this small get-together, but you hadn’t hesitated to pull together your own version of Lady Gaga’s iconic VMA performance from 2009. If you two were going to commit to a theme this year, you were committing.

Eddie balances his phone in one hand, typing with a single thumb. Impressive, given his history of ardently avoiding owning a smart phone. His other hand trails up to his collarbone, sneaking a careful finger below Lestat’s head, holding him up and pouting his lip a little, “This little guy? Biting me? He would never.”

The sight was cute. Obnoxiously, overly, endearingly cute.

“He’s still a snake,” you try to argue, stopping right outside of apartment 34C. The music was more clear now as it switched from whatever Abba tune had been playing to Maneater by Nelly Furtado, “If he gets scared enough, he might.”

“I’d hardly call him a snake,” Eddie snorts, shoving his phone back into his pocket, smiling as he tilts his chin to awkwardly stare at the snake now carefully slithering over his knuckles, “Dude misses the mice on his first strike every time we feed him. And if there was ever a time he was going to bite me, it would have been when I was taking that moss out of his mouth as he was eating.”

That earns a huff of a laugh from you as well. The image of Eddie on Monday night, absolutely losing his mind as he’d noticed that Lestat had gotten his mouse entangled in some of the moss decorating his enclosure, not even hesitating to open the tank once more and throw his hand in right along with the tongs to prevent your new ‘son’ from ingesting it, crosses your mind. It hadn’t mattered how much you reassured him that it was probably normal in the wild, that Lestat’s body could certainly handle it. Eddie had been insistent and blinded by what could only be described by paternal instinct.

If you’d asked yourself last Halloween if that had been where you see your life heading in a year’s time, you would have rolled your eyes.

“You do realize how dumb that was of you, right?” you insist, remembering your fear and the way your breath had caught in the moment. It was funny now, but you’d never gripped onto Eddie’s shoulder tighter than when he’d recklessly done so. You loved the snake, you really did, but you’d realized in that moment you might still love Eddie just a little bit more.

The conversation is cut short as it’s clear that Nancy had received Eddie’s text, the music behind the door quieting a bit along with a change of song.

Your jaw nearly drops, “You did not make Nancy do that.”

The opening notes of I’m a Slave 4 U were impossible to miss.

“I did.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Are you gonna insult me the entire night, or let me make my iconic entrance?”

You don’t get a chance to answer, Eddie carefully passing by you, Lestat’s head bouncing a little as it passes a bit closer to your face than you would have been comfortable with a few months ago.

The snake, funnily enough, had even been your idea to begin with. Your want, your desperate argument you’d wasted countless breaths upon while getting ready for bed with Eddie.

It’ll be fun, you’d whined to Eddie as you’d both crawled into bed, we even have the space in the living room.

Sweetheart, you’re fucking terrified of snakes, Eddie had easily rebuttalled. He wasn’t wrong, but it didn’t stop you from huffing like a petulant child.

That’s an exaggeration, you argued right back.

Your hands had still shook ferociously that first day of bringing home the snake when you’d been the one to move him from the small container the store had placed him and into the full fifty gallon tank now occupying a fairly large chunk of the apartment’s living room.

You’re still lost in your head as the door swings open for Eddie right as the first chorus of the song begins. He’s dramatic, fully committed, a glimmer of who he must have been in high school shining right through as he struts confidently into your friends’ apartment.

A version of Eddie you somehow missed despite never having met. You almost wonder if you would have still ended up here if you’d met then; you almost wonder if you would have still ended up at each other’s throats inevitably, even in those days.

You probably would have. You secretly hope that it all would have still happened exactly as it has.

“No fucking way!”

Robin is the first voice you can hear excitedly shriek out a reaction to Eddie, followed by a sharp hush from Nancy. They’re deeper in the apartment, out of your line of sight. You can hear Jonathan’s muttered response lost in the music, and you can smell Argyle’s presence rather than hear or see it.

Weed had been expected, but Steve and Robin were strict in their rule of only partaking on the balcony.

“Yes fucking way,” Eddie responds, clearly giddy. You finally trail in behind him, not necessarily shy but certainly not nearly as extravagant as he had been. You hang back a bit, biting back a grin, just admiring your boy.

All warmth, rosey cheeks spread wide in his boyish grin, eyes bright as he wiggles his brows as Robin.

“I didn’t think you’d actually do it,” Robin whispers as she rushes forward, glancing over her shoulder, clearly looking for Steve before she leans it a tad bit closer towards Lestat.

“Mama didn’t raise a bitch,” Eddie snarkily replies, moving to slowly remove the snake from his neck.

“Language,” you jokingly scold him, reaching out to take the snake from his hands as he brings it to his chest, giving Robin a closer look at the nearly-glimmering pale scales of your pet. Almost instinctively, he starts to pull the animal away, but once he sees the look on your face, he’s quick to hand him over. “No cursing around our son.”

Nancy finally walks up, still no sign of Steve as she joins your side and Lestat wraps his body slowly around your wrist, “Oh my God, don’t tell me you also refer to this thing as your child.”

“This thing?” Eddie huffs, more offended than you, “Nance, he has a name.”

Robin has gravitated towards you now, entirely captivated by the ball python, eyes shimmering as she lets out the smallest gasps and squeals under her breath, “What’s his name?”

“Lestat,” you whisper, watching Nancy and Eddie grow closer and clearly get more immersed in their own private conversation, “But Eddie wanted to name him Frodo.”

“Frodo,” Robin chuckles a little, looking at you questioningly as she holds out a timid finger. You give her a nod, moving a thicker part of the snake’s body to face her rather than the head, “Sounds like Eddie.”

It did indeed. Once the bickering of whether or not you two would even get the snake to begin with had faded, the entire argument of what its name would be had started up. Eddie wanted the snake to be named after his favorite books – you wanted to name the snake after your most recent reads.

You’d clearly won. At the sacrifice of promising the inevitable first of many cats you and Eddie would eventually have be named Frodo instead. But you’d still won.

Robin’s eyes finally leave the snake long enough to take in your own outfit, and you hadn’t realized it was possible for the girl’s grin to widen, “Wait - are you dressed as Lady Gaga from her Paparazzi performance?”

“Oh, my dear Birdie,” you coo out the endearment, shivering slightly as the cool body of the snake continues to slither up near your elbow, “This night is just getting started.”

—

You were right. The night had just begun.

The first few hours pass fairly chaotically. A languid and rapid mixing of everyone excitedly catching up on each other’s lives, various drinks beginning to be concocted. Some delicious, and some spurring gags from others simply from the description of the hard liquor that had gone into them.

Argyle had managed to lure many of the group out onto the patio at various intervals to partake in the devil’s lettuce, as he had proudly proclaimed it. Nancy and Jonathan had figured out a way to set up a makeshift karaoke party in the living room, lyrics for songs being displayed on the main TV. And Steve, for all his attentive hospitality as the one of the co-hosts of the night, had remained painfully oblivious.

Eddie had gone behind his back when it came to bringing Lestat. Steve had made it clear when the two of you had purchased the puppy in reptile form that he wanted nothing to do with the python, while the rest of the group had been easily intrigued – especially Robin. And so once Eddie had decided upon his Britney outfit, the next logical step had been securing Lestat’s attendance at the party. He hadn’t texted Steve - or Nancy, as a matter of fact - but rather Robin.

The girl hadn’t even taken a minute to respond, overly enthusiastic to meet the snake.

Everyone had slowly become a part of a more silent bet as the night dragged on, and for once, you and Eddie were on the betting side of it all. The drinks were poured, the weed was smoked, the music was sung along to painfully off-key, and Steve never once noticed the snake that was frequently wrapped around various parts of yours and Eddie’s body.

The quick exchanges probably didn’t help. When Steve needed your help in the kitchen at one point, you’d smoothly handed Lestat over to Eddie in passing. When Eddie had agreed to join Jonathan and Argyle on the balcony at one point, he’d easily and carefully draped the snake across the nape of your neck from behind the couch. Hell, you’d even spent a good five minutes engrossed in a conversation with Steve, all the while Lestat had been comfortably coiled around your bicep opposite the man.

As the hours passed by, you found yourself wanting to be caught.

Your phone pings suddenly as you bury yourself deeper into the leather couch, giggling over Steve’s current rendition of What’s New Scooby Doo?.

You shuffle carefully to pull it from where you’d wedged it against your hip, trapped weakly by your white bottoms speckled with glittery blood.

WORLD’S HOTTEST BOYFRIEND: I want a cigarette :-(

You do a double take of the contact name, blinking rapidly before you finally connect the dots.

YOU: when the hell did you change your contact name in my phone?

WORLD’S HOTTEST BOYFRIEND: Unimportant.

WORLD’S HOTTEST BOYFRIEND: Do you think if I hand Lestat off to you right now that Steve would notice?

Your eyes flick up as the song ends, Robin having jumped up to finish off the performance with Steve, the two of them a mess of flailing limbs clinging to each other and joyful laughter bubbling out of them for unknown reasons.

