#and no i don't give a shit about love never dies in my head that never happened
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I've been listening to the final lair at least five times and crying over Christine feeling betrayed by Erik because she didn't love him but did feel like they could be friends and Erik's face when she said "tears of hate" and then because of the kiss that btw was not out of romantic feelings but out of empathy and pity and Christine singing all I ask of you to Erik but Raoul singing instead-
#that song brings a whole ass bucket of emotions in just ten minutes I promise#“the tears I might have shed fot your dark fate turn cold and turn to tears of hate” FUCKING SLAPS#Christine daae female rage appreciation#and no i don't give a shit about love never dies in my head that never happened#I remember when I was like five years old I would watch poto with my granny and cry because I felt so bad for Erik#baby boy baby#evil#poto#the phantom of the opera#erik poto#erik#christine daae#raoul de chagny
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𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧
summary eddie munson is super weird. he holds your hand too tight, he has a fascination with your neck, and he can’t give a hickey to save his life. good thing you’re super weird, too. [20k]
warnings two losers falling in love!! vampire!eddie munson, ditzy!reader (kind of), fem!reader, smut mdni (p in v, unprotected sex, oral fem receiving, general heavy petting and kissing, praise), fluff, hurt/comfort, angst (eddie struggling with guilt and grief). canon divergent (the events of volume 2 take place but there’s a mostly happy ending i.e. everyone good lives and everyone bad dies) TW eddie doesn't have suicidal thoughts, but he does think about it briefly. not with intent or anything like that though. requested here for my halloween party <3
(㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)
Eddie Munson never wanted to be a vampire, and he wants that on the record.
It's a ridiculous existence. It's embarrassing. It's nothing like all the movies and books promised him.
He's looking at you, Bram Stoker.
In Eddie's mind, Stoker’s nothing less than a liar and a sycophant.
"Who's dick were you bouncing on, Stoker?" he demands to know, kicking fallen leaf mulch under his feet angrily. "Need'ta fucking impress some vampire lover with your over-exaggerated, over-powered, ridiculous descriptions? Great. Hope it was worth it. Meanwhile I'm here, self-esteem half the size of a grain of rice because I can't scale a building with my bare hands."
Eddie would know. He's tried.
He's not genuinely angry with Bram Stoker, but he'd rather take his frustrations out on a guy who's been dead for a hundred years than take them out on the demobats, because he doesn't want to even think about the demobats. They're all dead too. Not before they'd had (see: devoured) their pound of flesh and changed his life for the worse, though.
He shakes his head to drive out the memory like water in his ears. It's easier to pretend none of that shit in the upside down ever happened. (Impossible to pretend. He begs himself to try anyway.)
He’s pissed because science fiction has promised him a lot of things and reality has delivered on none of them. No super strength, no impermeable skin. He is faster, but that's more a reflexive thing than anything else. And being faster doesn't make running fun. That’s impossible.
Sunlight breaks through the treeline and his skin crawls. Science fiction didn't get that right, either. The sun doesn't hurt. It's just really, really annoying.
He covers his eyes, winces at his itchy hand, pulls his sleeve over his fingers and covers his eyes again. "This blows," he says, and means it.
In Dracula, the sun nulls Dracula’s supernatural abilities. Eddie doesn’t have any abilities worth nulling, unless you count echolocation.
He doesn’t.
He walks another five minutes up the road toward Forest Hills when he realises you're behind him. His senses are enhanced now as a bat’s might be, hearing fine-tuned and dialled up every second of the day — which makes living in a trailer park where everyone thinks he's a murderer an acute misery — but he's as prone to distraction as anyone else. Especially when he gets stuck in a memory.
Eddie throws his gaze over his shoulder and finds you thirty or forty feet away, talking to yourself under your breath. He knows you more for your sounds than your appearance. To be able to put a face to your mindless babbling is a mystery solved. Of course you look like that. A skirt made of soft looking fabric bounces over two cute thighs, a pretty lacy corset type of thing that isn't too tight outfits your top half. You look more like a vampire than he does.
"Hi, Eddie," you call.
His eyes widen, a deer-in-the-headlights kind of surprise. If you notice how he's frozen you don't show it, continuing to push your bike toward him. The tick of the wheels grows louder as you get closer, two hands on the handlebars with wrists draped in bracelets, both silver and fabric.
Besides your jewellery, your arms are bare. You must be freezing.
"Hey," he says.
