#under the covers volume 3

[shellshocklove]

moanin' & groanin' | logan howlett

pairing/AU: lumberjack!logan howlett/wolverine x inexperienced!female!reader

summery: working for your father's timber business isn't what you saw yourself doing, but when the wolverine comes looking for work it's suddenly not so bad – especially when he can teach you a thing or two.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni! age gap (in the way that his mutant abilities prolongs his life), swearing, use of pet names, smut, car sex, praise, a little dacryphilia, logan's got a dirty mouth, soft dom!logan, a little size kink (basically logan has a big dick), handjob, fingering, a little manhandling, unprotected sex (don't do it!!), no use of y/n

a/n: um hi! this is my first ever logan fic. i really hope i got him right! not beta read, and barely edited so any mistakes are my own. happy reading! <3

main masterlist / ao3

The pages crinkled under your fingertips as you turned another page. Over the top of your book you could see your father's men milling about, getting the timber ready for another outgoing truck. Day in and day out they worked like flannel-covered ants. 

He wasn't here, your father, leaving you to hold down the fort, or office to be precise, as he  ran errands. "I'll be back before lunch," he'd told you, a hand passing through the sleeve of his tan Carhartt.

The office felt bigger when he wasn't here, like his neuroticism took up twice as much space as he did himself. You looked around the room. It was small, more like a hut than anything else, raised up on cinderblocks. A tiny kitchen lined the front wall, the refrigerator had given out once this month already and something smelled like it had died in there, the white florescent light under the wall cabinets gave you a headache, and the tap drip drip dripped. The table and the mismatched chairs, your father had found at a fleamarked years ago, before you were born most likely, and they wore the wear and tear of years of use. 

Every available surface was covered in papers, and the wooden shelves on the wall dipped in the middle from the weight of the binders. When you were little you'd been afraid the wood would break in two, but they were still standing (hanging?) – maybe they'd stay like that for the rest of eternity for all you knew. Your father's office had only one desk, which made your job as occasional office manager and full-time problem solver, problematic. 

Your father would sit in his chair on one side, while you'd steal one of the mismatched chairs and occupy the other end. If you'd had your way, you wouldn't be working here. The timber business interested you just as much as your father was interested in the disco they played on the radio. "If it ain't the king of rock I don't want to hear it," he usually said and switched the channel. 

But the town was small, and no one was hiring. The summer after you'd finished high school you'd dreamt of moving to the city, but the money had been tight and your father needed you. At least the work, if your father didn't meddle, was relatively easy: answer the phone, type out the invoices and salaries, keep an eye on logistics, and make sure whatever breaks gets fixed. 

The radio hummed at a low volume, one of the singles from Tapestry, as you turned another page of your book. Leaning back in your father's office chair, you glanced at the clock over the door. He should be back by now. Just as the thought crossed your mind, the door swung open.

"Did you need something?" you asked, your book dipping down in your lap. 

Logan raised an eyebrow at you as he walked into the office on heavy steps, that damn cigar hanging out the side of his mouth. "Nice to see you too, princess," he poked jokingly, tugging at his gloves, one finger at a time, and tucking them into his leather belt. 

He sported the same outfit he usually wore; bootcut jeans, a white t-shirt under his flannel and a thicker wool-lined jacket. He must've been sweating in here with that on.

Autumn had claimed the trees and ground months ago, but this morning the frost had covered the ground and bit at the apples of your cheeks. Your breath had come out in swirling plumes when you'd locked yourself in this morning; the first glints of the sun peeking through the windows as it rose over the mountains. The first thing you'd done was crank the heater, and now as you approached midday, you'd shed your sweater long ago while the windows had fogged with condensation. 

The smallest of frowns tugged at your brows, as a heat prickled up your neck to your cheeks. Logan made you a little nervous– not in a bad way, but in a way where your thoughts would wander in his presence, conjuring up scenarios of him and yourself in… comprising positions. Okay, maybe it was in a bad way. But who could blame you when he walked around like that?

He'd arrived only a few months ago, at the tail end of the summer, looking for work. He was strong, stronger than any of the other men working for your father, and although the work was hard, it seemed like he never tired. You didn't know much about him and he kept mostly to himself, hidden away in a cabin up in the mountain, but sometimes you'd see him down at the local bar, nursing a glass of whiskey in one hand and a lit cigar in the other. More than once you'd seen him chatting up Kayla Silverfox, and more than once you'd wished it was you in her place.

"Oof," Logan groaned as he opened the fridge, grabbing his packed lunch and closing it as fast as he could. You appreciated him for that; whatever had died in there should stay in there.

"Yeah," you said, "I'm not cleaning that again, not even for a million bucks."

"Can't blame ya." 

He looked to the table for a second where the guys usually ate their lunches, before he decided to take your usual chair at your father's desk. As he sat down, you pushed the ash tray to his side of the desk, earning you a short smile in thanks as he rested his cigar. It wasn't unusual for him to talk to you on his breaks. 

So, why did you heart beat so fast in your chest?

Because it was the first time you'd been alone.

"So, where's your old man?" he asked and bit into the sandwich he'd packed in an old newspaper.

"Running errands– he should be back soon…" you trailed off.

Logan hummed non-committedly. "So, you're in here sittin' pretty readin' your book while we're out in the cold slavin' away– maybe I should become the boss' daughter."

"Well, it's not easy," you sighed, feigning confidence, "and you gotta be pretty first of all," you front teeth dug into your bottom lip as you tried to hide your nervousness.

"That's true," he grinned, "I ain't got nothin' on you, princess."

Logan held your gaze with intent, and it was like something in the air shifted. It happened sometimes with Logan, like he had this power beaming from him that sucked you in. Erratic wings fluttered in your stomach, and you had to drop your gaze.

"So, how's the book?" he asked, taking another bite of his sandwich.

"Eh," you shrugged, dog-earing the page your were on, before throwing the beat-up paperback on the table. "Too many plot twists– first they're on earth, then there's this virus spreading– so they have to move all of humanity to the moon, but then there's this species that lives under the surface of the moon who they start a war with, but one of the main characters are in love with a moonie– that's what they call them– so, now they're in love and trying to stop the war and…" you shrugged again.

Logan chewed slowly as he nodded his head. "Sounds complicated," he decided, making you let out a small laugh.

"I guess so."

A grin washed over Logan's face at your small laugh, and you felt his gaze roll over you, over your exposed skin. When he looked at you like that, like a predator drooling for a meal, you felt a small damp spot stick to your panties. You watched as his nostrils widened, his jaw clenching shut as a pulsing vein protruded from his neck.

"So, science fiction," he started, clearing his throat, "Didn't know you liked that," he continued between the last bites of his sandwich

"Some kid at the library recommended it," you shrugged, "so I thought I'd try it out. And it's not like it's that far from the truth– we've got mutants."

Logan crumbled the newspaper hard and quick, the sharp sound making you jump. "Yeah," he said, and stood to his feet, "That's true."

He grabbed his burnt out cigar, and threw the ball of newspaper in the trash. You started to wonder if you'd said something wrong, but then he said, "Your father's back," and not even a second later you could see your dad's old truck pull up outside the window.

How did he even know that? 

"Logan– wait," the words just fell out of your mouth before you could even think them through. He hovered by the door, raising a questioning eyebrow at you. 

You could be brave– Just say it! 

"Come by later would you? Before you leave for the day– I have something for you."

A gush of cold air blew in with the arrival of your father. He almost crashed right into Logan on his way out, nearly knocking him down the wooden steps. You thought you could glimpse a small nod from Logan, but he was out the door so fast you couldn't be sure. 

The rest of the day went by slowly as a growing anxiety gnawed at your neck. With your dad back you slipped out to borrow the car, driving into town to pick up some lunch at the local diner. It was routine at this point, something you did without thinking, but today your thoughts couldn't stay still. You were pulling up outside the office when you realized you'd driven the whole way with the radio off.

What was even your plan? 

You wished you were better at this. You could pretend, sure, put on a brave face to hide the nerves from surfacing, but how do you get a man like that to go for a girl like you?

You felt non the wiser when the sun had dipped below the mountains and he finally knocked on the office door. Your dad had left thirty-minutes earlier, stranding you at work with no way to get home. 

If this didn't go well, you didn't look forward to walking home.

"What 's it you wanted, princess," Logan asked, leaning against the frame of the door with one knee popped. Your eyes couldn't help but run down the length of him – his broad shoulders, the bulge hidden below his big belt buckle, and the veins of his exposed arms as he slung his jacket over his shoulder.

"Oh, um," you tried to shake your thoughts, and you rummaged the desk for the envelope. "Here," you said as you found it, stretching your hand out for him to take it.

He pushed off the door frame with a raised eyebrow, the cold air from the open door taking with it the warmth of the office. "What's this?" he questioned, taking the envelope from your hand. 

"It's your check– for this month's work," you explained.

His raised eyebrow pulled into a frown, "This is a week early," he questioned, "and I usually get these sent in the mail."

"Oh, I-I just thought I'd give it to you personally this time," you lied, fitting a shrug at the end for good measure, trying to sell how completely normal and nonchalant you were.

Logan raised a skeptic eyebrow at you, and you suddenly felt really really stupid. In your chest your heart could compete with a hummingbird's.

"Really?" he said with a smile before he dropped his chin, "Can I appreciate a little extra something in here, or…?" he trailed off, waving the envelope.

Letting out a shaky inaudible breath, you tried in your flirtiest voice, "Maybe if you give me a ride home…"

...................

The lights from the town below looked like stars scattered over the night sky, the yellow light of the roads connected them like on a string. You knew that Logan knew where you lived; the town was small, and even with the short time he'd spent here, it wasn't hard to get familiar. He'd stopped at the lookout point, about half-way up the mountain road. It was nice in the daytime, with a nice view of the town, the mountain and rivers, but at night it attracted a different kind of crowd: lovers. It was cheesy, and cliché, but clichés were clichés for a reason. 

The Led Zeppelin tape whirled, and the music stopped. 

Suddenly you felt nervous, fingers picking at a loose tread on your sweater. Logan leaned forward to flip the cassette, and his truck filled with a sound of organ, like you were back in church. When he leaned back he slung his arm over your seat. You watched how he spread his legs, getting comfortable, as his eyes found your face.

Under the wool, your heart picked up its beat.

In a brave move you shifted closer, the leather seat moaning under you, as a pleased smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. His big palm snaked around your shoulder, curling you closer to him until his lips caught your own. You only hesitated for a second before your hand found his neck, where your fingers tugged lightly at the hair at the nape of his neck. 

A low growl huffed against your lips, and he deepened the kiss, pressing himself roughly against you as he licked into your mouth. You couldn't help the small whimper escaping you. His touch was rough, almost impatient, but tender all at the same time, and you felt yourself fall apart.

The air stuck to your skin, clammy and sticky with arousal and now you started to get impatient. With a loud smack you broke apart, your lips raw and spent from use as you caught your breath. A rough hand cupped your cheek, the pad of his thumb skated gently over your skin as he tilted your head towards him.

"Such a pretty little thing," he mused. His eyes had gone dark, pupils huge and filled with lust; yours must've looked about the same as they rolled down his body. He shifted closer to you, pushing you closer to the door, and you got a better view of the bulge hidden behind his jeans.

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears, clogging up the sounds around you like you were underwater, pushing at your thoughts at the back of your mind. Logan moved with such ease, each touch natural and easy, like he'd done them a thousand times. Not like you, with only your short-lived high school boyfriend under your belt. 

"Hey," he shook your head gently, "Where you goin', bub?"

"I'm sorry," you whispered, a heat coating the apples of your cheeks. 

He shook his head, his face surprisingly tender for someone so rough, "Tell me, baby."

"I'm just…" you trailed of, trying to find your words, "I'm a little nervous– I haven't done this much," you said, avoiding his gaze.

"That's sweet, bub." The pad of his thumb rubbed the pet name into your skin as he leaned forward to catch your lips in a soft kiss, "But I wouldn't worry that pretty little head of yours 'bout it."

His breath was hot against your own, and an ache started to spread between your legs. The hand on your cheek travelled downwards to tug at your jacket, and you parted only for a second to rid yourself of it, but before you could lock your lips with his again he grabbed at your hands.

"I'll teach ya," he told you and guided your hands to his broad form. 

He let you touch him as he shucked off his jacket, your fingers dancing over the soft flannel. He was solid beneath your fingers, hard muscles from hard work. A patch of dark hair curled at his chest, peeking out beneath his white shirt, and you found yourself wondering where it lead.

Curling his hand around your wrist, he guided your hand lower; down over his chest where you could feel the solid form of him. His bronze belt buckle burned you like ice, but the heat of him as he pressed your hand to the hard bulge beneath the buckle burned even brighter.

"You feel that?" He looked you straight in the eyes. He pressed your hand down harder and you could feel the shape of him against your hand, hard and thick, and big. You barely managed a nod through the wave of heat coating your cheeks. 

"That's because of you, princess." His voice was low, almost like a growl, as he started to guide your hand to rub over the thick length.

"Me?" you questioned, breathless. 

"Yes, you," he chuckled, a heavy hand petting at your head. "D'you want to take it out? Stroke it f'me?"

"Please," you begged, looking at him with moony eyes through your lashes.

"So polite f'me," he mused, his hands tugging at his belt before he popped the button on his jeans. Slipping off your shoes, you crawled up into the seat, sitting back on your knees as you watched him pull at his jeans. Peeking out from under the denim, you could see a dark patch of hair.

Logan was in no rush, revealing only an inch at a time of the base of his cock, making a show of it as the tension rose. A wave of tickling arousal washed over you, and it made you brave, reaching a trembling hand forward, you helped him tug at the fabric.

At last his cock sprung free.

You felt your eyes widen at the sight, as you involuntarily squeezed your thighs together. Even with your limited experience, you knew he was bigger than most. The thick length of his cock bobbed from the weight, hanging heavy between his legs. At the tip of his fat head, a drop of precum pearled, almost invisible in the dark truck. 

"Come here, bub." He widened his legs as he reached out a strong arm for you, curling you into his shoulder. 

"Put your hand on it," he ordered, "like this," he grabbed at your wrist and guided you hand towards his mouth. You let him move you around, eyes blown out and wide as you couldn't take your eyes off his impressive cock. 

A wet blob of spit pulled you from your thoughts, it drew the slightest frown over your face until he guided your palm, now coated in his spit, to his cock.

Under your palm his skin was silky soft, but hard and firm at the same time. You found yourself mesmerized at the sight of your hand around him as you familiarized yourself with the heaviness of him in your hand. 

"There ya go–" he cut himself off with a groan as you formed a fist around the head of him. Your fingers struggled to reach around him, but it didn't seem like Logan minded much when you moved downwards smearing his spit over his shaft in an experimental tug. 

"That's it, good girl, just like that."

A warmth bloomed in your chest at the praise, wrapping itself around your heart. You wanted him to say it again– to be good for him. So, you reached forward with your other hand, wrapping it around the base as the other formed a fist around the head. Another pearl of precum beaded at the tip, and you took the opportunity to skate your thumb over it, massaging it into his spit.

A growl seemed to get caught in Logan's throat, and still riding off your high that the praise had sown in you, you started to pump his cock in slow strokes. A slick sound escaped under your fists with each stroke, and you watched how his head fell back in pleasure.

"Am-am I doing it right?" you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

At the sound of your voice, Logan sat up straighter, a heavy hand falling over your back to pull you closer. "You're a natural, princess."  

You couldn't contain the smile from coating your lips as he brought you in for another searing kiss. It was hot, and suffocating, and all-consuming, all at the same time. It clouded your mind, and you forgot what your hands were supposed to be doing. 

Logan's hand travelled down your body, his big palm grabbing at your ass. "Take of your pants," he ordered against your lips, "Panties too," underlining his order with a couple of light slaps to the flesh.

Shuffling out of his hold, you fingered at the button of your pants, pulling at them and your panties as quickly as you could. Goosebumps prickled over your exposed skin, the air suddenly frosty without Logan's touch – but that didn't last long.

The calloused pads of his fingers trailed up your thighs, pressing down into the flesh as he pulled you closer to him. "Come sit in my lap, princess."

He didn't wait for you to move, instead he manhandled you how he wanted. Spreading his legs wide apart he fit you between his legs, your back pressed against his hot chest with his hard and leaking cock caged against your ass. 

"I'm gonna touch you now, baby, okay?" his deep voice whispered in your ear.

"Okay," you peeped, heart pounding in your ears at this new proximity. 

He spread your legs, putting your wet and neglected cunt on display, hooking them over his knees. When his palms danced over your inner thighs, you felt yourself sink deeper into his chest, deeper into the safe scent of pine and man. 

"Need to get you ready f'me, bub– stretch this tight cunt out for my big cock," he cooed.

You ached for him, a sticky wet feeling between your legs as you wished so badly for him to finally touch you. His touch was light, but teasing, drawing circles along the thin flesh, circling closer and closer to where you needed his touch the most, before he pulled away. 

"Please," you whined, grabbing at his arm.

His breath felt hot against your neck, and you could feel the grin he pressed against your skin. He let you guide him upwards to hover his large palm over your mound, but he wouldn't let you have it. Instead, he pushed at your sweater. His hand spread across the skin beneath your belly button as prickled goosebumps followed the rough pads as they ran across your skin.

"Y'gonna feel me right here, bub?" he teased, "So deep inside your tummy?"

A whine caught in your throat and you felt like an exposed nerve. Arousal pulsated throughout your body, threatening to pull you apart unless he did something soon. Your neglected cunt dripped with an ache only he could sooth. 

"Yes, please, Logan," you whined, tears threatening to spill.

His thick beard scraped against your cheek, and you almost trembled from anticipation as he slid his hands downwards. He raked his fingers through the curls of your mound, and a gasp fell from your lips when he finally pushed at your clit.

A wide smile reached across your face when he started to circle his fingers, tight with the perfect amount of pressure. Your hips bucked to meet his touch, your cunt eager and dripping for more of him. His other arm clasped around your middle, keeping your still and steady in his lap as he had his way with you.

A bold finger dipped lower, running through your folds and teasing at you entrance. A slick sound filled the car as he played with your cunt, circling his fingers around your hole, dipping a teasing finger inside you just to the first knuckle, before withdrawing it just as quickly. 

"Such a messy pussy," Logan murmured in your ear, the deep bass of his voice vibrating into your skin. "Listen."

The sound as he played with your pussy was obscene, lewd, and so dirty you felt a heat crawl up your chest. A breathy gasp escaped you when he finally split you on his finger, and a satisfied smile coated your lips as he started to move it inside in a steady rhythm, prodding every so often at that spongy spot inside, the spot your own finger couldn't reach.

"F-feels s-so good," you managed to stutter out. 

The heel of his palm pressed against your clit with every thrust, teasing at your insides and conjuring moan after breathy moan from your lips. He guided you closer and closer to the edge, and you wanted so badly to fall. When he pulled out to slide another finger inside you, you felt a tear roll down your cheek with satisfaction.

"I can feel that pussy clenching me– you close, bub?" he poked, never stopping his fingers.

Your head rolled back, resting heavy on his shoulder as you nodded franticly, mouth parted slightly, humming out small breathy whines. You were so close, the tension in your stomach twisting and aching for release.

But then he pulled his fingers, dragging them up over your mound leaving a wet trail in your curls. You couldn't help the disappointed sigh as more tears pressed their way down your cheeks.

"Shh," he hushed you, "you're okay, bub." 

Under you, you felt him move, his strong muscles flexing as he shifted you on his lap. When you felt the blunt head of his cock slide between your folds, an eagerness came upon you. You grinded against him, making a small chuckle rumble from his chest. Logan slapped his heavy cock against your folds, coating his big cock in your slick arousal. 

The first stretch of him knocked the breath right out of you, the fat tip of him splitting you in half as he helped you guide yourself down on him. You had to remember to breathe, your hand fumbling for something to hold on to. 

"Fuck," you whimpered, eyes wide, "I-it's so big– it's t-too big."

His hand wrapped around your middle held you in place, keeping you still on his cock as you adjusted to the first inches of him inside you. 

"It's not too big, princess, you're doing so well f'me," he praised, "just a little more, bub– you can do it."

With a wet whimper you lowered yourself, taking a couple more inches of him, as Logan pressed more fluttering praise into your skin. He let you take your time, easing yourself down on him at your own pace. When your thighs were finally flushed with his, he was so deep inside you, you jolted, trying to move back up, but Logan's hands held you down. You felt him in your tummy, like he'd said, his cock reaching so deep you were shaking.

"Sit still, get used to it," he told you, as you tried to catch your breath, "You're being so good f'me."

And somehow the burning stretch of him soothed away into a pleasurable pressure, one you couldn't help but chase. With an experimental rock of your hips, you felt the fat head of him prod at your spot, making you mewl. And when you started to swivel your hips, Logan groaned in satisfaction, meeting your movement with small thrusts.

Slowly, he picked up his rhythm, strong hands shifted to dig into your hips, holding you in place for him to move you as he wished. In your ear, you heard him growl, deep and animalistic as he fucked up into you.

It didn't take long until your breath came out fast between moans as the pressure built, and built, and built. 

"Logan," you moaned, tethering right on the edge.

Another growl escaped his chest, as his strong arms hooked under your legs. He pressed them tightly to your body as he picked up his pace, bucking wildly into your eager cunt. You could feel him throb inside of you, and you couldn't help but clench at the thought of feeling him spill inside you, claiming you.

"Don't stop, please, don't stop," you begged, tears streaming down your face like two winding rivers, "I-I'm gonna come."

A hand slid between your legs to rub at your puffy clit, coaxing you closer and closer with winding circles. 

"Come on my cock, baby, come all over that big cock."

It was hot, and blinding. Euphoric shocks pulsed through your body, as you fluttered and gushed around his cock. Logan's grip on your legs tightened as you shook violently with your orgasm – a million stars exploded behind your eyes.

"Oh, that's it, bub, such a good girl," he praised between heavy wet pants against your ear.    

Fucking you through your ecstasy, Logan chased his own high at a relentless pace, and all you could do was take it, reduced to a ragdoll in his hands. In your ear he muttered nonsense interlaced with praise, telling you how good you felt, and how perfect you were for him.

With a deep groan he pulled out quickly, tugging at himself until he spilled his thick spend on the truck floor. With bleary eyes you watched how it pumped in quick spurts, dripping down his hand and soiled the knuckles in his own sticky cum. 

Behind you, Logan breathed hard, nudging his nose against the column of your neck to press soft kisses to the hot skin. 

A pair of bright headlights beamed down the road, pulling you from the moment with its blinding light. Logan helped you shift off his lap, reaching to hand you your discarded clothes before he tucked himself back into his jeans. 

The cassette whirled in the car radio, and you couldn't remember when the music had stopped. Logan shifted back behind the wheel and an eerie silence grew in the distance between you.

"How 'bout I take you somewhere to eat?" he posed.

You smiled, "I could eat."

...................

hopefully this was okay? a comment telling me your favorite part is always welcome, and my ask box is always open to chat <3 and thank you for reading!!

© shellshocklove, 2024 i do not give any permission to repost, translate, feed to AI or redistribute any of my writing, with or without credit!

[sant-riley]

[Touchy feely] [tf141 headcanons]

(Romantic impied Task force 141 boys x gender neutral!reader headcanons :))

Summary: Being the sweetheart of the task force means the boys are not shy about the fact that they're all simps and always want some sort of contact with you at all times.

Consists of romantic/suggestive headcanons for each of the guys and little things they do with you <3

Words: about 1.5k (this was supposed to be short, whoops)

Warnings/Info: Can be read separately but it is intended that they all harbor feelings for you at the same time, possibly out of character for everyone, some swearing, the guys manhandle you, as always, let me know if I miss something!

Thinking about how each of the boys is so touchy with you, it doesn't matter where you are or who you're with, they're shameless.

Other units and teams who will sometimes share the base with 141 know better than to ask questions or directly say anything to one of the guys or you for that matter. Not that they could anyway, seeing as you always have at least one of them attached to your hip.

Price:

Anyone who walks into Price's office late at night to turn something in is used to seeing you next to the Captain on the little dingy loveseat he has in there.

John is usually smoking a cigar, taking care to not blow smoke your way while your head is resting on his shoulder. Your eyes closed as you hum at his words. It's terribly domestic for a military base.

John likes to gently play with your hair while he speaks about missions he's been on, always somehow trying to braid despite not knowing how to for jack shit, whether it because it's you or just the mindless motion, he's not willing to say.

John will usually walk you back to your room after dinner or time in his office unless he's swamped with work.

A small hand on the small of your back while he leads you. It's always a respectable touch, though he tucks you into his side, nodding at everyone you may pass.

If you're comfortable with it, he likes to press a kiss to your head, smiling that goofy ass smile, and tells you to get a good night's rest.

He lets you help him trim up his beard, he won't let you do all of it but he likes the closeness of it, him sitting down while you gently shape it up, tilting his head up and he tries his best to not stare directly at your chest.

The fact that he's letting you this close to his neck with a razor is a sign of trust, maybe small for others but for a man that doesn't drop his guard and doesn't truly trust others, it speaks volumes.

The first time he let you, you were barely putting any pressure and he grabbed your hand in his and showed you. "You're not gonna hurt me, put more force into it, yeah?"

Don't get me started on going out on walks in London with Price, he wraps you up in his beanie and some big leather jacket he has that dwarves you, helping you move through crowds by once again holding the small of your back, or taking your smaller hand in his. (He doesn't correct anyone if they mistake you as married)

He likes to kiss the back of your hand and laughs when it makes you blush and sputter out that his beard is scratchy.

Ghost:

Ghost is a subtle one, he won't actively reach for you or your hand but he does have some part of him against you most times.

Whether it be his leg, arm, or thigh, anything works. A normal place yall will be seen together is in the dining hall, you've both learned to ignore the stares from everyone else.

Simon never eats there, just sits with you until you're finished and then you both move on to either his quarters or somewhere else so he can peel his mask up to eat a bit.

However, while you're eating and telling him about anything under the sun, he'll lean over and wipe some crumbs off of your mouth with his thumb softly, which again, you're used to so okay whatever but Recruits always are taken aback in their seats.

Ghost's reflexes kick into overdrive with you. His hand going to cover a corner of a table 9/10 times before you completely wreck your shit, but when he does miss (sometimes on purpose).

He'll bring a hand up to rub at your head for you, chuckling under his breath before cooing down at you "That hurt pretty? Sure look like it did."

Whenever you two specifically are paired onto a mission, doesn't matter if any of the guys complain, he will share a cot/tent with you. He claims he runs the hottest (he doesn't, it's Johnny but he will not lose on this) and can keep your body the warmest.

He pretty much lugs you on top of him and wraps his arms around your waist, he'll press a hand against your head if you keep fidgeting, rasping at you to go to sleep. He takes great pride in the fact that you're usually out like a light very shortly.

I've said it once and I'll say it again, Ghost likes to hook a finger into your body straps and pull it really hard and let it smack you to get your attention if you're not actively paying attention to him, he'll soothe the area but he's smirking behind that fucking mask.

On that note, he definitely does the "You got something right here." And points at your chest and immediately pull up to flick your nose hard as fuck, he KNOWS his own strength but sometimes your eyes water and he immediately feels bad.

Ghost rests his head on your chest a lot, he finds your heartbeat to be soothing and reassuring, also grunts if you don't wrap your arms around him in return, bro literally shoves his head into you and groans

This is a grown man but it's cute so you let it slide bc he'll never ask for it outright, he just assumes you'll cradle his head.

Soap:

Johnny is the most shameless motherfucker here, I'm talking about draping himself over you, grabbing at your cheeks, ruffling your hair, kissing you dangerously close to your lips (it drives the others mad), he's the most unapologetic about it and will gloat to the others.

Manhandler #1, isn't above grabbing you by your hips and picking you up to move you somewhere, he's literally gone and grabbed you from some rookies side to come stand next to him with a smile and you're just so used to it that you just shrug and go along with it. (He gets slightly jealous, why would you stand next to some random ass dude and not him??)

Throws you over his shoulder, or likes you to cling to his front or his back and just carries you, he says it's a comfortable weight. If you ever dare say you're too heavy, he's gonna go to the gym and work out even more to PROVE to you that he simply doesn't care, he will carry you.

Extremely bad habit of sneaking into your room to fall asleep with you, Price has come into your room many times to see Soap sprawled on top of you, he's drooling and snoring and you're knocked the fuck out (he's like a glorified weighted blanket).

I've touched on this before but he only wants you to cut his hair for him, yeah he can go to the barber on base but he much prefers you and loves it when you scratch at his scalp. He also likes to just have his head in between your thighs but that's something else for another time-

Soap specifically slings you over his shoulder a lot, especially off base where he truly doesn't have any fucks to give.

You're not going to bed because you have other work?? Too bad, shoulder time you go. You're not willing to get up and make yourself food? Good thing he's here, either pick what you want from the kitchen or throw some clothes on bc he IS dragging you out of the house.

Johnny likes to draw on you a lot, it ranges from scribbles, to sometimes his name if he's feeling cheeky (he's drawn it on your thigh before and you didn't notice until Gaz shot you a look), to intricate drawings of whatever he can think whether it be a landscape or an animal.

He always holds you steady and it isn't uncommon for your limbs to fall asleep but it's worth it, if only to see him smile.

Gaz:

Gaz is probably the most secretly clingy person out of the four, he CAN function without your touch but does he PREFER to? No.

His first instinct in any situation is to grab you and shield you, he's the fastest of the four so his body moves without thinking and it's saved you more times than any of you would like to count.

The one mission where you both fell out of a moving truck, he tucked your body into his despite it costing him his shoulder popping out of the socket, you couldn't help but freak out while Ghost moved to pop it back into place.

"Why the fuck would you do that? Look at your arm!" "It's nothing." "Garrick what the fuck-"

When you're out anywhere off base, he's holding your hand, good luck trying to pull away bc he is not letting go. Too bad so sad, resign to your fate.

I think Gaz is definitely good at dancing, at least with you and when the right music is on, you cannot tell me this man wouldn't twirl you around and shit-fight me on it. He'll even lift you off your feet, laughing when you scramble to grab at his shoulders.

He goes stark still if you rest your head on his shoulder, not because he's nervous but because he's worried about waking you up when he knows you deserve a rest.

He'll usually wrap his arm around your shoulder to hold you in place so the heli ride doesn't jostle you so much, gentleness rubbing his knuckles along your arm to soothe you.

Gaz is the one who holds you when you have nightmares, on rare occasions when Soap isn't in your room and you just need to be held with no talking, you always without thinking find yourself in Kyle's room, his arms wrapped around your waist as he tucks your head under his chin, no questions asked.

He'll maybe hum a tune to help you relax but other than that, he lets you lead the way.

[eph3merall]

very very random duo / thought but! quietgamer!matt x sleepy!reader perhaps.

matt sitting at his desk, sometime around two or three in the morning. he's trying not to disturb the lump in his bed which he recognizes as you when you let out a noise in your fit of slumber and the mess of hair peeking from the sheets. the light of his monitor is harsh however, illuminating the room and casting moving shadows everywhere.

his eyes dart back and forth, tuned into the fortnite match he was currently in. his eyes are a little bleary and there are dark bags under them, despite the brunette not being tired. he tended to stay up or wake up in the middle of the night, and as for you? you slept like a baby.

matt found it adorable if he's being honest, which is why when some kid kills him he's banging his desk before wincing and letting a curse fall under his breath. he doesn't notice the ball in his bed shift and move about, the sound of the sheets rustling failing to get to his ears covered by his headset.

the sound of your footsteps is soft as you pad against his floor, eyes squinting from the blinding light of his monitor. soon you're stood next to matt, standing there and yawning until his head is turning to look up at you with a crooked grin. "sorry baby, woke y'up? my bad." his voice is a little deeper than usual, and he just sounds so good.

matt lets one of his hands leave his controller, legs spreading in the pair of grey sweatpants he had on. a ringed hand pats his thigh gently, eyes already locked onto the new game about to start as he motioms for you to take a seat on his lap. "c'mon, theree y'go.." his voice sounds like honey to your ears, all smooth and rich once you're settled into the warmth of his body.

matt lets you shift around and get all comfortable, arms wrapping around your middle to hold you close and still play his game, thumbs swiftly pressing buttons on his controller as you settle your face into the crook of his neck. "'m sorry, didn't mean to wake y'up." because he really didn't—normally matt succeeds in not waking you, but he just got a little too pissed off this time.

"s'okay," your voice is raspy and heavy with sleep, muffle slightly against his skin as you hear matt let out a little chuckle. you briefly feel his head turning before a soft kiss is laid onto your head, followed by a curse as you feel matt sit up a little straighter in his chair.

and the two of you stay like that, until matt's had enough of his game and is a little pissed off. his hands are holding onto your hips and one is sneaking under the waistband of your pajama bottoms, groping at your ass as he hums lowly. his fingers find the edge of your panties, two of them rubbing over your cunt all slow and languidly.

"why're you so wet, huh? jus' been sittin' here with me n' you're already soaked?" his voice holds an air of amusement, and you can't do much except whine out of exhaustion and need. your hips shift back, trying to grind against matt's two fingers.