Well, partially unknown reasons. One of them was surely the strange concoction the two of them had chugged at some point in the night that had included both watermelon flavored vodka and green apple whiskey. That had been one you’d cringed and stuck your tongue out at.

YOU: 50/50 chance. And NOT unimportant btw, what’s my name in YOUR phone?

Just as Eddie exits the bathroom, Steve perks up at the sound of the door and distant flush, removing himself entirely from Robin’s embrace, “Fuckin’ finally! I have to piss.”

Everyone holds their breath as he rushes past Eddie, but he still remains completely unaware of the snake that Eddie is carrying.

The slam of the door times perfectly with Eddie’s collapse onto the couch next to you, a shy and guilty grin already gracing his face before you even begin bursting at the seams with continuing the text conversation face-to-face.

“Seriously,” you waste no time, turning to him quickly and your knee easily overlapping his thigh as you shuffle into a more comfortable position, “When did you change your name in my phone, asshole?”

He takes his time answering, pulling on the ridiculously small jean shorts he wears as his shoulders quiver with the effort of holding in his laughter, “Words hurt, baby.”

You hate the way nicknames as simple as baby can send still shivers down your spine.

“You couldn’t have at least been a little more creative? Like, world’s hottest boyfriend? C’mon, you can be more clever than that, surely.”

It’s easy to do this, to egg him on and prod at his ego in the softest of ways. It’s also always been a dead giveaway to him that he’s gotten under your skin.

“My name with a pretty black heart next to it just wasn’t cutting it anymore,” he pouts exaggeratedly, leaning into your space a bit, holding the snake a careful distance away as he looks into your eyes and a suspiciously jubilant look crosses his face, “What would you have preferred?”

“Something shorter,” you breathe out, feeling some of the alcohol coursing through your veins now, making your headswim as you suck in the scent of his cologne heavy in the space between you, “It’s a bit of a mouthful, if I’m being honest.”

“It is,” he nods, and his lips spread salaciously, pupils growing just a tad bit wider before he delivers a devastating blow, “But we both know you can take it, can’t you, baby?”

Damn him. Fuck him. Send him all the way down to the depths of Hell, for all you care.

He’s caught on to a clear game he can play now that you’re tipsy, one that he certainly has the upper hand in, and you can’t tell if the night ending in him winning it would actually spell your loss. You swear, you can already feel his hands on your hips, tearing off the costume you’d spent several weeks carefully sewing sequins into, his lips getting sticky with all the fake blood across your torso, his-

Huh. Never had you realized yourself to be such a horny drunk.

“Now I need a cigarette,” you grumble, leaning away from him, trying to break whatever spell he was casting. None of your friends’ have even noticed the interaction happening on the couch, saving you from eternal embarrassment.

If you’d had less pinot noir and shots of Fireball whiskey in your veins, you’d probably still find the decency in you to be self-conscious at toying with these things in public. Maybe scold him, maybe douse out whatever flames he was attempting to ignite.

Eddie leans back as well, clearly satisfied with himself as he lifts Lestat up to preoccupy himself by pretending to study the lightened coloring of the snake. Mostly white, with splatterings of a traditional morph at random across the body. The woman who had sold the snake to the two of you had referred to it as a piebald. If you had been shopping with an actual breeder rather than a reputable rescue, he would have cost an arm and a leg.

Luck had been on your side the day you’d stumbled upon the snake. You wish luck was still on your side tonight.

Eddie sticks out the tip of his tongue to mimic the snake a few times before he focuses on you again, “You know, we could always see if Robin wants to watch him while we both go grab one.”

You have no clue how the girl had heard him from across the living room, but she suddenly appears at his side, just as eager in appearance as her original text giving the blessing to bring Lestat had been.

“Did someone say I could hold the snake?” she bounces a bit on the balls of her feet, looking down with utter fascination, “Please tell me you guys just said I could hold the little guy. When you first got him, I did a ton of research so I’d know proper handling tips, and also how to know if he gets too stressed. Also I may or may not have been nervous about how often they bite, but I found out that-”

“They don’t bite,” Eddie interrupts with reassurance, offering a small smile as he looks up to her, “At least, not very often. You usually have to aggravate them pretty badly, or catch them on a really shit day for them to strike.”

It had been a huge selling point in convincing him. Ball pythons were docile in nature, and they’d be quicker to match up to their namesake by balling up than actually strike out at someone.

Of course, the day you had been informing of this, you had no idea he was already aware of it. He knew they didn’t bite, he knew the specifics of what a habitat for them needed, he knew their dietary needs – he’d already had an Amazon shopping cart filled with supplies after the first time you brought the snake up to him, unbeknownst to you.

“Yeah,” Robin nods ferociously, hands reaching out carefully, already more than prepared to take the snake, “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Now hand over the baby and go do whatever debauchery you two are clearly wanting to get up to.”

“We aren’t getting up to debauchery!” you try to defend the two of you, watching Eddie carefully uncurl Lestat from his arm to pass him into Robin’s waiting hands, “Eddie just wants a cigarette and-”

“And you want to join him and probably get in some hot and steamy makeout sessions, right?” Robin finishes your sentence for you, quirking an eyebrow for a second before letting out a whisper of a squeal when Lestat takes to her quickly. His tail wraps around the length of her wrist and you’re shocked as you watch him stay just as curious as he had been while held by you and Eddie. A tad bit more reserved, but no sign of balling up any time soon.

Eddie stands from the couch, patting his largest back pocket to ensure his pack of cigarettes and lighter are still safely tucked into it, and you know it’s useless to keep arguing with Robin. She’s entirely entrapped by the snake in her hands now, whispering in a high-pitched tone that surprisingly doesn’t seem to bother Lestat. All her coos nearly resemble baby-talk. It’s cute – sort of. A direct mirror of how you and Eddie have been acting at home when you handle the ball python.

You stand slower than Eddie had, hawk eyes still glued to your friend, “Just- Just be careful, okay? Avoid touching his head, and don’t wave your hands around too much while talking, because it can scare him. He also might try and crawl up to your hair because Eddie lets him hide in his at home, and sometimes he’ll pull on it because it sticks to him, so just-”

“Sweetheart,” Eddie stresses, throwing an arm around your shoulders, giving your bicep opposite from him a quick squeeze, “She’ll be fine.”

Robin nods, clearly only half listening to the debate as she watches Lestat wander up her arm in clear wonder.

It sort of does feel like Lestat is your actual human child, as though you’re leaving your toddler with a babysitter for the first time.

Eddie tugs you deeper into his side, musky cinnamon and boyish charm filling your nose as he leans down and murmurs, “C’mon.”

A Ghost song starts to thump over the speakers as you allow Eddie to guide you over to the sliding door beside the kitchen, the layout different and even a tad bit nicer than your own apartment. It’s odd, the view of the kitchen being clearer than the living room, the exact opposite of how your home is.

Home. Even in your tipsy state, even after so much time having living with Eddie and even going as far as to now own a pet with him, the notion fills you with warmth.

Maybe you’re actually a sentimental drunk.

As the two of you pass by Argyle, he briefly lifts his head, cherry-shaded eyes peering up excitedly until Eddie quickly shakes his head, making the poor man sink back against the loveseat that he occupies with Jonathan and Nancy. You almost feel bad, but it’s clear Argyle is too far gone to even feel disappointment right now.

“After you, m’lady,” Eddie chivalrously slides the door open for you, half-bowing and putting on a half-assed British accent as he sweeps his arm for you to exit onto the balcony first.

“It’s Lady Gaga to you,” you snark as you slip out into the crisp Autumn air, cheeks cooling instantly.

“Oh,” the door slides shut with a soft thud behind Eddie as he joins you, face immediately covered by the shadows of the evening, “My apologies.”

It’s nice out. Far nicer than any October has been in the city in what feels like years. The air is refreshing, dare you even say sobering, and the city lights below wink at you as you hear all the distant noises of life. Car horns, children’s laughter, music from other parties. It sounds as though one of the neighbors below is blasting heavy rap, and you swear you can hear the trill of a radio pop song from your left.

Beer, cider, pumpkin spice – it all fills the air. It’s Halloween, and it’s nice.

The breeze is electric with all the livelihood, sending goosebumps up your arms as you approach the railing, looking out across a night sky painted some sort of faded cross between navy and grey rather than a stark black of midnight.

It all turns to static the moment Eddie wraps his arms around your waist from behind you, heavy pack of cigarettes in his palm as his lips find solace in one of the few bare patches of skin on your shoulder.

“God, I love Halloween,” he murmurs against you, his breath hot as it catches across your costume.

God, I love you.

You can’t help the cheesy thought as a hand comes up to grip Eddie’s forearm, giving three short squeezes, pulling him just a tad bit closer. But it’s true – Halloween was wonderful, you’d always enjoyed any excuse to get together with your friends and family, but it had never felt quite like this.