He doesn't know your name. He doesn't know how you know his, and he’s too awkward to ask.
Your sounds peak as you close the gap. The wet scrape of your dirty black canvas shoes over shining asphalt, the soft puff of your breath, the clinking sounds of whatever trinkets you have in your bag. If he focuses, he can make out the tiniest pinches of fabric. Your short sleeves rubbing against your arms, your bra straps stretching over your shoulders.
Eddie takes a deep breath and tries to diminish his senses.
"Where's your van?" you ask curiously.
"Piece of shit kicked it in the middle of town. Just my luck."
You pause at his side, looking him up and down obviously but without the judgement or irreverent disgust he's come to expect from near about everybody in Hawkins.
"That's not good," you say succinctly.
It's such a genuine response that Eddie can't find it in himself to be sarcastic.
"God awful," he agrees sullenly.
You nod and start to walk again. Eddie falls naturally into step beside you, matching your pace without thinking.
"You should get a bike."
He laughs. Coughs to cover it up. "Yeah?"
"They're way more reliable than a car, and it doesn't hurt the zone."
Eddie squints. "The o-zone?"
"Is there another one?"
You're still so serious that he spares you the ridicule he might dole out to anyone else. If Dustin had said something like that he would've ripped the kid a new one, but you're rather sweet in an odd way. You have a soft manner of talking — each word sounds like you've thought its pronunciation through meticulously beforehand.
He ignores your question and points at your bike, ring catching the sun. "Why aren't you riding it?"
"My chain slipped."
"So much for reliable."
That makes you smile. Eddie feels it like a punch, a flat palm slapped into his chest.
"You can't put the chain on yourself?"
A brisk breeze whips your hair, your earrings. The left kisses your cheek, a silver heart-shaped hoop with pink beads that click together. You lean into it, face tilted to one side as a perplexed smile plays on your sticky lips. "You can do that?"
"Sure, you pull it back around the gear. It's easy." He hesitates for a moment, and then feels guilty about hesitating. "I'll do it for you, if you want."
"The guy in no. 62 has been charging me ten dollars." You don't sound as angry as you should, in Eddie's opinion.
"I'll do it for nothing."
You beam at him. His chest feels like a bruise.
Pretty girls don't like Eddie. Not before Chrissy, not after. He's trying to work out your angle, what it is that you want.
Or maybe you don't know.
As soon as you find out who he is, you'll turn your pretty nose up at him and walk the other way. He shouldn't smile at you, he definitely shouldn't fix your bike.
He can't help it. He's so starved for positive attention that he follows you all the way through the park, westside to east.
He checks the driveway of his own home and smiles mildly when he spots Wayne's new car. It's new in the sense that it's different. It's actually way older than the one he'd had before, the one he'd pawned to pay for Eddie's — well, Eddie's everything. His check-ups, his court dates, his goddamn bail. In the same way that this trailer isn't the trailer, but an older, smaller one as far away from their first as possible.
Kid, if I had the money…
Wayne hadn't needed to finish. If he had the money, they'd leave. Leave Hawkins, leave Indiana. Settle down in some other mediocre Midwestern state with all the same creature comforts and none of the "You were acquitted but literally none of us believe you didn't kill someone," motif.
All they have now is debt, each other, and the Great Munson mug collection.
Eddie keeps his head down as they pass the old trailer. Nobody lives inside now. Only termites.
He can taste blood by the time they reach your home. Far from the metallicity of his human blood, Eddie's blood now harbours a bitter taste. Not quite like coffee but with that same overwhelming earthiness. He pulls his teeth from the bitten flesh of his bottom lip and quickly raises a hand to his teeth, alarmed.
No knife-like points. Normal teeth.
"Are you thirsty?" you ask him.
Eddie flinches and drops his hand. You've parked your bike against the wooden lifts of your porch and are halfway up the steps to your front door, hand clasped loosely on the railing.
His heart fucking pounds.
"I have grape juice?"
"Right," he says hurriedly, "right. Yeah, that would be awesome."
Duh, you meant juice.
You send him another endearing smile and pop up the last of your steps and into the front door. It's not locked. He doesn't follow, thinking you must live with somebody (who's gonna know exactly who he is and tell him to get lost).
He turns his attention to your bike instead. It's easy enough to fix. He rolls the bike so its handlebars are resting against your concrete driveway and covers the top bar of the metal body with his sneaker to stop it from toppling. He rolls up his sleeves and bares his arms, but pulls them back down immediately when he remembers the white-purple whorls of scar tissue lurking underneath.
