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joelscruff · 1 year

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you know i don't mean it (joel miller x reader) 18+

welcome to my 300 follower celebration! \o/ i polled my followers on which character they'd most like to see in some new smut and joel won (not surprised). this was supposed to be a drabble but ended up getting a bit longer than i anticipated, hope you enjoy! summary: you and joel get off together. that's pretty much it. you also have some unresolved feelings for him and he's being closed off. rating: 18+ explicit (mdni) warnings: smut, age gap (reader is mid 20s, joel is mid 50s), praise kink (the term 'good girl' is used maybe 432534 times), dirty talk, dom/sub dynamics (but make it soft), mutual masturbation, come-play, come-eating, this is filthy word count: about 2.5k | ao3 link

"This is the last time," he mutters under his breath, belt buckle jangling as he lays down across from you, "We can't keep doin' this."

"Yeah, yeah," your hand is already buried in your panties, index finger lightly rotating against your clit, "That's what you said last week too."

He grunts and you watch as he slips his hand inside his jeans and palms himself, squaring his shoulders and trying to relax. He pretends he's doing this for your benefit, like its you who needs help getting off, as if he's not a middle aged man who hasn't been touched by a woman in years. And it's not like you haven't offered, you've genuinely tried to give yourself to him more than a few times, but it's simply a line he won't cross.

Other lines, however, are much easier to cross. It had started out relatively innocent, something that had happened completely by chance, or at least you both led yourselves to believe it was. You'd both had the same idea one night and had ended up getting off together in the same room, you in the chair beside the fireplace of the abandoned ski lodge you'd both been posted in, him on the couch.

"Are you -" he'd gasped into the darkness when he'd heard the wet sound of your fingers a few feet away, plunging in and out of yourself at a steady rhythm.

"Like you're not," you'd hissed back, "I'm not deaf."

"Thought you were sleepin'," he'd muttered, hand stilling on his cock where seconds ago he'd been stroking like his life depended on it.

"And that makes it less weird?"

He'd groaned, releasing himself and sitting up to squint at you in the darkness, "So what are you gonna do about it?"

You glared at him, not bothering to remove your hand from your underwear as you continued to finger yourself, breathing deeply, "I'm not gonna do anything about it, Joel. I'm gonna keep going. And you can stay here or you can go, doesn't matter to me."

After a few seconds of silence, he'd flopped himself back down on the couch and reached for himself again, fucking into his fist, "No talking," he said through his teeth, "Let's just do it and forget it even happened, deal?"

"Deal," you'd replied, and roughly added a third finger as you watched the dark silhouette of him jacking himself off barely six feet away from you.

One night turned into two, turned into five, and now ten. It wasn't every night, only when you were on patrol together. You'd privately asked Tommy to make sure that Joel was your patrol partner as often as possible, because you felt "safer" with him... you're not sure if he'd really believed you.

You're back in the ski lodge again tonight, both of you situated on the couch in your usual positions, on opposite ends and facing each other. It's ridiculous how quickly it's taken you both to get used to these sessions, the casual feeling of it making it even hotter somehow.

"How many fingers are you using this time?" Joel murmurs, eyeing you where you're touching yourself, unable to fully see what he'd like to.

"Up to you," you breathe, still prodding your clit, "How many do you want me to use?"

"Three," he replies, and you watch as he pulls his cock free from the confines of his jeans, jutting large and solid against his stomach, "Real slow, then real fast."

You nod, lifting your hips up to pull your panties free and expose yourself to him, legs wide.

"Stick to my rhythm," he tells you, watching as you trail your middle finger through your folds, "If I stop, you stop. If I tell you to stop-"

"I stop," you answer for him, throwing him a smug smile, "Same rules as always."

He stares at you without speaking, just waiting. You get the hint and begin to slide your finger inside slowly, making eye contact with him under your lashes and smiling languidly. He fists himself just as slow, looking down at your finger and licking his lips.

"Slow enough for you?" you whisper, adding a second and grinning when his eyes darken, "Should I go a bit faster?"

"Not yet," he whispers, thumbing the head of his cock and fucking into his hand at the same pace as your finger, "Keep it nice and slow for me 'til I say so."

You obey, fucking yourself with your middle and ring finger at the slowest pace you can muster. No matter how annoying his orders are you always do as you're told, not because you're afraid of any sort of consequence, but because you like seeing him enjoy himself, seeing him take control. You've only known him for about six months but you've known for a while that he's been lacking any sort of control in his life for a long time; you're glad to be the one who can give it to him.

"Add your third," he whispers and you oblige, slipping your index inside yourself alongside the others, "Good girl," he breathes, "Such a good girl for me, aren't you?"

You nod, your smugness immediately starting to fade. When he talks to you like this, praises you, it's impossible to keep your hard exterior up for much longer, feeling yourself submit to him. In any other circumstance you love to challenge him, to argue, but in these moments it's the last thing on your mind. You do as you're told, and that's the end of it. He needs control, you need submission.

"Tell me," he whispers.

"I'm your good girl," you breathe, shivering and continuing to shove your fingers in and out at his pace.

He smirks, "Yeah you are."

You continue to fuck yourself at his painfully slow pace, watching him fist his cock at the same speed. He likes to tease you, to build you up until you're begging for it. You thumb your clit and start to whimper, legs trembling.

"Okay, faster now," he tells you, voice low and sultry, "Not too fast, though. Watch me," he tugs at his cock at a bit quicker of a pace, still much too slow for you but you can't do much else but obey him, mirroring him with the thrust of your fingers, "That's it, like that."

After several more thrusts he suddenly stops stroking himself, stilling in his palm. You groan, halting your movements, following the rules.

"How is it that you follow orders so God damn well when you've got your panties around your ankles?" he asks, voice rough, "Yet when we're actually patrollin' you don't listen to a word I say?"

"I'm not your good girl when we're patrolling," you reply with a teasing smile, "But I could be, you know."

He rolls his eyes, "Enough, it's not happening," he nods to your hand, still motionless at your core, "Play with your clit for a second, give me a chance to breathe."

There it is, the line he won't cross. You've already told him that you're willing to give yourself completely over to him, be exactly who he needs, but no matter how many times you try he just won't budge. It's disappointing, truly, because you really do like him. Sure, he's a bit of an ass, plus he's about thirty years older than you, but you've seen the side of him he doesn't show to others. Maybe only hints, but you've seen it. And you care about him.

"I don't do this with anyone else, you know," you whisper, pressing your index finger against your clit and rubbing small circles into it, "You're the only one I'd let treat me the way you do."

He looks at you curiously, raising an eyebrow, "I treat you good, don't I?"

You nod, whimpering a bit as you rub yourself harder, "You do, but you're the only one I'd ever submit to like this, you know that, right?"

He hums, brushes the wide head of his cock with the tip of his thumb, "I know, baby. But it feels so good, doesn't it? You like being my good girl, don't you?"

You bite down on your lip, core aching as your fingers lay still against your folds, save for the index that continues to furiously stimulate your clit, "I do," you whisper, cheeks warming, "I fucking love it."

"There you go," he murmurs softly, then begins to move his fist again, "Use your fingers again, baby, get your pussy all full for me."

You don't need telling twice, your three fingers plunging deep inside yourself without any hesitation. You whimper when your fingertips brush against your favorite spot, so close yet so far. You eye Joel's cock and try to imagine what it would feel like for it to really be inside you, the fat tip of it pounding relentlessly against the deepest parts of your cunt, his girth stretching you out so much your whole body would be shaking. You feel your mouth drop open involuntarily, brow furrowing.

He follows your gaze and frowns at you, pumping himself a bit faster, "You can't have it," he whispers, like he can read your mind, "I know you want it, pretty girl, but you can't. I'm sorry."

"Why?" you mewl, sounding absolutely pathetic as you keep fucking yourself, "I want it so bad, Joel."

"I know you do," he closes his eyes and leans his head back, "Don't ask me why, you just can't."

You'd pout, tease him a little, but he's not looking at you anymore and it physically makes you ache, the way he avoids any allusion to actual sex, an actual relationship. You've asked him so many times and it's always the same answer, never a real reason. You wish you knew why, wish you knew if there was anything at all you could do to make him open up to you.

Instead you mirror his position, tilting your head back against the arm of the sofa and fucking up into yourself, listening to his labored breathing and the slap of skin whenever his fist hits his belly.

"Fast as you can now, baby," he mutters gruffly, close to the edge, "Need you to come for me, need you to be good."

"I'm always good for you, aren't I?" you whimper, opening your eyes to peer at him again, "I always listen, I never break your rules."

"That's right."

"So why can't you fuck me?" you sit up suddenly, yanking your fingers out of yourself and looking at him angrily. He sits up just as quickly, eyes narrowing as he releases his cock and stares at you, "I'm serious, Joel. I want an actual answer."

"You just broke a rule," he mutters and you sigh exasperatedly.

"I'm sorry for breaking the rules," you genuinely mean it; you know how important this control is for him, but you can't help it, "I'll submit again if you just tell me why you won't fuck me. Do you...do you not want me? Is that it? 'Cause I can accept that, I just want to hear you say it. I'm sick of not knowing."

He stares at you incredulously, hand coming up to squeeze the space between his brow and nose, "Jesus, of course I want you, but it's not that simple."

"Yes it-"

"It's not," he interrupts you, shaking his head, "I can't...this isn't..." he exhales deeply, "This isn't the time for this conversation, okay?" You hear raw emotion in his voice, buried deep but still present. Fuck, you didn't mean to make him feel bad.

"...Okay," you finally whisper, "I'm sorry."

"S'okay," he runs a hand through his hair, "Look, we can stop-"

"No," you lean back and open your legs wide again, putting yourself on display for him, "No, I wanna be your good girl again, please let me."

"We don't-"

"Joel," you whimper, slipping your fingers back inside, "Let me be your good girl."

His hard expression fades, eyes softening as he peers at you, watching you fuck himself for him.

"It's all yours, even if you won't touch me," you whisper, using your other hand to pull yourself open for him, showing him how full you are, feeling your orgasm start to build in your tummy, "It's yours," you repeat, whimpering.

He nods, stroking himself again hard and fast, brow furrowing in pleasure as he keeps his eyes trained on you, "That's right," he murmurs, "It's mine. You're mine."

You close your eyes tight, "I'm gonna come."

"Go ahead, pretty girl," you hear him groan, the snap of his wrist making you completely come undone, "Squeeze around those fingers, pretend they're mine, okay? You can do that, you can pretend."

You shudder at his words and feel your orgasm overtake you, the image of Joel's thick fingers pounding into you enough to send you over the edge. You moan loudly, crying out his name and tossing your head back as you come.

"Good girl," he groans, voice strangled, "Such a good fucking girl for me."

You close your eyes as you ride out the waves of your release, fingers still pumping gently inside of you until it's too much and you pull them out. Sighing contentedly, you open your eyes again and watch Joel relentlessly fuck into his fist, belt buckle still jangling against the couch as he gasps. You want nothing more than to reach forward and take him in your own hand, help him ride out his own release, but you don't. Because those are the rules.

Instead you just watch him, smile at him as he shuts his eyes tight and groans deeply, coming into his fist. You watch the thick white liquid cover the sides of his fingers and you involuntarily salivate, jaw going slack.

"Fuck," you breathe, "Wish I could taste you."

He groans again, hand stilling as he breathes heavily and starts to come down, eyes closed. You sit quietly, panties still hanging off one of your ankles. You'd usually already be putting your clothes back on at this point, but something tells you to stay still, don't move, he's gonna do something different.

He swallows and looks up at you, stares at you for a few moments. You're unsure whether the regular Joel is about to come back, tell you it's time to go back on patrol, grab your gun and be quiet. Or is this still your Joel, the one who tells you you're pretty and good, makes you feel less alone in this shitty world.

"Here," he says, shaking his head and bringing his come-coated fingers up to your mouth, "If you wanna taste, you have five seconds."

Your mouth pops open in surprise, hesitating only for a second before you lean forward and wrap your lips around his fingers, feeling the salty taste of him flood your mouth. Your cunt begins to throb again, your eyes closing as you suck and lick and take everything he's giving you. When you open your eyes again he's still looking at you, but his expression is soft, tender.

"Good girl," he murmurs.

this is now a series, and other parts can be found on my masterlist.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #pedro pascal fic #tlou fic #*#this was so fun to write #i like this dynamic a lot and might end up writing more for them who knows #fic: soft!dom joel

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softspiderling · 25 days

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illicit affairs - part two | r.c

summary:

"Speaking of, why don’t you stay over tonight? It’s late, and I don’t want you walking home by yourself.”

“You’re not gonna drive me?” You asked with a pout and he rolled his eyes.

“I’m too tired, don’t make me. Just stay over.”

“What? And leave in the morning like I’m one of your hook ups? Please.”

OR; Rafe makes an outrageous suggestion and you? You give in.