"c'mon baby, whaddya need? need my fingers, huh? need to get off like a needy bitch?" his words are somewhat mean, yet his actions are somewhat kind. matt lets his fingers rub over your clit before shifting your panties to the side and sinking his middle and ring finger into your cunt so easily.

you're humping back against him slowly, pants and little moans growing slightly louder in volume. "s'right.. there we go, good girl."

take rhis while i work on the second part to that other post thank you v much for 700+ notes on rhat as well like.

as always, not proofread. it's 3 am and im horribly tired goodnight

—

©eph3merall 2024

[f14fun]

my own pastry (!baker x op81)

synopsis: in which case y/n meets the infamous racecar driver oscar piastri as she works in her family-owned pastry shop, and she pretends not to know him. little does he know, she's idolized him for the longest time.

smau + prose (2.9K words) ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ profile | masterlist ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

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yourusername

liked by yourbff1, yourbff2 and 58 others

yourusername: the feminine urge to own a bakery

view comments:

yourbff1: alright no need to brag, you were blessed with an amazing family business and i'm here stuck with a desk job

yourusername: you laugh at me everytime i come home with flour stuck on my face.

yourbff1: well...😁😁

user1: wait this is so aesthetic

user2: drop the location of the bakery now! i wanna visit 🫶🏽

yourusername: 5512 streetname, monte carlo monaco!

user2: thx babes you will be seeing me in the next week

yourbff2: so we are not going to talk about the mystery guest that showed up at the bakery today...

yourusername: HE COULD BE LURKING. STAY ALERT. DO NOT MENTION HIM.

yourbff1: you mean osc*r p**str*?? 😝😝🥳

yourusername: ASKJAKJEJAE HE'S GOING TO FIND ME NOOO

yourusername: pls delete your comment i BEG.

yourbff2: @/oscarpiastri @/oscarpiastri @/oscarpiastri

yourbff1: @/oscarpiastri @/oscarpiastri @/oscarpiastri

user3: oh my, bless her poor soul 😭

yourusername: DELETE YOURSELF OH GOD

yourusername: I FEEL A SINISTER PRESENCE COMING

oscarpiastri: my presence was called upon?

yourbff1: LMFAO POINT AND LAUGH 🫵🏻🫵🏻🫵🏻

yourusername: hey-y-y oscar... 🥹

oscarpiastri: did you just stutter over a comment 💀

yourusername: i can explain!! 😁

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To be frank, it's honestly quite difficult to explain the series of events that happened about twelve hours earlier.

6:58 AM ~ l'orchidée bakery shop

It was right before opening. Maman had entrusted me with opening shop and making sure it was running smoothly, and knowing that the fate of our family bakery was in my hands today was especially important to me.

It was 6:58 AM, and since business was typically slow in the first half hour of shop opening, employees showed up half an hour after opening. So there it was me all by myself, until 7:30 AM.

I showed up at the bakery much earlier than normal, at around 3 AM, prepping for the day. The first task was to turn on the ovens, letting them reach the perfect baking temperature.

While the ovens heated up, I took out the baguette and croissant doughs that had been proofing overnight. The doughs were soft and slightly cool to the touch, with a subtle yeasty aroma that promised delicious results. I placed the doughs on the floured countertop, feeling their smooth texture as I gave them one last gentle knead, coaxing out any remaining air bubbles.

Shaping the doughs into their final forms was almost meditative. The baguette dough stretched and folded under my hands, forming into long, slender loaves with tapered ends. The croissant dough was rolled and folded into layers, ready to be cut and shaped into crescents. With each turn and fold, I could feel the anticipation of the final baked product growing.

Next, I mixed batters for cakes, muffins, and other pastries, carefully measuring each ingredient to ensure consistency and quality. The rhythmic motions of stirring and mixing were comforting, grounding me in the early morning quiet of the bakery.

With the ovens now hot, I slid in the first trays of bread and pastries. The smell of baking bread began to fill the bakery, a comforting scent that promised a successful day.

On and on I went prepping, while simultaneously listening to music. One thing about L'Orchidée Bakery, is that our surround sound system that covers every square foot of the little coffee shop, works its magic everyday. It is very difficult to hear many outside noises at that.

So imagine my suprise when I'm singing "Slut!" by Taylor Swift on full volume and I turn around, to only find myself face to face (well, behind a sheet of glass) with none other than Oscar Piastri.

"But if I'm all dressed up, they might as well be looking at us, and if they call me a SLU AHH!-"

I screamed slut, as I spun around and ended up making obnoxiously close eye contact with a boy in a black hoodie and unruly brown hair.

The broom in my hand that I was using to sweep the floor crashed to the floor, a one, big, sweeping motion. Scaring myself, and the boy, we both aggressively lurched back.

This is when I got to take a closer look, and I had just realized that Oscar Piastri had just scared the shit out of both of us.

And I was even more embarrassed to see that poor little Oscar was just trying to look at the bakery's menu, only to get a terrible birds eye view of my horrid singing and dancing.

He started to chuckle, his hand brushing against the faint stubble of hair that was growing across his chin. Sheepishly knocking on one side of the glass that separated us, I gestured for him to come in.

A customer is a customer! (even if he does happen to be the Formula 1 driver I absolutely idolize, and on any given normal day, I would be too shy to even make eye contact with him)

Running to the front entrance of the shop, I reach in my pocket to pull out the plethora of keys that dangle from my measly keychain. Fumbling with a golden key with the letters LB engraved on the key's front, I unlock the door.

"Hi, hello! Welcome to L'orchidée Bakery, so sorry for the little jumpscare you got there," I timidly trailed off.

"You mean the singing, dancing, or both," he joked back. Immediately, my discomfort shifted, as the environment had turned playful. Smiling, I responded.

"Hahaha, you think your funny," I rolled my eyes, as we made our way to the register.

"What can I say, I might just be a stand-up-comedian in disguise," he joked, arms crossed, and his eyes crinkled into a vibrant eye smile.

"Well, are you?" I asked, pretending to genuinely not know his occupation.

"Are what?" He nervously chuckled.

"Are you actually a stand-up-comedian?" I asked.

"Wait, are you serious?" His eyes bulged out, not able to hide his surprise, he fumbled with his phone.

"A hundred percent," I replied, playing the game. Trying to make it believable, I put up a mask of utter confusion. "What's your job?"

"Oh, um, I drive?" He lowly said, he voice trailing off, confused.

"You think you drive of you know you drive?" I barked out a laugh, finding it funny that he ended the sentence in a questioning tone.

"Oh yes, I definitely drive," He nodded his head vigorously.

"So like, Uber, Lift, valet services?" I asked.

"Oh yeah, something like that, yup," Oscar replied. It took everything in me to not burst out laughing from his god-awful acting. This boy couldn't lie for shit, his eyebrows and eyes immediately betrayed him.

Pretending to believe him, I continued our conversation.

"So...do you liked driving around everywhere?" I asked. If this boy kept on lying, I just knew the conversation would get so funny.

"Yeah, it's pretty fun, you know? Getting to meet different people, seeing new places," he said, trying to keep up the charade.

"Interesting! Must be quite an adventure. Any memorable rides?" I prodded, enjoying the playful banter.

"Oh, definitely. Had a guy once who insisted on singing Taylor Swift songs at the top of his lungs," he quipped, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Holding a laugh in, I'm not sure whether he was referring to me, Lando, or Daniel.

"Really? What a coincidence," I said, smirking. "Sounds like my kind of passenger."

We both laughed, the initial awkwardness completely dissolved. It was surreal, chatting casually with Oscar Piastri, as if he were just another customer and not the famous Formula 1 driver I admired.

"So, what can I get for you today?" I asked, ready to actually do my job.

"Surprise me," he said, leaning on the counter. "I'm in the mood for something new."

"Coming right up," I said, turning to grab a fresh-baked strawberry-chocolate croissant and a steaming cup of coffee. As I handed it to him, I couldn't help but feel a sense of triumph. Today was already shaping up to be unforgettable.

Looking around, there didn't seem to be anyone approaching the bakery, so as he sat down at the breakfast bar and asked whether I wanted to sit next to him, I immediately took his offer. (I mean seriously, who would not take the offer?)

"So, what brings you to this little bakery?" I asked, curious.

"Well, I heard a lot of good things about this place. Plus, I'm always on the lookout for a good pastry," he replied. "Figured I'd check it out myself."

"Glad you did," I said warmly. "We do our best to keep the reputation up. And hey, if you ever need more Taylor Swift serenades, you know where to find me."

"Good to know," he said with a laugh. "I'll definitely keep that in mind."

The playful banter made me forget, if only for a moment, that I was talking to a celebrity. It was just a normal conversation, easy and light-hearted.

"So, where do you usually drive?" I asked, pretending to be completely unaware of his true profession.

"Oh, you know, here and there," he said, trying to be vague. "Mostly around the city, sometimes longer trips."

"Must be fun, getting to see different places and meet different people," I said, keeping up the act.

"Yeah, it's interesting for sure," he agreed. "And sometimes you get to witness some pretty crazy stuff."

"I bet," I replied. "Like what?"

"Well, there was this one time I drove a bunch of guys to a music festival. They were already half-drunk and started a karaoke session in the backseat. It was wild," he said with a laugh.

"Sounds like a blast," I said, laughing along. This definitely felt like a recounting of a true story, probably along the lines of something that Yuki or Lando would do.

We continued the conversation, laughing and chatting, flirting here and there for the next half hour until my coworkers arrived. When they did, it gave Oscar and I quite a fright, as we both were mid-conversation when the front door swung open.

My coworker gave us morning blessings, and a blush blossomed across Oscar's cheeks, shy, that he got caught. Crumbling up his paper cup and paper wrap that held what used-to-be a croissant, we both knew it was time for him to leave.

"Wait," I said laughing, "We just had a whole conversation and I still don't know your name," I said, still playing into the role.

"Oscar," he said, genuine, and for a second I felt bad for lying to him. But then again, not really, he played into the banter as well.

"Will I see you here again, Oscar?" I asked.

"You might just have to wait and see," he winked. As I held the door open for him as he left, his hand brushed against mine, and goosebumps rippled across my arm. I felt a swirl of butterflies in my stomach when he smiled and wished me a heartfelt goodbye. Oh, brother.

This is not going to end well.

Snapping me awake from my daydream, my coworker whisper shouted. "You do know that was just Formula One driver Oscar Piastri, right girl? You definitely know who he is."

"Oh of course," I laughed, speaking at a normal volume. "But he doesn't know that I know that," I replied.

"Oh good God, this might end horribly, or become an extremely funny story that one tells at family dinner," my coworker said.

"Do you think the next time he comes he will sign my Oscar Piastri poster hanging in the janitorial closet?" I jokingly asked.

"Y/N!!!" my coworker scolded.

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oscarpiastri

liked by yourbff1, user1 and 303,199 others

oscarpiastri: special treat, special day

view comments:

user1: i hate this cryptic ass caption-

user1: OSCAR WHAT DOES IT MEAN

user2: alright we get it oscar, you had some good food and your big backedness made you have a good day

user3: wait... this pastry shop looks so good i might check it out

user4: oscar giving a bakery a free shoutout, absolutely unheard of

user5: the bakery is called L'Orchidée Bakery, and they are based in monaco! hope this helps 🧁💗

liked by oscarpiastri

user6: wait imagine if oscar's sneaky link worked there, that would be hella funny

user7: ainnoway that man pulls 🧍🏻

user8: honestly, you never know 😭

landonorris: we get it, you would not stop yapping about your amazing strawberry chocolate croissant this morning

landonorris: and how amazing, stunning, and beautiful that one girl was-

logansargeant: you forgot to mention that he was practically drooling everytime he spoke of her

landonorris: and he didn't even get her name 😝🫵🏻

logansargeant: what an absolute LOSER 💀

oscarpiastri: DELETE THIS.

oscarpiastri: DELETE THIS NOW.

oscarpiastri: i am not a loser. i very much win in life.

oscarpiastri: PLEASE DELETE THIS.

this comment thread has been deleted

user9: SKSKKSKSREJAJA did you guys see the deleted comment thread omg

user10: that is not real omg, oscar rizzing finally??!

user7: @/user6 i'm so sorry you were so right 😭😭

user6: i just know he pulls hella bitches

user6: you guys are just unfamiliar with his game (awkward white boy rizz)

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, yourbff1 and 101 others

yourusername: la dolce vita (he bought me books and flowers, and baked for me)

view comments

yourbff1: yada yada yada, no need to rub it in you bagged your longtime bae

user1: WAIT THATS HER NEW BOYFIE??

yourbff2: what in the soft launch, CALL ME NOW-

yourbff2: PLEASE ANSWER THE PHONE

oscarpiastri: no can do cuz 🥳😝📢

oscarpiastri: i fear she's cuddling with her man right now

yourbff2: YOU STOLE MY GIRL, you GIRL STEALER 🫵🏿

yourbff1: out of context that sounds so, so wrong 💀

user2: babe, your new boyfie is oscar mf piastri. 🧍🏻‍♀️

liked by yourusername and oscarpiastri

oscarpiastri: so sad that you lied to me when we first met

oscarpiastri: heart❤️ been broke💔🤕 so many times⏰ i don’t know❌🤷‍♀️ what to believe 🍃🙏 yeah👍 mama🤰say it’s my👧😣fault🥺😢 my fault😭😞 i wear my heart💝 on my sleeve👕

yourusername: SO SO SO SORRY BABE XX

user3: she's just a girl, oscar 🙄

oscarpiastri: i hope the date was amazing, you cutie patootie

yourusername: of course it was, my hubby bubby

oscarpiastri: ugh, my teddy bear honey bee is so cute in this

yourusername: you're definitely cuter sugar plum baby bear

yourbff1: YOU DIGUST ME

yourbff1: GET TS OUT OF THE COMMENT SECTION

user4: ^^ and INTO the bedroom

liked by oscarpiastri

yourbff2: @/user4 @/oscarpiastri aw HELL NO ❌❌👈🏿

yourbff2: she is my ROOMATE and the walls are THIN 🧍🏿‍♀️

oscarpiastri

liked by yourusername, yourbff1 and 487,120 others

oscarpiastri: i just got wined and dined

view comments:

user1: two posts of the same bakery in a row?! yeah, somethings up

user2: the jig is up oscar! reveal your girlfriend

landonorris: ohhh, so that's why you were gone for dinner

logansargaent: L to you, because i knew where he was the whole time

landonorris: not fair @/oscarpiastri, not fair 📢📢

charles_leclerc: who is this lovely woman oscar?

charles_leclerc: hello?? do not ignore me

user3: LMFAO oscar ANSWER UR FATHER

charles_leclerc: it says that you are active on instagram, i see you

charles_leclerc: i just want to know who my son's girlfriend is

user4: girlfriend?!?!? what have i missed omg, i just left insta for a week

user5: oscar's soft launch era 💀 LMAO, we think he's dating a girl who works at a bakery

user5: he thinks he is being sneaky and subtle but he's really NOT.

user6: wait guys i think i found her @, its yourusername i think

user7: wait it totally is, in one of her posts, she's wearing that exact same white shirt

user8: and the bakery looks EXACTLY the same in both of their posts

user9: SKMSJEOAMSKK SHE'S IN THE LIKES YOU GUYS YOURUSERNAME IS IN THE LIKES

user10: @/yourusername girl stop lurking in the comments i know your reading them 🧐🤨

liked by yourusername

user10: SJEHLSHEILA SEE I TOLD YOU SO

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and 28,991 others

yourusername: dinner with a side of formula one pic creds: my boyfie ofc 💗

view comments:

yourusername: chat, i blew up so much omg

yourusername: in my famous era i guess

user1: you mean your WAG era ofc...

liked by oscarpiastri

yourbff1: i'm single, and my fist is ready to mingle in your face

landonorris: so this is the girl, huh, she's pretty

oscarpiastri: HOWDIDYOUFINDHER

oscarpiastri: she's MINE to call pretty btw. 🤬😡💢

landonorris: stole ur phone hehe

yourbff2: rip my ass for having to take all these lovey dovey disgusting pics of them.

yourbff2: DO NOT BREAK HER HEART OSCAH 🍴🍴🍴

yourusername: DO NOT THREATEN HIM PLEASE 😭 (ty for taking these pics omg tysm)

oscarpiastri: I PROMISE I PROMISE TO LOVE MY SUGAR PLUM FAIRY SO VERY MUCH

yourusername: awww, i love you too my honey bear bee

yourbff1: and they're back.

charles_leclerc: omg guys i found her instagram @/logansargeant @/georgerussel63 @/lewishamilton

oscarpiastri: PLEAASEEE NOOOOO

yourusername: what, afraid to show your girlfriend off 🤨🫵🏽

oscarpiastri: whatttt, nooo

georgerussel63: i like you @/yourusername, you make oscar scared

yourusername: awww, thx george <33

oscarpiastri: not funny george

oscarpiastri: are we still ignoring the fact that you lied to me when we first met 🤬🧐

yourusername: are we still ignoring that you ALSO lied to me?!

charles_leclerc: kids, kids, get along please!

oscarpiastri: yes, father

yourusername: yes, father-in-law

yourusername and oscarpiastri

liked by yourbff1, charles_leclerc and 1,220,151 others

yourusername and oscarpiastri: hard launches, only.

comments are disabled

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author's note: ty guys for reading this fic! 😍🫶🏾

[writtenbymoonflower]

Heyoo! How are you dove? Can I request more roommate!poly!marauders x shy!reader pleasee! Your fics have a special place in my heart

roommate!marauders is my drug <3 thanks for requesting hunny! fem!reader x roommate!marauders

cw: thunderstorms, poor boundaries with roommates

659 words

You didn’t realize the sheer volume of the downpour outside until the chatter of your roommates in the sitting room couldn’t be discerned over the pounding of raindrops reverberating off your window panes. You weren’t complaining, though. You were cozied under a multitude of soft blankets and fluffy pillows, your reading lamp emanating a soft glow onto the pages of your book, the smell of rain wafting into your room. 

That was until your lights slowly flickered a few times, before shutting off completely, leaving you in pitch black darkness. This was shortly followed by a shrill scream, then a crash, making your drop your novel. You untangled yourself from your covers, setting your book back on the bed, before venturing out. You held your hands in front of you as you stumbled around in the dark. You felt around for your doorknob, swinging the door open. You didn’t make it far before you tumbled into a tall torso and lanky limbs. 

“Shit, dove! Sorry! I didn’t see you there.” Remus blindly reached a hand out in an attempt to steady both of you. 

“It’s okay! I think that only raccoons can see in these conditions.” You attempted to joke. He rewarded you with a small chuckle. 

“Are you okay, though? You didn’t fall or anything?” You could hear the worry laced in his tone. It made your heart weirdly warm to know that he was concerned for you. 

“No, I’m all good.” You reassured. “Are you okay? I heard a crash.” You stepped further into the living area, carefully watching your footing. Remus chuckled again. 

“You wanna tell her what happened, lads?” His tone filled with unusual mirth. You could vaguely make out the forms of the other two boys in the dark. You heard Sirius grumble, though it was James who spoke up, much more timidly than typical.

“Well uh- we didn’t expect for the lights to go out, you know? Pads got a little spooked and screamed.” You could feel Remus shaking beside you with nearly-silent laughter. “And uh- Sirius spooked me, I guess. And then I dropped a plate.” He trailed off. Remus was now laughing loudly at his friends’ expense, but you could tell that there was no malice given or received between the boys, with them also joining in. You weren’t laughing, though. You resisted the urge to flounder over to James and check him for injuries. 

“Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?” 

“No we’re okay, babydoll. It’s in the kitchen, we’ll worry about it later. Come over here, though. You’re gonna trip.” Sirius’ hand circled your arm gently, pulling you towards him and James. You weren’t sure what you were in risk of tripping over, but you let him maneuver you as he liked. You were startled by the sound of sparking, making you jump back into Sirius’ chest. 

“Sorry, lovely. Candles.” James set the soft, flickering light onto the coffee table. Remus appeared right beside you again. 

“You’re all jumpy, dove. Are you sure you’re okay?” Remus cooed as James lit another candle. You jumped again as another hand grazed your back. 

“Y-yeah.” The dark was very unsettling. Purple light flashed through the house, quickly followed by a loud boom! 

“EEK!” You weren’t the one who made the sound, but you were pulled onto the settee, tumbling on top of Sirius’ frame, face landing in his inky curls. 

“Christ, Pads.” James flopped down next to your tangled forms. He pulled you off to settle you between him and the high-strung boy. “You’re gonna kill her before the lease is up.” Another wave of thunder clapped through the house, this time Sirius only flinched. James pulled you closer to him in response. 

“Oi! I can’t help it. You know storms make me flighty.” He argued, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to pull you back against him. “It’s okay though, I’ve got this dolly to keep me safe.”

[000-pawz]

drunk in love (bnd legal line) ˚ · .

bnd when they're drunk/when you're drunk , bnd x fem!reader , legal line reactions/headcanons , fluff , some suggestive sprinkles here and there , established relationship

more under the cut!

a/n: thank you for the request anonie! <3 this was so fun to write

sungho ˚ ⋆｡˚

when you are drunk

𐙚₊˚ if you call sungho while you're drunk at a friend's house, he'll be there in record time! he's not letting you go home alone or with someone else. he's going to make sure that you get home safe himself

𐙚₊˚ sungho is the best drunk sitter ever </3 he's making sure you are consistently drinking water throughout the night, getting food into your stomach the whole time (and rewarding you with kisses along the way!), and making sure you don't fall off of a roof or something

𐙚₊˚ at parties, he watches your cup the entire time, placing his hand over the top when you lean in to hug a friend, holding it for you while you go to the bathroom and everything!!! like he does not play about your safety at all

𐙚₊˚ if you start to get a little too out of hand, he knows it's time to take you home </3 and if you complain and pout about it, he'll just sigh and try to give you an incentive to cooperate like getting to steal all of his hoodies for a month (and of course, you give in!)

𐙚₊˚ throws you over his shoulder and carries you away when it's time to go and you're too drunk to walk >< pats your butt when you tell him to put you down lol

𐙚₊˚ helps you change into one of his big t-shirts and spoons you to sleep, pressing soft kisses to the crown of your head, whispering 'i love yous' into your ear until you fall asleep <3

when he is drunk

𐙚₊˚ i see sungho as someone with a pretty high tolerance, so it may take him a few drinks to start visibly showing that he's drunk

𐙚₊˚ the first sign would be how he laughs at everything. full on belly laughs, slapping his knee, falling over and it'll simply be because someone pronounced a word wrong or something >< like that is ijbol king

𐙚₊˚ sungho is an extrovert, yes, but he becomes the extrovert's final boss when he's drunk. he pretty much carries the conversation, but he probably is a little volume deaf too, like he gets really loud and hyper (at least he's cute though)

𐙚₊˚ he doesn't really get emotional, but his emotions are more raw for sure!! he might end up in an argument with someone at some point in the night if he's left alone for too long, so please keep an eye on him!!!

𐙚₊˚ he'll probably want to kiss you a lot. like even more than usual, and that's saying something. you'll be talking with a friend and he'll come up from behind you and slip an arm around your waist before pressing a kiss to your cheek and then he disappears again >< or if you two are just drinking alone, he'll peck your lips literally while you are in the middle of a sentence :C his impulse control is nonexistent when he's drunk like partner pretty so he kiss! it's that simple!

𐙚₊˚ getting home with sungho would be a personal podcast in your ear... he's going to be talking the entire time with exaggerated gestures, recapping his entire lift story because his filter completely disappears when he's drunk!!! and getting him to sleep is even harder </3 he'll be silent for a few minutes before asking you yet another question, so you have to kiss his lips and shush him to sedate him <3

˚ ⋆｡˚ riwoo

when you are drunk

𐙚₊˚ loves when you're all over him <3 sitting in his lap as you laugh with friends, kissing him all over his face, running your fingers through his hair... it makes him so happy

𐙚₊˚ will gladly take pictures of you if you ask! pretends to be your paparazzi like "miss y/n!!! over here!!!" before snapping a picture all dramatically while you pose like you're on the front cover of vogue <3 just silly and fun

𐙚₊˚ if you're under the influence, he'll want to make sure you have the most carefree, stress-free, most enjoyable experience possible! he'll compliment you the whole night so you never forget how pretty you are, makes sure you don't go past your limit, and piggybacks you while holding your heels <3

𐙚₊˚ smiles at you so fondly when you drunkenly ramble to him <3 he gives you the most cartoonish reactions to everything you're saying, and when you realize he's not actually listening and just admiring how cute you are, he just laughs softly and kisses you, urging you to continue

𐙚₊˚ feeds you throughout the night so you don't feel too sick in the morning!! as soon as you take a break from talking, he's putting a cracker in your mouth and telling you to chew lol

𐙚₊˚ very gentle when he lets you know it's time to go home, waiting patiently for you to finish saying goodbye to all your friends (even if it's the entire room of people) <3 after you surprise him with another kiss attack as soon as you step foot inside the home, he manages to get you into bed, removing your makeup for you once you're asleep, treating you like you're a piece of glass </3 he loves you sm

when he is drunk

𐙚₊˚ riwoo brings sweetheart energy to the function like <3 he's not that talkative when he's tipsy, choosing to just observe the scene with a smile on his face. you'll probably have to pull him up out of his seat to get him to mingle lol

𐙚₊˚ as soon as he hits the dance floor though, it's sooooo over!!! his hands will be on your hips as you guys dance, laughing into your ear, hyping you up as you break it down like!!! he'll be really touchy too, holding you from behind as he whispers into your ear, grinding into you from behind just to tease ><

𐙚₊˚ he'll probably eat a lot before drinking so he doesn't get too drunk, but it honestly never works </3 thankfully, he's able to stay pretty level-headed when he's drunk, so you never have to worry too much

𐙚₊˚ when he's drunk drunk, riwoo probably slurs his words a lot, and gets really giggly, and really corny. he'll crack the worst joke you've ever heard and then laugh at it because he thought it was the funniest thing ever (and please indulge him </3 he's too cute to not fake laugh at his jokes)

𐙚₊˚ i see him as the type to turn into jell-o when he gets really drunk. like he'll be leaning on you the entire time because if you let go, he's going straight to the floor. getting him to bed would be an entire workout because he just goes limp randomly and trips on air every three seconds pls

𐙚₊˚ riwoo definitely likes to be babied when he's drunk ^___^ he'll be giggling the entire time as you help him get his shoes off and change into more comfortable clothes like "riwoo, lift your arms up!" and he's doing it with the widest smile on his face (and if you tell him about it when he's sober, he'll be soooo embarrassed </3)

jaehyun ˚ ⋆｡˚

when you are drunk

𐙚₊˚ jaehyun is probably half-concerned/half-entertained the entire time </3 he's laughing whenever you stumble over your own feet, but his hands are quick to steady you to make sure you don't hurt yourself!!!

𐙚₊˚ records you with a big smile on his face when you're dancing on tables, cheering you on the entire time. but if your skirt starts riding up, he's quick to grab you down with his hands around your waist before helping you pull your skirt down <3

𐙚₊˚ taps his cheek whenever he wants a kiss because he knows that you love to kiss him when you're drunk </3 it becomes a game between the two of you during the night, where he taps his cheek randomly and you stop whatever you're doing to kiss him lol

𐙚₊˚ indulges you in all of your drunken activities! if you want to race him down the road barefoot, he's right there with you, his shoes tossed off to the side at the ready mark. or if you want to see who can do the most cartwheels, he wraps his jacket around your waist before the competition starts and then shows off that he can do more than you!

𐙚₊˚ if you're reaching your limit, he gently takes your cup from your hands with a little "alright, that's enough for you" and if you whine, he kisses your nose and goes "how about some water instead, hm?" and you reluctantly agree because he's just so sweet

𐙚₊˚ he's so subtle with the way he cares for you, you barely even notice what's going on. you're too busy having the time of your life to realize that jaehyun has already gotten you home, washed up and changed as you talk his ear off in your drunken haze >< he responds to everything while multi-tasking, making sure you get tucked in on your side just in case before you drift off <3

when he is drunk

𐙚₊˚ jaehyun clingy drunk agenda! he'll always want to have his hands on you in some way, whether it be hugging you from behind, holding your hand, or resting his head on your shoulder!

𐙚₊˚ probably needs to be bodyguarded when he first starts drinking. please do not dare him to do anything because he will do it. and he will prove that he can do it better than anyone has ever seen.

𐙚₊˚ although his energy is usually always at 100%, i think he mellows out a bit when he's really drunk. at first, when he's simply tipsy, he's the life of the party! cracking jokes with everyone, sparking up a conversation with anyone in his vicinity, even he's dancing on tables lol but once he gets really drunk, he gets a little quieter and sticks to your side!! (that's when you know it's time to take him home)

𐙚₊˚ jaehyun can get pretty emotional when he's drunk too. he could probably cry just from thinking about how much he loves you!! you won't even notice that he started to cry until he's sniffling, dabbing at his eyes :< and if you ask him what's wrong, he'll just be like "you're the best thing that's ever happened to me." and you're just like ???<3???<3??? because it'll come out of nowhere lol

𐙚₊˚ if you aren't with him at a party or something, he'll probably text you the entire time. just like paragraphs of how much he misses you, and how he loves you so so so so much, and he'll even send you cute drunk selfies so you know he is safe and having a good time!

𐙚₊˚ jaehyun can get very very needy when he's drunk! you could be chilling at home when he comes back from a friend's house and he'll be all over you, nuzzling his nose into your neck, kissing your shoulder, subtly trying to rub against your leg because he forgets to use his words :<

˚ ⋆｡˚ taesan

when you are drunk

𐙚₊˚ #1 instigator. he thinks that you are so funny when you're drunk >< how you'll do and say literally anything without a second thought and he encourages it even. it's cute to him

𐙚₊˚ like if you get into a rap battle with a random busker on the street, he's throwing imaginary money and tossing in random adlibs like he's a soundcloud rapper girlfriend lol

𐙚₊˚ always has an arm over your shoulder, holding you close to his side because you look so good and he doesn't want anyone to think you are single and try to hit on you! keeps you close to him at all times

𐙚₊˚ nothing really fazes him and he's good at keeping calm. like if you start to throw up, he'll simply hold your hair out of your face and rub your back softly before cleaning you up with a tiny smile. or if you suddenly burst out into tears, he's cooing at you, wiping your cheeks with his thumb, placing kissing on your nose <3

𐙚₊˚ but if you're blackout drunk, way past your limit, he gets really serious >< he'll sit you on the kitchen counter and make sure you drink a bunch of water, his eyes on you like a hawk. he'll rub your knee comfortingly to keep you present, praising you every few seconds for doing so well for him

𐙚₊˚ he'll tease you so much once you're sober, recounting all of the crazy things you did while you were drunk >< and when you start to get embarrassed, he wraps you up in his arms and reassures you that you are still cute to him no matter what <3

when he is drunk

𐙚₊˚ yapper. like. he's going to be talking soooo much!!! just about anything and everything, stumbling and slurring over his words as he recounts how he saw a squirrel earlier that day or something. shares wayyyy too many tmis too

𐙚₊˚ he definitely loosens up more when he's drunk. his composure and attention span goes straight out the window. he's usually pretty composed when he's sober for the most part, but as soon as he gets a few drinks in his system, something in him flips like a switch

𐙚₊˚ please do not let him pick up the karaoke mic oh my... he's going to attempt to have a rap battle with you or try to belt out the highest notes possible. he'll put on an entire show for your whole friend group!!! he might even join in on drinking games and stuff

𐙚₊˚ wanders off easily, so please can an eye on him!! he'll get distracted by every single thing, his feet carrying him away without a second thought >< you might even lose him for an hour, and then find him sitting in the kitchen eating a bag of chips with someone's hat on and a mustache drawn on his face

𐙚₊˚ taesan can get pretty pouty when he's drunk too. especiallyyyy if you're not giving him as much attention as he wants! you could be laughing with some friends and taesan will be sitting next to you with his arms crossed and the biggest kitty pout on his face ever because? why aren't you laughing with him!!!! (pls give him lots of kisses to make up for it!!!)

𐙚₊˚ he definitely has a habit of denying that he's drunk. he'll try to dismiss your help to get him home, or refuse to drink water, and claim that he can do everything by himself. he'll literally be tripping over his own feet as you try to help him into his bed and he'll be like "nooo i'm not drunk! i swear!" and then as soon as he hits the pillow, he's out like a light

leehan ˚ ⋆｡˚

when you are drunk

𐙚₊˚ follows you around like a guard dog the entire night! he knows that you like to run off and do reckless stuff when you get drunk, so he's keeping his eye on you

𐙚₊˚ makes all of your drinks himself and never lets you drink out of the punch bowl <3 you like to joke that he's your personal bartender and he takes the title with pride

𐙚₊˚ if you get really drunk and start getting emotional, he's quick to comfort you, even if you won't remember anything he said in the morning. he's cupping your cheeks, kissing your lips and telling you how much he loves you!!! he thinks it's so adorable when you start crying because of how much you love him, and he reminds you that he isn't going anywhere, ever <3

𐙚₊˚ super gentle with you when helping you wind down for the night!!! he'll remove your make up and help you brush your teeth with a quiet "say ahhh", smiling softly because you are just so cute and he's so in love

𐙚₊˚ lets you space out and stare at his fish tank while he makes you food to eat before you go to sleep so you can get something in your stomach! goes to the other side of the tank and makes a funny face through the glass just to see you giggle

𐙚₊˚ already has hangover medicine ready on your side table with water and snacks if you wake up and need something!!! please thank him a bunch in the morning for how well he took care of you <33

when he is drunk

𐙚₊˚ second highest tolerance i think! he definitely gets drunk quicker than sungho, but it still takes him a bit!!! mostly because no one can tell if he's actually drunk or not with the way he's able to keep his composure

𐙚₊˚ i don't see him as the type to chug a bunch of drinks immediately, probably only nursing one drink for a long time. he knows his limits, and tries to stick to them because he hates being hungover the next day!!! he has to feel good so he can take care of you instead <3

𐙚₊˚ he gets sooo flirty, it's unreal. he'll literally try to talk you up even though you guys are already together!! he'll comment on how good you look, his hand rubbing your thigh, leaning in to whisper into your ear and kiss your neck ><

𐙚₊˚ he gets really soft toward the end of the night, his head resting on your shoulder as he spaces out </3 he'll probably play with your fingers while you converse with your friends, laughing quietly every now and then, but his mind is on an entirely different planet. it's okay though because he knows you'll look after him!!!

𐙚₊˚ gets pretty defiant when he's had one too many drinks lol >< like if you tell him it's time to go home, he'll plant his feet into the ground so you physically cannot drag him away with a teasing look on his face. he might even just take a seat on the floor and look up at you with big puppy dogs eyes because he doesn't want to go yet!

𐙚₊˚ he sobers up pretty quickly and is usually fine by the time you guys get home!!! he'd probably want to shower together before cuddling up to you like a big teddy bear, usually asleep within a minutes, surrounded by your warmth <3

reblogs are greatly appreciated! thank u...<3

masterlist

[neopuppy]

Gooner (M)

pairing. Jisung x female reader ft Jeno

genre. fubu AU(alternatively ‘I was half a virgin when I met you!’ AU), Jisung as Jeno’s younger brother/Jeno’s not the best sibling, M/F, filth.. yay👹

warnings. profanity, eavesdropping, incel vibes, y/n’s a bit mean, smut warnings under cut. minors DNI.

wc. 6.5k+

now playing. treat me like a slut//Kim Petras

smut warnings. masturbation, Jisung’s addicted to porn, switching, oral, hair pulling, choking, overstimulation, rough sex, unprotected sex

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

Sweet high-pitched moans resonate through the walls, loud enough to cancel out the ones emitting from overpriced computer speakers.