Planning cliche dates during the season, movie marathons spent cuddling up with your other half rather than sitting across on a couch from friends. Kisses in the pumpkin patch. Cider on his lips. Putting up decorations and ending up chasing each other around the apartment, landing in a pile of limbs that slot against one another perfectly. Arguing about which decorations should go on the balcony, which garland to line your front door with.

It wasn’t a replacement for spending time with your friends. And there were still crude jokes, still bickering over timing of plans and locations to visit. It still felt like spending the holiday with friends – it was spending it with your best friend.

Eddie Munson. Your best friend. Your boyfriend. The sentiment is unexpected to past you, but so entirely welcome by the you currently enveloped in his embrace.

“I used to insist on spending Halloween alone, you know,” you mumble as his chin digs in the point where your shoulder connects to your neck, vision blurring as you continue to stare out at the tiny busy streets, “Just, like, lay around in my dorm. Watch shitty horror movies on my laptop until I got too scared and had to find some dumb comedy to help me sleep. It was the only day of the year where my roommate sort of acknowledged my existence. She was the one who’d go out, and she’d get all this candy and share it with me.”

You don’t know the point of your rambling, but Eddie is listening intently anyways.

You turn carefully in his arms, now mesmerized by how his face looks in the warm glow of the seasonal lights Robin and Steve had put up. Shades of orange flickering across his amber eyes, shadows making all his sharpness in his features more prominent.

“Talking about it now sounds kind of boring,” you muse, laughing a bit dryly, “The most festive thing I would do was going to the Halloween store with Robin and Steve once they opened.”

“Yeah?” he asks softly, arms still tangled around you, grinning gently, “I don’t think that’s too boring.”

“It was,” you insist, pressing just a little closer to him, “God, it was so boring. Not going to the store with those idiots – I mean, that was pretty fun. But it was nothing compared to setting up a snake habitat, or carving pumpkins with you. Now I can watch whatever slasher you want before bed, and I still sleep just fine, cause I’ve got you to protect me.”

His smile matches your own – radiant, proud, happy.

“Oh, definitely,” he nods once, twice. So sure, ego inflated for the bit, “Any scary men with a chainsaw dare to break into our apartment, and I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

Our apartment. The perfect ring to it.

“Didn’t you scream about that spider in our apartment yesterday? Like, full on squeal, hopping up onto the couch, begging me to save you-”

He cuts off all your teasing, even though it was true, with a kiss. Simple, strong, sure. Fingers dancing under your chin to pull you up to him, meeting you halfway and not even hiding his smile at your antics as he effectively shuts you up.

“We agreed to not talk about that,” he mumbles against your lips, tasting like the last shot of whiskey he took with Nancy.

“You agreed to not talk about it,” you pester back, trying to pull away from his kiss. But his other hand comes up, trapping your face between both his palms, and it’s a useless effort, “I just promised to not immediately share the photo of you up on the couch with everyone.”

Half the words are hardly articulate as his lips continue to nip at yours, struggling from your wide smile and the way your entire body is shaking from your giggles. You can feel the cold metal of the railing brushing your exposed lower back, a breeze picking up that can be blamed for the goosebumps racing down your spine rather than Eddie’s wandering hand. It’s not devourment, it’s not desperation, it’s not Earth-shattering.

It’s something like mending. Something like a promise.

Living together, celebrating the holidays together, owning a pet together – they were all baby steps leading to something even brighter in the future. An unspoken truth between the both of you. An inevitable crescendo to all that had been built.

Eddie whines a bit when you pull away again, but this time, your forehead stays pressed to his. A joint effort between the way you tilt your head and the way his hands press you against him.

“Do you remember the last time we were on a balcony together?” you ask in a low whisper, trying to mimic the same suggestive tone that he’s always been able to put on at the drop of a hat.

You’re not quite as talented as him. You’re actually just a giggly drunk.

His brows furrow, “What? This morning?”

“No.”

“Two nights ago, when you insisted Lestat needed to see the moon?”

“No.”

“Are you talking about the afternoon we had a redo of our pumpkin carving contest? Because I still won again, fair and square, ba-”

“I’m talking about the bet, you idiot.”

His fingertips press a bit deeper into your flesh, his lips forming a wobbly ‘o’ as he stares down at you, “How was I supposed to know you were referring to that? That was definitely not the last time we were on a balcony together-”

You shut him up with the same courtesy as he had done to you, adding in a roll of your eyes before your hands wrap around his neck to pull him into you. This time, you make it hot and heavy. Lips and teeth and tongues, grabby hands from the both of you making their way across all the exposed skin and scraps of costumes you two wear. It takes Eddie aback at first, clearly not expecting the sudden passion, but he recovers quickly.

He remembers exactly what you’re referring to quickly.

Your back collides a bit harsher with the railing as he rolls his body up against yours, not a breath of space between the two of you as he wedges his knee between your thighs. You have no idea where his pack of cigarettes has vanished to, but you don’t care. All you really care about is the way he’s holding you, the way he’s suffocating you, the way he’s watering you.

It’s hard to believe the garden within that he’s nurtured at your side for the last year was ever something broken. That there was once a time it was nothing more than dried vines and pathetic blossoms begging to see the light of day. Now, the warmth of a thousand suns was gifted to you every morning you awoke to his smile. Every joke, every small caring act, every kiss stolen just because one of you felt like it. You two may have accidentally killed that first plant you bought the week you moved in properly with him, but this?

You can’t imagine a day where the two of you ever might let this die off.

His lips break from yours, predictably painting a path along your jaw as he murmurs, “I think I do remember. But, just in case – wanna remind me?”

And for a second, you almost do.

All your coils are tight across your body, burning in your abdomen and shaking in your knees, but all it takes is the faintest movement of a shadow to remember all your friends inside the apartment still.

“We can’t,” you whisper, as if they might hear you in the glass, trying to pry yourself away from him just as his teeth start to graze your neck, “Seriously - we can’t.”

Eddie chuckles lowly against your neck, and you know exactly why.

You’d started this without even considering the consequences.

“Started something you can’t finish, didn’t ya, baby?”

Oh, damn him. That stupid low and teasing tone. That dimple you can feel brush against your skin as he moves his mouth to the other side of your neck. All the heat in your body travels south, pooling between your hips, aching for him to go against your wishes to avoid embarrassment and just finish this.

He doesn’t, though. You’re starting to believe he’s less drunk than you are, a clearer mind than your own with far more sensibility than he seems capable of most of the time. His lips leave your neck, his hands finding the polite placement of hovering over your hips. The fog is starting to clear, if only just the slightest bit, and-

You were wrong. So, so wrong.

He’s not sensible. That wicked hand placement was nowhere near polite. In an instant, he’s latched onto you tightly and spun you around, quickly bending you over against the railing so your chest presses into the metal and the cold sends shockwaves across your entire body. Your ass is pressed to his crotch and one hand holds you securely, tight enough that he can be sure you won’t fall, as the other crawls up your back at impeccable speed to press you further down.

Immediately, you’re squealing, “Eddie!”

His laughter is just as loud as all your protests as you come face-to-face with the true height of a three-story balcony, knuckles paling from gripping onto the bars.

You’d hate him for it, but you feel the security of his palm and knuckles around your waist, and you know he’s not letting you go anywhere over that railing. He’s hardly even allowing your head to hang over it.

The moment you start to lean back up against his hand on your back, he’s allowing it immediately. There’s no friction or fight as you stand up straight once more, back against his chest and your hands already prepared to swing back to smack him before both of his arms come up around your shoulders and cross your chest.

“You asshole,” you gasp out, flailing hands deciding to grip strongly onto his forearms as he cradles you up in the tight embrace from behind, still chucking in your ear as you both take several steps back. Your heart pounds, and you’re pretty sure your nails are biting into his skin.

Maybe they’ll leave a mark – you hope they sort of hurt.

“Just had to make sure you really do remember that night,” he jokes, trying to lean his head far enough over your shoulder to get a good look at your face, “I think the bars would have been a bit more exposing, though, yeah?”

Your nails dig in deeper, and his grin widens.

Bastard.

“What if I had fallen?” you snap, finding it hard to be mad at him. Those damned strong arms around you, the thump of his own heart right against the space between your shoulder blades, that fucking dimple.

“I wouldn’t have let you.”

If the two of you had children some day, would they have his dimples?

“We’re both drunk-”

“I’m not that drunk.”

“-And I’m pretty sure this balcony isn’t up to OSHA standards-”

“Oh, it definitely isn’t.”

“-And you almost left our poor son motherless,” you finish off with a forced scowl, shaking off his embrace to face him properly, “Are you prepared for that? Were you prepared to be a single father?”

God, you hate his fucking smile. God, you hope if you have real kids someday, they have that same shit-eating grin.

With a pout of his lips, he steps back up to you, looking down tauntingly, “You’re right, baby. I didn’t even think about poor Lestat.”

You hum, standing your ground, but your defenses are quickly crumbling. Your mind is running with too many thoughts, exhausting itself over everything except the residing anger you should feel at your absolute nuisance of a boyfriend.