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

warnings: mention of drugs, talk about sex (nothing graphic yet) but the later parts will have smut, so 18+ MDNI!

word count: 2k

author's note: pt. two out so soon?? there's gotta be smth fishy going on 🤭we finally get into the PLOT! i hope you enjoy my lovelies, don't forget to leave a comment/like/reblog or share your thoughts with me in the inbox.

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pt. two: "it's born from just one single glance"

A week after the party, it was the first Friday in a while where the four of you didn’t go to a party. After spending a day out of the sea to test out Topper’s new boat, you got picked up some pizza and settled down in Rafe’s living room, where you were still in the same spot several hours later. The empty pizza cartons were stacked on the floor and the four of you strewn out on the couch and various seats.

“You want another drink?”

Rafe was waving his empty glass in front of you, a lonely ice cube clinking in it, an expected eyebrow raised.

You squinted at him, nodding. “Can you get me a coke please?”

“Sure.”

Kelce perked up in his seat at the prospect of another drink. “Hey, can you get me another beer?”

“No,” Rafe answered, without even looking back as he left for the kitchen. “You know where the fridge is.”

“What?” Kelce muttered with a frown, looking over to you as he slumped back down. “You know where the fridge is, why is he getting you a coke?”

You only shrugged with a grin, making yourself comfortable on the couch now that you had more space, while Topper clapped Kelce on the back in consolation.

“Come on man, you know she’s his favorite.”

“Hey!”

Grabbing a pillow from the couch, you shucked it at Topper, making him yelp when it hit him square in the face.

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not right next to you,” you scowled. “And I’m not Rafe’s favorite.”

“You’re a clown if you actually believe that.”

“Fuck you, you’re a clown.”

Topper tossed the pillow back at you, narrowly missing your head by an inch and the pillow fell to the floor behind the couch, landing just in front of Rafe’s feet as he returned.

“I was gone for five minutes, what are you guys fighting about now?”

“Precious over here thinks she’s not your favorite.”

You glowered at the other two boys, while Rafe settled back on the couch next to you, pressing a can of coke into your hands. He took a sip of his drink, eyeing you briefly and shrugged, pursing his lips in agreement.

“Nah, you’re definitely my favorite.”

You stuck your tongue out at Topper when he gave you a knowing look, instead focusing on opening your coke. “Whatever. It doesn’t mean anything, you two shitheads don’t make it hard for me to be anyone’s favorite.”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” Kelce grunted with a frown and you raised a brow at him.

“You literally had sex in Rafe’s bed last year,” you said, before turning your attention to Topper. “And you’re still obsessed with Sarah.”

Rafe let out a noise, making clear that he was fully agreeing with you. “What she said.”

Topper, while satisfied he had proven his point, still rolled his eyes and Kelce crossed his arms, annoyed.

“I hate it when they team up like this.”

“Shut up and get your beer.”

The next couple of hours passed easily, just as it always did when the four of you came together to talk shit. While you did enjoy going to parties every now and then, you really appreciated just hanging out with your friends and talking about everything and nothing in the safety of the four walls of Rafe’s home.

Only you and your boys. Just the way you liked it.

“Alright, I think it’s time for me to go,” Topper said, breaking up the group with a yawn, shaking his head to stay awake as he sat up. “I’m beat.”

“Can you give me a ride?” Kelce asked, standing up and Topper nodded, turning to you.

“Do you need me to drop you off too?”

You stretched your arms, legs long draped over Rafe’s lap as you laid lengthwise on the couch. It was nearing one am and you really should make your way home, but you were far too comfortable to move, having spent most of the day in the sun, which was catching up to you now.

“I think I might stay for a while longer, thanks though.”

Topper clicked his tongue, ruffling your hair, messing it up for good measure as he and Kelce said their good byes, their voices getting quieter as they strolled to the front, the door shutting in its hinges. It wasn’t long after until you could heard Topper’s truck start, and then pull off the estate grounds.

Finally, it was quiet enough for you to hear the music, which was drowned out by Kelce’s constant yapping. You loved him but he was such a chatter box when he drank beer.

“Isn’t Sarah coming home tonight?” you asked into the sudden quietness, combing through your hair with your fingers, trying to get rid of the knots that have formed since you’d laid on the couch for the whole night. The estate had been quiet apart from the four of you causing raucous in the living room.

“Please,” Rafe scoffed. “She’s staying with John B more nights than not, I’m this close to kicking her out for real.”

“Oh come on,” you laughed, leaning up to shove his arm a little. “She’s in love. Leave her alone. And don’t act like you don’t enjoy being the man of the house and having it all to yourself.”

Rafe grinned to himself, shrugging his shoulders a bit like you weren’t absolutely right. Like you said, you knew him. “Eh. Maybe. House tends to get a little quiet sometimes... Speaking of, why don’t you stay over tonight? It’s late, and I don’t want you walking home by yourself.”

“You’re not gonna drive me?” You asked with a pout and he rolled his eyes.

“I’m too tired, don’t make me. Just stay over.”

“What? And leave in the morning like I’m one of your hook ups? Please.”

“Give me a break,” Rafe huffed. “You know damn well you’re not one of my hook ups. They don’t get to stay till the morning,” he paused, turning his head to look at you inquisitively, and you knew that look all too well. He was about to be nosy. “What about yours, anyways?”

“My what?”

“Your hook ups, precious. Haven’t seen anyone around since Jack.”

You shrugged. “Cuz there wasn’t anyone else since Jack, you know that. And he wasn’t a hook up, he was my boyfriend.”

He was quiet, but you could basically hear the gears in his head turning. “I know you’re not into hook ups and shit, but don’t you need to get off sometimes?”

“And risk hooking up with weirdos like Moany? No thank you. I don’t need anyone else to get off.”

Rafe rolled his eyes. “I know, jesus. I’m just saying… Sex by yourself isn’t as good as sex with another person. If you know what they like. Not everyone has freaky requests like Monique. And if you’re compatible, you know the sex can be insane.”

You eyed him suspiciously, not sure if you liked which direction this was going. He wasn’t about to suggest the two of you having sex…. Right? Because that would be just crazy.

“… jus’ getting sick of having to get to know a new girl every time, ‘s exhausting.”

“You know you can have sex with a person more than once right?”

Rafe scoffed, leaning his hands behind his head. “Yeah, but then they start getting comfortable. I don’t need that right now.”

You waved your hands around, trying to stop Rafe’s train of thought before it could get any further.

“Rafe, stop beating around the bush. The fuck are you on right now?”

He swirled his drink around, downing the last of it before shoving the glass on the table, looking at you.

“What if… We fucked?”

“What?” you stared at him incredulously, like he had just grown a second head.

“I mean, not relationship wise. Casual. Friends with benefits.”

“Friends with benefits,” you echoed, dryly. “Are you insane?”

Rafe scoffed, shaking his head at you, not bothering with a reply. You thought that was the end of it, trying to calm your heart down, as it was nearly jumping out of your throat, when you felt Rafe’s hand splaying across your bare legs. His fingers brushed your inner thigh, making you tense and you glared up at him.

“Seriously Rafe?”

“Seriously Rafe?” Rafe mocked you, reaching out to tuck your hair behind your ear, the other hand starting to trace circles into the skin of your thigh, like it was the most normal thing for him to do. “We both know that if you didn’t want me touching you, you’d have kicked me half ways across the room already.”

You wanted to protest, but your words died halfway down your tongue, knowing it was no use with the way Rafe was looking at you. Also, he was a 100% right. Turning away, you stared at the ceiling, trying to ignore how his finger tips left your skin tingling, thinking of the most random things to calm yourself down.

There was no use of lying to yourself, a part of you wanted to say yes.

You knew Rafe didn’t do relationships, has never had a girlfriend in all the years you’d been friends. What if being friends with benefits was the closest thing you could be for Rafe? Not only his best friend, but a step further? What if this was all you could get with him?

“This is a bad idea.”

“Why?”

“You’re my best friend.”

“Exactly. You’re my best friend, I don’t have to tell you anything because you know exactly what I like and what I don’t.”

“Not when it comes to sex!”

“Okay okay, calm down, I was just making a suggestion.”

Rafe trailed off, dropping the topic, his fucking hand still on your thigh. He wasn’t looking at you, but you could tell that he was biting back a grin, and you hated to think that you were going to give in.

“We’re not telling anyone, you hear me? Not a single soul. Especially not Top and Kelce, they would never let us live this down.”

He turned his head, the corner of his mouth ticking up knowingly. He was your best friend after all, he knew what to say to convince you of his argument. “Those two knuckleheads don’t need to know everything we do,” Rafe said as he leaned in, but you stopped him halfway, your hand on his chest.

“If this affects our friendship in any way, or or…. If it gets awkward or someone… Just, we stop, okay? No lying to get your dick wet.”

“Have I ever lied to you, precious?”

“Uh, yes. Remember when you, Top and Kelce snuck into my gard- oomph.”

Your sentence was cut short when Rafe pressed his lips against you in a soft kiss, his hand cupping the back of the neck. He pulled away, his breath hot on your face. Your lips parted a bit, shock coursing through your veins. You had wondered how it would feel to kiss Rafe for so long, and you had to admit, that the real deal was so much better than anything you could’ve imagined.

“You talk too much,” he mumbled against your lips and you rolled your eyes, brought out of your haze. This was still Rafe. Your best friend.

“Shut up.”

Fisting his shirt, you pulled him closer to you, lips hot as they interlocked. He leaned forward, both of his knees bracketing your waist, one hand moving from the back of your neck to the front, so he could cup your face. Suddenly, you were surrounded by him and if you weren’t so distracted by Rafe’s tongue slipping into your mouth, you’d be freaking out right now. This felt like a fever dream; your hands moving automatically down his torso, sneaking under his shirt, nails grazing his chiseled abs and when Rafe let out a honest to god whimper, you knew you were done for.

There was no going on back.

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author's note: am i sorry about the cliffhanger? ask me later👀

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron imagine #outer banks #obx #drew starkey

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carolmunson · 8 months

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you get me closer to god | kas!eddie (dark)

entry for my fall frenzy requests. this request comes in from @edsforehead: 'something with kas!eddie in a graveyard.'

a/n: y'all, i don't know. i kind of snapped with this one. sort of canon compliant. inspired by a post that i saw that said that after vampires feed they have an insatiable desire to breed afterwards. steve also makes an appearance cause i love him.

tw: 18+ MDNI, dub-con, dub-con, dub-con (reader does get into it). use of hypnosis, coercion. blood play, blood drinking, biting. very obvious power dynamics at play here. death of minor character mentioned. p in v smut, rough and sensual. oral (f-recieving), monster-type-fucking. mild chasing trope. some religious elements if you squint??? anyway i listened to closer by nine inch nails on a loop for this if you wanna know the general vibe. let me know if there is anything i missed and need to put on here!

October 31st, 1998

Your niece had a better haul than you ever did at this age, it seemed like every house on the fancy side of Hawkins was giving out full size candy bars. No one ever gave you full size candy bars. The Harrington's had outdone themselves this year, hoards of kids picking out wrapped caramel apples and passing out spiked cider to the parents. Humming and smiling while the adults hugged their parkas to their chests, kids running up and down the stairs of the cul de sac of Hawkins Mansions. Decorated to the nines -- you were happy that most of the street would tire her and all of her friends out. "Auntie!" she calls out, hurrying over to you while her pink and purple puffer coat swishes with her. Alycia glitters against the lights of the houses in the dark of the night, the red sequins on her leotard making her easy to find. Your sister-in-law made her a headband fitted with red horns with a pointed tail sewn into the back of the red tu-tu from her Spring recital to match. A Dancing Devil she called it -- for newly six, she was a pretty creative little bug.

"Auntie look," she yells, running into your legs. The spiked cider sloshes in your cup that you hold high over her head so it doesn't spill onto her. She holds up a decorated caramel apple covered in eyeballs made out of sugar.

"Gross, Leesh," you giggle, "It's got eyeballs all over it!"

"They're fake eyeballs, Auntie," she explains like you're stupid, "They're not real eyeballs."

"Oh, thank you for telling me. I didn't know," you giggle, catching Steve watching the two of you chat. Your cheeks burn, that crush from when you were fourteen and he spent the summer working at the mall never fully fading. He's married with four kids now so you should probably get over it. "How're things?" he asks from the curb, coming over to sneak Alycia a couple of Reese's cups. "They're good," you shake your head with a shrug, "They're fine. Out here with the rugrat while her mom's at work." "How's the family, your mom?" he presses, arms crossing over his broad chest that stretch the sleeves of his tan workwear jacket.

"She's doin' okay," you smile tightly, "Always a little hard for her this time of year."

"Five years now, isn't it?"

"To the day," you say with a lilt, "Gonna go visit him after I drop her with her grandparents. My dad'll be so thrilled to steal half her stash."