So loud. So God damn loud.

Jisung sighs, he’d heard your flirty giggles about an hour ago before his brother dragged you through the hallway and into his bedroom across from his. You’ve been here 3? 4 times? This week alone already. He tries to tune out the cracked whine in your tone, raise the volume on the video he’s been watching for five minutes, not really paying attention to what’s happening. How can he when you scream like your lifes being ripped from your body, crying out louder than a woman being chased to her death. 

He blinks to focus his gaze on the computer screen, reaching for the energy drink sat on his desk to sip at. This used to be more enjoyable, time to relax and unwind after school or work. That was before Jeno started hooking up with you. You’re just around all the damn time, always sprawled out on the couch, coming out of their shared bathroom with wet hair and one of his brothers oversized t-shirts. He doesn’t make an effort to talk to you at all, never has tried to get to know any of the random girls that come in and out of his brother's revolving bedroom door. 

Not that you make that easy, always greeting him when you run into each other, smiling and waving, even pinching his cheek when you stumbled out of his brother's room inebriated. You called him cute, a baby, a cute giant baby. It makes his skin crawl to think about it, softly petting his cheek with the back of his hand where you had tugged on his cheek roughly. He spent the rest of the day locked up in his room scouring the internet for videos showcasing girls that looked somewhat like you, your hair or lips, any minuscule feature close enough to yours to stroke himself to.

‘Look at you Sungie, you’re growing up right before my eyes.’ You said drunkenly, staggering back and forth on your feet as you trapped him in the hallway on his way to the bathroom. He didn’t know what to do or say, flinching away from your touch too slowly, he had to stand there gulping thick wads of saliva while you tugged on his cheek and reached up to smack the other side of his face. ‘What a cute giant baby.’

The fantasies brewing in his mind for the last few weeks spilled over as you tiptoed closer and blinked up at him blearily, a flirty smile pulling at your lips. 

He wanted to grip your wrists until they hurt, leave his fingerprints permanently etched on your daint limbs. One of his favorite videos came to mind, wishing to throw you down on all fours and shove the oversized band shirt up to unveil your bare ass, knowing damn well you walk around without bothering to cover yourself up after Jeno fucks your brain dry. He’s so lucky, always manages to pull girls like you, shameless easy sluts desperate to cry on his cock. 

That could be him if he had the balls to even look you in the eye and act out the various ways he imagines plowing through you. He was ready to say something, barely parting his lips open until Jeno blew his chances and dragged you back to his bedroom.

‘Your little brother’s so cute.’ You teased, poking at the olders chest. He scoffed and glared at you, slowly dragging his gaze over to Jisung standing frozen in the hallway before slamming his door shut.

‘Probably made his week talking to you, loser never leaves his room.’ 

Jeno’s such an asshole. He’s not wrong, but he doesn’t have to tell you shit about his younger brother’s life. He does leave his room, he has to eat, meet up with his friends every once in a while.

That’s not the worst part, the worst part is that you seem curious about him. Always subtly mentioning him when he’s in the living room or kitchen. His brother scoffs and mutters under his breath usually, snapping at you to quit asking about that virgin.

He’s not a fucking virgin.. technically. 

It doesn’t matter anyway, you’d probably never give him a chance. Not that he wants a chance, he’s just horny, just needs to actually leave his room and interact with real women like Jeno always says. 

But why would he do that when a few clicks can numb his brain without any hassle, without any effort or convincing. Why would he do that when he can mute the video, get up to press his ear against the door and watch a point of view shot of some whore getting her back blown out while listening to you beg for more.

Harder. Faster. More more more. 

You sound like such a slut, such a cock hungry eager slut. It’s easy to picture your face getting wrecked, he knows how rough Jeno can get after years of listening to the squeals and cries coming out of his room. Girls limping their way out with shame written across their face, they never lasted long, got their fill and moved on to the next. You stuck around, further cementing what a whore you must really be..

Jisung sighs, head dropping back against his door, sliding down to his knees to shove his hand past the waistband of his shorts. He hasn’t left his room today, only once to act like he needed to use the bathroom. He wanted to see you, wanted to catch a glimpse of your outfit and makeup before Jeno ruined everything. The amount of shirts and sweaters you’ve probably stolen by now must be taking up space in your closet. 

You’d look good in some of his clothes too, better than you look in his brothers. You’d look better naked though, laid out on his bed with your legs spread open. He’s been hard from the moment he caught a hint of your signature perfume in the air on his way to the bathroom, it’s enough to make his dick twitch. Enough to lick at his lips and imagine what your skin must taste like. He hates perfume, but you always smell so clean, so feminine and fresh..

“Fuck.” Lotion, he needs lotion. His palm feels extra rough today, calloused up from beating his meat relentlessly over the last few weeks. He can’t keep track anymore, losing count of how many times he’s tugged on his cock everyday, drowning out any hint of guilt that tells him that this is wrong. Besides, how wrong can it be when he cums within minutes picturing your face turning to look back at him as he pulls out to make a mess all over your ass.

“Hey, dipshit!” A loud bang against his door has him choking on his spit, coughing and yanking his hand out of his pants as if he’s been burnt. “Mom called, said to buy dinner.”

Jeno knocks again, throwing out another rude name until he gets up and races to turn off his computer, flustered as he wipes his sweaty palms on his shirt and opens the door. 

You’re standing behind him of course, slouching on his brother's back, peering over his bicep when the door opens. “What'dya want?”

His brother always looks annoyed, he can’t understand why, they’re not that different. 

“Pizza.” You whisper, dragging out your request cutely, fingernails running up and down Jeno’s sides. “Pizzzzzzzzzza.”

He chuckles, grabbing your hands to loop your fingers together and tighten your hold around him. “I could go for some pizza.”

Jisung nods, ducking his head to avoid the way you bat your eyes at him behind Jeno’s back. It’s probably all in his head anyway, the small things you do when his brother can’t see you..

“Alright, I have a package coming in soon. Make yourself useful and bring it in for me before someone snatches it, will you?” Jeno says, shoving at his shoulder before turning away with you still attached to his back. “Told you he was probably jerking off.”

The way you laugh at that comment makes his chest tingle, lifting his gaze to steal one more look at you before shutting his door. To his surprise, you’re already looking back, the corners of your mouth lifting up slightly before you step out of view and the front door shuts.

Whatever. He really isn’t hungry, not for food anyway, not when he can still pick up the lingering scent of your body wash permeating off your warm damp skin. He shoves that thought aside before pulling on some sweats, gingerly placing his length between the elastic waistband and his stomach. 

The door rings not even 5 minutes after the two of you have left, groaning as he opens it and finds a large box that looks too heavy to carry to Jeno’s bedroom. “Asshole.” He knew damn well Jisung wouldn’t want to lift this shit, and he told him to anyway. Fuming for a minute, he rolls his eyes and squats to hoist the package up against one of his thighs, grunting as he kicks the door shut and drops it haphazardly to kick down the hall. That’s what Jeno would do with his deliveries, he’s sure.

He contemplates for a moment on whether or not to leave the box outside of his brother's door, shifting back and noticing he didn’t close it all the way. Probably wants him to leave it inside of his room like some lacky, better he assumes that and does it to avoid hearing shit later. Pointing his toes, he nudges the door open lightly, kicking the box inside only to pause when the warm air touches his face. It still reeks of sex inside of here, it still reeks of you. It’s strong, hot, thick on his tongue. 

Jeno’s room faces the street, catching most of the sunlights heat while Jisung’s window has towering trees to keep that out. He glances to his brother’s bed, it’s still messy, the top blanket wrinkled in places you must have been fisting, damp streaks where your lower half must have been resting. 

He shouldn’t itch to touch, to get a closer look, to lower his face and drag his tongue across the wet patch, but he has to. This—this is what he’s been missing out on, this is what his videos can’t replicate. The smell of your arousal, the warmth rolling off your feverish flesh, the taste of your cunt pouring down his lips. 

Jeno would fucking kill him if he found out about this, he thinks, grazing the tips of his fingers over the bundled up chunks of fabric, dragging over a damp spot between. He probably had you on all fours, face down ass up. Jisung salivates picturing it, the exact way he always imagines you looking back at him over your shoulder as he mercilessly slams inside of you. The blanket pinched between your teeth, cunt dripping out past his plummeting length making a sloppy mess all over his bed. 

This is why you sound so muffled sometimes, making his ears strain to hear all of your sweet begging. He bets you look unreal in this light, always imagining you illuminated under the low blue and purple lights in his room, hair tousled on his black sheets. 

He has to drag his nose against the topper, has to clench it between his fist as he lowers to the spot that undoubtedly rivered down from between your thighs. It’s so raw, so real, instantly bolting electric nerves through his length as his lips lightly meet the half-dried area. There’s still too many hints of Jeno’s deeper musk entwined in the other areas, but this is all you. This is all your fucked open pussy, jerking his hips against the edge of his brother’s bed the more he wraps his lips around the material. Fuck, what he’d give to sit between your thighs for a day like a pathetic dog with his mouth hung open pleading for a taste.

He should stop, get out of here before he gets too worked up, circling his hips faster as his chest tightens and his breath comes out faster. He ruts harder, pulling at the blanket and burying his face in deeper. How wet must you get to leave a mess like this behind? Can you squirt? Do your legs shake when you cum? Each drag of his tongue opens up a new possibility, reinventing the ways he’s dreamt of fucking you. He really shouldn’t have done this, now he’ll never be able to stop his mind from running wild.

“Fuck, does that feel good? Pussy so damn tight for me.” He repeats the same shit he hears Jeno spewing while fucking you. The envy he feels nearly outweighs how pathetic he feels. It’d be harder to swallow if he wasn’t so God damn bricked up at the mere thought of you.

“All that bullshit about men being the worst—“ Jeno’s voice echoes down the hall, the front door slamming shut. “When you’re worse than me.”

Giggles play out loud, only halted by lips smacking together. Jisung sits up in a panic, pushing the blanket back to cover most of the mattress. Cursing under his breath he peers around fast, losing his balance as steps ascend down the hall heading his direction.

Shitshitshit, what the fuck! He can’t move fast enough, stumbling to the floor with his painfully erect cock aching as he drags across. 

“It’s your fault, can’t keep your hands to yourself for a minute!” You squeal, thumping against the bedroom door setting him off in a scurry toward the closet. Jeno will chew his head off if he finds him in here, he doesn’t even want to think about it. Why the fuck would the two of you come back in here so soon?! What about the food?!

“You like it.” Jeno murmurs, pushing open the door to his bedroom right as Jisung manages to shut the closet door as quietly as possible. It’s a mess in here, clothes thrown around everywhere. He has to crawl back on his knees slowly to make sure he doesn’t make a sound, taking long quiet breaths to not be heard.

There’s no way he’ll get caught in here, you’ll have to leave eventually, right? The shutter door does nothing to help his confidence, scooting back into what he hopes is too dark to be visible from the other side if either of you were to look over for some reason(like him breathing too loud). Of course you fall to your knees in front of the closet, his brother’s hand shoving you down by your shoulder as his other works to unbutton his jeans. 

“You look best on your knees.” He says, probably smirking judging off the way you smile up at him and reach for the tops of his thighs. “Let’s make this quick though, don’t want the food to get cold.”

“Pftt, I don’t have to suck your dick.” You bite back, digging your fingers into his jeans. “I’m sure your little brother wouldn’t give a fuck about eating if he had me like this.”

Jisung gulps, willing himself to look away when you reach inside of Jeno’s pants to draw his length free. He doesn’t want to see that, well, he does want to. He doesn’t want to watch you touch his brother though. Doesn’t want to ruin the fantasy world he’s built in his head with the harsh reality.

“You seriously wanna fuck him, don’t you?” Jeno sneers, fisting your hair as you begin to glide the tip of his length across your lips. “You never shut up about him, he wouldn’t even know what to do with you.”

Jisung wishes he could tell him off, glaring between the shutters at him. His lips twitch annoyed, fisting at the dirty pile of clothes under his ass. He’d know what to do with you, all he does is think about it, if only you’d let him practice..

“It’s cute, he always looks away when I catch him staring.” You tease, flicking your tongue out. “Never fucked brother’s before, bet it’d be fun.”

A gasp nearly gets sucked out of his throat, tightening his fist around the piles as a tremor runs up his spine. There’s no way you’re serious, right? Probably just messing with Jeno to piss him off. It works too, because he’s telling you to ‘shut the fuck up’ within the next second, probbing his dick past your lips until you’re forced to take it. 

You hardly even gag, making a quiet little sound as his cock disappears. Jisung can feel his thighs shaking before he realizes his hands are too, his bottom lip quivering. The way your lips stretch, the eye contact you manage to maintain despite his brother’s huge thick size struggling to fill your throat. It’s better than watching porn, you are better than watching porn. You’re the nasty perverse wet dream that’s made him wake up with sticky cum coated boxers come to life. 

He knows this is despicable, down right humiliating to watch you blow his older brother off and enjoy it, but between the cuts of vision he can pretend Jeno’s not there. Your lips are pulled back on his size, only he’d cup the back of your head and make you really gag, make your eyes well up with tears. He’d make sure to ruin your throat, have you raspy for days, making excuses for your scratchy voice. Nothing would please him more than knowing his cock punching your tonsils repeatedly had you sounding sick, clearing your throat and coughing. 

Instinctively his hand reaches for the prominent bulge tenting out from his groin. The tip of his cock wet enough to leak through his boxers making him grateful that he threw on sweats before leaving his room. Watching is one thing, but rubbing his cock to this would be too much, wouldn’t it? Does he even care at this point? 

The groans Jeno’s letting out are loud and throaty as usual, thick cock muffling your wet moans vibrating around his length. Jisung reaches inside of his underwear to stroke the precum pouring from his slit up and down his shaft. He curses under his breath, gripping the base tight as a moan rises up his chest.

With a wet pop you pull off, lips plump and debauched already, turning your gaze up as you take a firm hold on his length and expertly fist him. Jisung bites down on his tongue, pulling the small fabric tangled in his fingers up with his mouth to bite down on. A choked gasp breaks when he sees it, lacey red panties still stained along the seat with a creamy white film.

Fuck, these have to be yours. You’re the only girl that’s been around lately. They have to be the ones you had on today too. 

This couldn’t possibly get any nastier, not the typical scenario he imagines. Jeno’s never involved in those, it usually started in the hallway after you’ve showered. Dropping your towel with a sultry gaze locked on him, that’s how he knows this has to be real. You’re still dressed in one of his brother's shirts, and the panties he immediately shoves to his nose still smell ripe. Couldn’t have been stripped off your body longer than two hours ago. Between the wet sloppy sounds emitting from your throat and his hand stroking faster to match the pace, he takes deeper inhales. It’s stupid, envisioning a field covered in your used dirty underwear, falling from the sky even. 

“That’s it, get my balls too.” Jeno grunts, finally grabbing onto your head the way he would. He holds you in place and fucks against your pretty face, bursting tears out of your eyes that are working overtime to stay open. He’s full on fucking your face now, making Jisung’s hand sting from the burn of his slimey palm dragging against his throbbing cock again. He can’t cum like this, that would be mortifying. Especially because he never wants to forget this.

“Fuck, ah shit, swallow it.” Jeno demands, spilling down your throat and reaching down to pinch your nose. Make you choke and gag like a pro. He won’t cum from this, he’s seen this happen so many times, beat his cock to compilations, but it’s the lewd gargled moan you let out. It’s the way his brother rips his cock free from your lips and wads of spit soar out, painting your chin with the most disgusting vile mixture of thick nut and drool.

“Fuck!” Jisung shouts, wrapping your panties around his length as he tugs himself to completion.

“What the fuck?!” The closet doors flying open before he can even finish climaxing, furrowing his eyebrows and grabbing at another piece of clothing to cover his groin. “What the hell are you doing in here?!”

“Oh my God!” You squeak, scurrying to stand up and clean off your face. “You were in there the whole time!”

“Were you seriously fucking jerking off?!” Jeno shrieks, grabbing the younger by his arm to drag him out of the closet. “The hell is your problem pervert?!”

“N-no! I wasn’t!” Jisung panics, lifting his hands to defend himself.

“My panties!” You screech, bending over to snatch them away from his crotch, accidentally brushing his still sensitive twitching length.

“Ahh!” His hips chase your fleeting touch, face burning up as you scream again and drop your freshly soiled underwear.

“Oh my God, he came in them!”

“Ugh, told you he’s a fucking virgin that wouldn’t know what to do with you.” Jeno sneers annoyed, motioning at the younger. “Stand up man! You’re embarrassing me!”

“I’m not a virgin!” Jisung snaps, face on fire the longer he stays on his knees listening to this with two sets of judging eyes on him. 

“You came after only putting in the tip dude! That doesn’t count!” Jeno shouts, groaning and grabbing him to get up. “Why can’t you be normal!”

“You’re a virgin?” You interrupt, seeming intrigued, shyly lifting your thumb to your mouth to bite on.

“No!” He corrects, shoving at the older. 

“Don’t lie.” Jeno shoves him back. They go back and forth for a minute, Jisung frustratedly balling up his fists and standing straight.

“Fine! I’m like—half a virgin.” He says regretfully, lowering his gaze.

“He jerks off too much that’s why.” Jeno announces, spilling all his business. “Can’t hold his shit inside a real pussy, horny bastard.”

“Dude!”

“I’ve never been with a virgin.” You add, bouncing on your tiptoes. 

“He couldn’t handle you, I’ve already told you.” Jeno repeats, flicking your chin. “He doesn’t deserve a pity fuck from you anyway.”

Jisung wants to disagree, ready to grovel for a pity fuck if you’re really down for that. Keeping his gaze lowered, he tries to ignore the way his dick still reacts to the idea. He’d perform magic to erase that almost first time from his memory if it meant he’d have an actual chance to be inside of you.

“Wouldn’t be a pity fuck.” You mumble demurely, tucking your chin to your chest. “He’s cute.”

Jeno throws his hands up, breaking into a laugh. “He won’t last more than 3 minutes inside of you, you’re still tight even after I fuck you.”

Jisung swallows hard, gnawing at his bottom lip anxiously. “Bet I could..”

“Yeah!” You agree, smacking Jeno’s chest. “How much do you want to bet?”

Jeno laughs sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “Just say you wanna fuck him, we don’t need to bet shit.”

“Fine.” You respond, shrugging, trailing your gaze from Jeno to Jisung. He stares back wide-eyed in disbelief.. now this has to be a dream.

“Pittttttttty fuck.” Jeno sings, slapping your ass as he passes you on the way out. “Don’t forget who fucks you right just because you’re into this helpless loser shit my brother has going on.”

He shouts something about eating all of the pizza if the two of you take too long, leaving you to stand awkwardly shuffling across from Jisung. Clearing his throat, he nods and motions for you to exit the room. “Are you sure about this?”

“Are you not? I mean, you ruined my panties, I think you owe me one..” you say coyly, bumping into his side making red hues rise up the back of his neck. Jisung nods much too fast, leading you to his bedroom which is much different from Jeno’s. A lot more cluttered, dark, less of an inviting scent.

He scrambles to light a candle, spraying a bit of cologne when you step in and suck a long breath in through your nose. “Smells like..”

You trail off, dragging your fingers down his computer desk and eyeing the small trash can full of tissues underneath. “Fresh cum.”

Jisung pretends to laugh, shaking his head and waving his hands ‘no’, adding a few more sprays. “I guess it’s true, I mean you are always alone whenever I come over..”

Eyeing him suspiciously, you sit down on his bed, adjusting the shirt you borrowed from Jeno to cover your upper thighs. “But you like me, right?”

He wants to fall to his knees, grovel and perch his chin on your knee and beg you to stop making this even more humiliating for him. “Y-yes..”

“I know Sungie, you’re not good at hiding it..” you grin, leaning back and patting the space beside you. “Come here.”

Jisung listens, sitting down stiffly next to you. His nerves feel insane, burning through his veins, face on fire. He can’t even look at you, can’t even think about having to touch you.

“Look at me.”

You say that like it’s so easy, as if it’s simple enough to turn his face a centimeter to face you. He gulps, scratching at the cotton material stretched over his thighs, mentally pepping himself up to turn. “Ji, I said look at me.” 

And he has to now, with your fingers pinching his chin, sitting closer to him until your lips are only a breath away from his. The same mouth he just watched suck cock like a professional whore, lips still swollen from taking Jeno’s monstrous size. “You seem nervous.”

Shaking his head, he reaches for your throat, that’s usually how it goes in porn. Those girls always liked to be choked, get manhandled and fucked into the floor. Judging by the way you let Jeno treat you, he doubts you’re any different. His hand can practically wrap around your neck, surging a rush a thrill through his gut as he pushes you down on his bed and traps you with his fingers stretched around choking you. “Not nervous.” He grits, kicking your thighs open with his knees to mount you. 

“Are y-you sure—“ you struggle to ask, tugging on his wrist. 

“Shut the fuck up.” His brother had been stern with you before, you seemed to like it. Even now with wide surprised eyes he leans in and nips at your upper lip, hands beginning to tremble. “I should use a condom with an easy slut like you..” he whispers, pouty pink lips dragging against yours. “You let anyone fuck you.”

Confidence, he has to stay confident. Has to steer the control his way, make sure you know that he’s the one in charge here. His cocks thrumming incessantly, screaming to be set free, begging him to finally fuck something other than his poor useless hand. 

Gripping onto your jaw, he licks across your lips, digging his knee higher to prod your bare middle. Fuck, you’re soaking through the cotton material of his sweats. He knew it, you really are the most erotic dream, ripped straight from the most lust crazed filled thoughts. “You need to beg.”

His knee rubs against your core to emphasize his request, cupping your jaw and chin firmly to assault your mouth further. It’s all too good, stirring his aroused heat into a rapid inescapable fire. Every inch of his skin burns, desperate to remove his clothes and draw you into the depths of hell with him. He can’t stop licking between your lips, can’t stop nibbling on your juicy pout long enough to take anything off.

“Ji—s-slow down,” you whine, gripping his narrow hips to drag your cunt up his thigh. “You’re g-getting too worked u-up.”

He should listen, this is exactly what happened last time. Kissing felt too good to stop, dragging his free hand over your perky breasts shot off too many sparks of electricity throughout his system to slow down. The warmth spreading over his thigh just too damn good to do anything other than pull his length out quickly.

“C-can’t.” He mumbles breathily, wrapping around your neck again for leverage. Pushing your thigh open to direct the tip of his aching cock inside of you. He looks devastated, anguished by the pain visibly throbbing his size. He’s so hard, the tip of his length so red and ready to burst. Biting down on his lip he practically lets out a scream as his cockhead finally drags between your sticky wet folds. “A-ahh!”

“D-don’t!” You cough, slapping his hips. “D-don’t you d-dare cum!”

Fuck. Just listening to you angrily reprimand him makes his balls tighten up even more if possible. Tip not even penetrating your tight hole yet, he takes a few deep breaths, head hung between his shoulders watching his length dangle above your pussy. There’s no way he can let go this easily, too scared to even plunge an inch inside of you the more he psyches himself out and stares between your lower halves drunkenly. 

“‘Mm sorry, s-sorry.” He curses, jerking his hips lower until the fat cockhead gets sucked inside of your warm cunt. Chubbed velvety folds wrap around him as if to draw more in, twitching violently where he struggles to not move and keep control of this moment.

“N-no! You can’t, not y-yet!” You exclaim, reaching a hand up to ball up a chunk of his hair up and pull his head back. “Pull out! D-don’t you dare cum!” 

With all the force you can find, you push his hips hard enough to make him slip out, earning a loud guttural shout as he falls out to the side. Even the two inches he managed to get in leave your hole open, hungrily clenching to be fed again. “G-god.” Whining, you sit up and rip off Jeno’s shirt, stradling Jisung’s sturdy thighs.

“You seriously have to be beating off 10 times a day to be cumming from that.” You half-joke, pushing his shirt up to scratch your nails down his chest and slowly bring him back down. His cheeks light up in flames, ruddy bright even in the dark of his bedroom.

“S-sorry, I really wanted to.. make it good for you.” He says pathetically, sniffling and hiding his face in his shoulder.

“It’ll be good for me if you last longer than a minute baby.” You jeer lightly, scooting back to remove his sweats and get a real good look at the size of his long lean figure. Surprisingly fit for someone who hardly ever leaves his bedroom. “Forget all that shit you watch in porn for a second. Just focus on me, okay?”

It’s evident by the state of his trembling figure and sad wet eyes how badly he wants this. How badly he needs this. Slowly lowering your middle down on his hips, you gently position his girthy length between your wet folds, hands smoothing up his trim waist to his chest to hold on to. “S-slow, like this.”

The small amount of willpower you have helps you ease up and down his length to coat him in your wet slick. Jisung bares his teeth, reaching to circle your waist with his big hands, anything to feel your smooth skin. He has to shut his eyes for now, especially when he first looks up and sees your chest bouncing up and down almost like slow-motion.

This- this is better than porn. God, this is better than anything, the smell of desire clinging to the roof of his mouth, your sweaty bodies rubbing together. How the fuck is he not supposed to cum like this? How the fuck does he stop himself from the humiliation of premature ejaculation? He can go for hours falling down a hole of pornographic content, abusing his fleshlight until the batteries run dry. But this is too much, too good to squeeze the fleshy meat lining your hips, too fucking good to drag his hands back up and follow the shape leading up to your tight waist and heavy breasts.

“You’re doing so good.” You manage to say, losing yourself to the pleasure with each passing rub of your clit grinding against the lifted ridge of his cockhead. “Can you take more?”

Jisung nods rapidly, screaming for more, digging his fingers into your hips for more. He can’t, he really can’t, but he wants to so fucking bad. He wants to be inside of you already, wants to feel the tight clamp of your cunt gripping around him until he’s near death.

“Yes yes, p-please.” He has no idea how obscene he looks begging from your point of view above him, thick lips parting open dribbling saliva from the corners. He’s even prettier like this, helpless and powerless to your word.

“Stay put.” You say sternly, lifting your hips to wrap around the middle of his cock. “Let me move slow, okay?”

He can do nothing besides nod again, eyes blinking open needing to watch as you rub the tip against your hole and bite down to suppress a cry. He’s just as thick as Jeno, you think, maybe a little less, still long enough to leave your cervix bruised. “F-fuck you’re.. big.”

It’s the hardest test of strength to not slam his hips upward, to stay in place the way you told him to. His teeth clench as the last inch of his size disappears inside of you, the heat from your inner walls gripped around him makes his lower back arch, tears well up in his eyes.

You try to move slowly, try to circle your hips and stretch yourself open on his length. 

“F-fuck I’m—I can’t do it.” He cries, scratching your hips and upper thighs roughly. “Too wet, too warm.”

“You c-can baby,” linking your fingers through his, you move his hands to his chest and roll your hips faster. Keeping your hands held together as you build up speed and lift up and down a little faster until a burn scorches up your thighs. “You’re doing so good.”

“Ahh, p-please!” He begs, eyes and nose scrunching up the faster you ride his length. “N-need to!” 

“Do it,” encouraging him, you grab onto his neck firmly with both hands, forcing his face to look at you. “Fuck me.”

Jisung’s chest rises steadily, shoulders stiffening as his teeth grit and he reaches for your waist to toss you down on his bed. Without sliding out more than a few inches he thrusts erratically to chase after the release that’s been begging to be let out from the second he got an inch inside of you. Hard thrust rock your back up higher, still clawing at his neck and shoulders even as his weight drops down on you faster and faster. The entire floor feels like it’s shaking with each powerful collision of his hips clapping against the back of your thighs and ass.

“Y-yes yes!” You moan prettily, the same moans that have gotten him through 5 rounds of fisting his cock like no tomorrow. The same moans he wished would be for him finally singing from your lips for him, only him.

“My n-name,” he stutters, face red and sweaty, lips covered with spit. “P-please say m-my name.”

“Jisung,” you whine, that seductive sweet whine that can make him lose his mind. High-pitched and shattered, sending his hips into a furious pace the more you continue to repeat it. “Sungie, Jisung.. p-please don’t, d-don’t stop! Jisung!”

“Ahh f-fuckkk!” He can barely control his hips as he pulls out with the wettest pop, dripping wet cock slapping down on your stomach. It already hurts too much to even bother with stroking himself to finish, hips writhing forward leaving a slimy path of your own arousal lined up the middle of your stomach.

“Jisu—“ your palms swipes up from the base of his size, cock still fat and long even beneath your stretched fingers. It’s enough to empty his balls until they literally ache. Having to hunch forward and whimper through it. Forcing himself to tear his eyes away from the sight of your abdomen painted in the milky white cream jumping in rivulets out of his twitching dick.

“Holy shit..” you sigh out, catching your breath under the sticky weight of warm cum beginning to dry on your skin. “That’s— you came so much..”

“S-sorry..” he murmurs, moving to your side to lie down, head spinning too much as he blinks at the ceiling. “For all of that.”

“Why? It’s cute..” you say shyly, somehow pulling that soft shy tone out of some hidden bag of tricks you must have after all that. “Never a bad thing to like fucking that much..”

“Think I just like you that much.” He admits, eyes shifting to the side to gauge your reaction. He shouldn’t say that, given the reason you’re even here to begin with, but how can he not?

“I can tell,” you smirk, dragging two fingers through the mess painted on your stomach. “I’m sure we can figure something out.. I know how to work your brother if you haven’t noticed.”

Jisung hums, sitting up feeling strung out and exhausted. “I should clean you, right?”

“That’d be nice.” You nod, watching him get up to find a clean towel.

“How was it? I mean, like, how did I do?” He asks, sitting down and lightly dragging a small towel from your chest to your stomach.

A sneaky smile pulls at your lips, sighing and relaxing. “Not bad for a gooner.”

Jisung blows out a breath nervously, scratching his cheek and shrugging. “I don’t know you’re talking about.”

Sitting up, you reach for his right hand, lifting it up to your face to trace over all the rough calluses lined up and down his palm. “By the time I’m through with you, you’ll forget how your hand even felt.”

“What?”

“Jeno’s not my only fuck buddy.” You wink, shoving his hand away. “Let’s get dressed before he eats through everything.”

Jisung helps you get up, not wanting to further question what you mean by that. Instead he finds a clean shirt to hand you, confirming that he’s right, you do look better in his clothes.

“You’re not getting this shirt back by the way.” You say, pinching his cheek exactly the same way you had weeks ago. “Cutie.”

Dabbing at his blushing cheeks he watches you head out before following after you. Needing to calm himself for a minute. 

You can keep it.

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

[pastryfication]

Hey hey hey! So, I was wondering if you could work your magic on this request? We all know Oscar LOVES sleeping whenever he can but what if he has a girlfriend with quite frequent insomnia such as moi? Maybe the piece could be about him searching for all kinds of serious and wacky methods to help her sleep - white noise, sound apps, black out blinds, counting actual sheep, a cold bedroom etc and eventually something so simple such as snuggling together after he's washed her hair or something soppy works? Thank you, you're an angel!

thank u for the request!! i hope i did it justice but i have no idea how insomnia works so feel free to correct me if i’ve written something wrong 🫶

5 things that didn’t help you sleep and the 1 thing that actually did | oscar piastri

pairing: oscar piastri x insomniac!reader

warnings: mentions of insomnia and the use of melatonin

oscar piastri treasures every moment of sleep he can get. cuddling up under the covers, catching up on much-needed rest between races, training sessions and team meetings is his sanctuary, a place where he can recharge. it’s entirely different for you. sleep often feels elusive, insomnia visits you regularly, and after trying to take melatonin, you feel like there truly must be something wrong with you when you’re still left you tossing and turning while oscar dozes peacefully beside you.

one particularly restless night, as you lie awake staring at the ceiling, you decide you’ve had enough. oscar, sensing your frustration, turns over and looks at you with sleepy but concerned eyes.

“another bad night?” he asks softly, voice groggy.

you nod, feeling guilty for disturbing his rest. “i just can’t seem to fall asleep.”

determined to help you find the peace he enjoys so effortlessly, oscar spends the next day researching every possible solution for insomnia, and he ends up with a list. 5 things that have helped others who are suffering from the same problem, and over the next few weeks, he convinced you to try it all, hoping to find the one thing that will finally help you sleep.

1. white noise

the first thing he tries is white noise. researching the best possible brand, he buys a white sound machine and sets it to a gentle hum when you go to sleep one night. the constant noise fills the room, creating a soothing background sound and drowning out any distractions.

it’s nice to lay and listen to, and at first, you think it might work. you close your eyes, snuggle into the covers to find the best position and takes oscar’s hand in yours.

you try, you really do try your best, to let the sound lull you to sleep. everything is nice and calm, but after a few nights, it’s clear that the constant noise only makes you more restless. you lie awake, feeling like you’re trapped in a static-filled void, and you just want to cry.

2. sound apps

oscar is quick to notice your disappointment, and he therefore quickly moves on to the next point on the list.

he downloads several sound apps on his phone, experimenting with everything from rainstorms to ocean waves to forest sounds. he tries different combinations, adjusting the volume and mixing the sounds in various ways, bringing out his inner dj to make you as comfortable as possible.

you appreciate the effort, but none of the sounds seem to do the trick. you lie awake, feeling more like you’re in a nature documentary than trying to sleep. the sounds that are supposed to be calming just keep you more alert, your mind unable to quiet down.

3. blackout blinds

oscar then orders blackout blinds, thinking that maybe the slightest hint of light is the culprit.

the blinds plunge the room into complete darkness, blocking out any external light. at first, you think it might work. the darkness is comforting and you hope it will help you relax, but instead of soothing you, the darkness feels oppressive. you lie there, eyes wide open, feeling the walls close in. the complete absence of light only makes you nervous and the two of you quickly have to give up on that as well.