The feeling of being held down by him in that position once more. How the heat of his body had warmed you, and you’d only noticed now that the cool air was attacking your exposed back. Swimming in the visions of what color eyes your children might have, pigtail curls of a little girl with Eddie’s defiance or a little boy who wears his shit-eating grin as he exhibits your same unbreakable curiosity.

You definitely shouldn’t have drank so much tonight. It doesn’t matter what kind of drunk you are – it was a bad idea regardless.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Eddie’s voice takes you out of your thoughts as he slides his arms around your waist, always needing to be touching you, clingy to a ridiculous degree.

You weren’t complaining, though. How could you? If given the option, you’d make a home out of his bones in a fraction of a heartbeat as well.

“Nothin’,” you lie through a sigh, head tilted dramatically, much preferring to focus on the ginger contours of Eddie’s cheeks than whatever future Jack Daniels had been painting in your mind.

“Bullshit,” he doesn’t hesitate to call you out on it. And it’s not the alcohol fueling his boldness – it’s just how he is. He knows you better than the back of his hand, the roof of his mouth, his favorite songs on guitar. He knows you. “You got this dreamy look in your eyes, and you’re staring so hard over my shoulder, I’m almost scared I’ll turn around to see a ghost in the window-”

Jack Daniels will be your arch nemesis after tonight, the culprit behind the way the words suddenly tumble out of your mouth, “Do you think we’ll have kids someday?”

You wait for the air to leave the space between the two of you with the same urgency it’s left your lungs. You wait for a crack in the air, a chasm to suddenly appear. It’s heavy – God, it’s a heavy question to suddenly ask your boyfriend of one year at a Halloween party. You’re both drunk on your friends’ balcony, and you were having a perfectly sweet moment, and you’d just gone and ruined it. And to top it all off, Eddie was still just smiling, and-

Wait.

Eddie was smiling.

The air was still there, filling his lungs with calm breaths. No sign of fear within his twinkling eyes. No chasm squeezing between the stitches holding you two together.

He’s just smiling.

“Is that really what you were thinking about?” he quietly asks.

You almost don’t want to answer. You almost want to force out cackles of fake laughter, to double over and face the ground rather than his humored expression.

“Yeah.”

Maybe he doesn’t believe you yet, maybe he has to double check before he breaks out into his own laughter. Maybe the alcohol in both your veins is just delaying the inevitable that you’d been originally expecting.

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Maybe not.

Instead of laughter, instead of mocking you, he keeps a cheery expression as he shrugs softly, “I mean, maybe? I sort of hope so. And, don’t get me wrong, I know a kid is a pretty far leap from a snake, but I’d say we make a pretty good team at keeping living things…. Well, living, y’know? Besides, I solemnly swear I won’t try to name our kids after Tolkien. I’ll reserve those names for the pets.”

All the air leaves your lungs again, but this time, it’s a little less painful, “What?”

“Annie’s a cute name,” he continues on, completely unphased. It’s nearly impossible to remember that you were the one who had started such a serious conversation about the future, “I also like the name Parker. I remember you mentioned that one once, right? Something about being able to nickname the kid Pac-Man, I’m pretty sure. I think that’d be pretty sick.”

And oh, was he right. You had mentioned the name Parker once. Just not to him. Not directly, at least.

The entire ridiculous make-believe scenario had come to you during a girls’ night, after one too many glasses of wine and Nancy bringing up the topic. You, her, and Robin had all spent a good hour coming up with names for children and the best nicknames to suit them. Some had been genuine, and some had been for nothing more than shits and giggles.

Parker, and the nickname Pac-Man, had been serious for you. Parker Anthony. You hadn’t figured out a second middle name to complete the initial acronym of Pac that night, the rosé eventually getting to you, but you had been serious.

“You were listening that night?” you breathe out, only feeling slightly betrayed, “What the Hell? I thought you said you were going to put your headphones on and listen to some Metallica to unwind after work.”

“I lied,” he cheeses, hot palms against your barren lower back, “I’m nosey. Sue me.”

“You could have just joined us, Eddie.”

“And miss the chance to hear you plot out the middle names of our future children?” Eddie snorts, “Not a chance, sweetheart.”

He says it so casually, you wonder if it’s possible for a heart to burst from optimism.

“So,” you pause, take a deep breath, feeling the embarrassment creep back up your throat, “Is that, uh…. Is that a yes? That you do think so?”

Why was it so hard to repeat yourself, to just say the words already spoken?

Eddie had made it clear you had nothing to lose. You two were on the same page. He hadn’t scoffed in your face, he hadn’t even pulled away at the mere mention of the idea. Instead, he had leaned fully into it, head-first as he slid right into the imaginary future with you. He’d given a name to the little girl with his hair and his spunk, to the little boy with his dimples and his mischief.

Was it still a little too soon, too fast? Was that where the hesitation was born from?

It just all felt a bit too easy. After the rocky start you two had endured, this entire last year had just felt too simple.

Of course, even if the hesitation was sitting there in the pit of your stomach alongside all of your anxieties, all of your waiting for the other shoe to drop, Eddie easily soothes it all over as he gives a slow nod and responds, “Yeah. I do – I really do.”

And you clearly wear your heart on your sleeve, emotions painted across your eyes and cheeks for him to read clear as day, because he notices that catch in your breath.

“Not right now,” he rushes to add on, “I mean, listen, we’re still adjusting to Lestat. I think I’d like to be a cat dad too, before I even think about being a girl dad.”

“You’re gonna be a girl dad?” you laugh out without thinking, starting to thaw into a conversation that Jack Daniels had begun but you know you can surely finish with Eddie at your side, “That’s… unexpected.”

His face scrunches for the first time during the entire conversation, “What? You don’t think I’d be a good girl dad? I already deal with my rat’s nest of hair, so I know I’d be at least decent at braiding. And can you imagine getting to take a mini-you to shows, or buying her some cute unicorn helmet once she’s old enough to ride ol’ Nightfury? God, I think I might die from cuteness overload…”

Your cheeks are aching, ears ringing with his words. But all you can do is latch onto one little phrase: mini-you.

Here you were, picturing duplicates of Eddie bounding around the two of you, and you hadn’t considered what he might be seeing.

Not a child with his spunk. No, he’s seeing a little girl with your wit. A little boy with your stubbornness. Those eyes of his, nearly resembling heart-shapes at this point, weren’t wanting to see carbon copies of his whiskey irises. He wanted yours to be looking back up at him.

Hearts clearly can’t burst from an overload of optimism, of happiness. Yours beats wildly as proof, still intact behind your ribs that bloom with rosebuds for the boy pressed to your front.

“Mini-me?” you murmur, making him trail off, focused entirely on you so sincerely you could choke up. You shake your head, letting out a soft huff of air, smiling down at the ground, “No, I- I think you’ll be an amazing dad, Eddie. I just didn’t…. I just forgot…”

“That I’m with you all the way?” he finishes your sentence for you, one eyebrow arched as he gives a squeeze to one of your hips, “You could decide tomorrow you don’t even want to talk about having a kid ever again, that you’d rather get ten more snakes and live as some sort of cryptic couple somewhere in the Midwest the rest of our lives, and I’d be just as excited. I don’t really care where we end up, sweetheart – I just care that it’s with you,” You can no longer tell if it’s his words or the remnants of alcohol in your system that has you tearing up. All you know is that you are, and it’s ridiculous, but it’s fine, because all you see are dark brown eyes and entire realms of possibility in front of you, “Girl dad, snake dad, cat dad – whatever you need from me, I’m your guy.”

When the first tear falls, you're quick to shoot one hand up to your cheek in order to swipe it away as the other reaches out blindly to smack Eddie softly, “Shut up. Stop being cheesy. I’m too drunk for this.”

“You’re right,” he nods ferociously, taking over the duty of wiping away your tears without so much as mentioning it, “Wanna make out again instead?”

You let out a snort, and it eggs him on.

“Or, hey,” his eyes light up, some of the seriousness of the moment fading naturally, “Maybe we ditch this party and start practicing. You know, in case we still want kids someday.”

His pupils widen a bit, and you know surely that it’s only half a joke. You don’t miss the way his breathing picks up at the thought.

“Careful, big boy,” you tease, leaning into his feathery touch on your cheek, relishing the way the nickname draws him under your spell even when you aren’t saying it with an ounce of gravity, “It’d be awfully dangerous to get yourself worked up in such short shorts.”

Saying it outloud almost makes you want to see it, genuinely.

“Worked up?” he scoffs, backing up a little, caught off-guard, “Who says I’m getting worked up? I’m not getting worked up.”

It doesn’t matter how many steps back he takes from you, you still follow, your palm still lands dead center on his chest as you roll your eyes, “Right. Because I’m totally meant to believe that the guy who used to jack off to Playboy magazines with girls who looked like me isn’t going to pop a boner at the thought of fucking a baby into me-”

He shuts you up with a kiss. Nearly more resembling a bite, his canines digging right into your bottom lip as he pulls you forward and collapses back against the glass door behind him.