Your laugh is a little hollow when he squeezes your shoulder comfortingly, he slips a candy bar into your hand, too before saying his goodbyes -- set of twins running around his ankles.

Hawkin's bravest fireman somehow off duty on a night like this turns before you take your niece's hand to leave, "Be careful out there at night. You know it's not always safe."

"You don't believe in all those rumors, do you Harrington?" you laugh.

"Don't have to believe them or not," he says seriously, pushing his wire rims up his nose, "I know they're not rumors."

"Happy Halloween, Steve," you say dully, "Goodnight." You both wave, Alycia's little hand in yours while she rattles off a million words a minute about the skeloton outside of the Sinclair house. The moon glows down over the street, dark clouds slicing it like a broken plate.

You rarely visit your brother on the day of, especially since there's always idiot teenagers running around the place. Not exactly easy to mourn when some loser in a Scream mask keeps trying to scare you.

It was quiet, your Docs crunching on mid-fall frosty grass -- some of it already half dead with the season. Commotion from the town in the distance had dulled into mostly nothing now that the kids had turned in for the night. Families turning their porch lights out, settling in for scary movies and sugar highs.

You squeeze the bouquet of baby's breath and eucalyptus a little hard in your hands when you walk through the tombstones. The low lamps along the walk way casting the grass and asphalt in a looming orangey glow -- not offering much light beyond their posts. The moon does the work, still looking shattered amongst the thin gray clouds sliding through the sky.

You hear some giggling, the rustle of leaves, the snap of twigs. Always an outlier of kids doing spells or a Ouija board out here this time of year -- old Chief Hopper coming down to make them scatter and take their weed. You walk off the path when you get a decent way in, crossing away from where the cemetary mostly turns to forest. Four 'Happy Birthday To Yous' into the brush and then a left, two head stones, then a right -- it's the third headstone on the fourth row. No light to shine down on you this time, just whatever's left in the sky. You take your big yellow scarf off from around your neck to lay over the grave, giving yourself a place to sit so your spandex covered thighs didn't have to touch the grass. Your mom would kill you if you got grass stains on the red trench she let you borrow -- a makeshift Carmen Sandiego costume if anyone asked.

You sit, laying the bouquet right at the granite edge, tracing his name before letting your hand drop. You don't say anything for a while, letting the cool wet air run over you in waves. You wonder if the wind blowing is him saying hey.

A few cemetery patrons come by, pay their respects to their loved ones and leave. Some superstitious, some religious. They fade out after a while. The loneliness is comforting, just you and your brother hanging out together like before. Despite being six years apart, it felt like you both always had some weird wonder twin telepathy. He was never really one for a lot of words.

"Didn't that guy tell you not to come around here so late?"

You jump at the sound of an unfamiliar voice, turning around to see an even more unfamiliar person. Wild curly waves messy around his face, cut in 80s shag perfection. His face chiseled, jawline pronounced with soft stubble, soaked in fake blood. It trails down his neck and stains the white of the baseball tee underneath a leather jacket; fitted over top with a battle vest that rivaled the metal heads of the 70s.

"Who're you, huh? You following me?" you ask. You swallow nervously, finding solace in seeing a few other cemetary visitors mosying around. The faint giggle of more mischeif causing teenagers in the distance.

"Sorry," he laughs, a warm laugh that meets his eyes, "Didn't mean to scare you. I um, I saw you over by the cul de sac, overheard him say somethin' to you. I was with my little cousin -- dressed like a mermaid, I don't know if you remember."

You think back to Leesh's pal of trick-or-treaters, scanning them in your head to recall a little girl with big brown eyes and a makeshit Ariel costume on under her jean jacket -- covered in patches much like his.

"Yeah," you smile, "I remember. But that didn't answer my question -- are you following me?"

"Nah," he grins, shaking his head, "I'm visiting someone -- this was just a happy accident."

"Oh," you respond quietly, "Who're you visiting if you don't mind me asking."

"My mom," he shrugs, scrunching his nose, "Halloween was her favorite holiday so I always try to come say hi."

"Oh, I'm sorry," you offer in condolences, "Did you um -- did you grow up here? I feel like I'd remember you."

"Nope," he sighs, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans while his wallet chain jingles next to his thigh, "Grew up with my uncle."

"Oh, nice," you nod, "Well um --"

"Who're you visiting?" he interrupts, sitting on the gravestone next to your brother's; hardware tinkling prettily as he does.

"Pete," you say, hand out to gesture towards the shiny granite in front of you, "My brother."

"Nice to meet you, Pete," he turns his head, curly hair flouncing over his shoulder, "Pleasure."

You laugh, he laughs with you -- you have to laugh about it or else you'd have to deal with the alternative. You're pretty sure you're all cried out about your brother now.

"What happened, if you don't mind me asking?"

"He worked construction," you shrug, "Took an overnight shift five years ago by the quarry, an' it was Halloween so he was workin' by himself -- no one to spot his safety gear. Must've fallen off the rigs or something and since it rained a lot that year the quarry was basically a lake at that point, hit his head and drowned. His body was completely banged up and waterlogged, they could only ID him from his pass in his pocket."

"Shit," he nods, "That's -- that's fuckin' awful. I'm sorry."

You shrug, "Bitch of living, I guess."

"Hm," he nods, "I wouldn't know."

"What do you mean?" you ask with a cocked head, eyes lingering on him while his linger on you. "Don't worry about it," he smirks, the kind that makes your heart flutter; cheeks getting hot at the sound of his voice. "You know something," you start, "With this whole get up -- and you're not from here so you might not know -- you look just like --"

"Eddie Munson?" he asks, with raised brows, "Yeah, my aunt's been telling me that forever. That's why I sorta dressed up like him for Halloween."

"That's dangerous around Hawkins, especially this time of year," you warn him, standing up from your spot and picking up your scarf. You shake it out to get some of the grass of the underside. You hardly notice the way his eyes trail from your shoes over your calves to your thighs.

"Some people say that he went right to hell after that earthquake since he killed that girl," you explain, shrugging the trench off some to fit the scarf on under it, "And now he's a demon that haunts Hawkins and terrorizes the town."

You both laugh, though his drops to a low and guttural hum. Nearly a growl. You lift your head to see him just a foot in front of you now, and you can really look. You can really see him. The paleness in his skin, tendrilled navy veins raising through it as he leans close to you.

At this distance it's clear that the hollowness in his eyes isn't makeup, but the sparkling brown is sunken into his skull. His brows darkened and determined while he looks at you.

At this distance, it's clear that the blood on his jaw is real.

"They're close," he says with a sly smile, "Really should've listened to Harrington, sweetheart."

You swallow hard, icy sweat in a film on your body while he takes a step forward.

"Those rumors are true."

The icy air shreds your throat as you run, heaving it in and out in gasps. Your calves scream, thighs aching while you sprint through the brush of the forest; trench and scarf long forgotton somehwere amongst the trees. You try to ignore the way twigs and branches swipe at your face, slicing you and scratching you with unforgiving whips. You let out a cry while you speed, leaping over roots and piles of leaves all while trying to listen with peak percision. Is he close? Is he getting closer? Can he see you?

You stop behind a log near a dip in the earth, rocks above it. Climbing in you heave, trying to catch your breath -- you aren't really made for this. You don't know how girls in the movies can run that long without needing a break.

With a deep inhale in, you hold, using the quiet to try and hear him but there is nothing to be heard. No rustling, no creaks in the wood or in the wind.

You catch your breath, slowly creeping out of your hiding space while the darkness hones -- trees blocking out some of the moonlight. You take a step and then another, trying to make as little noise as possible.

Your efforts are of no use though -- you stomach turns at the sound. The flap of wings, leathery wings -- big. A shaky breath in gives you the courage to turn your eyes up. On one of the taller branches above you he sits, pale and domineering, "Hi, sweetheart."

You bolt again, depserate and sobbing while the cold air is no longer a hello from your brother but mother nature's cruel bite on your wet cheeks. You can barely take in breaths without pain in your throat and chest, turning left and right and left again to lose him but from above he can predict your every move.

When you hear silence again you take another turn, a mausoleum broken down a short distance away. You crawl your way in, wet earth and cement hitting your nose while you gasp and heave for the second time. You listen for the wings for moment, a few moments -- a calm washing over your back when you're sure he's gone.

You take a step back further into the darkness to be sure you're unseen. Deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth. One, twice, three times.

Another step back and you bump into a pillar making you jump, a screech wrenching from you.

Not a pillar no, not by the way a set of claw bites into your shoulder.

"Would've been a good hiding spot if it wasn't for me finding it first, right?" he quips, "Bummer." "Y-you can't d-do this," you cry, "The r-rumors are true they'll -- they'll look for me! Steve knows about you!"

"Oh, babe, that's so cute," he muses with a giggle, "Why do you think I'm still here, huh? Steve's just like me, he's bitten too."

"B-but--"

"Why do you think he believes in all those rumors, huh baby?" he asks with a lilt, "Cause he's one of 'em. Well -- not all the way, I guess. Not like me."

"He blows my cover he blows his whole operation," he grins, sharp teeth bearing themselves at you, "Why d'you think he only works night shifts?"

"I -- don't -- I don't," you sputter, "Pl-please d-don't bite me, d-don't eat me I -- I'll do whatever."

"You're too funny," he says in your ear, deep and grizzly while you're rooted to the spot under his clutch, "I already ate, sweet girl. But you'll make a fine dessert."

You don't know how you get there but it's not like home -- it is but it isn't -- dark and deadly; covered in slithering vines. You're too petrified to ask; but whatever this place was, despite the spores in the air and the rubble from the walls -- it was much nicer than the trailer he grew up in.

"Shh, shh, shh," he coos, claws deep in your shoulder while he wrenches you to a bed covered in plush linens -- satin and full. In the blur around you it could almost be a movie set; the booms of red lightening, dripping pillar candles in heaps around the room.

You whimper at first when his claws release, hot blood oozing against your sweater. The pain pulses like a dull thud, spit flooding your mouth while you move to your side to wretch but he catches you by the root of your hair. You wail in fear, smelling the decay in his breath, the sweet subtle rot of your surroundings.

"It's not polite to cause a scene in a stranger's home, right princess?" he asks with a soft lilt. He holds your gaze, warmth spreading over you when he smirks again -- and despite your fear, you can't look away. You aren't even sure if you want to look away.

Your body goes slack on the comforter, melting into itself like a dropped marionnette. "Very good," he purrs. Hazy, you feel his hands on you -- losing their warmth while they sneak under the hem of your sweater. The pads of his fingers are soft in comparison to the tips of his nails, grazing your stomach and sternum before reaching up to cup your breasts. He lets out a shallow breath, squeezing the delicate flesh softly in his palms -- so gentle despite his rough demeanor.

His thumbs graze your nipples in slow circles earning him a mewl from your dry throat.

"So easy," he giggles in a whisper. You nearly pout when his hands slide down and away from you; beginning the unhurried removal of your clothing. He moves glacially, eyes remaining on yours, wraiths of whispers in a lanuage you don't understand fluttering in the air around you -- in one ear and out the other. Part of you wants to scream and thrash while he slides off your spandex, rips the seams of your panties, destroys your socks.

His clawed hands shred your sweater, snap your bra at the straps until all your clothes are left in a heap on the dusty floorboards by a forgotten desk. He crawls over you like a predator, undressed himself now: some how bigger, more hulking than before. His shoulders are broad, muscles flexing while skin so white it's nearly blue stretches over it. Whatever is down here has completely infected him, you can see it in the color of the veins beneath his skin, the slight red in his pupils, the dark blue hues under his eyes.

His wings lift high around him in an arched half circle, tips appearing behind him like a hybrid of horns and halo at once.

"Could smell you from here," he leers, "since last night. Christ, fucking drooling over you like a kid."

You whimper again, body jolting in pain when his nails pierce your thighs when he parts them. Fresh ichor spilling from the wounds in deep sanguine and he doesn't seem to care about the mess he's making while it drips onto the sheets. His cavalier manuevering comes off as though he likes to play with his food before he eats it.

"And I don't know what it is, angel, how my senses find the right ones," he rasps while he leans forward to your blood soaked shoulder; serpent tongue slipping out to lave over it, "But you really called to me this year; think you might be the one."

"The o-one wh-what?" you sniffle. His tongue slides over the lacerations on your shoulder again, sucking slightly from the new wounds. He lets out a groan, using free hand to rest on the side of your rib cage for support.

He deatches from the well he drinks from, tip of his nose running over your decollatage and up your neck. In inhales over your jugular, pressing a wet kiss under your jaw before getting to your ear.

"The one I mate with, sweetheart," he breathes, "The one I breed."

Breed? You heart sinks like a stone into your belly, body tensing in a freeze while you think of what to do. How to get out of here.

"Wait," you gasp, arms coming up to push at his chest and push him away, "No, please, wait -- you can't."