4. counting sheep

you insisted that counting sheep was silly. there was no way it was going to work and you told oscar exactly that. he didn’t agree though, and with the use of his best puppy eyes, he convinced you to try.

he decides to buy a small stuffed sheep and as you lie in bed one night, he starts an impromptu counting session. you giggle at the sight of him hopping the little sheep across the bed.

“i don’t think this is gonna work.” you hold back a laugh as he makes the sheep take a particularly long jump across your duvet.

“not even if he gives you a little kiss?” he asks, holding back his own giggle as he moves up to you on the bed, making the sheep “kiss” you all over your stomach.

you laugh at the ticklish sensation, and the two of you have to realise that the sheep counting feels more like a silly game than a serious attempt to help you sleep.

5. a cold bedroom

the last thing on oscar’s quickly disappearing list is sleeping in a cold room.

to make that happen, he insists on making the bedroom as cold as a freezer. he cranks up the air conditioning and piles extra blankets on the bed so you don’t freeze to death.

the room quickly becomes chilly, and you snuggle under the covers, head on oscar’s chest as his arms snake around you, trying to regain some body heat. you’re really hoping the cold will help you relax, but you find yourself shivering more than drifting off. the cold air makes you uncomfortable, and instead of helping, it only adds to your restlessness.

the 1 thing that actually did help

after trying numerous different methods, you’re ready to just give up.

“maybe i should go to the doctors,” you eventually suggest. you wish the problem would go away by itself, but it doesn’t seem like it will.

oscar finds himself running out of ideas too, until something dawns to him one night when he’s on facetime with his mom.

entering your bedroom with a book clutched tightly in his hand, you raise an eyebrow at him. “so mom just left to read to read my sister a bed time story, and i thought: why don’t i read to you as well?” he suggests.

you raise an eyebrow, skeptical at the suggestion but at this point you’re willing to try anything.

oscar shuffles across the bed, helping you adjust so your head is pressed against his thigh as he begins to read. his voice soft and steady, keeping a calm pace to his words and you can’t deny that it’s nice.

he plays with your hair as he reads, gently running his fingers through the strands and massaging your scalp. the combination of his calming voice and the soothing sensation of his touch begins to work its magic.

you feel your body relax, the tension melting away. his words become a comforting background noise and his fingers in your hair provide a gentle, rhythmic motion. for the first time in what feels like ages, you feel yourself drifting off, your eyelids growing heavy.

oscar continues reading until he hears your breathing deepen and become steady. he smiles, closing the book quietly and turning off the light, but he doesn’t move, terrified to wake you after you’ve finally found the peace you desperately needed.

sitting against the headboard starts hurting his back, but he still stays beside you, his hand continuously playing with your hair, ensuring you stay asleep.

as the nights go by, oscar’s bedtime stories and hair-playing become your new routine. you find yourself looking forward to bedtime, knowing that sleep is no longer a battle but a peaceful journey.

in the end, it’s not the gadgets or apps that help you sleep, but instead oscar’s gentle presence and unwavering support. his love is your ultimate lullaby, guiding you into the restful sleep you’ve been longing for.

[redflagshipwriter]

Mamabat 10 part 1/2

Chapter 10 : Calling from Hell just to say the demons are suspiciously absent, is that fine?

masterpost

“Fucking Batman,” Val said under her breath. Her Red Huntress mask muffled the words and made them come out even meaner than she probably meant them. “Years late and too little, even if he’s not working with the GIW.”

Sam hefted her requisitioned Fenton bazooka and pressed her lips even further together. None of them liked this at all. It stank. It was suspicious. Danny hadn’t sounded distressed, but he’d been out of contact too long for such a short conversation to put her at ease. There hadn’t even been time to update him on what had gone on in Amity Park.

“There.” Sam followed Val’s pointer finger to see the nearly invisible outline of a jet in the faint light. It was landing in the right field. 

“It’s them or it’s a trap,” Sam muttered.

Val let out a mean laugh. “If it’s someone we don’t expect, they’re the ones in trouble.”

Sam huffed and said nothing. She couldn’t disagree, but Val seemed too confident for her comfort. They waited in tense silence to see the jet come to a landing. Not long after, a hatch popped open and the distinctive ears of Batman himself were the first out into the cold night air of a January night in Amity Park. 

He was quickly followed by smaller figures- 1, 2, 3 of them. Sam felt nerves churning in her gut. She tried to channel them into aggression. She had to be tough, tougher than usual. There was no cavalry waiting to help out.

Well, there was Tucker, but he was probably going to be more useful in the wings to feed them information. He was pretty good aim with a thermos but that wouldn’t do jack about Batman and a small flock of, what, junior associates?

“Does Batman work with children?” Sam asked under her breath. One of them was genuinely small.

Tucker snickered on the other end of the line. “Uh,  there’s supposed to be a Robin. Guy in yellow, green, and red I guess? Aside from that, there’s debatably like, 6 former Robins associated with him. But there’s also the Justice League’s junior varsity team, so it’s hard to say.”

She frowned at the lineup. She saw purple, black, and red. There was- yeah, okay, there was quite a bit of yellow when the little guy faced them, but she didn’t see any green.

“Showtime,” Val said. Sam crouched further behind cover as the other girl zoomed out on her hoverboard, effortlessly drawing Batman’s eye. She adjusted the dial on her sound settings to hear Val’s feed just a little louder.

“Batman.”

“You have me at a disadvantage.” Sam cringed at the gravely voice over her sound system. Batman sounded like he smoked a pack a day. She turned the volume down just a hint.

“Not really, there’s four of you,” Val said breezily. Sam suppressed a snort at the dodge. “You wanna meet Jazz Fenton? You’re going to have to prove that you’re not a plant. There’s a GIW facility-”

“Two miles west of here, yes,” Batman interrupted. “I researched.”

“Great. Do you have ground transport?”

“Of course. What is it that you expect me to prove?”

“That you’re not with them.” The subtle whine of Valerie’s weapons started up. Sam only heard it because she was hooked up to the helmet. “They do experimentation and keep prisoners. Show me that you’re not a cop.”

“The police would not support the capture and abuse of people.”

Valerie made a skeptical sound in the back of her throat. Sam couldn’t blame her. “Yeah, but they do.” Her hoverboard’s jet whooshed up in power. “Meet me there, outside the main gate.” She was off like a shot in the dark. 

The four out of towners didn’t take long to get four silent motorcycles out and dash down the lane. Sam thought about what she’d heard as she cut a more direct route on Valerie’s spare hoverboard, taken from Vlad’s deserted mechanics lab. 

Either Batman was a liar, naive, or he was exactly what they were worried he might be. The Justice League was famously affiliated with governments. Wonder Woman was even a member of the United Nations! If someone accepted the claim that Infinite Realms Residents weren’t really people, then they’d say just what Batman had. It wasn’t lying if you didn’t think the people you were hurting were really people.

Sam watched from a distance as the group reached the gated facility. One of Batman's people did something that unlatched the electronic security system. It swung open. 

“Not shabby,” Tucker said quietly. “I coulda done it faster.”

“Not unless it goes off the rails,” Sam reminded him. She clenched a fist against her thigh. They needed to see Batman's real colors before they risked him knowing about their group. It was hard to outplan what you didn't know about, and they'd need every advantage they could get. 

She let them all go ahead before she followed onto the property. It was eerily deserted, tire tracks where dozens of white Vans ought to have been. 

The GIW had deserted Amity Park weeks ago. They were pretty sure there was a skeleton crew stationed out here, but no one came and left anymore. They only occasionally saw an agent wander across the path of a security camera, which were sparse inside the building.

But that didn't mean it wasn't dangerous to be here. Even now, a camera swiveled over the lawn, blinking a clear light that was easy to miss during the day. There was a reason that they hadn't risked a second raid after Danny had barely made it out last time. 

Sam swallowed, hard. The bitterness in her mouth felt a lot like guilt. Who knew what the GIW had been doing? They could have someone else held captive. It was a big building. Danny might have missed someone when he was breaking Vlad out. 

‘We did what we could, and we are making a move now.’ 

She repositioned her weapon and waited, tense with nerves. All she was meant to do now was follow along via what she heard on Val's comms and be in the wings to facilitate an escape, if needed. 

“Left,” said Batman quietly. The comms were quiet for a long moment, then- “clear. Clear. Clear.” 

Sam shifted her weight from one foot to the other. 

“Red Robin.” 

“Got it,” came a response, barely audible. Val must have been hanging close to Batman, then. 

“You think now's a good time to try their computers?” Val said helpfully. 

Tucker snorted. “Could just ask,” he sang to himself, cocky as hell. “I know all.”

Sam rolled her eyes. He didn't know all. About half of the property was disconnected from the security system, meaning they had no eyes on whatever was down there. 

“Six stationed here.” 

That had to be Red Robin’s voice. Sam cocked her head and focused on it, frowning slightly. Did it sound young?

Tucker's computer chair made a click when he sat up too fast. “Wait, what? How'd-” His end of the line devolved into rapid typing. 

“Did you find a schedule?” 

“No, it's not in the system. They're on paper, I suppose.” Seconds passed. “My bet is that labs would be in this wing.” 

“Be my guest,” Val drawled. Sam could all but see her crossing her arms across her chest. 

The line went silent for a while. Then, faintly, there came the sound of a metal door opening. 

“Fu-” A GIW blaster went off. “Intru-”

The alarm was cut off before the GIW goon got out a full word, but odds were good he'd been heard anyway. Sam flexed her hands. Sitting this out sucked. She wanted to see what was happening. How many agents were there?

“Robin!” Batman snapped. 

‘The little one?’

Sam felt vaguely ill. They had to be okay. This was Batman’s team.

[luveline]

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 

summary eddie munson is super weird. he holds your hand too tight, he has a fascination with your neck, and he can’t give a hickey to save his life. good thing you’re super weird, too. [20k]

warnings two losers falling in love!! vampire!eddie munson, ditzy!reader (kind of), fem!reader, smut mdni (p in v, unprotected sex, oral fem receiving, general heavy petting and kissing, praise), fluff, hurt/comfort, angst (eddie struggling with guilt and grief). canon divergent (the events of volume 2 take place but there’s a mostly happy ending i.e. everyone good lives and everyone bad dies) TW eddie doesn't have suicidal thoughts, but he does think about it briefly. not with intent or anything like that though. requested here for my halloween party <3

(㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Eddie Munson never wanted to be a vampire, and he wants that on the record. 

It's a ridiculous existence. It's embarrassing. It's nothing like all the movies and books promised him. 

He's looking at you, Bram Stoker. 

In Eddie's mind, Stoker’s nothing less than a liar and a sycophant. 

"Who's dick were you bouncing on, Stoker?" he demands to know, kicking fallen leaf mulch under his feet angrily. "Need'ta fucking impress some vampire lover with your over-exaggerated, over-powered, ridiculous descriptions? Great. Hope it was worth it. Meanwhile I'm here, self-esteem half the size of a grain of rice because I can't scale a building with my bare hands." 

Eddie would know. He's tried. 

He's not genuinely angry with Bram Stoker, but he'd rather take his frustrations out on a guy who's been dead for a hundred years than take them out on the demobats, because he doesn't want to even think about the demobats. They're all dead too. Not before they'd had (see: devoured) their pound of flesh and changed his life for the worse, though.

He shakes his head to drive out the memory like water in his ears. It's easier to pretend none of that shit in the upside down ever happened. (Impossible to pretend. He begs himself to try anyway.) 

He’s pissed because science fiction has promised him a lot of things and reality has delivered on none of them. No super strength, no impermeable skin. He is faster, but that's more a reflexive thing than anything else. And being faster doesn't make running fun. That’s impossible.

Sunlight breaks through the treeline and his skin crawls. Science fiction didn't get that right, either. The sun doesn't hurt. It's just really, really annoying.

He covers his eyes, winces at his itchy hand, pulls his sleeve over his fingers and covers his eyes again. "This blows," he says, and means it. 

In Dracula, the sun nulls Dracula’s supernatural abilities. Eddie doesn’t have any abilities worth nulling, unless you count echolocation.

He doesn’t. 

He walks another five minutes up the road toward Forest Hills when he realises you're behind him. His senses are enhanced now as a bat’s might be, hearing fine-tuned and dialled up every second of the day — which makes living in a trailer park where everyone thinks he's a murderer an acute misery — but he's as prone to distraction as anyone else. Especially when he gets stuck in a memory.

Eddie throws his gaze over his shoulder and finds you thirty or forty feet away, talking to yourself under your breath. He knows you more for your sounds than your appearance. To be able to put a face to your mindless babbling is a mystery solved. Of course you look like that. A skirt made of soft looking fabric bounces over two cute thighs, a pretty lacy corset type of thing that isn't too tight outfits your top half. You look more like a vampire than he does. 

"Hi, Eddie," you call.

His eyes widen, a deer-in-the-headlights kind of surprise. If you notice how he's frozen you don't show it, continuing to push your bike toward him. The tick of the wheels grows louder as you get closer, two hands on the handlebars with wrists draped in bracelets, both silver and fabric. 

Besides your jewellery, your arms are bare. You must be freezing. 

"Hey," he says. 

He doesn't know your name. He doesn't know how you know his, and he’s too awkward to ask. 

Your sounds peak as you close the gap. The wet scrape of your dirty black canvas shoes over shining asphalt, the soft puff of your breath, the clinking sounds of whatever trinkets you have in your bag. If he focuses, he can make out the tiniest pinches of fabric. Your short sleeves rubbing against your arms, your bra straps stretching over your shoulders. 

Eddie takes a deep breath and tries to diminish his senses. 

"Where's your van?" you ask curiously. 

"Piece of shit kicked it in the middle of town. Just my luck." 

You pause at his side, looking him up and down obviously but without the judgement or irreverent disgust he's come to expect from near about everybody in Hawkins. 

"That's not good," you say succinctly. 

It's such a genuine response that Eddie can't find it in himself to be sarcastic. 

"God awful," he agrees sullenly. 

You nod and start to walk again. Eddie falls naturally into step beside you, matching your pace without thinking. 

"You should get a bike." 

He laughs. Coughs to cover it up. "Yeah?" 

"They're way more reliable than a car, and it doesn't hurt the zone." 

Eddie squints. "The o-zone?" 

"Is there another one?" 

You're still so serious that he spares you the ridicule he might dole out to anyone else. If Dustin had said something like that he would've ripped the kid a new one, but you're rather sweet in an odd way. You have a soft manner of talking — each word sounds like you've thought its pronunciation through meticulously beforehand. 

He ignores your question and points at your bike, ring catching the sun. "Why aren't you riding it?" 

"My chain slipped." 

"So much for reliable." 

That makes you smile. Eddie feels it like a punch, a flat palm slapped into his chest. 

"You can't put the chain on yourself?" 

A brisk breeze whips your hair, your earrings. The left kisses your cheek, a silver heart-shaped hoop with pink beads that click together. You lean into it, face tilted to one side as a perplexed smile plays on your sticky lips. "You can do that?" 

"Sure, you pull it back around the gear. It's easy." He hesitates for a moment, and then feels guilty about hesitating. "I'll do it for you, if you want." 

"The guy in no. 62 has been charging me ten dollars." You don't sound as angry as you should, in Eddie's opinion. 

"I'll do it for nothing." 

You beam at him. His chest feels like a bruise. 

Pretty girls don't like Eddie. Not before Chrissy, not after. He's trying to work out your angle, what it is that you want. 

Or maybe you don't know. 

As soon as you find out who he is, you'll turn your pretty nose up at him and walk the other way. He shouldn't smile at you, he definitely shouldn't fix your bike. 

He can't help it. He's so starved for positive attention that he follows you all the way through the park, westside to east. 

He checks the driveway of his own home and smiles mildly when he spots Wayne's new car. It's new in the sense that it's different. It's actually way older than the one he'd had before, the one he'd pawned to pay for Eddie's — well, Eddie's everything. His check-ups, his court dates, his goddamn bail. In the same way that this trailer isn't the trailer, but an older, smaller one as far away from their first as possible. 

Kid, if I had the money…

Wayne hadn't needed to finish. If he had the money, they'd leave. Leave Hawkins, leave Indiana. Settle down in some other mediocre Midwestern state with all the same creature comforts and none of the "You were acquitted but literally none of us believe you didn't kill someone," motif. 

All they have now is debt, each other, and the Great Munson mug collection. 

Eddie keeps his head down as they pass the old trailer. Nobody lives inside now. Only termites. 

He can taste blood by the time they reach your home. Far from the metallicity of his human blood, Eddie's blood now harbours a bitter taste. Not quite like coffee but with that same overwhelming earthiness. He pulls his teeth from the bitten flesh of his bottom lip and quickly raises a hand to his teeth, alarmed. 

No knife-like points. Normal teeth. 

"Are you thirsty?" you ask him. 

Eddie flinches and drops his hand. You've parked your bike against the wooden lifts of your porch and are halfway up the steps to your front door, hand clasped loosely on the railing. 

His heart fucking pounds. 

"I have grape juice?" 

"Right," he says hurriedly, "right. Yeah, that would be awesome." 

Duh, you meant juice. 

You send him another endearing smile and pop up the last of your steps and into the front door. It's not locked. He doesn't follow, thinking you must live with somebody (who's gonna know exactly who he is and tell him to get lost).

He turns his attention to your bike instead. It's easy enough to fix. He rolls the bike so its handlebars are resting against your concrete driveway and covers the top bar of the metal body with his sneaker to stop it from toppling. He rolls up his sleeves and bares his arms, but pulls them back down immediately when he remembers the white-purple whorls of scar tissue lurking underneath. 

"Fuck," he mutters. Everything is a reminder, all of the time. He can't escape what happened. 

It's everywhere. 

He's getting his fingers under the chain when you reappear. You've layered up, bracelets and naked arms hidden by a black hoodie. 

The wind blows and your skirt shifts. From his position he can see a ladder hiding in your tights where your inner thighs are pressed together. He whips his gaze up like a high-school perv caught sneaking peeks in the girls locker room and notices the stitching on your chest for the first time.

"You like Dio?" he asks excitedly. 

"Who?" 

He wilts. "Uh, your hoodie. Dio." 

"I got it for three dollars in the bargain bins," you supply helpfully, all pep as you climb down the stairs and offer him a glass cup adorned in dainty enamel flowers. "Is Dio good?" 

He waves his hand at the glass apologetically. "Two seconds…" Lifting the chain with the second hand, Eddie tugs and then feeds until the links are lined up with the bumps on the big chainring. The skin on his fingertips get pinched and his eyebrows pull together in pain, but it's a mild irritant at worst and after a moment the chain is back in place. 

He pulls his hand away and wipes dark grease down the front of his jacket. "I think I did it." 

You're glowing, earrings like a metronome as you ask, "That fast? You're awesome."

He turns the pedal and your back wheel spins in time with his heart. You're awesome. When was the last time somebody who wasn't Wayne said anything like that? 

Although Dustin had told him he thought Eddie was a much cooler, more fucked up version of the guy from Van Halen the other day. 

You're just saying that 'cos we're both called Eddie, Eddie had said morosely. 

Learn to take a compliment, dude. 

When they aren't pity compliments, he might. 

Eddie lifts your bike back onto the wheels to show you that it's working perfectly. You giggle your evident pleasure. "Oh, thank you, thank you!" you say, super sweet even as grape juice sloshes over the rims of your flowered glasses and drips down your fingers. 

"Here, let me," he says, taking the glasses from your purple-stained hands. 

You kiss your hands clean which is a thing, a lot to watch. Eddie admits to himself that he thinks you're really pretty, recognises that that is a bad thing to think considering the likely very short life span of your acquaintance. God knows you won't be saying anything as friendly when you find out who he is. 

"You're so nice," you say. It feels like you're talking more to yourself than him. "Thank you. It's slipped off three times this month, and ten dollars is ten dollars. Wait, do you want ten dollars?" 

"My services were administered charitably.”

Your smile grows. You accept your glass and take a small sip, eyes lit up as Eddie steers your bike one-handed to rest against the porch. 

"Do you wanna come inside? I don't have any of the Dio, but I have Blondie." 

He holds in a throwaway comment about real rock and roll, astounded that you’d ask him. "Your folks aren't home?" 

"I'm twenty-two." 

Eddie squints at you. "Seriously?" 

"You didn't think so?" 

He shrugs. It's not that you don't look twenty two. Or even that you don't act twenty two. But it's been a long time since he met somebody living alone in the park. Forest Hills is where poverty comes to settle. 

"A boyfriend?" 

"Just me and mister Porterson." 

"That your grandpa?" 

"That's my pet fish."

He smiles. It's his first real, authentic smile in days. He's genuinely elated by your offer and your attitude, but he doesn't know how to handle it, struck with a sudden nightmare of you, afterward, telling somebody you'd invited him in and he'd tried to hurt you. It isn't fair of him to assume you'd do anything like that. You've been nothing but sweet and sincere this whole time. 

Eddie hasn't let his guard down in a long time. 

You're giving him this wide-eyed, imploring look that promptly suffocates any fear. 

And in a week, when she finds out who you are and feels betrayed, feels tricked? What then, Munson?

"You know what happened?" he asks.

"What happened?" 

"Two years ago. Chrissy… Chrissy Cunningham?" 

Don't say her fucking name. 

Your expression clears as clarity blooms. You take a step. He needs a second to realise you've come forward rather than away, fingers twitching toward his hand. 

"I know about it. I'm sorry that happened to you." 

He stares. 

This is a trick. Two years and he can count the amount of people who believe him on his two hands, and only because they'd all gone through it with him. Sometimes there are outliers, logical people who seem to realise Eddie couldn't have killed all those people, couldn't have been in all those different places without leaving any evidence behind. And sometimes there are people who agree he didn't kill Chrissy, but he's a coward for leaving her to die. (She’d already been dead.)

Eddie doesn't know what he thinks. Wayne sets the record straight every now and then with a clap on the shoulder. You did what every parent wants their kid to do. You lived. I can't ask for more than that. 

"You don't believe it?" 

"That you hurt her?" You hold his gaze, face practically impassive. "No, I don't believe it." 

He pulls in a breath that fills every inch of his chest. "I could learn to like Blondie," he says. 

— 

You're standing in the driveway of Eddie's trailer with a heavy bag over your shoulder, face to face with a man who kind of looks like him but not really. You assume it's his uncle because who else could he be? If you hadn't seen him here you'd never guess. 

"Eddie's mom must've had strong genes," you say. You bring your shoulder up toward your cheek thoughtfully. "He didn't get any of your face. Was she pretty? Eddie's really pretty." 

"She was," he says, peering down his nose at you. 

"I got sandwiches. Do you want one?" 

"What kind?" 

"I have ham and cheese, or ham and lettuce and tomato, or I have pumpernickel cookies. Is Eddie a vegetarian?" 

"Why?" 

"'Cause I only brought one cheese and cucumber, and I have dibs." 

He climbs down the last couple of steps and is still taller but definitely less imposing, face covered in scratchy salt and pepper stubble and crows feet deeply embedded into the corners of his eyes. He looks like a man who has been tired for a very long time. You make a mental note to bring him some lavender for his pillow on your next visit. 

"You're Eddie's new friend?"

You nod your head briskly. "Yes, sir. I'm Y/N." 

He opens his box of camels like a pro, bottom pressed to his chest. He tucks a cigarette between his lips and pulls his lighter out. He doesn't light it. 

"It's nice to meet you," he says eventually, voice warming. 

You search through the mess of your skirt for the zipper on your bag and peel it open, pulling out your tupperware of cookies and cracking them open to release the fragrant smell of cinnamon and almonds. It's a heady scent, fitting for the holiday season approaching. 

You offer Eddie’s uncle a cookie.

"Thought pumpernickel was bread," he says gruffly, taking one. 

"It is, but there's this little town in France that makes these every year at Christmas and they call them pumpernickel biscuits," — he takes a bite and winces at the hard snap — "you're s'posed to dip them in hot chocolate." 

"You don't say." 

You nod happily and he moves aside to let you pass. 

"Thanks, kid." 

You turn back to him with your fingers curled around the door handle. "Of course! It's really nice to meet you, Mr. Munson, sir." 

"Wayne is fine." 

You laugh and repeat his name in a similarly rough voice, letting yourself in as Eddie had told you to do. You find him immediately in a man-made corner of the living room, pale and in his pyjamas. The trailer is open planned, a living room they’ve divided by propping a couch against the kitchen counter, a slim hallway leading to a cramped bathroom and the single bedroom. It's exactly like in your home. 

You're somewhat surprised to see him in pyjamas. Eddie doesn't wear comfy looking clothes out of the house — you've only ever seen him in jeans and jackets like a real rockstar. 

"Are you ready?" you ask.

You've invited him to come and search for bugs with you. Catching any kind of bug, whether beetle or butterfly or spider, is really scary, but you need to be able to catch them to draw them. 

You'd expressed this to him over the phone and he'd said, "I can come and help. I have good reflexes." 

He rubs his hands over his knees. There's a blanket pooled around his feet, a quilt he must sleep with, and the room is decorated with not a whole lot of stuff but enough to make you take a step back. 

"Is this your room?" you ask, enchanted. 

"Kind of." He pulls his hair from behind his ear, obscuring a pale cheek. "I don't think I can come with you today, I'm sorry. I meant to call you." 

You toy with a dark thigh high sock as you ease out of your shoes, height drastically decreasing. "That's okay, we can stay here. I brought you a sandwich. I brought you two sandwiches," you correct. 

He nods. Rather sadly, in your opinion. "Alright. Thanks." 

You step over a tented paperback and hand off the cookies before sitting down beside him on the couch he's occupying. It's smaller than the one against the wall and round like a clam, lots of room for your legs to stretch out. 

"I feel like a pearl," you say. 

You and Eddie have been friends for a little while now. Long enough for you to realise he's either depressed or mentally unwell in some way. You hardly mind keeping him company on his bad days if he needs somebody, so drawing bugs will have to wait. 

His hair is limp, not totally greasy but not super clean either. His face looks fresh enough, though the bags under his eyes make you frown. 

You pull your purse into your lap, thighs covered by the thin layers of your midi skirt. "I have just the thing for you," you murmur. 

"Yeah? Bring me another bracelet?" 

You like that he sounds eager. Making his bracelet had been a challenge, lots of knotting and double knotting, three restarts and one small under the breath tantrum. It's not anything special, black and white hearts seven strands wide, but he'd been very appreciative. 

"No, but I can make you another one if you want. I mastered the inverse chevron last night." 

He hums. You pull a saran wrapped sandwich from the depths of your crowded bag, glad to see it's mostly intact. When you open it up you find that it's the ham and lettuce and tomato one, so you drop it into his lap haphazardly and move onto the next. 

"Aha! Here," you pull a cucumber from your sandwich. "For you." 

He takes it between two tentative fingers. "Thank you?" 

"For your eyes." 

"There's cheese on it." 

"I'll still work," you assure him. 

"M'not putting cheese on my eyes." 

You laugh because he probably shouldn't put cheese on his eyes, cucumber adjacent or otherwise. "Okay, don't. I'll make you a hot towel." 

He drops his hand on your arm as you go to stand. You like how he touches you, soft but not scared. "You just got here. Stay here." He pats you nicely. "Tell me about work last night." 

You settle heavily into the seat beside him, your thigh to his thigh, your hip squished against his hip, doughy flesh separated by nothing more than a strappy tank top and a cotton long-sleeve t-shirt. His heat quickly becomes yours, a sinking transference of warmth. 

"Well," you begin, cheek turning into the couch to face him. "It was mostly okay. I dropped another plate, but this time it didn't have a stack of waffles on it." 

He smiles ruefully and sinks back as you had. Neither of you eat your sandwiches. "Progress. Taking it out of your pay?" 

"Yes, definitely." 

"Discrimination." 

"That's what I said! I said, Sarah, I was born with butterfingers and you know that." 

"She didn't budge?" 

"Dishwashing all week next week. Whatever, though, 'cause it's Saturday." 

He laughs and shakes his head, his gaze dropping to your neck. He does that sometimes. You can't blame him; you wear a varying assortment of necklaces because you think they're pretty, and you're glad he likes them too. 

"See my new one?" 

"What?" 

"New necklace." You look down at your chest and pull the newest addition from between the cups of your bra. "It's real silver." 

"It's nice." 

"It's surprisingly heavy. Wanna feel?" 

"That's okay," he says, slightly strained. 

Right, you think. I'm talking a lot. 

You press your lips together in a mild pout and look at him through appreciative eyes. He's a very pretty boy, all soft and pale and sweet dark curls.

"Do you want me to put your hair up?" 

His lips part before he talks. "I don't know if you should." 

"Sure I should. It's getting in your eyes, right?" You take his hand where it's laid unsuspectingly in his lap and slip the hair tie from around his wrist, his fingertips tickling the inside of your palm. "Sit forward, Eddie." 

He takes a deep breath, holds it, and sits up. You twist and then realise you need some more height, pushing a leg under yourself to kneel next to his lap. 

You weave our fingers softly into the hair at the front of his face and rake away in lieu of a brush. After it's mostly tamed you pull it all into one hand and wrap the tie at the base of his head. You hum to yourself as you go, pleased when his lovely curls behave. 

"Voilà," you announce, moving back on your haunches. 

He breathes out. "Thank you." 

You reach for a curl you'd missed at the very front and encourage it behind his ear. He has subtle indents in his cheeks today like he's in need of a good meal, and his skin is colder than it should be when you flatten your palm. 

"You need something to eat," you fret. Your fingertips stroke under his eye, your thumb his smile lines. 

He moves away slowly. 

You pull your hand back into your lap. "Maybe we can go out and get something, if you don't like the sandwich?" 

"What?" he asks, pale lips taut as he simpers at you. "Are you kidding? This is about to fix everything that's wrong with me." 

His enthusiasm emboldens you. "It so will! There's ham and cheese too, if you prefer that one." 

"Get it! I'm gonna eat both of them." S

Eddie eats both of his sandwiches and you eat your own, the two of you with your heads dropped back against the couch as you watch TV. There's a guy you've never seen before running around the streets of Chicago city centre looking for people to be in his play. Eddie's seen it before. He repeats dialogue in time with the characters, performing each line. Impressive, what with how tired he looks. 

"What did he just say?" you ask, mouth full of cucumber.

"He said he's gonna throw himself off a bridge," Eddie informs. "Poor guy. I know the feeling." 

You swallow harshly.

"Seriously?" 

Your sad tone surprises him. 

"I- No, I'm kidding," he says, scratching the base of his throat, friendship bracelet his only adornment.

His nervous itching makes you even more worried. 

"If you did wanna do that, you can talk to me-" 

He baulks, tongue poking out past his lips as he licks the corner of his mouth. "Thanks, sweetheart," he says, pet name like a kiss. It sounds silly but it really feels like one, right in the centre of your chest. "But I'm fine. Promise. It was a bad joke." 

"Okay," you say, letting your suspicion shine through. You hold his eyes. 

You haven't known Eddie long. It feels like you met yesterday, though really it's been two or three weeks. You fit together in a way you hadn't expected and adore more than you can articulate, two funny puzzle pieces.  

"Well, I just wanted you to know. I like being your friend, I don't want you to disappear."

He laughs and licks his lips, a rough, chesty sound. "I don't want you to disappear either." 

Tires crunch outside, a shushing sound and then the sharp shriek of a jeep being put into park. Eddie perks up considerably, his shoulders straightening. 

"Hey, Chief," Wayne calls. 

Trailer walls. Basically made of cardboard. 

"Hey, Wayne. Where's the kid?" 

You can't hear what Wayne says after that, words stolen by the TV. 

"Is that Chief Hopper?" you ask, trying to catch a glimpse of him through the mostly shuttered blinds. 

"Yeah, he- He's friends with Wayne." 

"Why's he wanna know where you are?" 

"'Cause I got into so much trouble." 

You bite your tongue. His tone is hard, not stern but almost, and you realise you've overstepped as you usually do. You want to apologise but you don't want to pick the wound, eager to gloss over and make him smile again. 

"It's pretty cool, isn't it?" you ask him.

"What?" 

You spread your legs wider to slide onto your thighs and make him the taller one again, legs bent in a 'W' shape. "Coming back from the dead! First Will Byers, then Hopper." 

Something surfaces in his expression. An irony. 

"The undead," you croon, aiming for a smile, a laugh. 

He cracks. "The undead," he agrees, smiling in bemusement. His eyes are a funny shade of brown. 

—

Eddie shoo’s you home early that night but tries to do it kindly. He feigns exhaustion, a facade that's difficult to uphold when his entire body is thrumming with want. If there's one thing Eddie hates about being a vampire (there are literally hundreds of things he hates, but this one's special) it's that he wants to hurt the people he likes a thousand times more than the people he doesn't. 

He can't explain it. Your blood is more appealing than any lonesome stranger's. Your pulse is practically music to his ears when you sit beside him. He'd kill himself before he ever hurt you, though. Or that's what he likes to think. Whether he has that amount of control is debatable. 

No. He would kill himself before he hurt you, or Wayne, or any of his friends. 

Steve can see the way that he's feeling on his face. 

Hopper's delivery set to one side, a tall glass with blood congealed in a sticky ring at the bottom, Eddie curls under his huge quilt and tries not to pass out. Blood sate feels the same as a thanksgiving food coma. It's awesome. 

He hates how good it feels. 

"Stop feeling guilty," Steve says. 

"He doesn't look guilty to me," Dustin says beside him, taller than the last time Eddie had seen him but still miles off of Steve's tall stature. He's changed his hat again, this one a garish green. It's not a good look. 

"He looks like he's napping," Robin says, delighted. 

"Can you guys go home?" Eddie asks. 

"Shithead." 

"What Steve means to say," Robin corrects, grinning her huge, catching smile, "is that no, we aren't going home. We brought games." 

"I don't wanna play games." He does. Eddie needs the distraction, because eventually the blood sate will fade and all that will remain will be self-revulsion and a cruel desire to do something awful. 

"I do not care even slightly," Steve says, deadpan, as he sits right there next to Eddie where you'd been sitting before. Steve's nowhere near as soft and he doesn't smell as nice, but Eddie's honestly glad someone is willing to sit next to him at all. 

"Ouch, what the fuck?" 

Dustin looks up from where he's sat himself on the floor. Robin giggles in her seat on the coffee table. 