No words are spoken, no subtle interruptions for this kiss. Toying a dangerous line, dancing along a narrow cliff, and he’s the one who’s decided to drag the two of you off of it.

You don’t mind. You’d follow him to the ends of the world if he asked you to.

When one of his hands reaches up to your scalp, tugging at the roots of your hair for no other reason than he can, your mouth opens up into a silent laugh. An invitation, a jeer, a challenge. A quiet whisper of go ahead, do it. Consume me already.

He’s already everything to you. He’s already a definition of home thinly veiled with skin and bones, a future with a heartbeat.

His tongue down your throat doesn’t change the matter. Just reclaims it.

A whine is lost in translation somewhere from the back of your throat and right into his cheeks. His right hand wraps around some of the skin of one of your thighs, encouraging it to lift up to his hip, and you can still feel the memory of his usual rings imprinting into your skin. A permanent tattoo, a ghost of a feeling that’ll haunt you for all time – you love it. You want to live there forever, right here in this haunted house, collecting memories and dust of all that he is.

Haunted houses are only lonely when you’re left to wander these halls all by yourself, and you think he’d truly cross over into the actual afterlife rather than leave you like that.

The kiss is almost enough to forget where you are and who’s waiting on you inside the apartment. It’s almost enough to have you recreating that fateful night from over a year ago, to let him bend you back over this balcony railing again, and this time, any squeals you let out won’t be of fear. You’d face that fall head on.

His hot hands on your waist, his tongue in your cheek, his knee once again pressed between your inner thighs. Him, him, him-

A sharp rap sounds on the sliding door behind Eddie, and you’ve never jumped apart faster.

It’s Robin and Nancy at the door, Lestat happily wrapped around Robin’s forearm as she waves and points eagerly to him and Nancy simply crosses her arms, raising an eyebrow as though she might have been a disappointed mother rather than a friend at the moment.

You done? Robin mouths, exaggerating her silent enunciation.

As you nod, Eddie only deeply sighs, throwing his head back against the glass with a soft thump. Nancy is quick to throw out a palm against the glass and tap back at him, mimicking swatting him for his theatrics.

Eddie pays no mind to Nancy’s retaliation, or maybe he just doesn’t see it, as he whines out, “I didn’t even get my cigarette.”

“Oh, cut it out, drama queen,” you snicker, trying to hide all your breathlessness as you fully pull away, “We’ve left our son alone long enough. You can chainsmoke to your heart’s desire once we get back home.”

You’re already walking towards the door, Nancy and Robin having retreated further into the kitchen, when he catches your wrist to tug you back close to him. He leans down, deliberate and careful to make sure his lips catch against the lobe of your ear, whispering soft as night, “Can’t chainsmoke if I’m too busy fucking a baby into you, sweetheart.”

It feels like someone’s poured literal fire across your body. As if flames have been dumped over the crown of your head, and are licking their pathway down your spine.

“Eddie.”

If you don’t get inside within the next ten seconds, you’re definitely going to make a decision you regret.

He’s chuckling the entire time he steps around you, opening the door and waving for you to slip inside in front of him. Your entire body is still burning so violently, you barely register the way his fingers hang at his side and make a point to brush the back of your thigh when you pass him.

Bastard, you want to snipe, but instead you just smile.

—

The next morning, you’re awoken by the incessant pinging of your phone.

You try to ignore it at first, burying your head deeper beneath the covers as a headache pulses at the edges of your mind, but after the fifth ping, it becomes impossible.

“Who the fuck is texting us this early?” Eddie’s muffled voice complains into his pillow, facedown with one arm thrown across you securely.

You can even feel him kick his bare legs in a show of defiance next to yours at the edge of the bed. If it wasn’t for the late night prior catching up to you, it’d be something sweet to laugh at.

“What time is it?” you croak, scooching further up the bed, making Eddie’s arm around you only tighten. As if he can stop you from getting out of bed, or delay the inevitable by resisting you checking the phone, “Is it even early?”

His free arm that had been tucked below his pillow flings out to the bedside table quickly, grabbing blindly for at least one of your phones. It doesn’t really matter if it’s yours or his; he’s got the password to both.

“It’s eight in the fucking morning,” he curses, seeming more awake as he notices that he was right in it being early. “How in the fuck is anyone up right now? We didn’t leave until nearly three.”

His arm is finally loose enough for you to sit up properly, tugging the comforter with you to keep your bare chest covered, “Lemme see it.”

“If it’s Harrington, can you post my bail for murder?”

“You’re not killing Steve,” you nonchalantly reply as you snatch the phone right out of his hand. It had been yours, unsurprisingly. You don’t even know if Eddie remembered to put his own phone on the charger before the two of you had promptly passed out. You hardly even remember how you managed to do so, “But – yeah, it’s Steve.”

“Fucking Harringt-”

“And Robin. And Jonathan.”

“Have I mentioned I hate our friends?”

The fog of sleep has officially lifted for you, and despite the wave of fatigue and aching joints you’d argue you’re far too young to be experiencing right now, you smile at your grumpy boyfriend. He exchanges his pillow for your stomach, shoving his entire cheek tightly to you as his arms wrap around you slowly. Clinging to you like a child, squinting against what little light pours in through the curtains.

“You don’t hate them,” you murmur, holding the phone in one hand to get a better look at the phone as the other cards through his curls, “You hate mornings.”

He hmphs in agreement, relaxing against your makeshift scalp massage.

DINGUS: WHY THE FUCK IS THERE A PHOTO OF ME WITH A SNAKE IN THIS CHAT?

BIRDIE: it is too early to be yelling

DINGUS: oh my bad

DINGUS: WHY THE FUCK DID YOU, ROBIN, SEND A PHOTO OF A SNAKE IN THIS FUCKING CHAT? WHO’S FUCKING SNAKE IS THAT?

You can’t help the gasp that leaves your mouth as you begin to see what the entire commotion was, and Eddie is lifting his head immediately.

“What?” he questions, moving to lift himself up and peer over the top of the phone, nosier than ever, “Why did you gasp? Is someone dead?”

You scroll up, finding the photo being referred to.

“Not yet.”

Steve, clearly partaking in another round of karaoke. Eyes glazed over, mid stumble based on the blur.

“What do you mean not yet?”

Most impressively, most notably, is the snake around his neck.

Lestat, without a care in the world, his upper body being cradled by Steve’s palm as your drunk friend appears to be serenading the snake.

You bite back your smile, eyebrows high as you glance down at Eddie, “You remember when we let Steve sing Taylor Swift while holding Lestat? About… two and a half drinks after he finally noticed we had him, and he didn’t flip out courtesy to all that Absolute vodka?”

“Oh, fuck me.”

Eddie flings himself back to the edge of the bed in search of his phone just as another notification pings.

JOHNNY: I’ll do you one better. I have a video.

You don’t know if you’ve ever watched Eddie excitedly type on his phone faster than he does once he’s read that message, already giggling like a fool long before you can see what he’s sent in the chat.

LOVER BOY: Johnny, my boy, you can’t just say that and NOT send it.

JOHNNY: Unlike you, I don’t have a death wish.

DINGUS: WHO’S FUCKING SNAKE WAS IT? IS IT EDDIE’S?

YOU: i will not stand for this erasure of me as lestat’s mother.

Eddie snorts and looks up at you with glee as he reads your response, “He’s going to kill us, isn’t he?”

“Can we be buried next to each other?” you respond with a question instead, looking at him lazily, “We could have matching headstones.”

“Oh, hell yeah,” his grin is worth whatever Hell there may come to pay with Steve and the Lestat debacle last night, “Should we look up designs or-”

He’s cut off by the trill ringing of his own phone, watching several messages roll into the groupchat in quick succession.

DINGUS: who the fuck is lestat?

BIRDIE: the snake, dingus.

NANCE: As someone who has seen the video… I think Jonathan should send it.

DINGUS: DON’T YOU DARE

You’re a mess of hoarse giggles, hardly able to look at Eddie for the fear of both of you descending right into a madness of laughter. Like two children staying up too late at a sleepover, the room rings out with all your little noises, Eddie propping up his chin to watch you with the widest of smiles.

Except you’re not children – you’re just two idiots, in your shared apartment, with your shared snake in the living room and your shared friends blowing up both your phones.

Mornings have never felt quite as sweet as this kind.

“We’re gonna hear an earful next time he sees us, aren’t we?” Eddie finally sighs wistfully, rolling over flat on his back, head propped up slightly in your lap.

“Oh, definitely,” you nod, taking to twirling his frizzed curls around your knuckles this time rather than scratching mindlessly at his scalp, “But who cares? You saw how in love with the snake he was after a few drinks. He’ll come around, sober this time.”

Eddie doesn’t reply, eyes fluttering shut.