You push and push but he's a stone pillar, he barely moves, his muscles barely push inward at your assault. He tuts, the click of his tongue between his teeth almost a chitter. He noses your cheek before looming over you, tips of your noses brushing. He catches your gaze again, the whispers start while the air blows in through the broken window. Obedire domino tuo, obedire domino tuo, obedire domino tuo. His lips aren't moving but you can hear his low voice in your ears, barely there, swirling around in your subconcious while the wind whispers with it. Another flash of red lightning illuminates him in a streak, the rumble of thunder vibrating your belly and chest. His hand floats up from your rib cage while you settle, cupping your cheek to slide down to your jaw and over your neck. The touch is nearly comforting, dipping you back into a haze like before.

"You were saying?" he asks.

"Hm?" your brows pinch, his voice muffled and far away.

"That's what I thought," he says smugly, head dipping back down to your neck where his lips drag over your delicate skin. His breath leaves a patch of wet heat that lingers when he moves down over your chest, fangs peeking out behind his full lips when he drags them over the swell of your left breast.

A gentle gasp escapes you, eyes fluttering closed when the tip of his tongue teases your pert nipple, blowing cool air against it once soaked with his spit. He flicks against it again, alternating sides, presses kisses over them in clear ownership. The more he tasted of you, the more it belonged to him.

With each touch and tease of your tits the more you gasp and whine beneath him, he chuckles from his belly, moving down to your sternum.

"And I died a virgin, can you believe it?" he asks with a cocky lift to one of his brows, "Now all I gotta do is smile and girls like you 'll just fall into bed with me."

There's cotton in your ears, all you can do is nod slowly while blood still leaks from your shoulder and thighs. All you can feel is his mouth and hands travel further and further down. The wind howls and the low chant in the back of your head changes tune but in the same cadence; over and over again: vis, sentis, obedis. Vis, sentis, obedis. Vis, sentis, obedis.

He licks a stripe up the back of your thigh to catch a bead of blood before it reaches the mattress, savoring you. He feeds from the gouges he left behind for a moment before inching forward to the apex of your thighs. Eddie inhales your scent deeply, the earthly musk of you making his mouth water in a mix of metal and spit. His nose brushes against the untrimmed hair of your mound, ghosting himself over it drunk with attraction.

Your body heats up with mild embarrassment, flexing while your hips writhe slightly underhim. Almost as if he can hear your thoughts he kisses the crease of your thigh, "Nothing to be embarrassed about, baby. Girls don't let it grow like this anymore n' it's such a shame."

You want to speak up and explain it's just 'cause you haven't had the time but your tongue doesn't know how to move anymore. Too tired to speak, too caught up in how he feels, how he touches, how he takes what he wants. You relent again, body relaxing; pliant while he spreads you apart for him a desperate moan pulling from you when his tongue -- still soaked in your blood -- glides from the pool of slick at your opening all the way up to your clit.

You almost gag at the way your body betrays you, sending a spread of electricity over your nerves from your core to your finger tips. "More," you whisper, not even believing you're begging for him, "Please, more."

Eddie's smug in his response, smiling with his eyes while he looks up at you from between your legs, "And good manners? You spoil me, princess."

Your back arches in a soft curve when your hips push back into the mattress, pressing yourself into his waiting mouth. He groans again when your body drips for him, leaving a damp sheen on his cheeks and chin. It's not about your pleasure despite how much of it he's bringing you, but about your consumption. He's devouring you. Licking his plate clean from the outside in.

The moans he takes from you spur him on, getting you further and further away from the fight you put up before. Spilling over for him like a puddle while you writhe, a hand reaching out to rake through his hair. His own reaches up from aroud your thigh to hold you by the wrist tight to your side.

"Hands to yourself," he murmrs, soft lips wrapping around your swollen clit to suck expertly on the bud. You whimper, tugging at his hold but it only makes his grip more intense, pinning you there without much a fight. Not even enough to distract him from the task at hand.

When his tongue sinks back down into your soaking core you feel it, the heat pulsing through your belly while he lets the muscle dip and swirl in your wetness. Your thighs twitch and shake when his nose bumps your sensitive clit, his free hand coming up to gingerly rub circles over it in tandem.

"Oh my god," you whine, "Oh my god -- K-kas don' -- oh my god, ohmygod." He snickers, contining his movements, murmuring a quiet, "God's not here, baby."

Another roll over your hips sends you reeling, his tongue gliding in long strokes when finally the coil in your belly snaps. You fall apart beneath him, loud moans and high pitched squeals while he consumes you through it. Your body vibrates, thighs clamping down over his ears, blood from the slices in your flesh staining his hair and jaw.

He hums low when you settle, gasping for breath on your already dry and scratchy throat while you come down.

Eddie rises slowly, shoulder blades and wings moving with him while he crawls up your body. Smooth and languid like a snake, his torso hovers above yours while he settles his hips between your thighs. You look up at him, his shape, the way his eyes have blown black, the newfound sharpness in his features. A creature, a monster in your wake — not the same person you saw at the cemetery.

“Oh,” he coos when he sees your eyes glassy and rounded upon him, “So precious.”

You're much weaker now, mind and body, the stings across your skin from the broken branches and his sharpened nails a pain you've become better accquainted with. You take another breath of calm, arms resting by your head with your palms up towards the ceiling. He takes the moment of surrender to hold them down against the bed. The pressure of his hips against yours keeps you pinned, but you barely fight -- maybe squirm, maybe whine. No thrashing, no screaming, the whispers echo through the wind again:

Vis, sentis, obedis. Vis, sentis, obedis.

"So, so, precious," he whispers while he leans forward, kisses pressed to one cheek and then the other slow and controlled. He inhales again when he dips down to your neck, piercing fangs dragging over the vein there. You feel the push and then the pain, the unbearable blinding pain of his teeth ripping through you. Through your skin, through the muscle, the pulse of his mouth while he holds himself there.

You cry out, nearly a scream while he holds himself there -- just enough to infect you, just enough to get the poison in. The pain reaches a blinding peak, bile growing up your throat, eyes filling with a white hot surge of anguish and then -- Nothing. Euphoria. An unknown lightness you hadn't felt before.

He releases, still holding tight to your wrists above your head when he raises up over you again.

"Open," he instructs, and in your hazy gaze you obey. Your tongue flattens against your chin without command.

"Very good, sweetheart," he praises, collecting the blood left on his lips and in his cheeks to spit it directly into your waiting mouth.

"You can close now," he grins, "And swallow."

He grunts, hips sliding against you so that you can feel his length between your legs; the girth alone sends a chill to the part of you that is screaming inside your head. How is it supposed to fit? How is he supposed to get this inside you? "Don't worry," he laughs, "It'll fit."

When your vision snaps up at him he laughs again, "I can hear you in there, princess. I can always hear you."

He dips down again, tip of his nose sliding over your cheek to your ear, "So be very careful what you think about."

He doesn't need his hands to guide the head of himself into your already needy center. It's a stretch, delicious but nearing painful. It's not something you've ever even dreamed of taking before; thick, large, inhuman.

Your legs lift on their own accord while he pushes in further, getting half way while you let out a choked sob.

"Aw, shh, shh, shh," he mocks, easing in more, "C'mon you can take it."

"You can --" his hips snap in hard for the rest of him, letting out a ragged grunt when the rest of him disappears inside you, "--take it."

You mouth hangs open in a desperate oval, face crumpling when you become so full of him -- all encompassing. A part of you now, buried deep within. He moves, dangerously slow and controlled; methodic in how he thrusts himself deeper and deeper inside. "Mmm, that's it," he growls, chest to chest with him while his hip grind at a deliberate pace. You feel his hot breath fan out over your lips, forehead pressed against yours. He's not hot, he's not cold, just skin against yours while it flashes with heat. You go from shaking to sweating with minutes in between.

When your hips roll to meet his thrusts you moan, the tip hitting you so deep in your core that stars burst behind your eyes. "There we go," he grins mischeviously, "S'at feel good, pet?"

"Ooh, yes," you hiss through gritted teeth, actively trying to bounce yourself againsth him now that your body has started accommodating his sheer size. He raises himself up on his hands like a cobra, snake like peering down at you while he meets the roll of your hips with an unforgiving thrust.

"Good," he oozes the word out like smoke, deliciosly deep seated in his belly when he thrusts hard again. He mumbles a quiet musing to himself that you can't hear -- too gone in the lightness in your body, in the way nothing hurts, in the way you're so full.

Can finally fuck you how I wanna.

He gets up, sitting back on his haunches while still inside you, pushing your legs up so your knees end up by your ears. With this leverage he sinks in deep. You don't even know how far in he is, just that he's in and he's there, he's everywehre, he's outside and in.

Eddie locks eyes with you, that same smirk from the cemetary that made your stomach flip dancing across his devilish features, "Tell me you like it."

Your mouth moves before your brain can hesitate, "I like it." "Tell me you need it," he demands, tone measured and sure.

"I need it," you say back, your voice coming out broken and weak, "Please, I need it."

He pulls back and punches forward, hard enough that you gasp at the impact. He grips you hard by the backs of your legs, thrusts starting slow and building at an unrelenting pace. His eyes are wild; boring down at you through from under furrowed and determined brows. If you had any mind left, you'd think that he hates you by the way he stares.

"Fuck," he snarls, leaning forward over you, one hand pressing down on the mattress next to your head, "Shit -- fuck, that's it. That's fuckin' -- shit, you're fuckin' mine." "Say you need me."

"I need you," you choke back without thinking, barely able to breathe at his speed. The coil tightens deep inside of you again, tears pouring down your cheeks in waves -- not even crying, just recieving. Absorbing him. Your body rocks like a boat on unsteady waves pinned beneath him, the only sounds are the whispers in your subconcious, his growls and sputters like an animal above you. The lewd slaps of skin against skin, the squelches of him pushing you to your limits.

He steadies himself over you, nose to nose again while he fucks you. Really fucks you. Impressed with himself, he lets out a breathy chuckle when you throw your head back -- eyes shutting tight with a pornographic scream.

"Oh GOD!" you cry out, "Oh my god."

His fingers and claws catch your chin with a firm shake, eyes snapping open to meet the knowing glare of his ruddy brown ones.

"Your god," he starts, panting into your mouth, "is right here in front of you."

You swallow, mouth falling agape again when you feel the bite of his nails on the fat of your cheeks. "Right here," you repeat, dazed and overwhelmed, "N'..n'fronname."

"Right here in front of you," he nods, leaning down to brush his nose against yours while his thrusts slow to a steady pace. It's then that his lips meet yours, the kiss searing with desire and claim when his tongue slides into your mouth. You can taste the metallic twang of your blood in his mouth, sighing into it while he guides the kiss. Breaking away and coming back in; rushed and heated each time while he feels himself get closer to his peak.

His forehead presses against yours, one hand finally releasing your wrist to hold your head in place over your hair. You keep eye contact with him, not even sure if you're blinking, if you even need to blink. You rasp breaths, mouth and throat dry and aching while you breathe into him. You're close, teetering on the edge while he pushes you up with his hips to rest your lower body on his knees and thighs.

"Come undone," he murmurs, "Let go for me."

The command ripples through you, bursting through your belly with a warm heat. You welcome it, eyes rolling, cries pouring from you in words you don't think you understand. He encourages you, offering you rough sweet nothings while you pray to him, beg for him, ache for him.

That's enough to send him over; seeing you completely at his mercy now. Obedient, trained, devoured.

He snares and snarls, growling while he comes deep inside of you. The hand on your head wraps painfully in your hair like it did before you started -- uncaring, brutal. The heat of his seed pools deep within you like the heart of your orgasm. Glazed over you groan, hips rolling up in one final cant to receive him fully. Your vision vingettes while he unsheathes from you; fluids leaking onto the sheets. You're empty and the room spins with a new blackness, you're fading. Fainting? Dying?

The fuzziness continues to darken arouns you, around him, until he's all that's left in the tunnel of your vision. "That's a good girl," he soothes smugly, "Very well done."

Your gaze and mind fade fully to a staticky black.

You wake, you’re not sure how much later.

Still on the bed and still undressed but your arms feel tight – a tug reveals your current state. Bound to a post on the headboard by a triple handcuff knot, dense hemp rope keeping your arms above your head.

You whine and struggle, coming to your senses now – no one knows where you are, you barely know where you are. An underworld – hell. Somewhere.

“Don’t look so terrified, sweetheart,” his smooth honey voice is heard before he appears in the candle light again, “I’m right here.”

“Wh-why am I –” you swallow thickly, coughing and sputtering with how dry your mouth and throat are now, “Why am I tied up?”

He looks at you with faux concern, brows raising, “Oh honey, are you okay?”

He reaches out, pushing your hair away from your face, “Don’t be stressed. Y’know something – I just realized, I never offered you anything to drink.”