"Munson, are you fucking shedding? I just got stabbed." 

"They don't work like that. They retract." 

Eddie feels at his broken gums with his tongue. There's a clean incision where his fangs come out and then snap back inside after a time. They're remarkably thin, fitting in front of his natural incisors neatly. 

Steve grumbles, hips lifted and hand searching under his butt for whatever it is that jabbed him. He retrieves exactly what Eddie had been expecting but hadn't had the forethought to prepare a lie about with a shocked gasp.

"Is this an earring? You don't have your ears pierced." 

He swallows, knowing it's a very guilty gesture, and meets Steve's eyes straight on. 

Funny how Steve's hair speaks as much as his expression, bobbing as he nods his head to emphasise each word, "Munson, do you have a girlfriend?" 

Silence. 

"...Not really." 

"Holy shit," Dustin says, sounding extremely pleased. "No way." 

Robin tucks her short hair behind her ears, hands paused in disbelief at her neck. "Actually?" 

"I have a friend," Eddie admits. 

"Thank god," Steve says, dropping your heart earring onto Eddie's thigh. The silver feels extremely hot over his pyjamas, like it's been held in the centre of a blistering hearth. 

"I really thought Steve was gonna have to take one for the team and give you a pity handie," Robin says agreeably, scratchy voice coloured by genuine awe. 

Eddie groans, "Harrington, get this shit off of me. You know I can't touch that." 

"I forgot," Steve lies. "Can you wait? My hands are busy." 

—

He has Steve put your earring between two pieces of kitchen towel and holds onto it. He doesn't see you for a week, and he keeps your damn earring in his pocket that entire time worried it's gonna slip out and brand him at any second. 

Finally, you call him. He pretends he wasn't waiting. 

"Hello," you say, like you're announcing something. 

"Hey. How are you?" 

"Eddie, I need your help. Badly." 

He flinches up where he'd been leaning casually, hard enough to make Wayne jump. Eddie smiles at him placatingly and mouths a poor sorry, turning away to pretend there's a semblance of privacy to be found in such close quarters. 

"Are you okay?"

"I gotta find a rainbow leaf beetle. Do you have a torch?" 

"...What?" 

"They only come out at night, so I'm gonna go look but I don't have a torch that works." 

He relaxes, the lilting cadence of your voice enough to make his whole night. You sound so pretty even through the phone. He suspects you could hold any pitch, deep or high, and you'd still sound nice. 

It's all in the way you — he says this with love — perform the words. You speak like each word you're saying has equal importance, and it's calming.

Even when you say stuff that's nonsense to him.

Right now, you don't sound upset or even worried about not having a torch, simply curious to know if he has one. If he focuses hard (and he's been trying not to, as you deserve your privacy) he can hear you all the way across the park, shifting from foot to foot in your bedroom, carpet crushed under your heels. 

The action makes him think this might be more urgent to you than you'd first admitted. 

"I have a torch." He also has amazing night vision. Like, impeccable. "Can I come help?" 

"You want to?" 

"I'd love to. Are you going out tonight?" He leans back to glance out the window. "The rain is finally stopping." 

"Yeah, tonight! Is that okay for you? We could go tomorrow if you can't." 

You're willing to change your plans now that he's asked to go with you. It's a gesture as lovely as you are. Eddie doesn't think you'd ever think it of yourself; your kindness is so intrinsic you don't notice it, like the fine stitching of a leather bound book. Integral and widely unappreciated.

"That's perfect."

Wayne raises an eyebrow when Eddie relays the conversation. "You're going out in the middle of the night with this girl to… look for bugs." 

Eddie crosses his arms over his chest. "I swear." 

"Be honest with me, kid." 

"I am!" 

Wayne swirls his coke can around in his hand as he thinks, a reluctance evident in his scowl. Eddie knows he's way too old for a guardian's oversight like this but he lets Wayne have a say because Wayne loves him, and Eddie doesn't ever want to put his old man through the turmoil he went through when he ran away. If that means a curfew in his twenties, Eddie's okay with that. 

"If you're going to have sex with this girl, I'd prefer you did it here. You have to treat women with respect."  

Eddie shivers, full body. "Wayne," he groans, covering his face. He can feel his cheeks pink under his palms, that's how quickly his embarrassment rises. 

"I know you're more responsible these days, and you're a grown up. If you want a girlfriend and you want to do adult things with her-" 

"Jesus Christ." 

"- then that's alright. You don't have to fool around outside." 

He drags his hands down on his face, pained. "It's not like that. You met her, you know she's…" 

"Strange?" 

"Alternative." 

"No, you're alternative. She's cooky." 

"Don't," he says. He knows his uncle isn't actually being cruel, so he lets it lie and fights for his own cause. "We aren't messing around. She genuinely wants me to go find these bugs with her. And…" He hates himself. "She has her own place, you know? If we were going to-" 

Wayne seems stricken by the same mortified embarrassment as Eddie, raising a calloused hand in surrender. "Spare me." 

"Thank you," Eddie says, spinning on his heel to hide in the bathroom for a while. It's only when he's sitting on the closed toilet does he realise Wayne hadn't mentioned his more dangerous ailment. For a time, he'd been a normal (debatable) person having a normal (horrifying) conversation with his dad. Not a vampire. Not somebody who ruins everything he touches. 

—

"It's so quiet," you whisper. 

For you, Eddie thinks. 

You're in the forest surrounding the aptly named Forest Hills trailer park, wielding your borrowed torch carefully into the dark. Eddie's following in your footsteps, trying not to smell everything that's on you today and failing. 

You smell like a person as everybody does. Over that is your soap, a faint hint of milk and honey that sticks to your skin even after you've washed it away. Over that is your deodorant, 'unscented', and over that is your perfume, which he likes most. It's a mix of smells, some Eddie doesn't know and some he does. There's lavender, though that might be down to the bunch you'd brought for his uncle wrapped in newspaper, and there's something fruity he can't quite put his finger on, all of it wrapped up in a cloying pairing of vanilla and coconut. 

"Eddie?" 

"What?" 

"Are you okay? You're almost as quiet as the trees." 

If only you knew the trees aren't quiet. 

"I'm alright," he says quickly, catching up to you where you stand a few feet ahead. "What are we looking for?" 

Best change the subject. How to explain he'd been smelling the notes of your perfume? 

"They rest on tree trunks. You have to be careful, any sudden sound or light will scare them away. But if you flash the torch on them, they shine like oil stains." 

He loves when you talk. "Where'd they come from?" 

"Place called Snowdon. They're so rare, they think there's only about a thousand alive there." 

"Well, how did they get here?" 

You laugh under your breath, so quiet he would've missed it if he wasn't enhanced. "I don't know. How do beetles get to different places?" 

"They fly?" 

A twig crunches under your shoe. 

Eddie tips his head to the side, thinking. "If there's only a thousand, how-" He stops, your circle of torch light growing further and further away. "Are you sure that they live here?" 

"No, but if they do we'll be the first to find them." 

"So they've never found any out here? In- In the midwest?" 

"Not yet. Where'd you go?" 

He shakes his head in an affectionate disbelief. "Right behind you." 

You search in silence for a while. Eddie wishes he could say he was mad, or even mildly annoyed, wishes he had even the slightest regard for his own time, but really he thinks any time with you is time well spent. Especially if it's helping you do something you want to do. Whether you find your rainbow leaf beetle or not, he feels better knowing he's out here with you to keep you safe and in company. 

Conversation is sparing. He doesn't mind. Your footsteps fill the sound and he finds even that stupid detail charming, the crunch, the pick up. His own are silent, a rare advantage to his terrible affliction. 

"Any other beetles you want me to keep an eye out for?" he whispers. 

"I'm not sure…" You turn to face him, torch pointed at your shoes. Rubber toes touched together, you lean in until you're all he can smell. Perfume. Blood. "If you see any cool spiders, too." 

"You have the mason jar?"

"You know I do." 

More than you realise, he thinks. The glass clicks in your bag. 

There's enough light reflected to see the most minute details of your face. Your nose, the circle of your irises but not their colour. He suspects Eddie from early '86 wouldn't have been able to see hide nor hair, and it wouldn't shock him if you were technically blind right now.

"Thanks for coming out with me. I was gonna ask you." 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah, but I didn't want to come on too strong." He can sense your smile even though he can't see it. It's in the way your breathing deepens. "I know I can be a lot to deal with." 

"Who told you that?" 

"What?" 

Eddie doubles down.. "Who told you that?" he sounds heartbroken. 

He kind of is. Yeah, you're weird — Who cares? Who isn't? — but you're not a lot to deal with. He doesn't 'deal' with you.

"Everybody tells me that. All the time." 

"Everybody's stupid." To say it so loudly, scathingly, is sweet. It's therapeutic. "They are. This whole town is stupid." 

Your fingertips touch his thigh. He's willing you to turn the torch up and see his face, because he has a lot of feelings on display that he isn't brave enough to say out loud. 

"You never make me feel stupid," you say softly. 

"You're not." 

You giggle breathily at his vehemence, fingertips pressing in with a touch more pressure before you pull away and shine the torch deep into the trees. 

"This whole town is stupid," you mumble. "But not you." 

He thinks of his friends who are definitely stupid, but he loves anyways. He's about to add them to the not-stupid (subjectively) list when he remembers Steve's discovery: your earring burning a hole in his pocket. He'd been carrying it for long enough now to forget all about it. 

"Hey, I have something for you." 

"You do?" 

"Don't get too excited. It's not a gift." 

He digs in his pocket for the tissue paper wrapping and hisses in shock as the silver plating of your hoop graces his index finger. You shine the torch at him. His eyes ache like he's been stabbed and he slams them closed, hand pulled to his chest. 

How embarrassing. 

"Eddie, what happened?" you question loudly.

He winces at the sudden overstimulation. Slowly, he blinks, and finds you staring at him in a worry that softens every feature, even your nose. He doesn't know the logistics. 

"It's okay. Stabbed a paper cut on the back. Your earring's in my pocket, the heart?" 

"The hoop? I thought I lost it." Your worry turns to confusion and then melds into joy. You step forward and fish in his jacket pocket for your earring. 

"Steve found it." 

"'The hair'?" 

"Yeah, the hair." 

You both laugh and yours heightens when you find the earring, pulling it out like a knife to be brandished. "Yes." 

"I meant to tell you a dozen times that I had it." 

"You're the best." 

There's a crunch of wood somewhere to the left like something heavy falling over.

The forest sprawls in every direction and the trees tower, their presence looming as skyscrapers. The wind ruffles the topmost branches and their trunks groan with pressure. It's enough to freak Eddie out super sense or not, feeling suddenly like he couldn't protect you. He could hear the individual droplets of drool dripping from a lynx's bloody maw, and he can sense each twig underfoot before he takes his next step, but none of that is going to keep you safe in the face of real danger. 

"Maybe we should head back," he says tentatively.

"Okay. Do you want to come over?" 

His breath catches. "You want me to?" 

"Yeah, we can watch movies, I have leftover pasta." 

That sounds more like what he should've been thinking. "I don't wanna keep you up." 

"What kind of pasta?" he asks. 

The torch flickers. "With the tiny tomatoes. You'll like it, super creamy." 

"How do you know?" 

"You like Alfredo," you say astutely, hitting the torch into the palm of your hand. It flashes weakly, the shadow of the trees flickering and so dark they're violet. 

"Try tightening the handle." 

You turn the barrel of the torch and the light switches off completely. You try to undo what you've done to no success, the sound of plastic rubbing plastic almost as loud as your heartbeat. Your pulse falters and then grows to racing when the light fails to come back on. 

"Eddie," you say, sounding unsure. It's a new sound on you. "I don't know where we are. How are we gonna get home?" 

Your admission is like a dousing of ice water over his head. "You don't know what direction we came from?" 

"No, do you?" 

Eddie wouldn't know if he couldn't hear the sound of the electricity pylon buzzing somewhere to the right. But how can he explain that? "Uh, we were turned around."

You creep to his side and grab his arm with both hands. "Are you sure?" 

"Hey," he says gently. "Hey, it's okay. I know where we are. We'll be fine." 

"Are you sure?" you ask again. 

"I'm positive." 

You take a deep breath that doesn't erase your shakiness, a failed attempt at self-soothing. "I really don't know where we are." 

"You're not afraid of the dark, are you?" 

"Not really… I don't wanna get lost out here." 

"You won't. I know how to get back. C'mon," he prompts, pulling his arm to encourage you forward. 

You let go of him and navigate a few steps by yourself. He weaves through the trees, waiting for your heartbeat to slow. 

It doesn't. He opens his mouth to reassure you again when you gasp, kicking your foot against a root and tripping. You barely fall, catching yourself on the trunk of a tree, and Eddie remembers himself. You can't see the trees. That's why you're worried. You can't see anything. 

Then the smell of blood hits him like a freight train. 

—

Your hand stings where you caught yourself, palm scraped down against harsh bark. 

"Shit," you mumble. 

You're panicking badly, and you're confused as to why Eddie isn't. Not only was it fucking stupid of you to come out here with only one torch, it was stupid of you to assume you'd remember what way was home. It was stupid of you to come here tonight for that stupid beetle, and stupid of you to drag Eddie along. You're an idiot, and now you're bleeding. 

Your eyes sting with tears, pain like a popped seal. I'm so stupid. 

"Hey," Eddie says, his tone silky soft, "you're okay. Let me help you up." 

You hold your hands out. 

"Eddie, this is weird." Hopefully he understands that weird means scary.

He takes your hands, fingers closing slowly over your bloody palm. His breath is loud as he pulls you up toward him like he's panicked but his grip stays kind, and you abandon the notion when he rubs over your knuckles with his thumb. "It's alright." 

He doesn't sound the same. 

"Eddie, we can't see." 

"We'll go slowly, okay? I'll put my hand out and we'll walk around anything that gets in the way." 

"Yeah," you say hurriedly, heart bump-bump-bumping against your ribcage. 

He keeps one hand, the injured one, and starts to drag you slowly through the trees. His grip tightens as you go until it starts to ache, until it feels like it might bruise. 

"Ouch, Eds. You're hurting me," you say, going for a lightly teasing tone and missing the mark. 

Instantly, he eases off. "Sorry, sweetheart. You hold onto me, alright?" 

You do as he'd asked, hand clinging to him as he leads. He doesn't squeeze you again, walking slowly as he'd promised, and the closer you get to the edge of the forest the clearer it becomes. Light pollution from the centre of town leaches through the trees like water trickling from an overflowing basin. 

His second hand is in his pocket. 

"Here," he says after you've traversed to the very edge of the forest. "There's the park. We're bona fide explorers." 

He looks out toward the park and you look at the side of his face. Something isn't right. Something uncanny. 

You drop your gaze from his face to your joined hands. They come apart, blood smeared in both your palms like two halves of a dripping heart. 

— 

There is something weird about Eddie. As a residential freak of Hawkins you think you're an authority in this, and you don't feel guilty for judging him. Your brain can't stop going over your night in the forest. For days you play the scenes back and for days you lose the details. You forget how the wind had tousled his hair, how he'd smelled, what he'd said. 

You remember the way he'd squeezed your bloody hand. You remember the way he'd spoken, strained. 

Not strained like he didn't want to comfort you, he had, but strained. 

Restrained. 

You're poking at the shallow cut half-healed now in your palm at work when a dude walks in, very tall, handsome, and gunning straight for you. 

You straighten your badge and hide your bracelet heavy wrists behind your back, receding slightly as he approaches. He slows in front of you. 

You have a light bulb moment. 

"The hair," you say.

He scowls. "He told you that, huh. Typical." 

"You're Steve?" 

"That's me." Steve crosses his arms across his chest, his back to a booth, your back to the diner bar. "You're Eddie's new friend." 

"What counts as new?" A month and a half doesn't feel so new to you. 

"Trust me, you're new." 

He has the strangest patch covering the outside of his left wrist, the same peculiar scarring that you can see on Eddie's waist when he reaches for a glass out of the kitchen cabinet. You don't ask because you're not a dick no matter how curious you find yourself, but it makes your heart skip. What is that? You'd assumed Eddie's was road rash. Now you're not so sure. 

He tucks it under his arm. 

You meet his suspicious gaze. 

"You want coffee?" 

"No." 

You kick your foot, shoe sliding over the shiny waxed floor with a squeal. "Is Eddie okay?"

"Did you want to come to a party next Friday?" 

"No," you say honestly. "Like a cult?" 

"What?" 

"Are you initiating me into your cult?" 

He finally smiles, eyes creased with amusement. "I'm inviting you to our club." 

"Club where you chew on each other?" 

You look pointedly at Steve's wrist. 

"No. Club where we play board games and drink jiffy pop. Come or don't, doesn't matter." 

"If it doesn't matter, why are you asking me?" 

It's a strangely intense conversation to have this early in the morning. Patrons chatter about work, coffee gets poured. The diner smells of syrup and sugar and bitter cold-press. You're both in work apparel, both refusing to move back. If this is some kind of shovel talk then that's fine, and if it's a test you're determined to pass, even if Eddie's been super weird lately. 

"I'll come if you promise not to eat me," you say. 

"It's really not that kind of club." 

—

"I had the weirdest visit in the entire world today," you declare, stopping in front of Eddie's porch with a smile. 

"Yeah?" he asks without looking up, guitar in his lap and pen scribbling over a lined notebook.

You wait for him to stop before you continue, leaning forward with both arms braced on the porch by his feet. "Steve Harrington came to see me, and he was super mean. You said he was nice." 

He frowns at you. "I told you he was a dick." 

"You like him when you tell me stories." 

"How mean?" Eddie asks, patting the seat beside him. 

You climb up onto the porch and plop down onto the couch, worn leather cold with the weather and damp in the seams. 

You take a strand of his hair and curl it around your finger. "Not really super mean, but he was, like, acting like I killed a baby." 

"He's like that." 

You sigh and lean your cheek against the couch cushion, watching Eddie's stubble move as he tamps down a teasing smile. "He invited me to a party next weekr." 

"It's not a party- Sweetheart, what are you doing?" 

You tickle his cheek with the end of his hair. "Nothing." 

"M'gonna sneeze." 

You tickle him again, fine dark strands brushing over his pale cheek. He's a very ashen guy, you've found. Likely because he barely goes out in the sun and he doesn't eat enough. You draw circles around the apple of his cheek and grin softly at his growing smile, a sweet, silly thing. 

"I'll tickle you back," he warns. 

"Promise?" 

He steals the curl back and tucks it behind his ear. 

"You're not a cannibal, are you?" 

Eddie chokes on air. You startle at his coughing and move to pat his back, palm slapping a steady rhythm into his shoulder. When he calms down you run your hand down the length of his arm, long sleeve t-shirt soft beneath your touch. You linger at his wrist and decide to hold it. 

He drops his pen and your hand travels until he's caught your thumb. He kneads it in his fingers.

"I'm not a cannibal. Why would you think that?" 

"I don't, but you and Steve are in your club, right?" 

"Hellfire wasn't like that," he says heatedly.

"No, not- Not that one." 

He doesn't say anything. 

"You have… He has this scar, on his wrist. Like something bit him, or-" He turns to you and he looks formidable and upset and himself, not mad at you but raw emotion in his expression anyhow. It's gone as quick as it came. 

"When all that… stuff happened," he begins quietly, "we got hurt. A couple of us." 

You drop your head, ashamed at having pried.  "I'm sorry, you don't have to tell me anything else."

"Don't be sorry…" He squeezes your hand and lets it go. "Don't worry about it." 

"Okay." 

"We usually call ourselves a party, these days. Not a club." 

"Do you really play board games and drink jiffy pop?" 

"Sometimes we get really crazy and order a pizza. You should come." 

You realise as he says it how much his wanting you to go had mattered to you. Eddie's your friend, and you don't think that you're going to stay friends much longer.

"You think your friends will like me?" you ask, voice descending to a new kind of gentle. 

He puts down his guitar and his notebook. His full attention is something you've come to really enjoy, not because of the hunger you often see flitting across his face — though that's neat —, but because of the inklings of adoration clinging to his smile when he looks at you. His blinking lashes. He smiles at you and just slows. A usually frenetic boy calmed. 

"Maybe not Mike. Mike doesn't like anybody. Except for Will," he muses.

"What about you?" 

"What about me?" 

"Who do you like?" 

"I like all of them." He juts his cheek toward his shoulder, conceding, " I think Dustin's my favourite. He's funny. He's funnier than I am, and he's the smartest kid I've ever met. And he knows it." 

Your eyes focus on the pink outline of his upper lip as he speaks. It's a pleasure to be this close, and see him in this kind of crazy detail. When you go home tonight you might try to draw him. You'll probably forget.

It's the kind of smile that deserves to be immortalised. 

"I really like your smile," you tell him, hoping it'll last a little longer. 

It stretches. The pink outline turns white. "Shut up." 

"I do. I've seen a thousand different smiles but I've never met someone who smiles like you do." 

"How's that?" he asks, edging toward you, face a mirror in which you can see your own charmed expression. 

"Like you," — you shake your head with your lips parted — "know a secret. Something you won't tell anybody." 

His smile abruptly ends. 

You've nothing if not a talent for saying the wrong thing. 

"A good secret," you amend. 

He picks up his acoustic and gives it an experimental strum. "Maybe one or two," he agrees. 

Relief catches you. You nibble at the inside of your lip and watch his fingers work over the neck of his guitar, tipping your head so you can read the words he's markered over the body. 

"This machine slays dragons," you murmur to yourself. "Yeah? How many?" 

"Just the one." 

"Save any princesses?" 

"Not yet." He plucks at the strings, lost in thought, before turning to you with eyebrows raised. "Can you play?" 

You exhale out of the corner of your mouth as he pushes the guitar into your lap, an arm coming around your shoulder, the other reaching to guide your curled forefinger to the strings. You turn to face him, watching him talk with a growing fondness. 

"It's easy, I swear. We'll do Call Me. Blondie's basic, even a baby could play it." 

He realises you aren't listening and raises his gaze, shiny brown irises stuck on your lips. This close, it would be worse if he didn't look at them. 

You glance at his, an obvious thing, half a wish. If he only lifted his chin. 

Your breath mingles. 

"It's easy," he says again, a murmur of his usual volume as his gaze pulls back up to yours. "I'll show you." 

You wonder if he can hear your heart pounding; it's deafening. You wait, and you wait, and you turn your eyes back to his guitar and clamp your fingers down against the struts so he can't see them shaking with adrenaline. 

—

Eddie sits beside Steve and tries not to admit to himself that Steve Harrington is, horrifyingly, his best friend (along with the rest of the party, obviously). Steve is the closest in age and Eddie can't make excuses (though he tries and tries and tries), Steve understands how much Eddie doesn't ever want to talk about anything that's happened to them, so he talks about literally everything else instead. 

"It was the weirdest pawn shop I've ever been in. They had, like, a wall of combi's playing the same video at the same time but all slightly delayed." 

Eddie blinks. 

Steve turns his head from the TV, having expected a response. "Did you say something?" 

"No." Then, because he's not a dick. "Sorry, Harrington. Want me to sit on your other side?" 

"What for?" Steve says. Not because he denies how he's hard of hearing, but because he denies having conversations with Eddie. 

He does end up moving to Steve's other side with a pathetic excuse. "I can't see the TV." 

Steve doesn't say a word until he's sat down again. "Sorry I was mean to your girlfriend." 

"Yeah, what was that about?" 

"I was cranky because it was early and I don't want her to damage the integrity of the party." He gives equal weight to both reasons. 

Eddie snorts at him. "Since when do you care about the integrity of the party?" Steve barely acknowledges that they are a party. He thinks that's a very nerdy way to say friends. 

"Since always, dipshit." 

"And inviting her to join the party was the solution because…?" 

Steve drinks the rest of his coke and pretends to really care about what's on TV. "If," he begins after a minute, refusing to look at Eddie, "something happens with her, and something happens to you, that damages the integrity of the party." 

"Steve," Eddie says, jaw dropped down to his chest, "do you have a crush on me?" 

"Oh my god," Steve mutters. "Oh my god," he says louder. "I can't stand you." 

To prove his point, he gets up from the couch with a wrinkled nose, stops to tap his shoe gently against Max's where she's sitting in the armchair across from the coffee table, and disappears into his kitchen. 

Steve Harrington cares about me enough to give Y/N the shovel talk. 

He feels kind of great about it. 

But he's not sure your the one who needs warning. 

That night in the forest, Eddie had almost snapped. There are rules to follow if he wants to keep people safe, self-imposed, Hopper-imposed, and he's broken too many with you already, the most important being no close proximity when he's hungry. Eddie doesn't even realise he is hungry half the time. He'll be standing by you and he'll want to touch you, and suddenly it's like he's three weeks in to the month without sating. 

He thinks about kissing you and suddenly he's thinking about biting you, and hurting you, and it's literally tearing him up from the inside out. 

How can he want to do that to you? 

"You look so depressed and pathetic," Dustin says out of the blue. 

Eddie pouts and falls back into the couch, Steve's fancy throw falling onto his shoulder. "I used to like you," he says, taking in Dustin's outfit with a kind of parental approval. He's getting older and it shows, slightly more handsome than he had been — he's kept all his baby weight and it suits him, his full cheeks surrounded by the softest brown curls Eddie has ever seen. The outfit stays immature, a funny t-shirt and ill-fitting pants. 

"Sad. You have a sad face," Dustin says. 

"Go play with your nerd squad, please." 

He doesn't listen, collapsing in Steve's still-warm seat like a cheap tent and crossing longer, thicker arms over his chest. He smiles at Eddie genuinely. "Where's your girlfriend?" 

"No." 

"Where's Y/N?" 

Eddie tips his head so he can see past the coffee table and points to where you're almost hidden, sitting with Robin on the floor by Steve's sideboard. You have a basket of tapes in front of you, the two of you trying to choose what's going in the stereo. Eddie prays for anything but Blondie. 

You will most likely choose Blondie. 

"What does she like?" Dustin asks curiously. 

"Everything, kind of. Why?" 

"I wanna know what to say when I talk to her." 

Eddie smiles at his friend's face, a soft, surprised thing. "I don't know if she knows anything about the radio but if you're happy about it she'll be happy too. She's a good listener."

Dustin picks at a piece of lint on his t-shirt bearing a white and black print of a dog wearing sunglasses. "So you talk to her?" he asks without looking up. 

"I mean, yeah. What else do you do?" 

"With a girl that likes you? Huh, let me think." Dustin laughs and ruins his own sarcasm, pointer finger laid against his chin in a show of thoughtfulness. 

"It's not like that," Eddie says lightly. 

"It could be." 

"Could it? I mean… I don't even know if she'll stick around. And I feel bad 'cos I can't be honest with her." 

"Why not?" 

"Hopper said he would literally put me in the hole if I even thought about it." There's no need to expand. Dustin would know better than anyone what he's talking about. 

He cringes at the thought, self hatred a hot poker down his throat. He must've said it to Dustin a hundred times when he finally came around from his coma (that wasn't a coma, but a death, and then a rebirth). I can't believe I put you through that. I can't believe I put you through that. I'm so sorry. 

I'm just glad you're alive, Eddie. 

And for a while, Eddie hadn't felt the same. The world he'd woken up to was hard. There had been lawyers and grief and guilt and becoming. He doesn't have the words to describe how it feels to become something new, something that needs to hurt people to live, something that will hurt people to live, whether Eddie wants to or not. 

The loss of choice is suffocating. 

Though moments like this with his friends– they don't make it 'worth it', they're just how it had to happen. There isn't a scenario where Eddie could give up. He can't leave Wayne, and he can't leave Dustin. He can live with the grief of what he is if it means other people don't have to live with grief of what he isn't. 

"Eddie, are you okay?" 

He's missed something. Dustin isn't the only one looking at him. 

He curls a hand around his forearm subconsciously. "I'm fine. I think I'm gonna go to the bathroom, actually. Gotta piss real bad." 

"Eddie-" 

"I'm fine, Henderson." He puts on a good show, patting Dustin's arm. His heart, usually so slow these days, has enough life in it to ache. 

He can't have been in the bathroom for five minutes when somebody knocks on the door aggressively. He's expecting Steve, pissed at his disappearance and likely preparing a speech on attention seeking behaviours and how they're hurting the youth of America, so he opens the door with a tired glare. 

He finds you, beaming and pretty, dressed ridiculously nicely for his idiot friends. 

"Hi," you say. He can hear something from Blondie's Parallel Lines playing from the living room, familiar because it's your favourite album. "Any room for me?" 

Eddie moves back. You close the door behind you. The bathroom becomes a vacuum of your sounds and smells. 

"They didn't have any Dio," you say with a smile. 

"I honestly wouldn't expect any different." 

"You could've brought some tapes, your mix from the van," you suggest. "I love that one." 

"Which one?" he asks, and he can't help it, whenever he's with you his voice crops to a dulcet murmur. The urge to speak to you as you speak to him is unconquerable. 

"One with the winking smile on the slipcase. I really like it." 

"You can have it." 

You lean against the sink. "I can?" 

"Mm. Whatever you want." Especially when you look like this. 

You smile at him, your 'thank you' smile, all sticky fondness and mischievousness. He has no idea what you're thinking. 

"'S a small bathroom in a huge house," you marvel. Your voice echoes "Where does he shower?" 

"There's an upstairs bathroom." 

"Two bathrooms? That's-" 

"Audacious?" 

"I was gonna say overkill." 

Your candidness has him shaking with laughter. He clutches at his sides, arms crossed and leaning forward. You visibly take in his appearance, eyes panning slowly over his clean hair. He'd taken care to look like somebody you might want to look at tonight. 

"Why don't you sit down, Eds?" you ask, eyes creased with an unreadable emotion. 

Eddie feels blindly for the toilet lid and pushes it down so he can do as you ask, wondering why you're asking.

"You look very handsome today." 

He hugs himself. "As opposed to every other day, when I don't?" 

You take a step forward, a second, hands playing with the hem of your shirt. Your outfit today is delightfully simple, a pressed black t-shirt long enough to cover the waistband of your pleated skirt. There's an expanse of thigh that makes his heart beat spin out, one longer than the other where your thigh-high is falling down.

He wants to pull it up. 

"C'mere," he says. 

You take that last step between his shoes and he reaches out, getting his fingertips under the elastic of your sock and tugging it upward over the soft fat of your leg. Your hands come up to his shoulders for balance, and you say, "No, you look handsome every day. Today you look very handsome. I made the distinction." 

He covers your thigh with both hands, looking up into your face as you look down. "You look really pretty today," he says boldly, fingers spreading behind your knee. 

"Thank you. Do you like my t-shirt?" 

It's a screen print of Debbie Harry. Eddie tries not to roll his eyes. "I love it, but your dedication to Blondie is seriously worrying, sweetheart." He gives your leg a short squeeze and pulls the most giggly smile out of you yet. 

"Like Madonna." 

"No!" he bemoans. 

You laugh and grow closer, arms on his shoulder, a hand threaded into his hair. "Cyndi Lauper?" you suggest. 

He puts a hand on your waist as you move in for a hug. Your arms wrap around his neck and the tops of his shoulders, cheek crushed to the top of his head. 

He'd ask if you were okay if he thought you weren't. You're not upset or seeking comfort. You're affectionate. You've been getting more and more touchy for weeks, as he has. Stolen touches, your almost-kiss on the porch last week. 

"No, not Cyndi Lauper," he says, his hand skirting around your back to pull you in properly. 

"R.E.M?" 

"God, no. Where are you hearing all this junk?" 

"The radio." 

"Tuned into the wrong station." 

You pet the back of his head. "Yeah," you say softly, "I think I was." 

The hug is shorter than Eddie wants it to be. You make one of your happy sounds and pull away to get your hands on his face, stroking curls from his cheeks with a protective touch. "Handsome," you say, turning your hand to stroke his cheek with your knuckles. "Pretty. You have really big eyes, Eddie, so brown, and so…" You tilt your head to one side, face inching forward. 

He turns his face to suit, to fit, breath held as you close the gap. 

"So pretty," you murmur, and kiss him. 

His hands are limp and then alive, one clutching your hip, one splaying against your chest. He can hear the thud of your heart clear as day — you're bumping with excitement as you kiss him. It's a delicate, tender thing, the party suddenly far away, the music drowned by the sounds of your breathing. You kiss as you talk, as you move, gentle but with bursts of ardency. Your lips are a blissful heat, the tip of your nose smushing into his as you part your lips over his. 

He lifts his chin higher, his neck craned to receive you. He's savouring every movement. Each pause for breath that you take. The feeling of your inhales over his quick-bruising lips. 

Your hands play in his hair so sweetly it makes his eyes burn with an embarrassing amount of emotion. He screws them closed and squeezes up your waist, steadying himself as you feel along his bottom lip with the tip of your tongue. 

You don't get much further than that, seemingly pleased with your own brazeness or perhaps his touch, eyes glowing with mirth as you pull away. 

"Sorry," you breathe, not sorry at all. "You just really looked like someone should be kissing you."

You're flushed. Eddie can practically see the heat emanating off of your cheeks. He can feel it. 

He stands up, your pulse a ringing in his ears. The wet valves of your heart opening and closing. 

"Eddie?" you ask quietly, lifting your head to meet his eyes as he walks you back into the door. 

His gums sting. A click. 

It's a compulsion. 

His hands curl around your elbows, holding you in place. Your eyes are wide with confusion, your lightly swollen lips parted. He can see the tiniest slip of your pink tongue. 

He holds your gaze as he leans in. Your eyelids flutter closed. You wrap your arms around him as he descends, totally trusting. 

He's a meaner kiss than you are. He starts slow but swiftly loses a handle on it, kisses short but insistent, hot presses like little crescent moons against your barely open mouth. 

His hands move up your arms, a near vice-like grip until he finds your sleeves. His fingers slip underneath, hands hungry for your warmth. 

You make the worst sound anyone has ever made as he moves back, like something has been ripped from you. A gutted gasp, near silent. 

He placates as he wades back in. Thumbs rubbing your arms, lips mouthing damp kisses down your face. The corner of your pout, the hill of your chin, the skin under your jaw. Your head tips back against the door with an audible thud. You exhale hard. 

Eddie can't feel his hands. 

Your pulse hammers under his lips. He kisses it once. He can't think. He can't breathe. 