You let the two of you sit in the quiet a bit longer, phones still buzzing with new messages, but the chaos can wait. For now, you just want to drink it in. Rays of vivid sunlight, the silence from the lack of the buzzing AC unit, the birds chirping annoyingly outside the window. You have one foot in relaxation, and one foot in the hangover you know you’ll have to battle once you choose to leave this bed.

“You know what sounds good?” you question, nearly under your breath. You’re really thinking outloud more than anything, but Eddie still entertains you with a hum in his tired state, “Betty’s.”

He’s the equivalent of a puppy dog who’s heard the word walk. One second, Eddie Munson is seemingly dead to the world, and the next, he’s perked up entirely. If it wasn’t for his nude state, he’d probably already be out the door with his keys in hand, dragging you right along with him.

His eyes shimmer despite heavy lids as he asks, “Almond croissants?”

A small nod, an ever present smile. You recall the conversation from the night before as you look into those deep russet eyes, and you see an entire future of late nights and almond croissants reflected back.

“Almond croissants.”

#ghost's stories #twenty four hours #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #beyond the hours #this can sort of be read as a stand alone but there's several references to the main story haha #ive missed them. sigh.#you can tell given the nearly 10k words that almost no one asked for

379 notes · View notes

loaksky · 1 year ago

Text

— 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒊𝒏𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒔𝒑𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 & 𝒊 | 𝒆. 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒂𝒎𝒔

mean neighbor!ellie x sunshine fem!reader, angst / fluff / hurt + comfort, modern!au warnings: language / 18+ content (mdni!), wc: 5k

you have a hot new neighbor…too bad she doesn’t want a thing to do with you!

tagging those who commented / liked my previous interest post!: @loversreligion , @tahni-04 , @parrotpeggy , @acnologiasgf , @maybe-cece (happy birthday gemini queen ! <3)

an — first time writing for ellie ! content warnings include oral (r!receiving), fingering (r!receiving). not my first time writing 18+ content, but my first time posting eeek. i apologize for the person ellie has turned me into lmaooo. feel free to send me more ideas, blurbs, hcs, etc.

neighbor!ellie who moves in on a hot sticky july day.

ac’s busted in the common areas, elevator hasn’t worked in weeks, and she’s moved into a unit on the fifth floor.

neighbor!ellie who’s admittedly too far gone and incredibly irritated because jesse keeps fucking around and they almost drop her flat screen on the third flight of steps.

neighbor!ellie who finally gets most of the boxes and furniture settled and doesn’t even get to collapse on the couch for .2 seconds before someone’s knocking on the door.

yanks the knob so hard, the door rattles on its hinges.

eyes narrow when she sees you, all neat, not sweaty, dressed in an outfit definitely not indicative of a night in. only makes her even more annoyed because she just wants two seconds of peace.

“yes?” her tone is sharp, gaze bored because your lips part thrice before the words are spilling out.

“i know it’s miserable out, and this building can be a piece of shit, so i made some blackberry tea!”

neighbor!ellie who gives the glass, beaded with condensation, a brief glance before crossing her arms over her chest.

“i’m allergic to blackberries,” ellie says flatly.

your round eyes widen impossibly before tucking the glass behind your back.

“oh fuck, i’m so sorry,” you babble. “i have peach! or maybe mint? i—”

“i’ll pass.”

neighbor!ellie who doesn’t beat around the bush and makes a move to close the door because she hadn’t even checked into the conversation.

“if you ever need anything, i’m right next door!” you chirp. “i’m-”

“yup, yeah, got it. good night.”

and the door is shutting in your face.

neighbor!ellie who’s trying to sleep in because she stayed up all night playing tekken 4 with jesse jolting awake when she hears three soft raps against the front door.

has an inkling of who it could be so she’s only mildly surprised when she sees you standing on the welcome mat that says ‘no weenies allowed’ because jesse thought it was the funniest thing (ellie’d been only slightly amused).

“morning,” you smile.

you have a plate covered in foil in your hands and ellie gives you a brief onceover to find that you’re dressed to the nines again (admittedly it’s just a simple sundress, but the red and white ginham cuts at the meatiest part of your thighs and she has to remind herself to keep her eyes up).

“it’s…” ellie trails off, glances at the clock on the oven to find that it’s not even 9am. “…8:52am on a saturday morning.”

“it is,” you agree, extending the plate to her. “i, uh, hope you’re not allergic to pancakes?”

“…i’m not.”

you beam.

“great!”

you’re shoving the food in her hands before she can decline and ellie finds that the ceramic is still warm.

neighbor!ellie who awkwardly holds the plate up to you as a silent thanks and shuts the door in your hopeful face.

“i gotta give it to you williams, didn’t think you’d pull within 24 hours,” jesse mutters groggily from the couch he’d helped her lug up the stairs yesterday afternoon.

“oh fuck off,” she huffs, tearing the foil from the plate to find a five-stack of fluffy pancakes with two cute little strawberry-shaped containers that has butter and syrup respectively.

“who’s it from?” jesse asks, even though he knows the answer.

“girl in 5a.”

first bite in and ellie’s eyebrows raise because wow, that’s damn good.

jesse swipes a bite despite ellie’s protests and they polish off the matching plate that she puffs a laugh at because there’s a strawberry bandit painted in the center and in shoddy lettering says, “this is a strobbery”

neighbor!ellie who surprises you by washing and returning the plate later that evening, muttering out a quick thanks before ducking back into her apartment without another word.

she leaves you blinking, staring at the space she was previously standing in a moment prior before you smile and shut the door because god ellie is so hot.

neighbor!ellie doesn’t expect it to become a routine, but more often than not, you’re knocking on her door at any given hour with snacks and she’s surprised when, a week and a half in, she’s had to do minimal grocery shopping because you’re always feeding her.

little does she know it’s because you’re looking forward to the brief moments that she’s unintentionally banging on your door to return your plates and dinnerware.

neighbor!ellie who’s a mechanic and brings your goodies to work sometimes and gets teased by the other mechanics because they think she has a girlfriend.

neighbor!ellie who after revealing she works in a garage starts opening up her front door to little reusable bags with cute notes and food puns if your schedule’s don’t line up.

neighbor!ellie whose schedule does end up frequently aligning with yours and you end up taking the same elevator down.

“morning, ellie,” you greet, smiling softly at her despite being up at the asscrack of dawn.

neighbor!ellie who yawns, takes the lunch you made for her gratefully and walks with you to the elevator.

“morning, 5a.”

neighbor!ellie who could get used to only seeing you in the fifth floor halls, however, after a few weeks, you stumble upon her in different circumstances.

you’re usually out on your balcony in the early mornings to water your plants and drink your tea or coffee, but today’s been exceptionally rough at work (you’re, surprise, a café owner) so you step out to take a deep breath late in the evening after your shift.

you definitely don’t expect to find ellie perched on a stool flicking the ash from a blunt over the railing.

“‘sup,” she hums, taking a long pull.

“hey,” you sigh.

“long day?” she humors you.

the two of you don’t really have much conversation because ellie’s always finding ways to cut interactions with you short.

and it’s not particularly because she doesn’t like you, but she’s caught the vibe you’re giving off and she doesn’t want to give you any unnecessary hope, especially after such a messy break up with the last girl.

(it’s definitely not because something about you makes her nervous).

so she doesn’t really expect you to spill, but one moment you’re debating whether or not you should divulge and the next you’re talking a mile a minute about how draining the job can be especially when employees end up being unreliable and the customers are impatient.

ellie’s gone through the entire joint and you still haven’t stopped talking and she doesn’t want to be mean, especially because you’ve been so nice to her since she’s moved in, but the high is wearing off because she’s too focused on finding an out of the one-sided conversation.

“you should come by,” you say, once you’re done babbling. “to the café, i mean. bring your friends, i’ll stay open a little later for you guys.”

that catches ellie’s attention after she’d zoned out.

“i— you don’t have to do that,” she says. “and i mean, we’re all pretty busy and—”

“no, no!” you say sweetly. “i insist! i wanna test out a few new seasonal recipes and i’d love some opinions!”

ellie’s wracking her brain, but you’re looking at her so hopefully and you look too cute with a few strands of hair falling from your updo. she really doesn’t want to give in, so she gives a lukewarm response instead.

“i’ll, uh, get back to you, i guess.”

you’re grinning.

“try to clear saturday night!” you tell her. “sometime around 9:30!”

ellie opens her mouth to give one last protest, but you’re standing from where you’d been leaning against the railing.