“My uncle always told me you should take a girl out to dinner before makin’ the van rock and look at me,” he gestures at his chest, tutting at himself, “Where are my manners, huh?”

Your lip wobbles while he looms over you, “Are you thirsty?”

You nod, he grins – cheshire like, fangs glinting in the light, “I thought you would be.” He gets up, lazy and confident in his walk across the room. His body looks like marble, chiseled with the running and hunting you realize he’s been doing for over a decade. Stronger than ever; ethereal in his post orgasm glow.

He pulls his hair back while he walks, holding it up away from his neck while your eyes travel down his back where his wings have tucked in under the skin. You gag when you see them move above his blades, rippling beneath the tattoos he has there. He’s dressed in only shorts; silk – likely stolen to really own the whole vampire thing he has going on.

You take in a shaky breath when he gets what he needs, dropping his hair back to his shoulders when he makes his way back to you.

He holds the dagger coolly in his hand before gliding the tip down the center of his wrist. Blood blooms from the wound; he doesn’t even flinch.

“Open, princess,” he murmurs. Your lips clamp shut, shaking your head no while fear takes over – rot in your chest. He catches your chin again, forcing you to look at him like before.

“Open,” he repeats, slower. His voice reverberates like a gong between your ears.

Your mouth opens on its own accord and the smell of his blood becomes the most alluring scent you’ve had pass your nose in years. You latch on to the laceration, swallowing and sucking deeply on the wound while his blood and body quench and feed you better than any meal you think you’ve ever had. You feel revived as you devour him, eyes fluttering closed while the fill feels never enough.

“That’s it, keep goin’,” he encourages under his breath, “Won’t have to keep asking you to do things twice once this is all over with.”

You break away to breathe, gasping like you’re coming up for air, drowning in him.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you’ll be just like me, sweetheart,” he says, chuckling when you eagerly lean forward to drink him again, “After a night of some deeply insurmountable pain; and then nothing. Just mine. Undead and mine.”

“But y–you said you were – I’m –” your brows knit in confusion, “You didn’t h-have to d-do this; whatever you um – whatever you bred me with will die if you do this.”

“Oh, no, no,” he laughs evilly, “I didn’t breed you quite yet.”

He pulls his arm away, wiping the blood from your chin with his thumb roughly.

“Consider what we did a, uh…hmm,” he takes a second to think about it with a hum, shrugging cheekily, “A soul bonding experience.”

“You’re disgusting,” you spit.

“I’m delicious,” he corrects, smearing his blood from your chin to your cheek, “If you do say so yourself.”

He gets up again, pulling the covers out from under you to tuck you in. The chill getting to you in a way it never gets to him; you might as well be warm while you turn into actualized death.

“I can hear you, remember?” he asks, tapping your head, “You won’t be totally alone with me. There’s…shit there are plenty just like us.”

“Like Steve,” you pipe up groggily.

“More than just goodie two-shoes Harrington,” he groans, “God, do you ever shut up about him?”

You sniffle in response.

“I mean this place, this – dimension,” he says, “It’s more than just Hawkins, and there are so many more like us; even up there.”

He points upwards with a sharp nailed finger, “All around.”

“And now that you’ll be just like me,” he smiles, sitting on the edge of the bed next to you in the crook of you waist, “There’ll be all the time in the world to breed you.”

Your vision blurs, either from tears or from another fade, you aren’t sure. You can feel a slow burn through your veins, a rush of blood. You whimper.

“So it begins,” he smirks, running the tip of his finger over your nose bridge.

“Oh!” he says, eyes bulging, “Before I forget, and before I lose you – because you’ll be such a pretty blank slate when you come to – I felt like I should be honest.”

He gestures dramatically, a maniacal grin pushing his cheeks up to his eyes while they spark, “Again with my manners, it was so rude of me to introduce myself to Pete’s grave at the cemetery. We’ve met before! Can’t believe I had almost forgotten.”

Ice in your body fights the burning in your veins, you gag, bile coming up to singe your throat.

“And y’know, I didn’t mean to drop him in the quarry when I was done with him,” he says with a scrunch of his nose, like he accidentally wrote the wrong tip on a restaurant check, “Really, my mistake, but Christ did he hit every piece of limestone on the way down.”

He lets out a hearty laugh while he remembers it, your brother's body bouncing off rocks and metal before slipping under the water. You swallow your sick only or it to rise back up with a vengeance, staining your skin red while it seeps out of the corner of your mouth. You tug on the ropes in retaliation, hot angry tears stinging your eyes.

“All that fallin’ did a number on him – which is good because it really took the heat of anyone knowing it was me. I just wasn't as clean about it back then. Much better now though,” he nods, finishing with a superior and charming look like he just told a bedtime story.

He leans forward close to your face while your vision pulses in fuzzy black, browning out while he looks down at you.

“And I’ll tell you something, babe…”

Fading, fading, fading.

“He tasted divine.”

masterlist | fall frenzy | ko-fi

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #kas!eddie #kas!eddie munson #vampire!eddie munson #vampire!eddie #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fan fiction #tw: dubcon #tw: dub-con #dark!eddie #dark!eddie munson

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loserlvrss · 1 month

Text

꒰ 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐑 ꒱ 박지성

summary : baking cookies with your boyfriend, who doesn’t actually know how to bake, leads to him getting playful

genre : fluff, jisung x afab!reader tws : kissing, language (i said hell once oh no) author notes : what can i say~~ word count : 0.7k

“jisung! oh my god, you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

the man looked down at you, eyebrows furrowed, “it’s just a spoon…”

“yes — well, let me do it. can’t have my little baby getting hurt.” you pushed him away from the countertop, taking the wood spoon from his hand without protest. jisung was slightly shocked at your seriousness, however he let you carry out whatever was justified inside your head, giggling quietly.

he replied matter-of-factly, “you’re younger than me, y/n, and much shorter.” but you didn’t care about his truthful words. you liked to tease jisung, as he was easy to make blush.

“yeah, yeah, you’re welcome, i love you too. now, can you read the next instruction please?”

you looked to your big bowl of blended sugar, butter, eggs and vanilla, then to the smaller one of flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt.

“it says to start mixing in the flour gradually.” he summarized while looking awfully focused, lips pouted. "then we can cut out shapes."

“okay!” you turned to him, “can you pour a little in while i mix it together? i’ll tell you when to add more.”

he took the bowl within his large hands, watching as you began to mix the two contents little by little. you thought it was adorable how concentrated he was for you, knowing that he wasn’t the best cook or baker out there — he tried his best to do as the recipe said so they’d turn out decent and make you happy... and honestly, he just wanted to prompt a decorating competition once they had cooled.

"add the rest, ji."

your boyfriend did as you said, turning the bowl over so that the rest of the contents spilled out. you huffed a quiet laugh when some of it scattered on the counter, jisung trying to right the wrong by scooping it up with his hand.

he looked at you apologetically, "don't worry about it, baby." you began, pushing your finger into the contents and then swiping it across his nose. he was shocked at first, but then he smiled, just as you intended. "we need some flour on the counter anyways to roll them out."

he mimicked your actions, swiping his finger through the excess, grabbing you by your cheeks and then pressing it against your nose gently. he smiled so sweetly at you, you found it hard to not do the same.

you gave him a look as he stated, "now we're even." letting you go back to stirring the mixture.

"you're not even competitive, ji." you mumbled the last bit, "besides, i'd let you win." but he heard you loud and clear. and it sparked that non-competitiveness; that was really just playfulness disguised.

the next couple of seconds went by too quick for you to even comprehend, but as if your eyes were closed jisung had gotten a pinch of flour out of jar and tossed it in your direction. it scattered across your face, falling to your chest. maybe he couldn’t believe it either as his eyes grew, your features straight and scrunched up.

his hand remained in the air when your eyes did finally open; caught red handed like he wasn’t the only other person in your kitchen — and the bowl sure as hell didn’t do that to you.

you let the spoon fall against the edge of the glass, fully turning to face the man at your side. “jisung…”

he became flustered, apologizing while using his flour-filled fingers to wipe your cheeks. your boyfriend paused when your feigned anger broke, a giggle escaping your lips.

you grabbed some flour, a smile on your face as you backed the man against the counter, trapping him. he looked curiously, seemingly accepting his fate.

you brushed your hands together, pushing them against his black shirt and leaving handprints over his chest that caused you both to laugh. then, you grabbed his cheeks, pulling him down to your level; but just before you met, you stopped, lips centimeters apart.

you admired his closed eyes, features tinted pink like he had blush on, and slightly parted lips. you both knew that you could pull him apart by his seams, and that he’d gladly accept it.

jisung moved first, closing the gap easily. he gripped your waist, pressing your lower back to get you as close as he could. you knew there’d probably be a couple flour-fingerprints against your leggings, but you honestly found it funny, cracking a smile against his lips.

he broke away, slightly winded, and still holding you close. “can we finish? i want to cut out a meummwonbom shape.”

reblogs, likes and comments are greatly appreciated! thank u!

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w2sology · 3 months

Note

Would you do something about the first time Harry had the reader meet the boys or something? I loved "of all the ways, harry lewis." 🩵

ahhhhh i'm glad you loved it! i was so nervous about posting it 😭😭😭

boyfriend material, harry lewis.

summary: you meet harry's best friends for the first time.

warnings: language

harry rolled over in bed as he gradually woke himself up, trying to actually get out of bed. but he couldn't, it was too warm and welcoming. and on the other side of the bed lay you, deep in your slumber, your chest heaving up and down slowly.

harry found himself staring at you for a little while, just admiring the beautiful woman that he had in front of him. he didn't know how he got so lucky, his sister always told him he was punching and he believed it. but you felt the same way ─── the truth was that you were both lucky to have each other.

suddenly, you began to stir from your slumber, stretching as you slowly blinked your eyes opened. the first thing you saw when they fully opened was harry, and that quite literally made your morning. his eyes were already on yours, a smile gracing his face as you mirrored it.

"morning, sleepyhead," harry rasped, scooting even closer to you and embracing your in his arms.

"hi, harry."

"i was thinking..." he began to say.

"well, that's never good, is it?" you playfully rolled your eyes.

harry pinched the side of your hip that his hand was closest to in response, earning a squeal from you. "ha ha ha, you're so fucking funny."

"honestly, it's so hard being this funny."

after deadpanning you for a few seconds, the two of you burst out in a fit of laughter before harry continued.

"i was thinking that you could come to the video shoot today? maybe, you know... meettheboys?"

the last part came out so rushed that if it wasn't for how long you'd known harry, you probably wouldn't have heard what he said.

turning to face him and lifting your head from his chest so you could see him properly, you smiled at his proposition.

"you serious?"

"well, i'm asking, aren't i?"

"i know, but... you don't think it'll go tits up or anything, do you?"

harry laughed at the nerves that rolled off of your tongue at that question, knowing that if anything, his friends would adore you; they all wanted to know who he was so whipped for.

cradling your face with his hands, harry spoke to you. "i promise it won't go tits up. if it does, i'll do whatever you want me to do for a whole week."

"even my skincare routine?"

harry hesitated at that. "i’m gonna say yes because i know i'll end up being right anyways."

shoving him away from you with a scoff, you began to get out of bed to make a head start on the day ahead of you. "cocky much?"

"always."

instead of actually taking you to the video shoot and shoving you head first into the spotlight, harry suggested that the group meet for lunch somewhere before they start filming.

luckily, they all agreed with the plan and ethan suggested a nearby restaurant for the day. walking hand in hand to the venue from where your car was parked, harry winced a little as you tightly squeezed his hand.

"you alright there?" he chuckled.

you loosened your grip, feeling a little flustered after realising how nervous you appeared. "sorry."

"don't be," your boyfriend assured you. "i mean, what's the worst that could happen?"

"they could hate me."

"if they hate you, that means they hate me. and they don't hate me."

"thanks, babe, that makes everything all better again," you rolled your eyes as he stopped to open the door to the makeshift diner for you.

"of course, sweetheart," he smiled annoyingly at you, kissing your forehead.

walking inside, you were greeted by the sound of soft r&b playing accompanied by loud laughs coming from a corner in the diner. and as harry began to guide you towards the noise, a small out grew in your stomach.

harry could feel you trying to resist, a hand on the small of your back to guide you towards the boys. they saw harry first, his tall build unable to be missed.

"finally, what took you so long?" vik clapped, grabbing the attention of the rest of the males on the table, who all turned to stare at you and harry.

"sorry boys, we were actually planning to be on time but someone," he gestured to you, "wanted to practice being a make-up artist last minute."

a few chuckles were heard as simon moved over in the booth to make more space on his side for both you and harry, with vik and toby on one ledge, ethan and jj on the other, and josh sat in the corner between simon and ethan.

"anyways, this is y/n," harry smiled looking at you adoringly as you glanced around at the faces around you with a shy smile.