"You're always cold," you whisper, your hands drifting lazily under the fabric of his t-shirt. Your fingertips trail up his spine. "But your lips are warm." 

He kisses your neck, his lips parting slowly, a hair's width a second as he sucks your skin into his mouth gently. It's barely a kiss. He does it a second time. A third. You start to laugh, a golden sound. 

The point of his fangs touch your skin and you stop. 

Eddie closes his mouth abruptly. His hand leaps to your neck and he feels your heart skip as he holds you still. "I'm sorry," he says, nose rubbing over the damp spot he's left behind, your teased skin. 

Your heart hikes again. 

"I'm sorry," he repeats. He pulls away, an agony. 

"It's okay," you say. Your breathlessness says otherwise.

Eddie takes as many deep breaths as he can stand, wanting to clear his head and filling it with you instead. Your everything; your smell, your skin. Your limp hands against his back. 

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asks when he gets a look at you, your unreadable expression. He takes care to keep his head angled down so you can't see the lower half of his face. 

"I don't think you could." 

You cup his cheek in your hand and he leans into it, his weight against yours.

"I wanted to tell you something," you confess. 

"What-" He licks his lips, wincing when his fangs slide into his tongue and scrape grooves across his taste buds. "What was that?" 

"I know you…" You pause, fingertips rubbing at his cheek.

Does she know? Eddie thinks, horrified. He hadn't realised how scary waiting could be. A thousand worries condensed into a handful of seconds. Does she know?

How could she not?

You press your palm to his cheek with more insistence. "I don't want you to think you have to hide anything from me. I know you have scars," you say, fingers sliding into the soft baby hair at the back of his neck. "You don't have to cover up. You don't have to cover any of it." 

"I won't hurt you," he says, trying to convince himself. 

"I know." 

-

You stay a while longer. Eddie's friends pretend that you hadn't been alone in the bathroom for an inordinate amount of time together. You thank them all silently and less so, trying to talk to as many of them as you can. 

There's Lucas, who's really, really nice, and his girlfriend Max, who's less so. She gives you an unimpressed look through her thick-lensed glasses, but you compliment her crutches and she comes around. 

There's Mike, who actually isn't anywhere as bad as Eddie had described him. He's not frosty or standoffish, he's sweet and he asks questions. There's a girl with him that you don't catch the name of, and a boy on her other side. 

There's Dustin, who you adore immediately, Robin, who you adore more, and then there's Steve. 

Steve offers you a pretzel like you're more than familiar. He strolls right up to you with a bowl of them in hand and doesn't leave until you've eaten half of them. 

There's a couple of people you don't manage to talk to at all, and you feel guilty about it all the way home. 

"What if they think I'm rude?" you ask, tired eyes locking onto the stereo system. The time blinks analog in the dark, 12:59AM. 

"They don't, don't worry about it. You have lots of time to get to know them, anyway." 

You hum and turn to his face, indulgent because you know he can't look back. "You're not too tired to drive, are you?" He's spent. Yesterday had been one of his bad days. 

"I'm fine." 

"You say that all the time," you observe, dropping your cheek into the passenger seat's headrest. 

"I'm fine all the time." 

"Liar." 

"Nuisance." 

You huff a laugh through your nose. The strands of his friendship bracelet, the small beads at the ends, swing like pendulums in the gap between his arm and the steering wheel. You can see the rough skin of a scar creeping out from under his sleeve. 

"Mike was really nice," you say. 

"He has a bleeding heart." 

That feels accurate. "He reminds me of you." 

Eddie rolls his eyes. You feel for every detail, the strange tension between you like a gaussian filter over everything. He's gorgeous in a horrific way, heartbreakingly pale, eyes dark as pitch, hands restless. They squeeze alone the wheel, thick fingers curling tight until his knuckles are stark white. Running down the back of his hands are veins like rivers. They're more purple than green. 

"Eddie," you say, playful, a tiny bit insecure. 

"What?" 

"Wanna stay the night?" 

His hand moves forward on the wheel like he's revving a motorcycle, the tendon in his wrist rising to the surface. He clenches. "Not sure it's a good idea." 

"Just to sleep. It's late." 

"I don't know if I can sleep next to you." 

You don't wanna say please. You don't want to ask Eddie to do anything he can't or doesn't wanna do. 

He pulls up outside of your house with his mind already made up. He gets out of the car and you follow his lead. He locks it, shoves the keys in his pocket as you join him on the path up to your porch. 

He's been in here enough times to know what it looks like, but for some reason you find yourself checking his face, worried about what it is he thinks of your things, all your mismatched trinkets, your stained glass lamps, your life as you let yourselves in. He ducks through the beeded curtain into your bedroom wary that they'll get tangled in his hair like they sometimes do. 

"Do you wanna call Wayne?" you ask, gesturing to your telephone on the right hand side, nestled between a stack of books and a cup full of coloured pencils. 

You pull your knee up to your chest and unlace your shoes one at a time. Eddie punches the number into the phone and holds the receiver to his shoulder to do as you're doing. It takes him less time to pop his sneakers off than for you to get out of yours. He's just taken the phone back into his hand when Wayne picks up. 

"Wayne?" he asks softly. "Didn't wake you up, did I?" 

You can't hear his response. 

"I'm gonna stay with Y/N tonight. Yeah, we had a good time. Yeah…" His eyes drift to you as you peel out of your thigh highs.

"Yeah, I'm still here. What?" He meets your eyes and it feels accidental, because he throws his eyes to your bedsheets and turns his face to the wall. "No," he says firmly. 

You scrape together something to wear for bed and some fresh underwear and leave for the bathroom, telling yourself that nothing is gonna happen so don't get your hopes up but not wanting to get caught out if it does. You freshen up, brushing your teeth and washing your face.

You stare at yourself in the mirror and wonder if you should've left your face-powder and your mascara on. Maybe even the skirt. You'd looked nice and pretty for the party. Now you look like yourself, still pretty but without those extra touches. Will he care? Does it matter? 

You debate your pyjama pants considerably. 

There's a lot happening. 

Eddie is… Eddie is something else. He's different, you'd known that for a long time, and his kiss had confirmed it. 

He's something out of a science fiction book. 

Well, nobody's perfect. 

Whatever he is, he'd kissed you. You'd kissed him and he'd responded, he'd come back for more, and now he's sitting in your bed when he could've gone home. You bring your hand to your neck and crane to one side, fingertips poking at your unbroken skin. His hickey's haven't even bruised. 

You screw the pants up and drop them into your laundry basket. You take off every piece of jewellery on your person. 

"Do you wanna use the bathroom?" you ask from behind the beaded curtain. "I left a new toothbrush for you on the sink." 

"Yeah, desperately, I…" He takes you in as you emerge. Fresh-faced, bare-legged. As naked as you've ever been in front of him, physically and otherwise. 

Eddie meets you where you're standing. He's ditched his jacket, and for the first time since you met him you can see the full length of his arms.

"You're not wearing your bracelets," he says, looking between your bodies. His hand twitches toward yours. 

"You have tattoos," you say. 

"They were better, before." 

There's a misshapen mess of black splodges near the crook of his elbow broken up by scar tissue. One arm is less scarred than the other, an almost perfect flank of white skin. 

"Is that a puppet? He's super spooky." 

"Mh-hm." 

You bring your hand to his tattoo and feel over the skin. It doesn't feel like it's there. Eddie holds your wrist and the two of you move together, your fingertips stroking up until you're wrapped around his bicep. 

Eddie brings his free hand to your collar. His index finger straightens, encouraging your chin up so he can ease forward and kiss you. He's firm, eager, and your lips curl up into a smile underneath it. He turns his head to the right and you fall left, smile worsened when you feel his own start to form. 

He nudges your nose. You take it for a telling off and laugh. "Sorry," you apologise, kissing his top lip. 

"You're making this difficult," he chides. 

Despite any sternness, Eddie loosens his grip on your wrists to slide his fingers between yours, pressing your joined hands to your chest. He leans back down and he's careful, almost methodical in the way he kisses. Chaste pecks, hot and precious as tiny stars. 

You reach for his waist. 

Eddie kisses you a final time and steps back. "I'll be back," he promises. 

You lower your chin, flustered and perplexed by his sudden departure.

Walking around to the right side of the bed, you click on your bedside lamp — a beautiful glass and foiled contraption that throws dainty stripes of stars and hearts over everything close in the dark — before climbing in. You sniff one of your pillows experimentally, trying to remember when you last changed the bed. You decide they're acceptable even if they really smell like your hair oil and flip them around to be safe, plumping them up with your hands.

You've curled up on your side and almost succumb to your fatigue when Eddie returns, bringing with him the smell of spearmint and a fuzzy feeling in your stomach as he shuts off the light and sits on the opposite side of the bed, facing you. The hair around his face is damp with water, baby hair's limp. 

"I'm sorry I don't have anything for you to wear, I-" Youre cut off by your own gasp as Eddie kisses you, his hand on your neck, his nose bridge sliding into your own. You hadn't been expecting it, and it's no less dizzying than any other kiss he's given you today. 

"It's okay," he murmurs lowly, lips pressed to your lips, "have to wear you, is all."  

You huff a laugh into his mouth. "I swear I'm always laughing when I'm with you," you muse as Eddie dedicates himself to your bottom lip. You cup the back of his head. "You're amazing." 

Eddie groans and eases back. "I'm not good with words, sweetheart. To tell you how I feel about you." 

You push one of your legs toward his knee. "...You can show me." 

He shifts in the bed until he can lean over the entirety of your chest, hands cupping your face and lips poised hovering over your own, a millimetre of space between your mouth and his. "Okay," he says quietly.

He dips down. You can feel his bottom lip tremble, and then he's kissing you too hard to feel it anymore. You wrap loose arms around his back. 

"Are you sure?" you whisper to him. 

He rests his nose against your cheek, eyes closed, drawing the tiniest left to right. "I want you," he reassures. 

"And you're okay?" 

"Yeah, sweetheart. I'm okay. Do you want to?" 

"Yeah. More than anything." 

Another loving kiss against your cheek, Eddie moves down, down, down. "Tell me if I do something you don't like," he murmurs, top lip dragging and leaving a line of dampness to the base of your throat. 

He adorns the canvas of your neck in half-moon contusions, big hands caressing your shoulders, your chest. You hold your breath as his fingers pass over your nipple, fighting to keep in any embarrassing sounds. 

Eddie disagrees with his plan of action. You shiver as he brings his lips to a close and his bottom teeth scrape upward, as he pulls his head up and says, "C'mon, angel, breathe." 

He follows his command with a manipulative touch, a circle over your nipple that makes you shudder. He kisses you and it feels like a thank you, pressure, a heat as his palm smooths over the bump of your tummy to your thighs. He squeezes the outside of one and for a while you can kiss him back, and then he pulls your thighs apart and you break away. Eddie follows, kisses you even when your reciprocation is weak. 

He pushes your thigh flat to the bed. 

You feel the heat of your excitement start to grow. Your stomach aches with the want to be touched. 

"You're like a space heater, you're that warm," Eddie says, hand coasting down the inside of your thigh. He squeezes until fat melds under his fingers. "Are you scared?" 

His whispering in your ear, his hand as close as it is to where you want it, it winds you up like a coil. You sigh as his thumb strokes the edge of your panties, sound coloured by an awful, devouring desire. 

His face presses further into yours in reaction. 

His touch is like the tide. He wades in, away. His thumb strokes inward over something soft and then his whole hand moves back to your thigh. 

"Teasing," you utter. 

"A little… Why, is there something you want me to do?" 

His clueless whispering is infuriating and exciting at the same time. Your heart races and you can't discern if it's more lust or love.

"Touch me," you plead, pouting, knowing he's a pushover.

Anticipation stabs like a needle in your tummy as he slides his palm over your cunt completely. He rubs a careful, almost casual rhythm into your panties with the breadth of his fingers, lips kissing a lazy stripe up to your forehead, where he rests his face. You both watch his hand move past the valley of your rising chest. 

"M'gonna pull these off, yeah?" He sits up, fingers pushing under the sides. "Lift your- yeah, thank you, sweetheart." 

You buzz with his pet names, his soft voice, the feeling of your panties sliding up to your knees and his gentle exhale. You swear you can feel it fan over your slit. "Shit…" he moan, pulling at your spread cunt. 

He looks like he's in pain, eyebrows pinched together and murmuring curses as he circles the wetness gathered at your entrance. You turn your head searchingly as he starts to ease his index finger inside your heat, a gentle probing. 

One becomes two. He muffles your sighing with firm kisses, amorous praises, "That's it, baby, relax," as he works you open, fingers wet with slickness but not enough. He changes his position, pushing his middle and marriage finger inside and curving as his thumb slides up your slit looking for the bead of your clit. 

Slow, slow circles. "There, huh?" 

You shiver as he pushes in deeper, fingers as far as they can go. He spreads them wide, drops reassuring kisses all over your face when you keen. It's so new to have him kiss you at all, and to have him touching you — you're melting into nothing right there in his hold. 

"I got you. Tell me if it hurts, okay?" 

"Want you to- I want you to fuck me," you murmur, arms wrapping around him so you can hide your face in his neck. 

"Fuck. Fuck, baby. Gonna fuck you just as soon as I can fit," he murmurs back, sinking three of his thick fingers into your snug cunt. He pulls wetness out with every thrust, a line of slick dribbling down onto the sheets underneath. He wipes it upward and pushes it back inside, his chest heaving. "Y'so tight, gotta take my time. Take our time." He rubs his nose against your head until he can kiss the highest point of your cheek. "Make sure you can take it." 

"I can." 

It doesn't bear repeating how quietly you're speaking, a mouthing inaudible under the wet, rhythmic thud of Eddie's pinky finger slapping your sticky cunt as he ups the pace of his finger-fucking. 

"I don't think so," he coos, pulling his fingers from your cunt and making a show of spreading them wide. Your slick ribbons between them, almost invisible in the dark. "Ruin your sheets before any of that, maybe." 

Eddie sits up and gets his hands under your armpits. You laugh as he tugs you up so your shoulders are on top of the pillows, but you don't have time to be confused. He quickly moves to kneel at your feet and pulls your leg over his shoulder, your back lifting unevenly from the sheets. 

He starts with a sweet kiss pressed to the skin closest to his mouth, your lower thigh, and then works his way up, open mouthed, barely kisses at all until his hair whispers against your sensitive cunt and he's nipping at the stripe of skin between your thigh and the place where you most want his attention. 

"Pretty," he says into your damp skin, lips shining. You reach down to stroke his hair behind his ears, worried he's gonna get it dirty. 

He looks at you from between your thighs, his eyes dark in the dim light, their lashes long and soft where the outermost flutter into your skin. He's lovely. 

He holds your gaze as he pulls back to your inner thigh. "Pretty everywhere," he says salaciously. 

His lips part over your skin and you think he might bite you, a bruising hickey, but he pushes you down flat to the bed by your hips and kisses your clit, a simple kiss. Your fingers weave deeper into his hair. Your fingernails scratch lightly against his scalp, every tiny lick or kiss reflected in the minute tightening of your hands. 

He goes slow, mouths down, kisses wetter and wetter as he reaches your entrance. "Poor girl," he murmurs, hands pulled down to further scandalise. He sinks two fingers inside and laughs into your cunt. You squirm. 

"What happened? You're dripping on my fingers." Your thighs draw closed around his head as he curls his fingers against a soft spot.

"Eddie, can you-" You swallow. "Please. Please." 

He pries your thighs open and rubs them soothingly, lapping at the heat of your cunt in face of your pleading. His tongue appears broad and flat up the centre of you until he's kissing on your clit, fingers pumping in rhythm. Your fingers work into his hair and he groans, the vibration enough to make you whimper under his mouth. 

He laps at your clit messily and you tip your head back, breath coming in tight pants. You don't know what you say, only how you say it, desperate "please,"s and keening "Eddie,"s. 

His thrusts grow in enthusiasm, fingers rubbing eagerly against something sweet. You pull your legs up and nudge his face to your cunt insistently, thigh shaking as you hold it up. Eddie doesn't need any more encouragement, his pretty pink lips suckling at your clit until you see stars. You make a pained little sound and try to move away from his kissing, startled at the intensity of your high. 

Eddie lets your clit pop out of his mouth with a lewd, slick sound, his hands moving under your thighs and pulling you closer. "Good girl," he says, rubbing his wet face against the inside of your thigh. He inhales hard as you are, though he pauses to kiss your kneecap and pat your leg. "Good girl, sweetheart." 

"I'm sorry," you say breathlessly, hands pulling his hair from his face. Pleasure rolls through you in hot waves. 

"For what?" 

"Tugging on your hair," you explain, shoulder pulled up to your cheek.  

Eddie kisses your tummy lovingly and climbs on top of you to do the same just under your chin. "It’s okay, sweetheart, I like that shit. That was good, huh?" he asks, lips dropping down to yours all wet and warm. 

He's not bragging, he's genuinely asking. 

You nod into his kiss, your hands coming up to his sides. You swear your ears perk up as he unzips his jeans and eases them down, a hand disappearing into the mess of fabric. He moans quietly at the first touch. 

You move his hair out of the way to watch. Eddie tugs at the length of his cock with a cruel hand, a short dribble of pearly precum sobbing down the tip and under his fingers. He spreads it as it goes, the slickness emphasising the ridges and veins of his cock. You can see it throb, if you look close enough. 

He sits back and eases his jeans and boxers down enough to reveal a thatch of curls that brush his hand with every pump downward. 

"You okay?" he asks, smirking. 

You pull your shirt over your head and your chest warms at his adoring smile. "Will you take off yours?"

He doesn't hesitate like you worried he might. He sheds his t-shirt, pulling the fabric over the back of his head and dumping it off the side of the bed. 

You take in his chest and it's abundance of ragged scarring still purpled with newness. He has a tattoo over his heart, a black whorl of legs and eyes. Fine dark hair crawls from the middle of his chest down his navel, joining with the thatch of coiled hair surrounding his aching cock. You shuffle forward and wait with two tentative hands held aloft until he says, "It's okay," before you touch him. You run your hands down the soft slopes of his waist. 

"Does it hurt?" 

"Not anymore." 

"Can I kiss it?" 

He snorts. "Prefer you kiss something else." 

That really makes you laugh. You dot a kiss against his jaw and can't make yourself stop, dropping them all the way to the skin behind his ear. Your hand creeps lower as you go, held to the curve of his tummy. His skin is hot to touch the lower you go, and his stomach feels solid, a heaviness you know all too well. 

"Can I touch you?" you whisper into his ear. 

"Please." 

You drop your forehead against his chest and he brings his hand up to cup the back of your head. His cock pulses as you wrap your hand around it, skin smooth and slick as you palm slowly up and down. You watch in awe as a bead of precum wells at the tip, Eddie's rough breathing loud overhead. 

"Lie down, Y/N," he says, hand moving behind your naked shoulders. 

"What way?" 

"How do you want it, sweetheart? We'll do it whatever way you want." 

You think about it. Whatever way you want. No matter how indulgent, you know he means it.

"Will you spoon me?" 

He pushes you gently and follows behind, dragging your body into his front and angling your hips, cock hot and prodding your back. He gets his hand under your knee and pulls it up, splaying your cunt. You jump in surprise as he pushes his cock through your folds, tip rubbing against the still sensitive bead of your clit. 

Eddie wraps his arms around you, hugging you from behind. "You wanna put it in for me, baby?" 

You reach between your bodies and take his sticky cock into your hand, shifting until the head nudges against your hole. He sinks in inch by inch, arms tightening around your waist and grinding you down onto his cock until you're whimpering. 

You grab at his arms with your hands and tether yourself to him as he starts to rock his hips, his thrusting tender and his face turned into your neck. 

He presses his hand flat to your abdomen, an anchoring point as he moulds your weepy cunt around his length, each slovenly movement into your heat spreading you that little bit wider. 

"Fuck," he says finally, sounding seconds from a black out. "Oh, fuck- You're tight. Gonna fuck you open slow, okay?" 

You're pretty sure you'd let him do just about anything. You bring his hand to your mouth and kiss every white knuckle, every freckle you can see on the back, and when he bottoms out your cover your lips with his stolen hand to smother a tearful gasp.

Eddie's thrusts are spearing in their steady rhythm, a dirty slap ringing with every punching thrust forward. You curl in on yourself and hide your mouth in the sheets, wet pants smothered by fabric. Eddie's grip falls to your hip, where he pulls your body back and forces your cunt open even deeper. 

His cock pushes into your sweet spot sudden and emphatic. You moan and he stills, rutting into that same space without pulling out until you're babbling his name, body knocked forward with every thrust. 

Eddie turns your face toward him as much as he can without hurting your neck, your moans echoing in time with each thrust. "There you go," he says, "wanna hear how good it feels." 

If he cares that you can't answer him he doesn't show it, arm coming up under you arm to grasp at your chest, your breaststroke soft and aching under his hand as he squeezes tenderly. His cock kisses at the sweet spot inside you intermittently; you're dizzy with it. 

Eddie can't keep quiet either, his moans breathy, his breath hissing between his teeth when you clamp down around him. "Fuck," he begs, dragging his cock out of your heat, "fuck, Y/N." 

He says your name like the syllables alone are appraising. 

You can tell when it gets too much for him. He slows. His face drops into your shoulder, and he matches his pace to the wet kisses he leaves behind. Your wetness feels stickying, each of his thrusts snug. 

His breath hitches, ragged pants accompanying every slow push of his hips. "Where's my girl?" he asks, eyes still closed as his hand abandons where it'd been squeezing the bump of your tummy to search further downward, fingers disappearing into your folds, short curls wet with slick. He can't find any purchase. You roll your hips, chase his touch and the pleasure that comes with it. 

He groans into your shoulder. It sounds more pain than pleasure. 

"Are you okay?" you ask, trying to turn in his arms. He holds you in place. "Eddie?" 

"Yeah, fuck, I'm okay." He grinds up into your cunt. "Fuck, you're perfect." 

"Will you kiss me?" 

He does. It's nowhere near the bruising press you'd wanted. It's too careful. 

"Listen," he murmurs, "I'm gonna get you on your front, okay? Gonna make you feel so good," he promises, waiting for you to nod before he pushes your shoulder away from him and climbs up behind you. You lay flat on your stomach and Eddie settles on your thighs, a heavy weight. 

He pushes into your cunt with two fingers first, the new position allowing for a new pleasure. He pumps in and out and swaps his fingers for his cock quickly after, bearing the full weight of his body into your back as sinks to the hilt. 

You both moan in time, hands fisted in the sheets. 

He kisses your neck, lips parted, and his teeth feel so sharp that your heart sinks as it had in the bathroom. 

"Eddie-" you start. 

He pulls away, stops every movement. 

"Eddie," you say again. What are you supposed to say? You both know what he is. 

There's a lull where neither of you knows what to do filled by your too-fast breathing.

"I won't hurt you," he says, hands rubbing up the length of your back and then under. He holds a hand over your heart. He drops his lips to your back. "Do you want me to stop?" 

He must feel your pulse calm under his touch, but he still asks again when you don't answer. "Do you want me to stop? It's okay if you do. You're okay, baby, I promise." 

You steal a pillow from against the headboard and rise up on elbows. Your admission comes weak but completely honest. "Fuck me, Eddie, please... I want you. I want you-" Your murmuring's interrupted by a sharp breath as Eddie starts to move again, the head of his cock pushing into your cunt, a slick, perfect feeling. 

He moans from the back of his throat as his cock pushes into you again and again, hips smacking the dough of your ass as his pace quickens. You hug your pillow tightly, tears popping up in the corners as he ruts deep. 

"Being so good for me," he groans, clamped down on your hip with a vice-like grip. "Fuck, you feel so good. Fucking clinging to me every time I pull out, baby, Christ." His blasphemy is punctuated by a thrust that has you sliding up the bed, sheets wrinkling under your arms. You spread your thighs and wetness pools at your clit as his pelvis thrusts into you, driving pleasure so deeply it aches in your hips.

You moan pathetically and reach back to hold his hand, wiggling your fingers. He takes it in one and presses your arm against your lower back with the other, struggling to maintain a steady pace as he gets close to cumming. You're a babbling stream of sounds as he fucks in deep, swollen sweet spot tapped against mercilessly.

He throws himself back on his haunches, cock dragged out of your heat. 

You pull your legs out from underneath him and curl onto your side to watch, eyes wide as white spurts of pearlescence jump out of the head of his reddened cock and drip down the bumps of his fingers. He leans back, his stomach and thighs tensed with every pump. 

He groans through a smile, moan's coloured by a happy, relieved laughter. "F-uck," he drags, fisting his cock dry. 

He meets your eyes as the last of it slides down onto his stomach. 

You smile softly. "Fuck," you mumble. 

Eddie wipes his hand in his jeans like a fucking hooligan and tucks his cock back into his boxers with a wince, and then he collapses on top of you. He's sort of nice about it, his arm over your shoulder and his face behind your ear. 

"Fucking beautiful," he praises, dropping his head back on the bed so you're face to face. "You're so fucking pretty. So perfect." He kisses you. "You're perfect," he repeats, staring intently into your eyes. 

You pull a hand from between your legs, smelling of sex. Eddie literally couldn't care less if he tried, and he lets you take his face into your hand without complaint. 

He gets his arm under your arm and starts to rub your back. "You want me to take care of you again?" he asks, eyebrows raised gently. "Yeah?" 

And you would let him, you would, but you need to see them for yourself. 

You touch your index fingertip to his lip. 

"Can I see?" you ask. 

He loses his boisterous joy, tamps it down. He realises that he can't lie, that he hasn't been lying, and he nods. You tremble as you pull his lip up over his canine tooth, excited and scared.

A sharp, exceptionally white tooth pokes out of Eddie's gums. You're taken aback, though you'd known exactly what you'd find.

A fang. 

Blood oozes at the gums. 

"You're bleeding," you worry aloud, touching your finger to the dark beading at the base of his tooth. 

Eddie's eyes rove over your face thoughtfully. He pulls your hand away from his lip and sets it on his neck instead. "They always do that. The gum heals, breaks when they wanna come out." 

"How often do they come out?" 

"A lot more since I met you. Whenever my adrenaline spikes, they seem to think it's… feeding time." 

That is a dizzying thing to learn. 

You're not sure how you feel, but you know one thing: he's Eddie. "It's too bad," you say, forcing a lightness that turns real more easily than you expect. "I really want to kiss you right now." 

He strokes your cheek with his thumb. "I really wanna kiss you too. Maybe a small one?" 

You find yourself leaning forward, unafraid. 

He kisses you once, twice, three times, the two of you holding each other's faces and covered in mess. Slick and sweat and blood. The hearts and stars from your lamp spray over his hip and paint him with pinks, greens, oranges, a rainbow cutting over his trim waist. You rest your hand overtop, feel his keloid scars like hills under your fingers. 

"My boyfriend's a vampire," you mutter, bemused at fate.

Eddie blinks at you. "I'm your boyfriend?" 

"Yeah, I think so. Don't you?" 

Eddie pulls you into his chest and doesn't let you go for a long, long time.

-

Your first time watching a blood sate is weird. 

For one, Chief Hopper is firmly against it. He's got his kid with him, the boy from the party that Mike had been so heavily doting on, and if he didn't you might think he was a pretty scary guy. 

"I think this is stupid," the chief says plainly. "I think this is stupid, I think you're stupid," — he points at Eddie where he's sitting sickly in the round couch — "and I think you're plain crazy, kid." He points at you last. 

You beam at him. "People have said that about me." 

His kid laughs. 

"Will," Hopper says tiredly, "go sit in the car." 

"Look, Chief, I know I messed up, okay, but she kind of stuck her hand in my mouth and I didn't really have a choice." 

Wayne looks at you with new eyes. "You did?" 

You nod at him faux-seriously. 

"And what gave her the inkling that you might have had something in your mouth worth looking at?" Hopper says, which is hilarious. You laugh behind your hand. 

He gives you a disapproving look that you completely ignore. If you'd taken notice of disapproval you would've stopped having this much fun years ago. 

"Uh, well, she might have… felt them?" His pitch rises. 

Hopper looks like he's about to blow a gasket when Will says, "What was he supposed to do? Never talk to anyone new ever again?" 

"He did a lot more than just talk to me," you say. There'd been a fixed bike, phone calls, lots of sandwiches, bug hunts, an entire sketchbook full of drawings. 

"I told you to wait in the car," Hopper says.

Will grins and raises his hands in surrender. "Bye," he mouths. You wave. 

Hopper waits for the door to close before he continues. "I get it, when you're a teenager you think your hormones are the end of the world-" 

"I'm almost twenty three." 

Hopper pinches his hand closed. "But you do not understand the danger that you are creating here."

"Like a stake-ing," you whisper, very very quietly. Eddie's the only one who can hear you, and he laughs so hard he snorts. 

"I'm glad you find this funny." Hopper's tone could not imply the opposite any more. 

He hands Wayne a paper bag that audibly sloshes and stalks out, his anger a palpable cloud of steam rising off of his shoulders. Eddie seizes up beside you at the sound, lips parting as his fangs come through. You don't touch him because you value your blood inside your body, only slide away from him and smile. "You okay, handsome?" 

"Kid, maybe the chief is right. We don't know how Eds is gonna act with you here," Wayne says. 

You nod respectfully. You like Wayne, and he knows about all of this stuff more than you ever could. 

"No," Eddie mumbles, putting his hand out for you across the couch. 

You take it without thinking. 

Wayne sighs. You can hear him grumbling as he disappears from view into the kitchen and puts a pot on the stove. There's the sound of a bag being punctured with a knife, a wet slosh. Eddie's grip on your hand tightens. 

You're still fascinated that he even drinks blood in the first place. That's wickedly sickening. Wicked, because it's cool that he's a vampire, with his impressive hearing, senses and smell. But sickening, because if you had to drink a pint of blood every couple of weeks you'd throw up. 

"I read about a new blood-sucker." 

Eddie raises his heavy head. "Another bug?" 

"No, a finch! A vampire finch. They're really pretty, Teddy. They're small and brown with long beaks and they drink blood because there's barely any water on their island." You give him a loving smile. "They aren't parasites. S'just how they had to change to survive." 

He squeezes your hand, this time on purpose. 

"Are you gonna come and have it in here, Eddie?" Wayne asks, one last shot at separating the two of you.

"I'm okay," he says loudly. His eyes trace your smile. "Really." 

It can't be fun to have two people watch you drink a warm mug of blood, but Eddie finds it funny. He keeps laughing every time he brings the rim of the glass to his mouth. 

"I can't do it if you're looking at me," he says. 

Wayne rolls his eyes and looks away. You cover your face with both hands and part your fingers to spy on him through the gaps. He makes it look easy, draining the mug basically in one long pull, though his hunger turns violent as the cup empties. He chokes. Blood trickles down from one corner of his mouth. 

You automatically want to reach over and wipe it away. Wayne grabs your arm before you can and gives you a fatherly look that says, I wouldn't do that if I were you. 

"Shit," Eddie says, slamming his now empty mug down on the coffee table. It makes a grating sound like a ground mortar and pestle. He sits as far back on the couch cushions as he can, nausea clear on his face. 

"Deep breath," Wayne says. 

"Fuck, Wayne." 

"You're aces. Deep breaths." 

Your heart hurts watching Eddie like this. He covers his mouth with eyes closed tightly and breathes hard through his nose. Already there's colour coming back into his face, not a lot but anything is an improvement. He'd been practically grey. 

When Eddie pulls his hand from his mouth blood has spread over his lips and jaw. Your eyes widen.

"I'll get the shower running," Wayne says, slapping his knees as he stands. He stops before the hallway. "Good job, Eddie." 

The boy in question slouches into a ball on the sofa and nods into a cushion. You wait for the sound of Wayne pulling the shower cord that turns on the hot water before you stand up, head tipped to one side. 

"You okay, handsome?".

"Tired." 

"You want a hug from me?" 

"Is anyone else offering?" He opens one eye to peek at you and grins at your distraught expression. "I'm joking, I'm kidding. C'mere, before I start bawling." You sit and then flop onto your side, pulling your legs up next to his. "Such a frowny face." His voice is adorably tired.

"Better than yours. You look like someone from Night of the Living Dead, baby." 

Eddie's arm lies limp like a dead fish over your waist. "Lemme nibble on your brains," he says, words thick as dark honey, eyes closed. "Just a snack." 

You're waiting for someone to pull the rug out from under your feet. No way your boyfriend, your cries at the end of every movie, brings you flowers because he felt like it, won't step on cracks in the sidewalk boyfriend just skulled a glass of O-negative like it was a milkshake. 

You feel guilty as soon as you think about it. He's not confined to all his softest parts and he never will be. He's snarky and angry and loud. He plays guitar like a real rockstar and he doesn't take anyone's shit. He's a survivor. A glass of blood every now and then was never gonna stop him. 

You keep wondering if you should let him suck your blood. It could be hot. It could also probably be the worst idea ever, a relationship faux pas up there with proposing after a month or saying I love you on the first date. 

"What are you thinking about?" he asks. 

You brush the hair out of his eyes with your ring finger. "Embarrassing relationship fumbles." 

"Oh yeah? Like letting your girlfriend watch you drink human blood from a mug shaped like Woodstock?" 

"Least it wasn't Snoopy." 

"God forbid." 

"Is it always like this?" You stroke your hand down his face and rub along his jaw with your thumb. "D'you always get sleepy?" 

"Yeah." He turns his face so your hand covers his mouth. 

You've stopped wearing silver jewellery, your wrists bare besides the endearingly awful friendship bracelet he's constructed for you. Not a friendship bracelet, he'd corrected. You're not kissing other friends, are you? Because that's really gonna put a downer on this whole thing.  

You dip your forehead to his chin and the two of you lay there in silence. You can smell blood, a thick, metallic stick permeating every corner of the room. It's especially strong between the both of you. 

"Do you wanna bite me right now?" you inquire without opening your eyes. 

"Not really. Blood sate kicks in quickly. It's the worst for, like, the first ten seconds after. Now I wanna sleep, but Wayne's gonna make me shower." 

"Maybe I can shower with you." 

"I'm sure he'd jump for joy if you suggest it." 

"Really?"

Eddie kisses your hand. "No," he says with a giddy laugh. 