“it’ll be fun!” you tell her. “night, ellie!”

neighbor!ellie who really doesn’t want to go because she feels like it’ll only add fuel to the fire.

the beginning of the week rolls around and you decide that this’ll be the week you’ll finally ask ellie out.

you figure that ellie’s just really quiet, isn’t the one to really put herself out there, so you wanna take initiative.

you’re thinking of all the different recipes you could try because you really wanna wow her and her friends.

little does ellie know that you’re lowkey agonizing over saturday and it’s all you can think about: what you’ll wear, what pairings you want to present, how you’ll decorate the cafe.

meanwhile, ellie’s trying to find a way out of it and jesse’s not any help because he keeps teasing her about how she must be broken for not wanting her hot neighbor who has a glaringly obvious crush on her.

everyone on the whole floor, possibly even the whole building knows. hell, even the doorman knows (and it’s definitely not because you stop to chat with him frequently when you walk your little beagle, apple, and ellie becomes a frequent topic of conversation).

neighbor!ellie who starts avoiding you because she fears that her being receptive to your kindness is giving you the wrong idea (definitely not because you’re growing on her and you’re becoming a part of her daily routine).

neighbor!ellie who sees you twice the entire week, doesn’t answer the door when you knock, stuffs your cute little post-its about saturday somewhere in the back of her junk drawer, smokes her blunts on the roof to avoid running into on the balcony.

neighbor!ellie who spends most of her time at the garage with jesse and her coworkers in efforts to get home after you do.

you figure that maybe she is really busy and you shouldn’t have been so pushy about the tasting, but you’ve grown to really like her and you can’t give this up without officially giving it a shot.

neighbor!ellie who ducks out of her apartment when she knows you’re out on saturday and leaves her lights off, so you’ll know she isn’t home.

neighbor!ellie who spends the day with jesse and his girl and gets invited to a kickback on the otherside of town.

neighbor!ellie who’s about two joints in and a couple shots out, so she’s crossed by nine and you completely slip her mind.

you’re on the other side of town, about a block from your apartment, waiting in the cafe for ellie.

you made such a pretty spread of lavender matcha cookies and lemon muffins. used your special espresso roast to brew a delicious batch of coffee to make a few lattes.

you’d even bought flowers from next door, decorated the table and light a few candles.

it’s 9:45 and you think that she’s gonna be late, but time’s passing and the pastries are going stale, the coffee going lukewarm.

it’s 10:30 when you start losing hope.

probably 11:30 when you blow out the candles, box up the treats and throw the espresso in the cooler for some iced coffee tomorrow morning.

you should’ve seen it coming, really. she did say that her and her friends were typically busy. and she hadn’t officially confirmed it with you either so you were being rather presumptuous anyways.

you decide that maybe you’ll just drop them by her place tomorrow and ask her to lunch!

it’s about midnight when you walk up the sidewalk and see that her LEDs are on in her room. it vaguely smells like weed so you figure she’d been smoking a little.

you don’t wanna bother her so late at night so you enter your own apartment, set the box on the kitchen island before padding into your room to get ready for bed.

you should’ve seen it coming, ellie standing you up, but what you don’t see coming, or hear, for that matter, are the muffled moans through the paper thin walls.

you’d been used to hearing ellie cuss at her video games, heard her getting better at playing the guitar, bickering with jesse over who got to be who during smash bros, but this was new.

you’d never heard the voice before, pitched and whiny.

your cheeks warm because whatever ellie’s doing must be good. you can’t even find it in yourself to be relieved that ellie was interested in girls. you’d initially been scared that maybe you were reading into it all wrong.

regardless, obviously you’d read everything way way wrong because ellie’s mouth is filthy and there’s no misconstruing the fact that she’s fucking someone six ways to sunday and you can hear every gory detail.

your stomach is churning because it’s been weeks and you couldn’t even get ellie outside the fifth floor’s hallway.

it’s obvious they’re thoroughly enjoying themselves and the hurt and envy that kindles is an ugly sight to see.

you end up sleeping in the living room that night.

neighbor!ellie who chases the girl out the following morning after a nasty hangover and finally coming to terms with the fact that she’d brought someone home last night.

neighbor!ellie whose stomach drops to her ass when someone knocks on the door a few minutes later and she thinks it’s you, but it ends up being jesse.

“jesus, did 5a do that?” he asks, referring to your apartment number in regards to the fresh hickies blooming up the column of ellie’s throat.

“god no,” ellie says. “how many times do i have to tell you, that’s never happening.”

neighbor!ellie who would never tell a soul that she’d been imagining a certain someone the night prior.

neighbor!ellie who doesn’t want to think of anything more than being your neighbor because she’s locked in this lease for the next two years and she’d prefer to not shit where she sleeps.

(yeah, that’s totally it).

“dude why not? she’s obviously so down bad for you,” jesse chuckles, pushing past ellie.

she huffs a breath, defensive.

“god, i don’t know how she isn’t embarrassed, it’s fuckin’ pathetic.”

oh—

you’d heard jesse’s voice, then ellie’s, and figured you could give her the pastries you worked so hard on last night.

you’d always thought that ellie was just naturally aloof, kept to herself often, but last night was the coffin and this morning was the nail.

in the stillness of your apartment, jesse and ellie’s voice carries through the thin walls.

“i mean, you could just fuck her a couple of times, get it out of your system?”

“god, look at her, there’s not a casual bone in her body.”

“you can’t run away from her forever, yknow?”

neighbor!ellie who thinks to herself that she’ll try anyways.

neighbor!ellie who doesn’t have to try, because you become an enigma after that.

it’s the middle of the week and she hasn’t had to even try avoiding you once.

you haven’t knocked on her door since the week prior and it makes her brows furrow.

neighbor!ellie who starts feeling bad for standing you up, but feels infinitely worse when she goes to dump some of her trash and finds the carton of pastries you’d baked.

they have your café’s name emblazoned on the logo and she vaguely remembers you chattering about trying lavender in one of your recipes.

she sees the purple food coloring and her heart sinks because why are they in the trash? :(

realizes that she’s fucked up and that maybe she should just be completely transparent with you.

neighbor!ellie who hesitantly knocks on your door and waits patiently for you to answer.

hears shuffling on the other side, but you don’t open up.

neighbor!ellie who tries to convince herself that you’re just busy! work is stressful right now and you’re keeping to yourself.

but you two end up bumping into each other on the elevator (she’d been lurking), and you give her a curt greeting because you’re polite and you realize that ellie doesn’t owe you anything.

“apple’s got a haircut,” she observes, leaning down to pet the pup.

“yeah,” you hum.

“she looks cute,” ellie compliments.

“thanks.”

neighbor!ellie who’s not used to you icing her out, so she takes the leap.

“hey, i wanted to apologize…” she trails off. “about saturday. i shouldn’t have flaked.”

“s’okay,” you say simply, watching as the numbers painfully descend. “you were busy.”

a blanket of silence.

“i’m sure the pastries were great,” ellie tries again. “we could always—”

the elevator dings and the doors part.

“have a good day, ellie,” you say softly, tugging apple by the leash to leave the lift.

neighbor!ellie who swears she hears you sniffling on the other side of the wall later that night, but tries to convince herself that you’ve just got allergies.

neighbor!ellie who thinks of every excuse in the book to try and talk to you, but she ends up freezing because fuck, have you always been this pretty?

neighbor!ellie who buys a succulent and puts it on her balcony. she tries to catch you in the mornings when you’re watering your plants, but it seems like your schedules just don’t align anymore.

neighbor!ellie is frustrated as fuck because she’d been avoiding getting attached, but you don’t knock on her door to deliver snacks or talk her ear off anymore and it drives her absolutely nuts.

neighbor!ellie who gets teased infinitely more at work because her coworkers are now convinced that there’s ‘trouble in paradise’.

“jesus christ, you’re actually pathetic,” jesse rolls his eyes over breakfast one weekend.

“dude, she just…” ellie lets out a frustrated sigh. “i just—”

“you miss her,” he fills in.

ellie turns red.

“fuck you, i don’t—”

“it’s okay to admit it, yknow?” he says. “she’s a lot different from your exes. she’s genuinely sweet, in it because she really likes you.”

ellie swallows, lips pursing.

“you’re soft around her,” jesse observes. “you think that if you give in, she’s gonna uncover parts of you you don’t even let me or joel see.”

“fuck you—”

“for someone who likes bitches you—”

ellie groans.

neighbor!ellie who goes home and rolls a joint because this limbo is stressing her out.

and FINALLY! you’re watering your plants on your balcony when she slides the patio door open and slinks outside.

you don’t say anything to her, just continue watering.

she slumps in her folding lawn chair, kicking her feet up on the railing to feign nonchalance, but you haven’t blinked an eye at her and she’s annoyed.

“been doing alright?” she asks finally.

you freeze for the briefest of moments before glancing at her.

you’ve got bags under your eyes and your lips are pursed and ellie’s heart squeezes.

“yeah,” you answer simply. “fine.”

ellie hums.

“how’s work?”

“same old,” you say, turning your back to her to tend to the plants housed on the other side.

neighbor!ellie who doesn’t know what to say. who’s so used to trying to break conversation, not make them.

neighbor!ellie who fidgets because you’re making her nervous. you’re usually so sweet and smiley, but this side of you makes her gut churn.

neighbor!ellie who bites the bullet.

“i’m…i’m off on sunday…” she says, scratching the back of her neck. “if you wanted to— i dunno.”

your back straightens and she thinks you’re gonna bite, but you glance at the sidewalk below and shake your head.