"hi," you managed to say as you had practiced, small yet still confident.

you knew their names and who was who, harry had quizzed you on all of them prior to this day just so you wouldn't feel as though you knew nothing about the main part of your boyfriend's life.

"hi, y/n," they all said back. toby squinted at you for a moment before choosing to speak up.

"well, there's no resemblance between you so she can't be a relative. is she a friend we haven't yet met, harry?" he genuinely asked.

simon slapped his hand over his mouth to stop the laugh from pooling out as you sort of did the same, knowing toby was winding harry up.

"you're full of shit," harry pointed the menu at toby as he browsed through it.

"no but, let's discuss. how did you," josh pointed at harry. "bag her?"

"why is that even a question?" harry huffed, knowing all along that this was coming.

"y/n, don't lie to us," simon whispered to you. "how much is he paying you─── ow! that fucking hurt," he interrupted himself upon harry digging his elbow into his side.

"shut up," harry groaned. "she is my girlfriend, and she can confirm that she isn't being coerced, now can we order?"

harry's flustered state had you laughing to yourself a little, biting the inside of your cheek as you looked at your boyfriend, feeling much less tense than you were before meeting his friends.

and as the brunch went on and they cracked a few jokes with you here and there, you cane to realise why harry enjoyed being in their presence so much, they welcomed you with open arms and you were just glad to get the first meeting out of the way.

#wroetoshaw #wroetoshaw x reader #sidemen #sidemen x reader #wroetoshaw imagine #wroetoshaw imagines #harry lewis #harry lewis x reader #kinda hate this eurghhhhdhsh

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barefoothighlander · 1 year

Text

absolution - prologue

-simon 'ghost' riley x wife!reader

-warnings: canon typical violence, mentions of scars, fluff

-word count: 1.4k

-summary: you're a sniper and reconnaissance specialist in the military, secretly married to Simon, as the knowledge of your relationship would compromise both your posts. One night he comes home from a mission and you tell him that Price wants you on the team for an upcoming 141 mission.

next chapter fic masterlist

a/n: this is the first time I've written any sort of fic so pls bear with me, there will be smut eventually, I haven't mapped everything out so don't worry there will be spice. also, I'm not super advanced when it comes to mw lore, aside from the events that occur in the new mw2, but I really love this character and I hope I do him some justice. I'm gonna make a part two, maybe multiple chapters but I'm not sure so pls let me know if you'd read more. :)

this fic was inspired by 'The Captain' by @/as-is-above-so-below which is really phenomenal, so please read that if you get the chance.

It was late in the night when you heard the door open, usually you were a heavy sleeper, but you could always sense when Simon came home. He had been gone for six months on his last mission, somewhere in south america was all he could say about it, before packing up and taking off to leave you alone in your shared flat once again. A mutual understanding had been made during the beginning of your relationship, both of you were military personnel, and you understood that it came with perks, months off spent together, but it also came with its downsides, being separated for months at a time, never knowing what condition the other was in, and living in a constant state of worry about your partner. When Simon proposed, he promised to always come home to you, to never leave you alone like everyone else did, and you believed him, trusted him, and he never broke his promise. His footsteps were light when he came into the bedroom, still wearing his mask, but donning his less formal jeans and black sweatshirt, you caught him lingering in the doorway as you moved to flick on the light next to the bed, casting a dark shadow behind your husband. As soon as your eyes met he lifted his arms to pull his mask off, no longer the ghost, but now standing as the man you so loved. A faint smile crept up on your face as you awakened fully, happy to see him in one piece after being away for so long. You urged him over to the bed with a nudge of your head and he so happily obliged you, kneeling down beside your frame to plant a kiss on your forehead, then your cheek, and lastly your lips, a deep kiss filled with longing.

“Hello” you smirked and glanced forward through your eyelashes as he pressed his forehead to yours.

“Hi lovie” he responded in almost a whisper.

“What time is it?” “late, go back to sleep, ill be here in a minute” he said, as he brushed his knuckles against your cheek and left your side. You watched him cross the room into the bathroom, and close the door almost fully, you two never closed doors fully when you were home together, a sort of unspoken law that allowed you to never be separated. As you heard the shower turn on you sighed to yourself and fell back against the pillows, turning off the bedside lamp. Minutes passed before you heard the shower turn off, waiting for Simon to emerge from the steam-filled room. Once he did, he quickly crossed to the closet to find suitable clothes to sleep in. Entering wearing a simple pair of sweatpants, rare considering he typically wore nothing to bed as the man was like a personal space heater, constantly burning to the touch. He settles himself next to you under the covers and turned to his side so he could pull you close. Resting his face inches from yours, looking at you like he was trying to memorize your face as if he could ever forget it.

“Did you buy more pillows while I was gone?” he asked whilst fussing with the various adornments you have thrown onto the bed. You smirked to yourself, “Yes, but only ‘cause I was trying to make the bed comfier” “The bed is comfy” he replied matter-of-factly.

“Not when you aren't here,” you said as you snuggled close to him, tucking your head under his chin and settling your arm over his waist to allow it to wander over the expanse of his back, feeling over his scars, old and new, silently cursing yourself that you couldn’t do anything to stop him from getting hurt.

“Knife” Simon breathes out. You respond by simply tilting your head and quirking an eyebrow at him. “ ‘sfrom a knife, this cartel was big into watching people bleed”. A meek oh was all you could manage, as you thought about him hurt in the field, a literal knife in his back as he tried to survive. “I’m alright lovie, nothing I haven’t been through before.” He was always this way when it came to his wounds, paying no attention to them after the fact, simply regarding them as an addition to the collection of marks that littered his body. You hated thinking of him hurt, but in an odd way, you regarded the scars kindly.

“You think they’re ugly?” He asks while resting his lips on the crown of your head. “No,” you respond without much thought. He tilts your head to meet your eyes, urging you to explain. “They’re reminders..” you say while looking into his dark eyes. “They prove how hard you fight to come back to me.. I could never find them ugly”. He gives you a simple hmm in response before he arched his neck down to place a kiss on your lips.

“How was it, while I was away?” Simon liked to start conversations later in the night as it meant less time trying to force his body asleep, thankfully you were still awake, which meant he could talk to you rather than staring blankly at a wall or tossing and turning for hours in the hopes of maybe getting a few hours of peaceful sleep.

“Boring” you respond “Went to work, filled out paperwork, trained some new recruits, and practiced grappling” “So nothing interesting happened” he asked. “Well, one thing” you respond moving yourself to look at him. “Price called me” you state, waiting for any change in his face to dictate whether or not you should continue your sentence, he remained stoic. “He wants me for a mission with the 141,” you say. “No” is all Simon responds.

“You don’t even know what it is yet”

“No, you know what kind of missions we get, you’ve seen the paperwork. I don’t want you in any position that could risk your safety”

“Si, every mission risks my safety this wouldn’t be any different”

“Except I would be there, that makes this dangerous”

“How?”

“I can’t do my job if I’m constantly worrying about you, where you are, how you are. It would compromise me”

“Well, what do I tell Price? He doesn’t know we’re married, I can’t just explain to him that my husband doesn’t want me in the field with him, he’ll need a solid reason, and I don’t have one”

“I’ll tell him” Simon grunts.

“You’ll tell him what? That we’re married? You’ll give up that information just because you don’t want to risk me potentially getting hurt, that's bullshit and you know it” you argue as to begin to sit up in the bed, feeling yourself getting angrier at the idea of your husband not trusting your abilities in the field. “It’s not like I would be in the middle of the action, my position is a sniper and reconnaissance, I’ll sit on some rooftop for hours waiting for all of you to clear the way before I even think about pulling the trigger.”

“And what if something goes wrong, what if one of us is compromised? What then?”

“Then we deal with it! Like we always have, we’re a team Simon, I don’t expect your full support on this but I expect a little trust in my capabilities, I have never stopped you from going on a mission just because I thought it was unsafe, I have always trusted you. Please, do the same for me.” You beg as tears begin to prick your eyes.

He stares at you for what feels like minutes as you will him to talk. “Okay”, he says finally. “You’ll come, but this, us, stays a secret. I can’t have the enemies knowing I have any sort of weakness”

“I’m a weakness,” you ask.

“Yes, you’re a weakness. Because I don’t know what I would do if you ever got hurt. They can use you against me. I won’t let you be a pawn”

You reach your hand up to hold his cheek as you lay a soft kiss on his lips. “Okay” you whisper as you curl yourself into him, finding comfort in his warmth, as his heartbeat slowly lulls you to sleep.

Simon stayed awake, listening to your soft breathing, feeling your chest rise and fall with every breath. Holding on to you like if he even loosened his grip you would fall out. He lay awake thinking of all of the ways he would cuss out his Captain, all the ways he could try to get you taken off the mission, tormenting himself over all the possible outcomes of you joining him in the field, until eventually, his eyelids became too heavy, and he joined you in sleep.

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gothmikasagf · 4 months

Text

Project matchmaker

Pairings: Lucifer x gn!reader, huskerdust

Warnings: reader is bored, bad choices, Lucifer is clueless and just wants to make Charlie happy, very bad choices, some swearing, crack fic, don't take this too seriously, reader is a dumbass, no smut. You might experience second-hand embarassement, sorry not sorry.

Summary: Valentine's day is approaching and reader is bored and wants to play matchmaker with Angel Dust and Husker. Lucifer is accidentally roped into it because he wants to make a good impression on Charlie. Chaos ensues.

Word count: 3.5k

Notes: I apologize for everything in advance. English is not my first language. Let's pretend Lucifer is actually over Lilith for the sake of the fic. Very, very nervous to post this but here we go.

Residing at the Hazbin Hotel wasn't as bad as people made it out to be. It was actually pretty difficult to find free rent and good company in hell, so even if you weren't sure about the whole redeeming thing, you weren't bothered in the slightest.

You spent the majority of your days going along with Charlie's exercises and gossiping with Angel Dust whenever he was free. You thought of yourself as pretty lucky compared to the average sinner in hell, so you weren't really complaining.

Still, there was something missing, some other form of entertainment, a dynamic that would switch up daily life a little and make it less boring. And after the weekly movie night on Voxflix that's when it hit you.

Since Valentine's day was getting closer, you and Angel decided to watch a cheesy rom-com, one of those that makes you sigh and squeal even if you don't believe in that type of love outside of the screen. You were just wondering about who the main couple reminded you of with flirty banter and hidden stares when suddenly the best idea ever-kind of-came to you!

"You okay over there, toots?" Angel had looked over to you worriedly.

"Never been better!" you smiled at him and redirected your attention to the movie, a plan forming in your mind.

You weren't even sure if Valentine's day was still a thing in hell, but if it wasn't, you were going to bring it back.

What you didn't know, though, was that the very own king of hell was gonna be accidentally roped into your schemes. And that you would end up developing an embarrassing crush on him.

Two days after your (not so) brilliant idea, you were in front of Charlie's room, asking for an audience.

You were ready to oversell your cause if necessary, but you knew Charlie had a good heart, and the fact that this idea might be beneficial for the hotel gave you high hopes.

You told her how it would have been wonderful if you could decorate the hotel's lobby for Valentine's day because everyone deserves a little bit of love, especially in hell! And throwing a small party would surely attract some new sinners.

At the end it didn't take much convincing. Charlie was very happy to have the opportunity to lure more people into trying to redeem themselves, and Vaggie wasn't too opposed either, as long as it was kept civil.

And that's how you found yourself in this predicament.

"I think pink would be the best suited for it." You said to none other than the king of hell. He was hunched over a gigantic banner that read "Valentine's day" followed by various hearts, and his face was scrunched into a deep, concentrated face.

After your successful meeting with Charlie, you thought either she or Alastor would have been the ones helping you with the task of decorating the hotel, you didn't know how wrong you were. Alastor didn't want anything to do with the project, pretending to be fully immersed in who knows what he was able to come up with on the spot. And you guessed that's when the big boss of hell himself came into the picture; having heard of Alastor's failure, he immediately jumped in to try and make himself look better in Charlie's eyes, even if it meant having to work with a lowly sinner like you.

He wasn't as annoyed by your presence as you were expecting, even if you were kind of bossing him around to get everything perfect. You would have the time to regret this later, right now you couldn't afford to not have the right atmosphere for what you were planning.

He nodded in approval and magically switched the color from red to pink, leaving some red hearts to create a better effect.

This wasn't your first time meeting the king of hell, you were right there when he and Alastor started fighting over who was the best father figure to Charlie. Although you didn't get to talk much that time or the one after that, as he was busy kicking Adam's ass. You were amazed by his powers, as any sinner like you would, and you found him to be quite a peculiar person. So you were quite happy, and also a bit intimidated, to spend this time alone with him.

"Now it's perfect" you said, finally happy with the final result. You started to think of a way to put it up effectively without having to use the hotel's old and rusty ladder when he unfurled his wings and easily put it in place.