"I'll pretend I'm gonna sit on the toilet. Keep watch." 

"How will you stop your hair from getting wet?" 

"I'll lean out." 

Eddie laughs even more than he had been, peeling laughter that warms you from the inside out as he kisses your hand again. "That'll definitely work." 

Wayne clears his throat. 

"Shower's hot. I'm going out. For an hour." Eddie perks up. His uncle looks him dead in the eye. "Don't make me regret this." 

And while Wayne had been under the impression you and Eddie were gonna have some grown up fun together in the shower, what you really do is an innocent act of affection: you wash Eddie's hair. 

"You have to lean your head back," you chide. 

"I am." 

"More than that." 

"There's no room." 

You're lucky you both fit. You're freezing standing behind Eddie, the only relief the warm water that trickles down from your hands to your elbows as you draw circles in his scalp, working the shampoo into a fine lather. 

"How did you get blood here?" you ask, scratching rusty flakes from the hair behind his ear. 

"I don't know. It gets everywhere. Like eyeshadow." 

You push your chin over his shoulder. "You wear eyeshadow?" 

"For shows." 

"Really?"

"Is it hard to believe?" 

You encourage his head under the water and rake your hands through his curls, encouraging the soapy water down to the ends with patient hands. "Lip gloss too? Hey, can I do your makeup?" 

"Maybe tomorrow," he bargains. While the shower has helped to wake him up, lethargy remains thick and unshakeable as adamant. 

You kiss the wet ridge of his shoulder blade, picturing his pretty face decked out in dark liners and sticky balm. "Thank you." 

"I haven't worn any in a long time. Haven't played a show in a really long time." 

You wring the water out of his hair and search in the steam for his conditioner. It's mostly empty. "You could put on a show for me. I never got to see you play," you say, shaking it really hard. A dollop collects in your hand and you work the dregs through the ends of his long hair. 

"You want that?" 

"I think you're the best guitar player in the world." 

You're not joking. He's the best, and he plays guitar. And he's pretty good, semantics aside. You love sitting out on the porch with him and listening to him play old rock songs off the top of his head. You could watch his hands move over the strings for hours. 

"If that's the case, I can definitely put on a show. Make-up, costume, stage dives. The whole nine yards. Anything for my girl." 

You roll the ends of his hair between two coated palms and step back. "There. You have to let it soak in for a couple of minutes." 

Eddie turns with a grin, angling his chest and hair forward, away from the stream. 

"Whatever will we do?"

You wipe an escaped streak of blood off of his bottom lip and smile. "I have no idea." 

You kiss. Eddie leans down and you move up, damp noses glancing off of each other. You're used to short kisses, never enough to make his heart race in case it prompts an unnecessary appearance of his fangs, so when Eddie encourages your lips apart to wade in deeper you pull back questioningly. 

"Blood sate. I'm 'sated'. They won't come out." 

Your jaw drops. "For real?" 

He shakes his head with a pleased smile. "For real. Kiss me sick, sweetheart." 

You throw your arm around his neck and drag his face to yours, kissing with an ardency that both surprises and amuses him. He laughs into your open mouth until suddenly he's not laughing at all, only breathing, pushing against you with the same urgent force and the same adoring smile. 

"Does this mean you can give me a hickey?" you ask enthusiastically. Eddie has yet to give you a proper love bite.

He leans back under the show spray and pulls you in with him, laughing when you dissolve like rice paper in his arms, finally warm. There's never been a sweeter sound. 

/\^._.^/\

thank you for reading! | my masterlist | my halloween party

if you enjoyed reading his, please consider reblogging. i promise it makes a huge difference

[hannieehaee]

18+ / mdi

content: lovesick!minghao, established relationship, he's so sweet it makes me sick, afab reader, smut, penetrative sex, oral (f receiving), etc.

wc: 1298

a/n: i 100% believe minghao would be absolutely obsessed with his s/o which is why i loved writing this hehe tysm to the person who requested <3 i also clearly missused the word lovesick idk lmao anyways he's in love!

masterlist

you were his favorite sight. you always had been. even before finally growing the balls to make you his, he had always been extremely infatuated with you. there was no wrong you could do in his eyes. you were pure perfection.

it was easy for him to lose himself in you night after night. after coming home from an exhausting day of schedules, there was nothing he loved more than to arrive home to you.

he would usually arrive late into the night, which meant that he was always welcomed by the pretty sight of you laying on your shared bed, waiting for him. nothing excited him more than slowly undressing himself as he made his way towards you, pliant and ready for him to take you. this had become a bit of a routine. he'd come home, wordless in his arrival as he made his way to your shared room. that's where you'd be waiting for him, only a shirt (one of minghao's, of course) and some pretty panties covering your body while you awaited for him to join you in bed.

that's where things would get fun. neither of you needed to say anything. he'd usually be in just his boxers by the time he made it to the bed, having slowly unbuttoned his shirt as he walked towards you. he'd hover over your body immediately upon making contact with the bed, allowing his hands to caress you to his liking before throwing off your shirt. your body would be so warm and soft for him, making him sigh at the lightest of contact. it was all soft and intimate. the lights dimmed and the atmosphere warm. it was always like this, and today was no exception.

'"my love ..."

"hao ...", you breathed back at him.

he had started to run his hands up and down your body, feeling every warm curve under his wake. he loved the goosebumps he'd provoke from your skin, feeding in on your breaths of contentment at his touch.

"you're so beautiful. can't believe i have you in my bed every night," his eyes were glued to your nude body, continuing his teasing soft touches. his hands had moved up to your breasts, giving you the lightest of touches but still enough to make you quietly whine at him.

"what is it, beautiful? want my fingers here?" he reached to your nipple, pinching it lightly as you let out a deep breath, "no? how about my tongue?" he lowered his head to make contact with your nipple, keeping eye contact with you all the while. he licked lightly at it, making you whine at him. then he got a little mean. he blew on the now wet bud, relishing on the increase in volume of your next whine.

"god, you make it so hard to control myself. so beautiful and pliant for me. all for me, right?"

"yes, hao. yours ..."

there were no words he enjoyed hearing more than those. and now his lust was growing too strong for him to hold back. he needed you. he needed you in all ways possible.

he made his way to the edge of the bed, dragging your legs along with him to sit you at the edge, now with his face in direct line with your cunt. it all felt like slow-motion; his movements all soft and calculated.

with no warning, he dove in, tongue first as he softly licked at you. he fed on your whines and the feeling of your hands digging into his hair, demanding more. there was no way for him to deny you. you were far too perfect for him to not want to indulge your every need.

"h-hao ... fuck, feels so good ..."

"yeah? like my tongue, angel? gonna drink you up. taste as beautiful as you look."

and it was true. minghao had grown addicted to your taste over the time you'd been together. he'd insist on having you on his tongue almost every day. some days he'd simply come home and place you on your hands and knees without so much as a word, only to eat it from behind as he pleaded at you to push up against him as he frantically licked and sucked you to completion. today he was a bit softer than most days, allowing himself to truly savor you.

your end came very quickly despite the slowness of his movements. minghao knew your body like his own by now, knowing exactly how and where to touch to get you to writhe against him as your toes curled. he savored your orgasm just as much as you did, groaning against you at the sound of your whines of his name. his. his and no one else's.

now it was time for him to have his beautiful girl. easily his favorite part of the day. he gave you no time to rest before he positioned you in order to hover over you once more, allowing his hands to run through your body once again.

"can't seem to stop touching you, pretty. you're just too unreal. can't believe i got myself such a pretty angel."

"hao ... touch me, please ..."

"shhh. let me take my time, yeah? just wanna enjoy my beautiful girl", and enjoy you, he did.

he lowered his head to yours, pulling you in for a deep kiss. your immediate mewl against him had him losing control. he'd always known how much you liked his lips, sometimes even using them as colateral to make you chase after him. he loved that without fail, you would always trail after him whenever he pulled away from a kiss. almost as if you could never get enough of him. he felt very similarly about you himself.

he couldn't help himself for much longer, beginning to grind his hard length against you, loving the way you whined against his lips at the feeling. he pulled away for a second, with you predictably trying to keep your lips glued as you chased after his touch. his touch only left you for a second as he adjusted himself in order to enter you. the moment he finally slid in, you cried out his name in the prettiest voice he had ever heard.

he connected your lips again, now thrusting his hips against yours while he pulled your legs to your chest, wanting you as close as physically possible.

"you bring me the most, pleasure. didn't know it was possible to fee- fuck .. to feel this way until i met you. my gorgeous angel. prettiest thing i've ever held in my arms," his breath was ragged, clearly having a hard time keeping up with his words as he over exerted himself in dragging his hips against yours.

you were worse off than him, unable to produce any word other than cries of his name. but this was just how he liked it. he adored knowing he was the only thing in your mind. that the thought of him made you as lightheaded as you did him.

you met your end as he began to toy with your clit, only to provoke his own orgasm just seconds later. he groaned against the tightness of your cunt, letting out a few 'i love you's throughout his climax, relishing on your quiet 'i love you too's. he laid you under his covers after that, softly cleaning you up of any traces of your intimate acts before giving you a soft peck and pulling you into his arms.

"thank you for welcoming me home into your arms every night, my angel. i love you."

"love you more," he knew that was impossible, but chose to let you win this once, too spent to argue with you about his endless adoration for you.

[sunarinscat]

Oral fixation with Toge Inumaki..

warnings: A little nsfw below the cut, Toge spits in your mouth 🙈 might make a part 2 of this Drabble

You sit on the couch watching a horror movie, bottom lip tucked under your teeth as suspenseful music trills. Blues and purples from the tv illuminate the dark room as you cuddle into the blankets strewn across the couch. The movie is interesting but Toge’s eyes are focused on your mouth and the little indents your teeth leave on that plump bottom lip.

The suspense gets to you and you hide your face away into his arm, pawing sweetly at his chest.

Poor thing, you just can’t handle scary movies like this. It’s ok, he knows how to distract you.

His fingers come down to tilt your jaw towards him and his purple gaze shifts to your eyes then your lips. He slides his index and middle fingers into your mouth and presses down on your tongue, drawing a surprised whine from you. The girl in the movie shrieks and your eyes dart back to the screen, but Toge can’t have you losing focus. He opens his mouth to command you.

“Eyes over here baby.”

And you obey, mouth still agape as he moves the pads of his fingers along your tongue. He uses his other hand to force your jaw shut and you shudder.

“Suck on them.”

You couldn’t resist if you wanted to.. not that it’s a problem. Your tongue swirls around his fingers as you suck on them fervently. The movie was long forgotten. Toge watches with lidded eyes, heat rising to his face. He presses his fingers further into your tongue, the pressure making you hum as your eyes flutter shut. The hand holding your jaw travels across your body, teasing you. He traces the ridges of your collar bone and the muscles of your delicate neck. You know he won’t go any lower then that without making you beg. He eventually removes his fingers from your mouth and you begrudgingly let them go with a wet pop. They are covered in a sheen of spit that reflects the light of the tv. He holds eye contact as he puts his fingers in his own mouth, tasting you.

“Fuck Toge.. that was hot.”

He finally brings his hands back to your neck and lowers his face to taste your lips himself. He lands a quick peck before hovering just above you.

“Open wide babydoll.”

You open your mouth obediently, eyes hazy and unfocused. He snickers at your expression. He’s hardly even done anything to you.

“Stick that tongue out for me.”

He then gathers up a fat glob of spit on his tongue and lets it drop into your mouth. It’s so warm and sticky and disgusting but it makes you moan in response. He follows it to your lips, kissing you hard before you even have time to swallow his little gift.

He bullies his tongue into your mouth and feels every crevice his fingers had missed as his saliva mixes with your own. It’s slow.. and sensual.. and fuck your soaked. Your whines grow in frequency and volume as the kiss deepens. You let your hands wander up his shirt, feeling his hard chest beneath your finger tips. Then it’s gone.

His lips are off of yours in an instant and his hands leave your neck. He pulls his shirt down and lets a smirk tug at his mouth.

“Watch the movie.”

You can’t refuse. Your head snaps back towards the screen, eyes glued to the gruesome scene before you. You can’t help but whimper as you press your thighs together under the blanket, trying to relieve the heat rising in your lower tummy. Your hands wander to his body despite your fixed gaze.

“Toge…”

“Sit still.”

Your hand retreats to your lap and your left with drenched panties and nothing you can do about it. God he can be so mean.

Reblogs with tags are always appreciated <3

[kpop---scenarios]

Reckless (1)

Pairing: Lee Know x Reader

Genre: Brothers best friend

Warning: Language, a little violence etc, smut later on

Word Count: 3k

“Jisung!” You yell from your room, covering your ears with your pillow. If he didn't shut the fuck up, you were going to lose it. “Jisung!” You scream again. Angrily, you crawl out of your bed, stomping your way across the hallway to his room. You try to open the door but the door is locked. You pound on the door, anger flowing through you.

“Open the door!” You yell, pounding even harder. Finally the door swings open, your brother looking annoyed.

“The fuck do you want?” He asks, rubbing his face.

“I have an exam tomorrow. I can't sleep with the fucking music coming from your room.” You yell. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Wear some headphones then.” Jisung scoffs.

“I swear to fucking..” you pause, as Jisungs best friends comes to the door.

“Feeling feisty tonight, are we?” Minho chuckles, moving past your brother and out of his room.

“Yeah I am, watch out.” You snap, stomping back to your room, slamming the door behind you.

Your parents had been gone for months for work, and unfortunately for you Jisung had decided to slack off at school despite school only being in for 3 months. He was partying constantly and having his degenerate friends over at the house all the time. Lee Know, or Minho was the worst of them all and he never fucking left.

He was an arrogant, annoying, selfish, violent, short tempered man who you disliked the most out of all Jisung’s friends. The two of them were a few years older than you, both supposed to be in University but the way things were currently going, you didn't know how much longer either of them were going to be enrolled. You however were in your first year at the same University and you were not going to take your opportunity for granted. You wanted to get out of this town and move away onto bigger and better things.

As the volume of the music is finally lowered, you get comfortable in your bed, easily falling asleep, finally.

The next morning you're up early, deciding payback was much needed for keeping you up half the night. As you're hopping around your room, singing along to your loud music, getting ready for class, you faintly hear a pounding on your door. You laugh to yourself as you make your way, ripping the door open, seeing an annoyed Minho standing there, shirtless with a pair of sweats on.

“It's 7am.” He deadpans.

“And?” You ask.

“I've been sleeping for 2 hours.” He groans. “Turn it down.”

“That sounds like a you problem.” you begin. “Also, last I checked, this isn't your house.” You smile, closing the door in his face before he can say anything. You head to your stereo, turning the music down, for a few minutes until you felt like he was comfortable in bed again, starting to doze off and you turned it up again. Not long after you turned it off completely, heading to the kitchen to grab a banana before you headed to the bus stop. You wanted to get to school a little earlier than usual, taking time to go over your psychology notes for your exam, one last time.

“Y/N.” You hear from behind you in the library. You turn around, seeing your best friend, Hyunjin, standing there with bags under his eyes, holding a mass amount of papers, and looking extremely uneasy.

“Hyunjin.. what happened?” You ask, trying not to laugh at the poor man looking so defeated.

“it's literally the 3rd month of school, and I'm going to fucking flunk out.” He gasps, sitting next to you.

“No you're not.” You chuckle, flipping over your notes to look at the backside.

“I tried to study all night but I kept falling asleep. Why did I come here? I hate it.” He pouts. You shake your head at the man, focusing on your notes.

“Well.” You sigh. “At this rate, I'll be failing with you. Minho was at my house again last night. He and Jisung were blasting music until all hours.” You say, rolling your eyes.

“Minho was at your house?” Your other friend, Jisoo gasps, pulling up a chair beside you. “You're so lucky.”

“He's so fucking annoying.” You retort.

“But he's so hot.” Jisoo grins.

You ignored her last comment, you didn't want to vocally agree with her, because the last thing you needed was for your words to get back to him and inflate his head more than it already was.

“And to be honest, so is your brother. Is he single?” She asks.

“He's single. But I'm going to tell you not to go there because I don't want you to stop being my friend.” You laugh. “He's a terrible human being.”

“But he's hot.” Jisoo swoons, batting her eyes at you.

“Gross.” You sigh, looking at your phone. You gather your things off the table, dragging Hyunjin behind you to your psychology classroom.

“Please, Y/N.” He begs from behind you. You turn your head to look at him, giggling at the pitiful man who is usually so confident. This exam really has him fucked up. You turn your head again to look where you're going, and bump into someone, knocking your papers and bag to the floor.

“Ugh, I'm so sorry.” You sigh, bending down to pick up your things. You look up, seeing Minho glare down at you. You roll your eyes instantly, scoffing. “Actually I'm not sorry.” You say, finishing picking everything up. You stand up, Minho still staring at you but now smiling. Hyunjin comes up beside you, swinging his arm around your shoulders.

“Come on.” He says, pulling you away from Minho, who still hadn't said a word to you, but the smile never left his face.

“You got this.” You say to Hyunjin, your hands on his shoulders as you both take deep breaths outside your classroom door.

“So do you.” He breathes. “Drinks after?” He asks. You glance at your watch, 12:58pm. You should be done by 4pm..

“Abso-fucking-lutely.” You grin as the two of you make your way into the class.

3 hours later, you both emerge from the room, disheveled hair, sweat and tear stains present on both of you.

“How did..” Hyunjin starts. You put your hand up to stop him.

“Not yet. Shots..lots of shots.” You whimper. The two of you link arms, heading for the pub down the street from campus.

Hours later, you stumble home. As you stand in your yard you see lights flashing inside, and you can hear the bass thumping from the street. Jisung would throw a party on a random Thursday. That's just what he does. You quickly text Hyunjin and Jisoo to come over and party with you, both of them replying that they'll be there soon. You head inside, your brother spots you immediately.

“Y/N.. it's only just started. Don't shut me down.” He fake cries. You glare at him, seeing Minho walk up behind him. A few of his other friends were standing around, a lot of other people you didn't know also staring at you.

“Let's do some fucking shots!” You yell, making your way to the kitchen, hearing the cheers from the party goers. You walk past a chuckling Minho on your way to the kitchen. You glare at him before grabbing his sleeve, pulling him in there with you and a few others to take some shots. As you're about to do your second one, Hyunjin and Jisoo walk in. You were already drunk from your after exam drunks with Hyunjin, and now you were feeling it even more.

“Jinnie.” You squeal, putting your arms out for a hug. He grins as he wraps his arms around you, holding you tightly. Instantly you hear Jisoo’s flirty voice come to play, you break the hug to turn around and see Jisoo and Jisung tucked in a corner talking.

That made you want to vomit. You turn back towards the group taking shots, quickly pouring one for Hyunjin before you all take it. “Let's dance!” You yell, walking past Minho with Hyunjin in tow. You're dancing, laughing and just all around having a good time but you can't help but notice Minho standing against the wall with his arms crossed, eyes trained on you. They roamed up and down your body as he watched you dance, and you hated that the way he was looking at you, that the way he was biting his lip was turning you on so much.

“I'm gonna get a drink.” You tell Hyunjin, making your way to the kitchen. You feel a hand on your wrist, pulling you down the hallway instead.

“You looked really hot out there.” a guy tells you. You have no clue who this dude was, and frankly you were not interested.

“Thanks.” You respond, turning back towards the kitchen.

He grabs you again. “I wasn't done talking to you.” He half laughs.

You can feel the annoyance building up inside of you. “But I'm done.” You say, trying to walk away again. His grip tightens, pushing you against the wall.

“I'm trying to get to know you better.” He scoffs. “Don't be so rude.”

“I'm not interested.” You tell him, as if your current lack of interest wasn't enough.

He stares at you, refusing to move, not saying a word. You can see the wheels turning in his head as he tries to figure out what to say to you next. Before he can get his words out, he's shoved away from you, sliding down the floor of the hallway. Your mouth hangs open as you turn to look and see who your savior was.

Minho stands there, his eyes practically shooting daggers into the man.

“Are you fucking dumb, Changbin?” Minho asks.

“What the fuck, dude?” Changbin scoffs, scrambling up off the floor.

“That's Jisung's little sister you fucking moron.” Minho snaps, pointing at you.

“Oh shit.. I'm sorry! I didn't know!” He panics. Your eyes bounce between the two men, not sure why Changbin sounded so scared of your idiot brother.

“I'll let you off this time.” Minho starts. “If I catch you near her again, I will beat the fucking shit out of you.” He finishes. Changbin nods his head before running off into the crowd.

“You okay?” Minho asks as you rub your wrist. You nod your head.

“Yeah.. thanks.” You smile, returning to the party. The rest of the night, wherever you went, Minho was there, off in the distance watching you. You weren't uncomfortable from it but you did wish that he would go and enjoy himself. He didn't need to keep an eye on you, and as you got drunker, you decided to let him know.

“You.. keep staring.” You hiccup, placing your hand on the wall by his head. He smirks as he looks at you, barely able to stand up straight, eyes fluttering open and closed. You were a goddamn mess.

“Let's get you to bed, mhm?” He says, wrapping his arm around your waist to help you up the stairs. As you're walking up, you unfortunately see Jisung and Jisoo locking lips, making all the drinks you had all night threaten to come up.

“Get a room you sick fucks.” You slur, walking past them. Jisoo comes up for air looking embarrassed but only for a second before Jisung steals her attention back. Minho helps you to your room, you stand in the middle, your arms up high. He looks at you with a raised eyebrow, wondering what the fuck you were waiting for.

“I can't sleep in my clothes.” You whine. “but I'll fall if I undress myself.” You pout.

Minho reluctantly walks towards you, grabbing the hem of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head, leaving you in a bra and your pants. He moves his hands down towards the button of your jeans. You hop back a little, almost losing your balance as you laugh, hysterically.

“Funny.” He fake chuckles, moving towards you again. You grab onto his arm, spinning yourself around to his back, sliding your hands up and down his body. You reach around to his stomach, moving your hands under his shirt, running them over his abs.

“Ugh.” You groan at the feeling.

He quickly turns around facing you once again, a smile spread across his face. You knew he wanted to be mad at you but he couldn't.

“Take your pants off or I'm gonna throw you down onto the bed and take them off for you.” He threatens. You blush, hard.

“Is that a threat or a promise?” You ask, cocking your head to the side. Minho reaches out for you, grabbing you by the waist of your jeans, pulling you towards him. “It's a little of both.” He tells you as he tries to undo your button. You were having too much fun in the moment, you didn't want it to end just yet. You grab his hands, pushing him away from you, laughing as he runs his hands through his hair. He has never seen this giggling playful side of you before, and he was enjoying the fuck out of it.

“Y/N.” He says sternly, his hands on his hips.

“Minho.” You say, putting your hands on your hips, pushing your hip out, pursing your lips. He's trying to remain serious but he can't. He starts laughing as he rubs his face, groaning in frustration.

“Take off your pants!” He yells.

“Yes sir!” You giggle as you take off your pants, leaving you in your bra and panties. Minho hands you a pair of pj shorts that he grabbed from your dresser. You semi quickly put them on before turning around, facing away from him to unhook your bra. It slides down your body, onto the floor. You smile to yourself.

“I bet you're upset, huh?” You giggle, turning your head to look at him.

“Why would I be upset?” He asks.

“Cause you can't see my boobies.” You laugh, turning slightly to show him a little side boob. “I think you'd like them.” You say, looking at him. His eyes are focused down, looking at what you're showing him. “Tsk tsk, naughty boy.” You scold, slipping your shirt on, turning around to face him.

He stares at you, and you stare back. You examine his face, his large veiny arms and hands, his roughly tousled hair.

“Jisoo was right.” You whisper.

“About?” He asks.

“You.” You hiccup. “She said you were hot.”

“And what did you say?” He asks.

“I didn't say. Cause I don't need my words going to your thick ass head.” You giggle.

“If they wouldn't go to my head, what would you say?” He asks.

“That you're really fucking hot. But you're a little violent and hot headed.” You sigh. “Buuut you're not allowed to know that so shhh.. cause Jisung said you're off limits.”

“Since when do you do what your brother tells you?” He laughs.

“I listen to him!” you say. No you didn't. “Actually, never.” You hiccup.

He doesn't reply. He stands there, staring at you. You can feel your breath hitch as he moves closer towards you, the palm of his hand gently laying on your cheek as his face moves closer to yours. You close your eyes, the world is spinning as you feel his lips press against yours. You feel like you're melting into the kiss as your lips move against his, his tongue slowly sliding into your mouth, deepening the kiss.

You could have sworn this was a dream, like his lips were perfectly made for your own. He slowly pulls away, turning to look at the door, and that's when you hear it.

“Minho!”

It's your brother's voice. “Lee fucking Know!” He yells.

“Go to sleep.” He says to you, turning and walking out of your room. You lay down in your bed, closing your eyes. The world only spins for a moment before you pass out.

**

“I'm never drinking again.” You gasp as you crawl out of your bed, desperately trying to make your way to the bathroom to get some water. Your throat was the driest it had ever been and you felt like you might actually die. Once you reach the sink, you shove your head underneath, drinking all the cold water you could get into your mouth. Fuck it tastes good. When you're finally satisfied, you drag your feet to change into some comfier clothes before heading downstairs. Luckily you didn't have class until the afternoon today, so you could try to recover this morning. You grab some food from the fridge, eating it cold, ignoring the passed out people scattered around your house.

“Morning.” You hear. You turn to look, seeing Minho walk into the kitchen, heading for the fridge.

“Morning.” You sigh.

“Hungover?” He asks you, grabbing some juice. You whimper as you nod your head. He laughs. You turn to glare at him, when suddenly you remembered. You think you remembered at least.

“Did..” you pause. “We.. um.. actually nevermind.” You say, turning away from him.

“Did we, what?” He asks, grinning.

“Kiss?” You whisper, looking around, making sure Jisung wasn't around.

“Me and you?” He asks, shocked. “Did you have a sex dream about me?” He gasps, placing his hand over his chest.

“What!? No! I just had a flash.. of something.. and we were kissing.” You try to explain.

“I feel so violated.” He fake cries. “I wasn't aware you thought of me like that.”

“Who's thinking of you like what?” You hear. Jisung walks into the kitchen, grabbing your food off the counter.

“Y/N.” Minho says. “I think she's into me.” He laughs.

“Yeah right.” Jisung chuckles. “Neither of you are dumb enough to do that.”

You look at Minho as he looks at you. Neither of you were dumb enough.. right?

[harmonicakai]

Mr. Know It All

Pairing: Taehyun x Reader

Summary: When you finally find yourself sleeping over at Taehyun’s dorm, you start to wonder if you and him could ever be something more serious.

Tropes: friends with benefits, mutual pining, angst, fluff, college AU, tutor!taehyun

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: mentions of sex (mdni), LOTS of overthinking

A/N: This is unedited and I wrote it all in one go lol <3

"And the songbirds are singing Like they know the score And I love you, I love you, I love you Like never before" —Songbird, Fleetwood Mac

Taehyun doesn’t know how to tell you that things aren't and never have been casual between the two of you.

It started one rainy afternoon after a study session in the library. The two of you had run through the deluge into the safety of his dorm room, and when he peeled off his wet clothes to change, you didn’t look away.

So, one semester later, right after you’ve finished moaning his name, he struggles to find the words to ask you to stay the night.

He hates watching you gather up your things and leave, refusing to be held by him for even a moment after both of you have finished what you came here for.

“Y/N,” he manages to get out, his voice barely above a whisper. You turn away from the door, your hair still messy, eyeliner smudged. “It’s raining.”

It’s code for “I love you. Please don’t leave.”

“Right,” you say, glancing out the window. Lightning flashes throughout the small dorm, with the crash of thunder following shortly after. Only a fool would leave in this weather. “I don’t have an umbrella.”

“You can stay,” Taehyun says, patting the bed beside him. You nod, crossing over and settling under the warm blanket. Despite how often you’re here in this position, it’s never under these circumstances.

“It seems like the rain is always bringing us together,” you laugh. You’re careful not to say anything loud enough for his roommate to hear through the walls, although in retrospect, you’ve never considered your volume when in bed with Taehyun before.

It’s awkward. Before any of this started, he was just the guy who helped you out with your math problem sets. Add in the perfect distraction from actually sitting down and having a conversation with each other, and you barely knew anything about him.

“I can sleep on the floor,” he offers, already sliding off of the twin sized mattress with a pillow in his arms. “I don’t want to bother you.”

You note how between sleeping next to you and on the floor, he’s decided that the latter is more bearable. 

Usually, the two of you are in perfect sync. He knows how to please you better than any other guy you’ve been with, making sure to do things the exact way that you like. Sometimes, you worry that he doesn’t think the same of you.

Are there other girls? You don’t see him as often as you’d like to, but maybe he’s just busy with other things. Kang Taehyun, the chronic overachiever and golden boy of SNU. What would he even want with a girl like you?

Surely, he spends all of his free time studying and going to band practice, you tell yourself.

At this point, your racing thoughts are never going to let you fall asleep.

“Taehyun,” you say, hoping you aren’t waking him up. You haven’t taken your eyes off the ceiling since he moved to the floor, half out of guilt that he’s even down there, and half worried you’ll catch yourself staring at him while he sleeps.

“Yeah?” he answers, his voice low. You wonder what it sounds like when he sings with his band. Maybe, if he asks you to, you’ll go to one of his concerts soon.

You hesitate, wondering whether or not he’ll say yes. “Can you come back up here?”

When you hear him gather his things and stand up, you finally let out the breath that you've been holding. Within seconds, he’s climbing in next to you, his body warm and strong.

“Are you cold?” he asks, pulling the covers up over your collarbone. “Sorry. I think the heater is broken and I haven’t had time to call maintenance.”

“Yeah, it’s a little chilly,” you confirm, although the temperature is fine. In fact, it might even be a little too hot.

“I can, uh,” Taehyun starts. You’ve never heard him stutter before. “I can hold you, if you want. That might help.”

“That would be nice,” you say, mentally cringing at how formal the exchange is. He positions himself behind you, snaking his arm around your waist and pressing his chest against your back.

“Is this better?” he asks, his voice still shaky. You worry that this level of intimacy is making him uncomfortable, but he nestles his head over your shoulder in a way that makes you finally stop overthinking. Maybe, just maybe, he feels the same way you do.

“Yes,” is all you manage to squeak out. He lets out a quiet laugh in relief before pressing a kiss into your shoulder blade. The small gesture sends a shockwave through your body.

“You’re cute,” he says, snuggling into you further. Is this really what things would be like if you didn’t run away after every hook up? It seems like second nature to him, making you question whether it actually means anything.

Still, he doesn’t bother to touch you now like he’s always dying to after you show up to class in a short skirt or send him a risky text when you know he’s running office hours. 

“I can hear you thinking,” he mutters, startling you. You break away from his grasp to turn and face him, his piercing eyes already fixed on you. “Is something wrong, Y/N?”

“No,” you attempt to lie, although your face says otherwise. Taehyun feels you stiffen in his arms, your gaze locked on his.

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” he concedes, his voice icy and monotone. “But I know something is wrong.”

How could he know that? What could Taehyun possibly know about you besides what you look like with your clothes off?

When he first got assigned to tutor you, he had scolded you for being late, and again for being unorganized. If you don’t open up to him now, he might actually revert to the same cold demeanor as before. 

Even worse, he might stop meeting up with you. With the school year ending next month, you’ll have no excuse to see each other anymore. The thought of being alone again brings you to tears.

Taehyun’s expression softens at the sight of you breaking down. “I’m sorry,” you cry, burying your face into his chest. His hand reaches up to stroke your hair, the other gently rubbing your back. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me tonight.”

“I do,” he sighs. You pull back just enough to look up at him through teary eyes. “I pushed things between us too far. I should’ve known that you wanted to keep things casual. I’m sorry, Y/N.”

You stare at him, awestruck at how wrong he is. You want nothing more than to know anything and everything about him.

Still, when you search for the right words to explain this, your brain draws a blank. The only thing you can do is cup his face and kiss him, your nerves finally settling when he melts into you.

You’ve kissed him hundreds of times by now, but this one feels like the first time.

It feels like forever before he pulls away from you, a wide grin on his face. “Please, please, please let me take you out to dinner.”

“Okay,” you smile back, unable to contain your giddiness. “I’d like that very much.”

“Tomorrow night?” he proposes. His eagerness makes you giggle. He might be the busiest person on campus, but he’ll clear his entire schedule if it means he gets to spend time with you.

“Sure,” you agree. “It’s a date. If we ever manage to get out of bed, that is.”

Taehyun laughs a little before pulling you into another kiss. By now, the rain has stopped, but you aren’t going anywhere.

—————-

Taglist: @orangesodafoam @deezbutz28 @ur-mother-realnotclickbait @iyeeeverydee @internet-folks @darlingz99 @foxyjun @stardustmooncakes @giaalorine @beomgyubabybear @niningtori @goquokka @csbenthusiast @moarmyjkhk @lizdevorak @sooberryworld @lonelybutterflytae @midnight-mochii @theresawtf @nowadays56 @jjklvr9 @baekberrie

P.S.: Please shoot me an ask or a reply if you’d like to be added to (or removed from) the taglist! Also, I struggle to keep up with different lists for individual members, but if you really don't want to be tagged on all of my works, just let me know and I will do my best to make a note <3

[seungkw1]

stress relief — yjh

♡ pairing: yoon jeonghan x afab!reader ♡ theme: fluff, smut (18+ mdni), established relationship ♡ wc: 1.7k ♡ warnings: oral (m. & f. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), brief wrist pinning (f. receiving), slight degradation kink, petnames (m. & f. receiving - babe, baby, love, etc.) ♡ a/n: requested by my bestie <3

“Surprise!”

Jeonghan stops halfway through the doorway, hand lingering on the knob - his tired eyes trying to process what he is currently seeing. 

His schedule has been nonstop lately, and even though he does a good job at hiding it you’ve noticed how worn out he’s been every time he gets home, usually at a very late hour. 

So - you decide to try and cheer him up. 

You cooked up a big pot of jjajangmyeon, careful to follow the recipe exactly as you are not always the best cook - but you tasted it and it was surprisingly delicious. You turned off the overheads, instead opting for low-lit lamps and lighting various candles around the condo; you also put on some relaxing classical music, playing at a low volume. The vibe is relaxing, and a bit romantic - not either one of yours’ usual style, but you know it’s what he needs. 