“you don’t have to pretend, you know?” you say softly.

it’s like a punch in the chest and ellie’s scrambling.

“no! it’s—” she realizes she’s shouting. “it’s not like that, i—”

“i’m a big girl, ellie,” you tell her, that stupid little strawberry-shaped spray bottle squeezed tight in your hand. “if i was annoying, you could have just said that.”

and god she feels so fucking awful because this entire time, you’d just been trying to be nice to her. it was a harmless crush and—

“i don’t think you’re annoying,” she argues weakly. “can you…can you look at me, please?”

your head tilts up and ellie realizes that you’re trying to stop yourself from crying.

“god, i really am pathetic,” is your watery whisper.

ellie’s crossing the balcony, fully ready to climb over the railing onto your patio, but you’re quickly dashing away the tears and throwing the sliding door open.

“goodnight,” you tell her, and you’re sealing her out in the humid air.

neighbor!ellie who’s in knots because living next to someone she used to see everyday fucking sucks now that all the two of you are reduced to is straining extra hard to hear your shuffling from the other side of the walls.

neighbor!ellie who stands in front of your door sometimes, wanting to knock, but feeling like she doesn’t deserve closure with you because it’s all her fault.

neighbor!ellie who realizes that the very awkwardness and discomfort she was avoiding to begin with could’ve been avoidable had she just been up front with you.

you were sweet and you were understanding…mature. you would’ve probably taken better to honesty than ellie blowing you off and lowkey being an ass to you.

neighbor!ellie being scolded by jesse after a couple of days pass because he’s beating her ass at smash bros without even trying and it’s hurting his ego.

“are you seriously gonna keep moping over 5a?” he asks after the fourth round won.

“i’m not moping,” ellie grumbles.

“oh c’mon dude,” jesse moans in annoyance. “you and 5a have this dad with four kids who doesn’t want a puppy but ends up loving the shit out of the—”

“i do not love her,” ellie barks.

jesse smirks.

“that’s all you took from that, ellie, seriously?” jesse scoffs.

“i mean, it’s not like there’s much that can be done, anyways,” ellie grunts, tossing the video game controller onto the coffee table’s surface. “she fuckin’ hates me and i don’t blame her.”

“5a does not hate you,” jesse sighs. “her feelings are just hurt, but you can fix it.”

“and how’s that?” ellie crosses her arms over her chest.

“you’re a smart girl, you’ll figure it out.” jesse grabs the discarded controller from the coffee table and shoves it into ellie’s chest. “now put your all into this next round, i’m still gonna beat your ass.”

neighbor!ellie who’s never felt more nervous in her life.

who’s standing a block away from the café you own with a little gift bag and a bouquet of flowers.

neighbor!ellie who’s used to effortless relationships and casual situationships.

neighbor!ellie who’s scared shitless that she’s making the wrong decision giving in like this, but maybe jesse’s right and you’re just what she needs.

neighbor!ellie whose hands shake the entire walk up to the café.

she sees you with your back turned towards the door, probably doing closing inventory or something of the like with the way you scribble quickly against a clipboard.

you look so in your element with your apron tied tight around the narrow of your waist and perhaps now’s not the appropriate time, but your work pants look exceptionally great spread over the—

“i’m sorry, but we’re closed for the evening,” your voice sounds when ellie opens the front door and the chime tinkles against the glass.

“i’ll make it quick,” ellie says quietly, paper wrap around the flowers crinkling as she shifts on her feet.

you whirl around with wide eyes, almost dropping the clipboard when you find your neighbor standing in the middle of your café.

she looks so good in a fitted brown button up rolled to the elbow to reveal the whorls of ink decorating her forearms and skinny jeans that are way too good at highlighting the muscles of her thighs.

“ellie, what are you doing here?” you ask, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“i was, er, in the area?”

one of your eyebrows raise.

“well, is there something i can help you with?” you ask, eyeing the flowers and the giftbag in what ellie can only read as disdain.

it’s like the day you two first met all over again but the roles are reversed. her lips gape once, twice, then three times as she tries to find the words. but ellie’s never been good at talking about how she feels, at being vulnerable.

“i have to close up,” you prod, tone tired. “and whoever you’re visiting after this is probably waiting.”

the words after are a silent insinuation.

god knows i did.

you’re turning on your heel and ellie knows she’s losing you.

“i like you.” she says suddenly.

you freeze, fist tightening mercilessly around your clipboard.

“that’s not funny,” you say stonily. “you don’t have to make an ass out of me for having feelings for you, ellie. i get it, it’s hilarious that your dorky neighbor has a crush on you, but you don’t have to drag it. i’m—”

neighbor!ellie who’s always thought that you talk a tad too much and sets the gifts on the nearest table before crossing the distance between the two of you.

she’s towering over you and you’re looking up at her with furrowed brows as she pries the clipboard from your fingers and kisses you without another word.

“wait, wait,” you whisper, pulling away from her momentarily.

her lips chase yours, one hand splaying over the small of your back as the other cradles your chin.

“i’m sorry,” she says quietly. “i didn’t—”

“i don’t understand,” you admit. “you…you and your friend were—”

ellie shakes her head vehemently.

“i was being stupid,” she says quickly. “it’s—” she sighs. “it’s a long story.”

“but the night of the tasting,” you start. “you brought someone home…i heard you.”

ellie closes her eyes in defeat, rolls her lips as she presses her forehead against yours.

“it was a mistake, you have to believe me,” she pleads softly. “i was drunk out of my mind and high as hell and—”

she stops talking when she sees the expression on your face, notices the way your fingers hover.

“you have every right not to entertain this,” ellie swallows. “and i know i’ve been awful to you, but i…i really like you 5a.”

your head tilts down and ellie’s leaning forward in an effort to keep the eye contact.

“i’m not good at stuff like this,” she confesses. “obviously.”

you breathe out an involuntary laugh.

“but you’re different, really different,” ellie says. “and you make me feel so fuckin’ weird—”

you flinch.

“a good weird!” she assuages. “it’s good. and i really wanna try things with you if you’ll let me.”

you look hesitant, but ellie’s hopeful and you’ve always been a sucker for green eyes.

18+ BONUS

neighbor!ellie really wanted to take things slow with you after officially winning you over, but she can’t really help herself.

she takes you out a week after your heart-to-heart in your café, a nice restaurant you’d chattered about during your elevator rides to the lobby, and she’d been so close to making it through dinner and keeping it appropriate, but the dessert the two of you ordered had strawberries.

needless to say, when you’d taken a bite into the candied fruit and the juice curved down your jaw and slithered between your cleavage, ellie threw a wad of bills onto the table top and dragged you out of the restaurant.

didn’t make it far, ended up at the edge of the parking lot in the back seat of her car with two of her fingers knuckles deep in your heat while she swallowed your moans whole.

neighbor!ellie who takes you to hers after you cum twice and she tastes you for the first time.

“fuck, angel,” she whispers against your clit. “pussy’s too good.”

the sight is a devastating one, your skirt bunched around your waist and your top discarded somewhere on her bedroom floor.

one of your hands bunches her sheets in your fist, the other threaded through her brown hair as she eats you out like she’s absolutely starved.

“that’s it, princess,” she eggs you on, stuffing her fingers and curling against the walls of your spongy cunt. her tongue is sloppy against your little bud and your dulcet moans are buttery soft, absolute music to her ears.

that night seems to be the straw that breaks the camel’s back because she can’t get enough of you.

especially not when you wear that red and white gingham sundress you’d worn the second time the two of you met.

neighbor!ellie who spends so much time in your apartment now, likes to especially when you’re baking because you wear that stupidly tiny dress in your stupidly tiny kitchen and it takes every ounce of self control to keep her kisses on your exposed shoulders appropriate.

you start kneading the dough and she can’t keep her hands to herself, hooking her jaw into the crook of your neck as her fingers dance under the hem of your dress and ghosts the seam of your thighs.

“y’look so pretty,” ellie hums, tongue darting to lave at the juncture of your jaw and your neck.

“wait, ah!” fingertips trace over your mound and a semi-giddy, semi-disbelieving laugh rumbles from ellie’s chest when she finds you aren’t wearing any panties.

“you’re a dirty girl, angel,” she bites, one arm securing around your waist, the other toying with the slick coating your inner thighs. “what happened to getting work done?”

all you manage is a breathy cry when ellie skips the formalities and taps your clit roughly.

“el—ellie!” you whimper, one of your flour dusted hands wrapping around her wrist as your back arches and your ass presses into her hips.

your body stutters when you feel something nestle between the pert cheeks of your ass.

you throw a surprised look over your shoulder and ellie’s already grinning lazily at you as she continues kissing all over you.

“surprise,” she whispers.

neighbor!ellie who’s so gone. who still constantly gets teased by jesse and her coworkers. who wasn’t willing to admit it at first, but wants absolutely everything to do with you.

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams tlou #ellie tlou

4K notes · View notes