They were so majestic and you had never seen such a shade of pure white, it wasn't really common in hell. You wondered how he kept them so pristine after all those years.

"Are we done now?" He asked while landing gracefully on the ground.

You looked around the lobby and smiled proudly at yourself. The bar was adorned with pink and white garlands, and cute and small red hearts spread here and there. From the ceiling, some pink and white paper flowers you and Angel Dust made were hanging beautifully, and the banner just tied them all together.

"We're just missing a little something." You said, not looking at him in the eyes. This was going to be the real protagonist of the event, and convincing him was going to be crucial.

He raised an eyebrow and looked at you expectantly. "We just need some mistletoe right there" you pointed at a secluded corner near the bar, where surely you'd manage to rope Angel and Husker close enough so that they at least would have to address the heart eyes they sent each other all the time. They weren't being as subtle as they thought.

"Mistletoe?" Lucifer crossed his arms and looked at you, confused.

"Yeah, you know the one that people usually have to kiss under. I think it makes a lot more sense for Valentine's day than Christmas, if I have to be honest."

"That's-" he tried to say, but you interrupted him because you really needed it for the plan to continue.

"I know, I know, but I spoke to Charlie and we reached an agreement." you really hoped that mentioning Charlie's approval was going to be enough for him to do it. You also hoped he wouldn't actually ask her because you did not have her approval for it. You were playing dirty, but you couldn't just surrender halfway through victory.

The man in front of you sighed, but he did it, you secretly thanked your lucky stars and tried to act as less suspiciously as possible.

You were getting good at this. Maybe you should really start considering a career in matchmaking.

"What does the king of hell think?" You asked while admiring your work. Maybe he didn't exactly like you or find your company suitable for his tastes, but you still thought you did a pretty good job together.

"I think it's still missing something" he said, looking around. He had discarded the jacket and hat half an hour ago, and you were just noticing he looked really good without them.

You were so wrapped up in your little plan that you didn't even take a good look at him. And maybe it should have stayed that way because he was Charlie's father, and oh, when did the room start to become so hot?

"Maybe a duck or two" he whispered to himself while scanning the bar's decorations. You took a little break from the inner hyperventilating to look at the same spot as him.

Was it some sort of hell's tradition you weren't aware of?

Maybe it was the sudden temperature increase in the room, or maybe you just wanted to make a good impression after an hour and a half of bossing him around (what were you even thinking?) but you found yourself agreeing with him. "Yeah, maybe you're right."

That night, the party was in full swing. The hotel's residents and some other sinners who didn't hate the idea of the theme party were all gathered in the hotel's lobby.

Charlie was ecstatic and she was going from sinner to sinner to explain her cause and invite them to the hotel. A way less hyper Vaggie was following her around, making sure everything went smoothly.

Alastor was still nowhere in sight, maybe hanging out with his friend named Rosie; while Nifty was going around chasing with a knife two bugs she found banging. They weren't going to have a good Valentine's day.

You were sitting at the bar next to Angel Dust, who was happily chatting away with you and Husker.

Lucifer was nowhere to be seen; he had appeared just before the beginning of the party, proudly showing you "his latest creation". A pink rubber duck with a bow and a small red hat resembling his own was pushed in front of your face. "It's a backflipping duck who also spits fire, and it's Valentine's day themed!" He grinned at you.

"That's remarkable" you had said and placed it on the bar counter, away from prying hands that could use it for who knows what.

"This was such a great idea y/n! We should do this every year!" an excited Charlie appeared behind you. "My dad is gonna be back soon, but I have to say you two did a really good job with the place." She patted you on the back and went back to chasing sinners.

"Yeah, what prompted you to do that?" Husk asked from behind the bar. You looked at the drink in your hand and shrugged. "I was bored"

Angel Dust snickered from next to you. "Our little y/n watched too many romantic comedies and thought they would hit it off with short king and maybe go at it or-"

"Woah" you chocked on air while Husk hid a smirk pretending to wipe the counter. "Angel, what the fuck?" You looked around to make sure no one important was listening in on your conversation.

"You didn't say no" he laughed, throwing his head back while Husk was pretending to swipe the floor where a couple of the red hearts had fallen. He was so close to the mistletoe.

"Because I don't need to, you'd have to be crazy to think you can bag the king of hell of all people" you hiss while trying to think of a way to get Angel there too.

"Darling, his wife left years ago, and he clearly hasn't gotten it on with anyone yet; don't sell yourself short." You took the duck you had put away and pretended to throw it at him. Only you accidentally pressed it, and actual flames started to shoot out from its mouth, causing Angel to jump back and land on the floor right next to Husk!

Your eyes went wide, and you dropped the duck to the floor. "Shit, I'm so sorry"

"Oh wow, he fell right under it" a new voice added.

Lucifer was right behind you and sent you an amused but also slightly confused smirk. Did he think you tried to kill one of your friends to get him under the mistletoe? Well, no shit he disliked sinners.

"Under what?" Angel started massaging his ass cheeks, you winced a little, thinking the impact of landing on the hard floor must have hurt him.

"Oh, y/n didn't tell you? We put mistletoe right there" he pointed at the exact spot. Now you were starting to rethink this whole plan, but it was already too late, so you had no choice but to push through.

"You know the tradition, right?" Husk shot you an unimpressed look while Angel was still on the floor.

"C'mon, it's not like you have to make out like them" you pointed at two sinners who were getting it on in a corner ever since they stepped into the party. You couldn't really blame them, wasn't that the spirit of the festivity anyway? Any kind of love was supposedly appreciated.

Then something amazing actually happened: Husk took Angel's hand in his, kissed it lightly, and pulled a blushing version of the spider to his feet.

Considering the way they had been dancing around each other for months, this was a huge accomplishment, and it was all thanks to you! At that point, you were too busy mentally giving yourself a pat on the back for the good job to fully pay attention to something that resembled Charlie's squealing coming from the back of the room. Did she have a radar or something?

When you met Husk's eyes the next second, though, you knew you had to get out of there and fast or you were done for. "Happy Valentine's day" you winked at them before sprinting like the coward you were to the other side of the lobby, leaving Lucifer and his little pink duck to handle the consequences.

Realistically, Husk and Angel combined couldn't hurt him even if they tried really hard, so you weren't too worried for him, and the duck had demonstrated she could defend herself quite efficiently.

As the party drew to a close, Charlie had roped you all into helping to clean up the place. You were busy taking down the bar decorations, carefully putting them in a box to store them for the following year, when you felt someone come up behind you.

You turned around and saw Angel dust with a handful of the white and pink paper flowers. He was headed right for the box on the counter, not looking at you.

"Hey, I'm sorry about earlier, I didn't mean for it to happen the way it did. You shouldn't have gotten hurt." You kept your eyes on the garlands, refusing to meet his eyes.

"No hard feelings toots, but next time I'm not letting you pick the movie. And no more romantic comedies for you" you laughed as he carefully maneuvered the flowers into the box.

"Okay, I deserved that" he smiled at you. You took one of the flowers and offered it to him as a peace offering.

He took it, careful not to ruin your hard work, and pretended to swoon over it. Your friendship was gonna be okay. Surely you were even now? You even gave up rom-coms for a while.

After successfully taking all of the decorations down, you were headed to throw the mistletoe into the trash. It had fulfilled his role and caused enough chaos already.

Halfway through the path to the trash can you spotted Lucifer magically fixing some of the hotel furnishings that had been destroyed by some sinners.

He stopped when he noticed you and started heading your way. Oh no, did he find out already? You couldn't just run the other way now.

"I just spoke to Charlie, and she was really happy about the party, but something tells me the mistletoe wasn't on the list of approved decorations" he raised an eyebrow at you, weight propped on his cane.

You huffed out a breath you didn't know you were holding in and scrambled your brain for an excuse. Surely he wouldn't hate you too much? Having the king of hell against you was already bad enough, but having the king of hell against you while you had a pathetic little crush on him was even worse.

"That was a personal project" you said reluctantly, looking everywhere but at him.

"Oh, and how did this project of yours go then?" you dared to take a quick look at his face, and his amused smirk, which made him look unfairly sexy by the way, was starting to make you think he was on his own personal mission to embarrass you.

"Fairly well, if we don't consider I almost cooked and burned one of my friends to a crisp. Sick duck, by the way."

"No, she's not sick, just themed." you almost burst out laughing at that. Maybe you should tell Charlie to keep him more up to date. "But maybe next time you shouldn't meddle with the heart's matters, you'll find out it's better if things just happen naturally" oh shit, how was he hot even while lecturing you? This wasn't good. He wasn't good for your sanity.

You held up the mistletoe to take one final look at it. "Yeah, lesson learned. I was just about to throw it out."

Only, Angel Dust chose that exact moment to carry out his revenge, and you should have absolutely seen it coming, it was once again your fault, and you could only blame yourself.

"Oh wow, they're right under it. You know the tradition, right?" He mocked. Husk was right behind him, two boxes in his hands, and he was holding in a laugh. They passed right by you and left you and Lucifer alone. You were really starting to question all of the choices that brought you to that moment.

Maybe if you asked him to kill you right there and then he would be kind enough to put an end to your suffering.

"Oh, fuck me" you muttered, your eyes scanning the lobby for the closest exit. Escaping without saying goodbye to Charlie wasn't an ideal solution, but you knew she wouldn't want to see your face ever again after this.

"Won't you at least let me take you out on a date first? I am more on the old fashioned side" he grinned.

You were sure you heard him wrong. It surely was one of those cases when you mix up what the person you like says in your imagination with what they actually say in real life. Was the mistletoe also hallucinogenic? You wouldn't be surprised if it was.

"I'm sorry for Angel Dust, sometimes he just doesn't know when to shut up" You immediately lowered your arm and hid the evil little thing behind your back.

"Should I take it as a no then?" he didn't stop smiling, but it looked less sincere now.

"Wait, oh-" you scrambled for an answer that wouldn't make you look even more pathetic "I would love to, but only if you mean it, this evil thing has already caused enough chaos" you finally tossed the mistletoe into the nearest trash can.

"Darling, you forget I'm the king of hell, no little plant has authority over me" he chuckles, and you smile at him.

If either of you noticed something resembling Charlie's squealing and her being dragged away by Vaggie, you didn't say anything. You didn't even think twice when you didn't see Angel Dust and Husk returning quite yet from depositing those two boxes into the storage closet; so you liked to think that at the end of the day, both you and Lucifer were right, letting things happen on their own was good, but a little push in the right direction didn't actually hurt anyone.

And when Lucifer planted both of his hands on your face to pull you into a kiss, you thought that maybe you shouldn't have thrown away the mistletoe at all.

#hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin lucifer x reader #lucifer magne x reader #lucifer morningstar x you #lucifer morningstar x reader #husker x angel dust #huskerdust

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n-agiz · 1 year

Text

HIDDEN IN PLAIN SIGHTㅤ boyfriend! fushiguro toji x fem! reader — smut [ 0.7k+ wc ] cws public sex + risky sex + exhibitionism + creampies + lots of bickering, pls don't take this too seriously bc i didn't either lmao ! MDNI

ㅤtoji's ideas were more often than not odd, but you had to admit that even through his craziness, the man knew how to give you a great time.

you avoided going out with toji as much as you could — not because you were ashamed of your boyfriend in any way, but because he had a chronic lack of common sense.

“toji stop for the love of god! there’s people around” you half whispered half screamed, pushing his built body as far away from you as the cramped cubicle allowed you to. they were designed for one person to stand inside them while trying on clothes, not for two people to be inside, and this was the first time where that fact became painfully obvious in your eyes.

“i don’t believe in god sweetheart, you know that” toji said through a grin, putting way less effort into trying to conceal his voice to a lower tone, especially when compared to you.

“that’s not the point”

“then what is the point?”

“that we can’t fuck with this many people around!”

toji laughed at your attempts to hide your hysteria, watching as you resigned to half shouting instead of letting your voice rise to the volume you would usually allow it to while reprimanding him, all while also having to focus on getting dressed and pushing your boyfriend away any time he tried to touch you.

“it’s more fun that way though, you know i’ve always wanted to fuck with an audience”

“today is not the day we’re gonna do that, i’m sorry to break it to you”

“you sure about that?”

and exactly because your boyfriend was most definitely the incarnation of some demon to at least some degree, not more than a few minutes were necessary before he proved you to be completely wrong.

“look at me and tell me this doesn’t feel good, angel. just try to do that”

your arms burned from holding yourself up with your palms pressed against the wide mirror in front of you, legs shaking and knees buckling all while your eyes grew glossy, their corners burning as you bit harshly into your lower lip, keeping in any moan that attempted to escape.

how toji managed to stay so put together all while making a complete mess out of you was absolutely beyond you — but one thing you were sure of, he was driving you insane all while so effortlessly making you feel as if you had finally found heaven on earth.