Finally processing his surroundings, he looks at you - his big brown eyes turning even wider. You also happened to be wearing his favorite top of yours - the one that hugs you nicely, that he always compliments you on (and very much likes to take off of you). 

You take his bag from him and set it on the ground, helping him out of his coat. You turn him around and immediately grab him by the waist, pulling him in and planting a big kiss on his lips. You pull back, a puzzled expression still on his face. 

“What’s all this for?”, he asks, and then a concerned look colors his face. “Shit, did I forget an anniversary or something??”

You shake your head. “No dummy, it’s just for you! Figured you deserved a relaxing night in for once, you’ve been so stressed lately.”

You squeeze his torso and bury your head into him - he lets out a sigh and you feel his body relax into you. 

“Yeah, I definitely have been.” 

He kisses you on the forehead. “Thanks babe.”

You grab his hands and pull him toward the dinner table. “Come on, don’t want the food to get cold!”

—-

You jump under the covers, wrapping your arms around Jeonghan and squishing yourself against him as tight as possible. After dinner and then curling up on the couch together to watch his favorite movie, his tension seems greatly diminished. But, you’re not quite done with him yet. 

Your legs and arms now wrapped around him like a koala clinging to a tree, you start kissing him on the cheek over and over again. 

“You’re ridiculous,” he says as he rolls his eyes at you, but the smile on his face tells you he’s thoroughly enjoying being showered with affection. 

“Just making sure you know how much I love you,” you state matter-of-factly, nuzzling your face into his neck and kissing him there too. 

He lets out an involuntary giggle. “Hey, that tickles!”

You softly turn his face toward yours, your nose pressed against his so you can stare eye-to-eye with him. 

“Really, though - I appreciate you so much. I don’t tell you nearly enough.”

His face begins to turn pink. “You’re being far too nice to me, I haven’t even been around all that much because of schedule and-“

You smush his lips with your hand, cutting him off mid-sentence. “Hush. Don’t be so hard on yourself, you have nothing to apologize for.”

“I just-“

You kiss him to shut him up. It’s been a hot minute since you two have had any quality time together, nevermind anything alone and intimate. You savor the softness of his lips, lightly stroking his hair as you kiss him slowly, your nose pressed gently against his. You always love the way he holds you tightly when kissing you, squeezing your body into his as he rubs your back. Before long, though, your soft and sweet kisses turn into full-blown making out - both of you grasping at each other needily, neither one of you wanting to spend one millimeter apart. 

Your hand makes its way down his torso - resting on his chest, then his stomach, then to the band of his underwear. You pause, fiddling with the hem for a few moments (you can’t help but tease him a little bit). He breaks away from your lips, a slight smirk on his face he places his hand on yours, continuing it further downward onto the bulge forming underneath the fabric. He lets out a low hum as you begin to caress him, the semi-hard bulge almost instantly turning into a full-blown erection. 

“My baby’s been so tense lately,” you coo at him. You pull his underwear down, his cock springing up onto his stomach. Leaning into his ear, you whisper, “But luckily I know a great way to relieve stress.”

He moans as you begin to stroke his length. 

“Does that feel good, love?”

“Mmm yeah, feels amazing…” he mutters, his usual soft, mellow voice turned low and husky. 

His cock begins to glisten with precum as you continue stroking - you feel your pussy becoming wetter by the second as well, but your focus right now is on Jeonghan. 

You move down, positioning yourself between his legs, taking his cock in your hand as you place the tip in your mouth. You swirl your tongue over the head, causing him to groan as he lazily places his hand on top of your head. You take his length in your mouth, swallowing all of it. 

“Ohmygoddd,” he mumbles. “It’s been too long, baby.”

You slide his cock out of your mouth, gazing up at him as you lick up and down his entire length a few times, stopping only to take his balls in your mouth as you stroke him with one hand. You resume sucking his cock as the hand resting on your head begins to tighten its grip - that and the soft moans coming out of him tell you he’s close already. 

His tip hits you in your throat nicely, the choking sensation turning you on even more. You sneak your hand down to your cunt, moaning as you feel its wetness and gently begin touching your clit. Jeonghan’s moans have quickly become much louder - you know he’s about cum. A few more good pumps and you feel his cock begin to twitch, the thick ropes of his release hitting the back of your throat. He holds your head down as he finishes - you continue sucking on him to ensure his pleasure to the fullest. His body relaxes as he comes down; you slowly pull your mouth off his cock, making sure you get every single last drop of his cum. He lifts his head up slightly, looking at you through heavy eyelids - you swallow, then open your mouth, sticking your tongue out, to show him its vacancy. His head plops back down onto the pillow, a contented smile on his face - you haven’t seen him this relaxed in weeks. Your mission accomplished, you crawl back up the bed to cuddle up beside him again, but as you do he abruptly rolls you over, laying on top of you as he pins your arms down to the bed by your wrists. You must look surprised, because he grins at you - giving you that sly look of his that means he’s about to have a little fun with you. 

“Don’t think I didn’t see you touching yourself just now, love. What makes you think you get to do my job for me?”

Before you can protest he has one hand at your cunt, swirling your juices around delicately with one finger. You let out a soft whimper, then suddenly a bigger one as his fingertip ever so lightly brushes against your clit, sending a jolt up your spine. 

“Look how wet you are - choking on my cock turn you on that much, did it?”

You nod, crying out as he slips his finger inside your pussy. He knows how to make you feel incredible with the lightest of touches - but you need more. You roll your hips, your clit softly bumping against his palm, but this just makes him withdraw his finger. You whine as your cunt is far too empty now;  he tuts at you as he cups your breast, his thumb grazing over your hardened nipple.

“So needy - isn’t that right?”

You nod at him again, but you whine as he pinches your nipple in response. 

“I’m gonna need more than that if you want me to make you cum, darling.” His lips hover over yours, his voice gravelly. 

“You know what I like. I want you to beg for it.”

“Please, Jeonghan.”

He drags his fingertips lightly over your skin, his hand heading back down where you want it.

“Please what, my love?”

“I wanna cum - please.”

You moan as the pads of his fingers begin to circle your clit. He kisses you, then scoots down - your cunt now right before his face. He kisses your clit, then inserts two of his fingers - you whimper as he begins to fuck you, his long fingers curling perfectly to hit your g-spot. He teases you, looking like he’s about to put his mouth on you but then just blowing onto your clit gently. 

“Jeonghan please.”

He smirks at you before finally licking your clit, a massive pang firing through your lower abdomen. He swirls his tongue around before taking it in his mouth, sucking intensely. You cry out, feeling your orgasm approaching already. Jeonghan definitely notices; normally, he’d continue teasing you here, taking you nearly to the edge before pausing again and again - but this time he gives in, continuing to fuck you as his mouth refuses to leave your cunt. His free hand presses down on your stomach, and you feel your body tense up, your legs starting to quiver. Before you can even say a word, you’re cumming - your body shaking as shockwaves pulsate throughout, the sensation overwhelming. 

As you come down, you realize how relaxed you are now too, more than you’ve felt in weeks. Seeing Jeonghan so stressed lately must have been subconsciously stressing you out as well. You giggle as he kisses your pussy a few more times before crawling back up to your side, immediately wrapping his arms around you as he draws you into his warm body. 

“Thank you,” he says sleepily. “I really needed that.”

“I did too,” you reply, your head tucked into his neck. 

You lay there in silence, your breathing synchronized, Jeonghan caressing your back slowly, and slower still as you both drift off to sleep - blissful, relieved, and most importantly: together. 

[end]

[eccentricallygothic]

Since I don't see much of it,may I request a dark robber Bucky AU? That turned soft dark? It can be a home robbery. Or a bank robbery. Whichever's easier for you. But I feel like a bank robbery would be way more thrilling. Maybe he held her as a hostage and had his way with her. But then decided he wants to keep her for himself after all and add kidnapping to the list <3 Ski mask and all. Like the one Seb wears for his role in that Destroyer movie with Nicole Kidman. Except I want to request the long haired Civil War Bucky looking Bucky in this one. Just imagine how hot it is when he takes off his ski mask & reveals himself to her in all his glory with his long hair falling to the sides of his face and framing it perfectly. And reader is just stunned,because he's too beautiful. Again,if you want to do a home robbery instead,it's fine too. He went to rob a house but wasn't expecting the pretty little thing hiding under the blanket/in the closet. Decided to have some fun on his "quest" and had his way with her but had a change of mind and decided to correct his way, "moves in" with reader in her home and get a proper job now so he can finally marry her in the near future and propose to her with a diamond ring,one that doesn't belong to reader's mother/grandmother/aunt lol. And finally have that break,that normal life he's been craving for so long now and a beautiful wife by his side to spend his whole life with. Sorry if this request sucks,just haven't seen much robber AUs of Bucky so I thought why not? Okay,that's all I got. Whether you want to take it up or not,thank you so much <3 I'll keep enjoying your other works :D

so… um… idk if you know me or not but i am kinda known on here for being a mad slut… i hope you like it and please don't hate me if you don't i know i am greedy af. ill redo it with one of the scenarios if you don't like it <333 

| Small World |

Pairing: Dark-Soft-Dark Robber!Bucky Barnes | Naïve!You.

Warning(s): Non-con/Dub-con, Dark!Bucky, bank robbery, violence, knife play, gun play, fear kink, unprotected p-in-v sex, missionary, doggy style, corruption kink, sir kink, power imbalance, Daddy kink, stockholm syndrome, he's lowkey mean, size kink, naive!Reader, virginity loss, fingering, spanking, dacryphilia. Minors do not interact. 

MASTERLIST

Panicked and horrified eyes turn to stare at you when you are pointed out of your group of hostages to stand up from your position on the ground. Some of your colleagues look at you with pity, others with hope and plea in their teary eyes.

Please, do it for us.

The greater good, and all.

Before you can decide whether you are the sacrificial lamb type or not, the masked man who has called out for you wraps one of his gloved hands around your arm and tugs you away from your group. Your meek and wheezed out requests fall on deaf ears as you are marched down the main hall.

“P- Please!” You turn your head to look back at his covered face with tear stained cheeks, head slightly shaking as your hands tremble beside it from their position in the air.

“I won’t repeat myself” the soft volume of the man’s voice can easily be easily mistaken for mercy if not for the menace in his tone. And the fact that he has the biggest stature out of his entire group –practically a giant- does not help your case. “Get the fuck inside or I’ll make you” he nods towards the door of the manager’s office, gun trained at you threateningly. “Move it.”

Within the next few moments, the man has you pressed up between him and the heavy wooden desk while he towers over you, toying with the loose strands of your hair with a little pocket knife that he has brandished out of his leather jacket.

“Please…” You helplessly plead in vain, thighs quivering from the way he rests his gun between your legs. Your shaking thighs tightly hug the barrel as the tip presses into the table.

“Aw, honey” he is relaxed and unfazed, almost as though he is unaware of the severity of the situation. Or perhaps this is more natural to him than you can ever know. A chill rises in your back as realization hits you. He cannot care less. “Why are you crying?” The man gathers a drop of your panic on the tip of his blade before bringing it to his mouth and taking a lick before humming at the taste. “I just wanna be friends… don’t you wanna be friends?” Your bottom lip wobbles as you shake your head stupidly. 

“P- Please lemme go join the rest…” He sighs at your sob, disappointed. 

“Out there with all those average Joes?” His teal eyes watch you from behind the mask as he traces the shape of your clothed boobs with the knife. “Oh, come on, pretty girl” terror fills you when you feel his hard-on rubbing against one of your knees. “You’re too special to be out there with those lowlifes, baby” your body freezes when the knife trails its way up your chest to rest on your bottom lip.

“P- Please…” A whisper shudders its way out of your still lips while your widened eyes watch the blade trail along the opening of your mouth. “D- Don’t hurt me, s- sir…”

“I won’t have to if you behave…” The tip of the weapon clinks against your teeth as the crown of his gun caresses your intimate part at the same time; having found its way into your pencil skirt. “So say, doll. Will you behave for me?” You would be a fool if you think that you have any other choice than to nod. “Use your words now, come on” his muffled coo is so soft it nearly triggers something inside you. 

But before you can ponder over it, his hand thumps against your cheek to bring you back to the present moment and you find yourself instantly nodding again. "Y- Yes, sir. I- I'll behave for you…" Something scratches at you from deep inside, but the sickening stimulation that you're being subjected to keeps you bound in the present moment.

"Good girl" you let out a relieved exhale when he pulls the blade from your lips and now brings it to the buttons of your blouse. "Tell me, honey. Do you have a boyfriend?" Your cheeks flush despite the situation and you gulp, lowering your eyes to watch him bounce the stitch holding your button together against the sharp metal. "Or… maybe a little girlfriend?" You can't help but loudly gasp when the thread finally comes undone and your swells bounce into his view. 

"P- Please, sir…" The man tuts and shakes his head. 

"Remember, baby. I'll only be nice to you if you are nice to me…" As if to put emphasis on his words, he straightens the knife and softly pokes one of your boobs by sliding the tip inside. You can't see it but your hurried apology makes him smirk under the mask. "Now, then. Where were we…?" 

"N- No, sir…" You softly sob, unable to control your tears. "I d- don't have a boyfriend…" 

"Good girl" he speaks as if he knows you and like you owe it to him, his gun-holding hand disappearing inside his jacket to put the weapon away. Though the relief that washes over you at the sight is short-lived because said hand then comes to grip and caress one of your thighs… under your skirt. "You're too good for silly little boys" your mouth falls agape when he suddenly catches two more of your buttons in a single strike, making your boobs jerk downwards due to the sudden change in pressure. 

"Please–!" 

"Shhhh" his rough hands yank you closer and against him by the help of your ass, your clothed core colliding with his bulge as he now presses the wider part of the knife against your lips. "I won't remind you again, baby. I'll only be nice to you if you shut up and behave like a good fucking girl" his eyelids flutter a little when his hips move against yours. "Because you'll look just as pretty to me without a tongue as you do now, so make your choice" you freeze as blood drains from your face. 

The man gives you a few moments to try him and then he hums in satisfaction when you don't dare. 

"See, that wasn't so fuckin' hard, was it, baby?" Your eyes sting from how tears keep spilling out and down your face in thick streams, the saltiness pricking at your lips as you feel his knife cut your skirt open from the middle before he tears an opening in your pantyhose, groaning at the sight of your pussy before you feel the leather of his gloves tease your folds. "Fucking hell, honey. You've such a cute little pussy on you" you can no longer clearly see what he's doing due to your blurry vision, but the violation of your intimate parts leaves you devoid of any desire to do so. 

Your mind screams at you to stop him.

No one should touch you.

You don't know why exactly, but every fiber of your existence is screeching at you to run. 

Not so much to escape, instead to avoid being defiled. 

But what match are you to an armed man who is thrice your size? 

"It's so tiny and fragile, do you think she can handle me, huh baby?" His voice is heavy as he now pumps his huge leaking cock with one hand, hissing when he touches the tip against your opening to gather some of your slick before spreading it on himself. "You can cry as many of those pretty little tears as you want, angel. Your naughty little pussy is telling me everything I need to know" a sob leaves you at his words as you helplessly sit wide legged with your head hung low, hands resting flat on the table behind you like you had been instructed to do so a few moments ago, now awaiting the inevitable. 

"Fuck" he can't help but roughly curse when your opening refuses to accommodate him and his thick tip slides off it a couple times. "A feisty one" he snickers casually like this is the most normal thing ever. "Good thing I am in the habit of taming–" his words abruptly disappear into a grunt that is accompanied by a jerk of his hips, the action eliciting a loud moan of discomfort from you, "–silly brats like this sweet little pussy here" your back arches as your features scrunch in discomfort, nails pressing against the wooden tabletop. Your pussy squelches around his cock as it is being pried open by his thick girth. 

"Ohhh, sir!" You grunt and more tears escape your eyes. "N- No, no…" Your thighs tremble as you shake your head in horror. "N- No… This is wrong…" Your voice is barely a whisper but he seems to understand you clearly. 

The man cruelly chuckles, the action causing vibrations to travel up your body from where they are connected. "But it sure feels fucking great, don't you agree?" The flat part of his knife digs into the side of your leg as he tightens his hold on your thighs and settles on a rhythm, hips rocking back and forth between the space of your legs. 

Your arms give out and buckle in, causing you to land on your elbows as the loud squeaks of your pussy squeezing at the skin of his cock before letting it go with humiliating clicks only for it to repeat fills the air. 

Your lack of response makes him snort. "What, you don't agree?" When you still don't say anything and just continue to stare at his ski mask, a competitive glint appears in his teal eyes. He brings the knife to your lips and holds it against them. "Kiss it" when your shoulders shake with silent sobs, his hips speed up and the blade presses harder against your skin. "I said, kiss it!" The harshness of his tone forces you to succumb to fear and you obey, nearly sliding up and down the table as you peck the metal. "Now thank me for fucking you" your lips wobble against the weapon but he is relentless as he pants for air in the mask, one hand tightly curled around your knee as your other leg dangles from the table. 

"T- Thank you for fucking me, s- sir…" He twitches inside you with a satisfied growl, each thrust fucking into you deeper and deeper. 

"Now tell me I am the best cock you've ever had" your head is splitting. You feel as though you are being pulled in two opposite directions. A chaos has erupted in your mind and you can barely register his demands anymore. "Do it!" The slap he lands on your boob breaks your train of thought but the hit triggers something inside you and you speak before you can think it over. 

"Please, sir! He won't like it! I can't!" You have no idea who you are referring to and the way his eyes narrow down at you signals that he doesn't either. 

Just what the hell is going on? 

The entirety of today feels like one big Deja Vu.

"Who won't like it?!" His thrusts have turned animalistic but his voice is much less nonchalant than before. "You said you didn't have a boyfriend!"

"I don't!" You squeak out through your tears as your pussy clenches around him and your stomach flips over, the overwhelming sensation in addition to the cruel way in which his hips snap causing your elbows to give up at last. 

"Then who the fuck are you talking about?!" Your shoulders knock over the stationary holder as you shake your head helplessly. 

"I- I don't know!" His hot seed explodes in your tight cavern as you whine loudly, desperate to get away from the assault his cock is inflicting on your worked up gspot. "I don't know! I don't know!" You are at a puzzling loss of words. "But he won't like it! He won't!" 

His concluding thrusts feel almost angry -not that they were much tender in the first place- as a string of muttered curses release from his clenched mouth, the man's long dark hair swaying over his broad shoulders every time he moves. 

"Fucking hell, angel" he rasps once he has finally stopped, though he still remains inside you. "They really did do a number on you, didn't they?" His mask is nearly snatched off his face in the next moment to reveal the most handsome man you have ever seen. 

Utterly remarkable features accompany the teal eyes that watch you angrily, shiny long strands framing them in the most attractive way as the wide shoulders of the man rise and fall with each furious exhale of his flared nose. His sharp jaw that is covered in light stubble is tightly set as he scans your face, fingers tightening around your flesh more and more with the passing second. 

You feel your nether region blink against his cock as you numbly take notice of every detail that he has to offer. Your eyebrows furrow after a few moments when you realize just what you are doing. Then as your eyes begin to widen and palms find the surface of the desk to press against it in order to hoist you up, the realization of why you are doing what you are dawning upon you. 

Your face is next to his within the next second, the discomfort of your joint bodies long forgotten as you reach a finger out towards his face to touch it. 

"Oh, my God…" You whisper as you slowly trace out what the mask had been hiding and like a dam broken, a barrage of memories hits you so hard your vision falters momentarily. "No way…" Your hand falls limp at your side in shock.

"Small world, eh?" His grin glints in the dim lighting of the room. 

. . . 

A loud thump sounded right outside the door of your wardrobe and you couldn't help but whimper, the sound making you widen your eyes before you hurriedly buried your mouth in your fuzzy yellow blanket. 

It was an ordinary Saturday night and you had been watching a movie when you had run out of snacks. So you paused it and got out of bed to grab yourself something from the kitchen but faint unexpected footsteps in the hallway leading to your room forced you to halt your quest.  

Thankfully, you had made it into your current hiding spot just in time before the door to your room slowly opened and a huge figure stepped in, peeking around the room before it stilled in front of the TV. You watched through the slits of the doors as the mysterious man had put two and two together before beginning his search. 

For you. 

You slowly shifted a little to see better when he disappeared momentarily, but then he suddenly walked by the wardrobe and you had to stuff the blanket in your mouth to keep yourself from gasping. The man paused and scanned the room again. Your heart thumped loudly in your chest as he turned towards your bathroom and vanished from your field of vision again. A door opened before clicking close and you sighed in relief. 

Letting a few moments pass before slowly opening the door to a crack, you half turned to grab Kiki, your cuddle buddy and favorite teddy in the entire world from where she had fallen off your lap a moment ago. Though when you went to exit the wardrobe to find your phone and figure out your next move, you found a pair of teal eyes watching you from the crack you had just created, the shock causing you to jump out of your skin and land against the wall behind you with a loud gasp.

You clutched your blanket and teddy close to your pounding chest as you hid your face in your knees, shaking in fear as your heart hammered against your ribcage. 

Some moments passed in complete silence before you felt hands tugging at your cocoon. "Please, please, please!" The most soothing voice you had ever heard responded to them. 

"I'll be nice to you if you'll be nice to me" his words were the most convincing you had ever heard. "What do you say, angel?" You raised your head just enough to see a metal arm extended towards you. 

"Please don't hurt me" you whispered through a wobble of your bottom lip.

"I won't have to if you behave yourself" his form towered you like a vulture hunching over its prey. "You're a good girl, aren't you?" Your furniture had given him some idea of the kind of person that you were. 

And the rest Bucky wanted to find out for himself.

He had decided that he would have you before he had even stepped inside this room when the framed pictures of you with friends and family decorating the living room had caused a tent inside his pants. 

"Use your words for me" you whimpered before slowly nodding your head. 

"Y- Yes, sir. A- Am a good girl" he hummed before thrusting his held out hand in your direction. 

"Come on, then. Don't make me repeat myself" the menacing edge to his tone made you gulp and comply before the minute's end. 

You were slowly and carefully helped out and onto your feet. The stranger's silky hair rushed forth to frame his face when he lowered it to look at Kiki as she landed with a thump on the floor. 

Holding your hand in a firm grip, the man bent to pick her up but didn't hand her back to you. 

"And who is this?"

"K- Kiki, sir."

"Is she your… friend?" 

"B- Bestie, s- sir…" Unbeknownst to you, his cock hardened at your choice of words. 

Fuck. 

"Do you want her back?" You slowly nodded with pleading eyes. 

He hummed again before speaking. "There's a condition." 

"C- Condition, s- sir?" 

"You will be quiet and obedient."

You agreed, not that you had much of a choice but Kiki's wellbeing was your top priority.

The stranger placed you on your bed within the next few moments, pulling your blanket away and giving you a pointed look before threateningly waving the poor teddy in the air when a low whine escaped you. The warning was enough for you to shut your mouth as you curled your toes, flushing under his violating gaze that scanned your underdressed form. 

You were clad in nothing but a tank top and some strawberry pattern underwear. The sudden shift in your body temperature due to the lack of a blanket made your nipples harden against the sheer material of your shirt and the man cursed under his breath before his free hand traveled to his bulge. 

"Why don't you show me how well you and Kiki get along, huh, angel?" You eagerly nodded when the teddy was finally allowed back in your safe hold and you protectively hugged her before going to speak but his next action had you gasping in shock instead. 

"Sir–" 

The man clicked his tongue. "One little peep and you can sweep little Kiki from the hearth tomorrow morning" your eyes became glassy at his words, bottom lip wobbling. And then you inaudibly vowed upon your teddy's safety. 

"S- Sorry, sir."

"See?" His breathing was labored when he stripped you of decency, spreading your legs to examine what was between them and inaudibly grunting at the sight. "That wasn't so hard now, was it, baby?" You shuddered and exhaled heavily through your mouth when his hand curved over the shape of your pussy, thumb swiping over your moist folds.

"N- No, sir." He clicked his tongue. 

"You're too little for that, honey. Call me Daddy." Though questions emerged in your mind, you kept them to yourself for Kiki's sake. "Well?" He raised an eyebrow as his digit found its way to your entrance and he poked at it, the sensation causing you to jump up in shock. 

But you knew better than to express it.

"... Y- Yes, Daddy…" The word felt foreign and awkward in your mouth, but the intrusion of your private areas overpowered every other feeling. 

"Tell me how it feels, honey" the man's tone turned into one of coaxing as the tip of his thumb glided up and down between your folds before circling your entrance. But he kept it from invading your privates for now. 

Your eyebrows were tightly furrowed together as you whined, nuzzling your face into Kiki. "W- Weird, Daddy" that seemed to please him, and he hummed in approval.

"Good girl" a loud and confused squeak escaped you when he pushed the tip of his digit up your glistening slit next. 

"S–" the click of his tongue stopped you and you corrected yourself just in time. "Daddy!" 

"It's okay, honey. Daddies are supposed to take care of their little babies like this" his thumb was soon replaced by his middle finger and you couldn't help but let out a moan when it began to toy with the hood of your clit now, his finger working you open all the while. "See, getting better, isn't it, angel?" It was nothing but strange for your inexperienced body. Your hips tightened but you had no idea what it meant or led to. 

And the intimidating visual was not helping the puzzle. 

"L- Looks so scary, Da- Daddy" your bottom lip jutted out as you sniffled, unknowingly clenching around his finger and making him twitch inside his pants in turn.  

"Aw, baby" he could swear you were the most precious thing he had ever come across. "Too much for your innocent eyes to handle, is it?" He had to have you. "Daddy can help you with that" his finger plopped out of you and your hole retracted, a shudder running down your spine at both the feeling itself and the loss of contact. 

A small pout made its way on your face as you snuggled into Kiki, subconsciously missing the penetration. 

Bucky moved further onto his knees and grasped your naked thighs in his strong calloused hands. "Turn around for Daddy, angel" you were moved to your knees in front of him. He spread your legs apart before moving back to undo his own pants, admiring the handiwork that he had made of you all the while. 

Then he told you that it would  feel a bit strange at first, that it may even hurt, but then it was sure to feel good. 

You panicked when he entered your narrow opening as he hissed out curses, his metal hand curling around your thigh while the other rested on your ass cheeks that it fondled every now and then.

His words that you had initially suspected turned out to be true the more he moved inside you. Your tight, warm channel of moist flesh gripped at his cock in the same way your arms bracingly choked Kiki, whines drawling their way out of your gaping mouth as you nuzzled your flushed face in her soft body, feeling a small flame ignite in the base of your stomach. 

"Hnnng owwhh, Daddy!" You whined as stars clouded your vision when his thick tip hit you deep up your cavern in a certain tender spot. 

"You're so fuckin' tight, angel" his breathing was laboured as his muscular thighs slapped against yours, the collision causing your skin to sting as well as fill the room with a loud clapping sound which was occasionally accompanied by a squelch or two. "It's like you were waiting for your Daddy all along, huh?" You winced when one of his hands wrapped around your hair to pull you back as gently as he could manage. "Tell me you were waiting for me to come along and fuck this pretty pussy broken" you yelped when his free hand landed a harsh smack to one of your ass cheeks. When you didn't respond, he gave a demanding yank to your head. "Don't make me repeat myself, now." 

Bucky could see that you had some difficulty with carrying out orders. 

So he added that to the list of the things that you would have to work on. 

"I- I…" Your chest ached as you struggle to breathe, feeling your senses battle between pain and pleasure. "I w- was waiting for you to co–" your words dissolved into a moan as your form swayed under his rough fucking, "come- come, come and–!" Your fingers tightened around Kiki to brace yourself against the influx of sensation that burst out between your legs when he spanked you one last time before trailing his fingers down your pussy. 

"Go ahead, baby" his lips found the crook of your neck before his sharp teeth grazed against the skin. "You're doing so well for me" your back arched when he pecked your skin right before biting down on it. 

And all of a sudden, the sensory overload was too much for your fucked out mind to handle. Your hips clenched and a lava of what you could only classify as pleasure exploded between them, your vision paling and hearing becoming muffled, mouth falling open to let out raspy stomach churning moans. Suddenly, the intensity of every stimulus that had been tearing its way into your body decreased and a faint ringing swam in your ears. The skin piercing hammering of your heart morphed into heavy thumps and your body went limp as it hung from the robber's cock, being held up solely by the tangle of his arms that encircled your body. 

Bucky felt himself twitch when your orgasm gave way to obedience and you guzzled out your words to fulfill your command. "W- Waz wai'ing for D- Daddy to come along and f- fuck my pussy b- broken" his curse went unheard by you due to your temporary vertigo. 

"Now tell Kiki that" he had to tap one of your cheeks to bring you back to the present. "Look at Kiki and tell her that" the sternness of his words fueled the overstimulation that your core was suffering, the hypersensitivity causing you to clench hard around his girth that pounded into you at a barely registerable pace, your knees shaking uncontrollably. 

"K- Kiki…" Your arms were jelly as you forced them to wobble the pink teddy up in your sight since your head was locked in place by the grip he had on your hair. "I- I…" You whined out a loud moan. "W- Waiting on D- Daddy to c- come and b- break l- little pussy o- open" the brokenness of your voice coupled with the omission of words reached out for his climax and pulled it through. Bucky loudly cursed out in between moans as he rammed into you animalistically, his seed searing into your worked up walls and coating the flesh pale.

You had never been praised the way you were that night when the man– Bucky, he told you once he had placed you in the comforting bath he drew for you, cleaned and washed you thoroughly as he pressed reassuring kisses to your tear stained cheeks. When he declared the next morning that he was moving in, you did not say much for he still intimidated you but you had your suspicions. However, as time passed and you two grew closer than ever, you realized that the transition had been much easier and natural than you had expected. 

Your lover excused you from your outdoor obligations and gave you a list of rules to abide by to make sure you would well fulfill your role as the homerunner. He made a promise with you to mend his ways and he actually did it by finding himself an honest job that paid well enough for your household. Then, even though you reassured him that he could just give you your grandmother's ring to propose, he was adamant on buying you one with a big rock. One that would match the shine of your pretty eyes, he said.

In other words, everything was going well. 

Yes, the beginning of your relationship had been unconventional to say the least.

But fate had a strange way of bringing people together. 

That eventful night had been your share.

What did such silly things matter when the both of you loved each other so much? 

That was, until one day…

. . . 

"I told you, angel. I'd always find my way to you" the man speaks as he fixes his pants while keeping a vigilant eye on you. 

Your mouth is wide as tears wet your cheeks like an unceasing waterfall. "Daddy…" 

"Yes, Daddy" passive rage drips off his smug words. "You thought you could report me and flee the country and that'd be the end of it?"

You shake your head vehemently and sputter out all the words you can manage in your honest defense. Your labored breathing turns into sobs as you grab at his hands and plead your case desperately. 

You hadn't reported him. You could never do that to your Daddy and future husband!

Not even in your worst nightmare!

What had actually happened was that you had been tending to your daily tasks as usual when some strange men with badges you did not understood had shown up to your house while he was at work. They were mean but they had not hurt you. Instead, they had thrusted all kinds of files and records in your face, saying unbelievable things about your Daddy that simply could not be true and then demanding you tell them where he worked. 

But you were too little to know those things. 

So they ransacked your house before one of them found a piece of paper from one of Bucky's jackets before showing it to the rest. Their boss had turned back to look at you one last time with pity in his eyes before he called someone on his phone and joined his fellow men in one of the sleek black SUVs that they had arrived in. Your Daddy had not come home that night. Instead, your sobbing mother who lived in a different city had approached you where you had been waiting for Bucky out on the front stairs of the house. 

She had forced you away from your home. You kept telling her that you had to inform your Daddy of what had happened and that he never ate without you and that he would be looking for you. But your sweet mother had become a tyrant with your safety -like you needed it- and you just could not understand the hysteria until she placed you in therapy that you thought you did not need. 

But when you finally did start responding to the kind lady at the funny smelling clinic, you had slowly understood your mother's manic behavior. 

"... And she said you were a terrible man that I best forget all about and move on in my life, Daddy. I didn't mean to blank you out!" You finish your speech, squeezing his fingers earnestly as your eyes beg his to believe you. "I didn't want to. But they said you were bad and a criminal and, and– I didn't have a choice" you sob and shake your head desperately, the awareness of just how hurt he must have felt when you disappeared choking your heart out. "And they wouldn't listen and they kept saying that you kidnapped me and–" he doesn't interrupt you. In fact, he hasn't done much of that in the past few minutes. 

But then a heavy bell goes off in your head all of a sudden and you understand why he has been quiet, the horrific realization causing your muscles to freeze and shrivel as you feel foam rising in your mouth. Your eyes widen to the shape of saucers as the pattering of your tears literally becomes audible in the quiet room. "... But… Y- You…" Your clammy fingers try to yank themselves out of his. "You… did kidnap me after…" Terror grips at your throat. 

Unreadable emotion passes by his teal orbs faster than you can process. Bucky lowers his head as he restricts your hands from pulling out of his by interlocking them in an iron-strong hold. Heaving in a deep sigh, he snickers to himself humorlessly, the long strands of his hair falling over his face as his shoulders shake. 

"Oh, angel" he looks up once he finally gains composure over what had turned into sneering chuckles. "You will have to relearn everything all over again, won't you?" Your body feels petrified as the graveness of the matter sears into your muscles. He tugs his gloves off before cupping your face with his metal hand. "Good thing we have the rest of our lives with no one left to trouble us this time, huh?" With a promising kiss to your lips, he pulls his mask back down and fishes another one out of his jacket before slipping it over your face. "Come on, let's go home" Bucky effortlessly hauls you onto one of his massive shoulders after he swipes your nose with his thumb on which he had poured a strange substance out of a vial. The liquid instantly numbs your mind and your eyes go heavy, not that your terrified body was moving much in the first place. 

The next few things that you feel through your melting senses include Bucky pulling your tattered skirt down before giving a powerful smack to your ass, turning in the opposite direction of the way you had come here after exiting the Manager's office, descend the fire escape that he chooses to exit the building through before briefly jogging to what you figure is probably a vehicle since you hear the beeping open of a lock.

And then everything goes dark.