“not gonna bicker with me anymore? weird, you’re usually more feisty than this”

“shut the fuck up toji before i slap you and your naked ass out of this dressing room”

“really? i wanna see you try to do that” he replied, fingers digging deeper into where they held at your hips while delivering a particularly hard thrust, grunting lowly against your ear, eyes staying glued to yours through the reflection on the mirror facing you both.

“fuck you”

“you already are!”

toji’s enthusiasm and smirk annoyed you, but at the same time, you couldn’t bring yourself to fully care, the snap of his hips into yours and the pleasure it gave you entirely too entrancing. the drag of his cock in and out of you was heavenly, and the constant reminder that you needed to stay quiet so you wouldn’t get caught was surprisingly arousing, more of your slick gushing out any time you reminded yourself that the only thing separating you two from complete strangers was a thin curtain.

how you managed to stay up long enough to not only reach an orgasm but also be able to feel toji filling you up was something you weren’t sure off — you just knew that by the end of it you were not satisfied like supposed, instead feeling greedier than you were at the beginning.

“aren’t you such a naughty girl” he grinned, one hand on your waist while the other found it’s place between your thighs, stuffing two fingers inside you to stop his cum from spilling out, humming as he felt you kiss down the side of his neck, pressing your chest into his.

“this is all your fault”

“it better be, wouldn’t want my girlfriend all horny in a dressing room over some random guy”

“just shut up toji, you talk too much”

“but also fuck you better than anyone ever could, so are you really gonna complain?”

N-AGIZ '23ㅤ REBLOGS ARE GREATLY APPRECIATED !

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steddieas-shegoes · 7 months

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Drabble idea for the ask thing: Steve works at a tattoo shop and Eddie works at a flower shop, they both get odd looks when they tell people about their job. Bonus: Eddie gets a tattoo of a flower from Steve and that's how they meet.

This is like if you took call me sunshine, send me to space and made it cuter with a flower shop and made Steve the tattoo artist instead. I'm just gonna write the bonus scene because that's a lot to keep 500 words or less and we all know how I go on 😂 Don't @ me over the super sappy ending, someone with spoons please write another 50k of this.

🌷🌼🌻🌷🌼🌻🌷🌼🌻

"You want a wildflower bouquet in the space of your full sleeve?" Steve stared at the fully tattooed man over his glasses, brows raised in disbelief. "I'm not one to judge tattoo choices but you seem to know what you're doing and I'm a bit confused as to how that fits with...anything else on your arm."

Steve had definitely done some wild tattoos. He was actively part of so many bad decisions made by people who would live to regret getting their girlfriend's name on their neck or the face of their best friend on their thigh.

But this one was different in that this guy had clearly meticulously planned out every tattoo on his body, and that was a lot of tattoos, and now he wanted to add...wildflowers. In between skulls and guitars and some metal band logo. Right.

"Yeah and if it's a problem, I can go somewhere else, man. I just heard a lot of good things about you and my flower shop is two doors down, so-"

"Wait. You're Eddie? You're the guy who owns the flower shop." Steve perked up, face relaxing more into a smile.

"The one and only. You been by?" Eddie didn't remember actually seeing Steve before.

He'd been shocked to walk in and see a barely tattooed Steve sitting behind the counter. Assuming he was the secretary, he'd said he was here for an appointment with the guy in charge, and Steve smiled and explained who he was.

"I haven't. But someone brought me a bouquet you made when I first opened and it was beautiful. Managed to keep it alive and thriving for almost two weeks, which is a record for me, and then someone said it was because of the way you take care of them before they're sold and the minerals you use in the water and I'm turning into Robin. Jesus."

Eddie was endeared.

Steve was looking down at his tablet in front of him, a barely visible sketch on it.

"Is that what you've come up with?" Eddie asked as he leaned over the counter to get a closer look.

They could talk about his love of the bouquet Eddie made later.

"Yeah, but. Now that I'm looking at you...I'm not sure it's right," Steve sighed, closing the app and looking back up at Eddie. "I can redesign at no charge and set up another consultation."

"Can I see?"

"Sure."

Steve pulled his tablet out and opened the picture back up.

It was beautiful, actually resembled a bouquet Eddie had done not long ago for his friend Jonathan.

"It's perfect. Can it be done in one long sitting or do we need to break it up?" Eddie smiled at Steve, pulling up the calendar on his phone to make an appointment.

"Uh. Well." Steve cleared his throat. "I guess you could probably handle the pain so all in one is fine with me? It's probably gonna be six hours with breaks every hour. Are you sure this is what you want?"

Eddie looked at the tablet again, tilting his head as he thought back to when he'd made this bouquet.

"Do you know Jonathan Byers?" Eddie asked, not looking away from the picture.

His eyes focused on the coneflower that he'd only been able to use in one bouquet before his part time employee found out they were allergic.

"Yeah...why?"

"He got you that bouquet, right?"

Steve nodded.

Eddie didn't really believe in fate or destiny or whatever type of miracle people tended to wish for. He also didn't believe in soulmates or the perfect partner.

But wildflowers grow anywhere, and sometimes love can too.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #drabble #this is technically more than the one sentence thing but ah well #i kept it short still

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fun-k-board · 8 months

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Hey, could I request Bi Han/Sub Zero romantic headcannons with a male reader who is his right hand man and childhood friend?

Bi-Han / Sub-Zero with a boyfriend who's his childhood friend

Note(s) : I'm gonna be honest, I don't really like him, but I want to try and be a better writer by writing about characters I don't like. Please, give me critiques on how I wrote him!

First of all, he was incredibly moody as a child already, not exactly of his own volition having a dad like his would ruin any kid, so if you can't handle people who are mean on purpose? You'd have a REALLY hard time getting along with him.

Bi-Han was always brooding, in the corner with a frown, he eats with a frown, sleeps frowning, talks to his brother's frowning, the only time he's ever smiling is either in private or when it's just him and Kuai Liang, but it doesn't happen that often any more after his dad died.

To befriend him, you'd either need to be a part of the Lin Kuei, either born into the clan, maybe the son of one of the lower Lin Kuei members, or found and taken in by the clan, or somehow be involved with one of the Lin Kuei's missions.

It's a long and slow process, but even just talking to him once a day will eventually gain a semblance of trust, it'll be hard to show it, and he mostly does by standing next to you and sometimes agreeing with you, but these things will take time.

By your teenage years, you two began training together, maybe he tends to be a little rougher than other Lin Kuei, and maybe he's broken your nose once, twice, possibly even thrice before, but he did apologise, eventually.

He would confide in you about troubles with his brothers, well, he insists that Smoke isn't a brother and more like a stray even though that's just not true, but Bi-Han would be awkward and reserved about talking with you.

He feels that this isn't your business, and not only that, he feels like you just... Wouldn't get it? While he understands you may have issues of your own, his situation is rather unique.

His troubles mainly consist of Kuai Liang and Tomas upholding tradition, Bi-Han believes that his brothers view tradition higher than him, and even though he's grandmaster, that they don't take his opinions into account.

Of course, this is ludicrous, his brothers follow his every word and typically offer little resistance, though, if you try to tell him that he will just storm off and claim he was right all along and that you don't understand. He'll eventually come to his senses and realise what you said was true, but, won't apologise.

If you agree with him, or at least say you do, he'll murmur a gruff complaint about his brother's and then you'll sit in silence for a while.

By the time MK1 rolls around, he's fairly jaded, he doesn't like talking to his own brothers, he dislikes them a fair amount actually, but he still loves them, or, at least he holds love in his heart for Kuai, he still hates Smoke.

Bi-Han doesn't know exactly what he feels for you, he knows it's not friendship, but at the same time, he's never really had friends before, so, he can't be sure. All he understands is that he values you, and more importantly, your opinion, if you disagree with him it may hurt his pride, but please, stay firm, he comes around eventually, only with you.

He wants to wait for something, that maybe proves you may love him, because when that rolls around, he can fully decide whether to act on his emotions or not.

You most likely accompany the trio to stop Shang Tsung, and you'll most likely be there when Bi-Han betrays the Lin Kuei. Obviously, you choose to stay with him, and, it breaks Smoke and Scorpions heart, they may not have known you too well, but, they knew you were one of the only things that would stop him from going down that path.

In a way, you both failed them that day.

Now, after proving your loyalty to him, you're basically his right hand man and oversee a lot of the clan, you train young and old recruits, you maintain a harsh schedule everybody is expected to follow, you help Bi-Han with whatever he needs, and sometimes need to force him to take a day off.

By the way, he won't let you say his actual name, you always have to either call him Sub-Zero or Grandmaster, depending on if you're on a mission or not, his name is personal to him, a core part of his identity, and, until you're closer, he feels awkward letting you call him Bi-Han.

During this, he becomes even more angry, even more distant, even with you, and it may take pushing, reminding him of your childhood spent together, for him to crack.

He won't come crying into your arms, he doesn't beg for forgiveness or want any, he just sits there, and begins to rant. He rants about how he feels like, if he was a better grandmaster, his brothers would have joined him, if he was a better grandmaster, maybe he wouldn't have joined Shang Tsung, and wouldn't have been tempted by his lies.

You hold a hand to his shoulder, and you confess, you tell him what you think about him, how you feel about his temptation into evil by Shang Tsung, and even though he doesn't want forgiveness, you give it.

And, with permission, you hold his hand. It's a small step, but, it's the most contact you two will have together for a long time.

Now, he gives you small smiles in private, nothing wide, but something so tiny it's hard to differentiate from not having an expression at all, he gives you some time off, more than he gives himself, anyway, and more importantly? He feels himself relaxed around you.

Telling a joke that would once make him scoff and walk away now makes him let out a gruff and amused noise, it's a mix between a laugh and breath of air, and he only does it for you.

Dinners with him are less awkward, when before you would sit in silence, hesitantly taking bites from food. You two now chat quietly about your day, each recruit, and sometimes about each other. You can actually enjoy the food and his presence.

He lets you call him Bi-Han now, not in public, but, when you two are alone, in a hallway, in your rooms, having dinner or breakfast privately, whichever situation calls for you two to be alone, he lets you call him by his name, and, it makes him feel vulnerable. It makes him feel loved.

He's always held your opinion in high regard, but now, it's honestly the only one that matters besides his own, and he does, silently, hope you aren't so tempted by power like he is.

Bi-Han may take longer to kiss or cuddle you than what most would consider normal, he loves you, he knows he does now, but, he's nervous, no, he's afraid. He knows he's a rough man, and he knows how uncaring and even violent he is and can come across as, so, naturally, he tries to avoid the subject. He doesn't want to do anything without your consent, but he's also far too afraid to ask.

It will take you to ask him, you'll need to make the first move, and when you do ask him for that first kiss, he gives you that small, hardly noticeable smile, and you both lean in, closing your eyes...

It's awkward. Maybe you know how to kiss, maybe you don't, but Bi-Han definitely doesn't, and, it shows. He feels slightly embarrassed at how lost he is, but, you two can learn together, and even just telling him, hey, maybe it wasn't the best, but, we can learn together, lifts his spirits an unnatural degree.

For the next week, the schedules become less strict for most Lin Kuei members, and any mess ups are met with less harsh, but still kind of harsh, punishments.

Kissing is basically ingrained into your schedule now, once in the morning on the cheek before breakfast, maybe once at lunch if it's a tough day, and always a peck on the lips at night before bed.

It takes less time to cuddle if you've already kissed before, sure, it still takes a bit long, but, so do most things with this man. Maybe it starts with holding his hand, or, sitting on his bed and talking about things, training gets hard sometimes, so perhaps you're just a bit tired.

You look up at him and quietly ask if you can just lay down for a while, or, maybe you just lay down yourself and wait for any objections, either way, he lets you lay down, and eventually, lays down next to you. Your hands hold each other tightly, your head is resting on his shoulder and it feels strangely perfect, despite how stiff his shoulders are.

This becomes semi natural in your schedule, but only after a long day, cuddling each other until you or him are on the brink of sleep, and then you return to your bed. You two still sleep in separate beds, that's just how he prefers things, no matter how much he trusts you, it's just more comfortable.

I'd recommend cuddling in summer, because, he's insanely cold and the winter is not at all suited for cuddle sessions between you two.

It takes a bit for you two to start calling each other 'boyfriend', not because Bi-Han doesn't consider you his lover, and therefore boyfriend, but because he sort of just assumes that kissing, cuddling, all of that, makes you together automatically, and, he doesn't like announcing his relationships.

It's not like he's embarrassed of you, he seriously isn't, but, you're the only person who sees the vulnerable side of him, and he prefers to keep it that way. None of the other Lin Kuei members, god forbid any one else, deserves to know your relationship with each other.

Dates are rare, extremely rare, you two have major responsibilities within the clan, and, Bi-Han doesn't trust anybody enough for them to run it while you two are away, so, the most date-like thing you'll experience is eating dinner together after every one has had theirs and left.

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