"Fuck," he mutters. Everything is a reminder, all of the time. He can't escape what happened.
It's everywhere.
He's getting his fingers under the chain when you reappear. You've layered up, bracelets and naked arms hidden by a black hoodie.
The wind blows and your skirt shifts. From his position he can see a ladder hiding in your tights where your inner thighs are pressed together. He whips his gaze up like a high-school perv caught sneaking peeks in the girls locker room and notices the stitching on your chest for the first time.
"You like Dio?" he asks excitedly.
"Who?"
He wilts. "Uh, your hoodie. Dio."
"I got it for three dollars in the bargain bins," you supply helpfully, all pep as you climb down the stairs and offer him a glass cup adorned in dainty enamel flowers. "Is Dio good?"
He waves his hand at the glass apologetically. "Two seconds…" Lifting the chain with the second hand, Eddie tugs and then feeds until the links are lined up with the bumps on the big chainring. The skin on his fingertips get pinched and his eyebrows pull together in pain, but it's a mild irritant at worst and after a moment the chain is back in place.
He pulls his hand away and wipes dark grease down the front of his jacket. "I think I did it."
You're glowing, earrings like a metronome as you ask, "That fast? You're awesome."
He turns the pedal and your back wheel spins in time with his heart. You're awesome. When was the last time somebody who wasn't Wayne said anything like that?
Although Dustin had told him he thought Eddie was a much cooler, more fucked up version of the guy from Van Halen the other day.
You're just saying that 'cos we're both called Eddie, Eddie had said morosely.
Learn to take a compliment, dude.
When they aren't pity compliments, he might.
Eddie lifts your bike back onto the wheels to show you that it's working perfectly. You giggle your evident pleasure. "Oh, thank you, thank you!" you say, super sweet even as grape juice sloshes over the rims of your flowered glasses and drips down your fingers.
"Here, let me," he says, taking the glasses from your purple-stained hands.
You kiss your hands clean which is a thing, a lot to watch. Eddie admits to himself that he thinks you're really pretty, recognises that that is a bad thing to think considering the likely very short life span of your acquaintance. God knows you won't be saying anything as friendly when you find out who he is.
"You're so nice," you say. It feels like you're talking more to yourself than him. "Thank you. It's slipped off three times this month, and ten dollars is ten dollars. Wait, do you want ten dollars?"
"My services were administered charitably.”
Your smile grows. You accept your glass and take a small sip, eyes lit up as Eddie steers your bike one-handed to rest against the porch.
"Do you wanna come inside? I don't have any of the Dio, but I have Blondie."
He holds in a throwaway comment about real rock and roll, astounded that you’d ask him. "Your folks aren't home?"
"I'm twenty-two."
Eddie squints at you. "Seriously?"
"You didn't think so?"
He shrugs. It's not that you don't look twenty two. Or even that you don't act twenty two. But it's been a long time since he met somebody living alone in the park. Forest Hills is where poverty comes to settle.
"A boyfriend?"
"Just me and mister Porterson."
"That your grandpa?"
"That's my pet fish."
He smiles. It's his first real, authentic smile in days. He's genuinely elated by your offer and your attitude, but he doesn't know how to handle it, struck with a sudden nightmare of you, afterward, telling somebody you'd invited him in and he'd tried to hurt you. It isn't fair of him to assume you'd do anything like that. You've been nothing but sweet and sincere this whole time.
Eddie hasn't let his guard down in a long time.
You're giving him this wide-eyed, imploring look that promptly suffocates any fear.
And in a week, when she finds out who you are and feels betrayed, feels tricked? What then, Munson?
"You know what happened?" he asks.
"What happened?"
"Two years ago. Chrissy… Chrissy Cunningham?"
Don't say her fucking name.
Your expression clears as clarity blooms. You take a step. He needs a second to realise you've come forward rather than away, fingers twitching toward his hand.
"I know about it. I'm sorry that happened to you."
He stares.
This is a trick. Two years and he can count the amount of people who believe him on his two hands, and only because they'd all gone through it with him. Sometimes there are outliers, logical people who seem to realise Eddie couldn't have killed all those people, couldn't have been in all those different places without leaving any evidence behind. And sometimes there are people who agree he didn't kill Chrissy, but he's a coward for leaving her to die. (She’d already been dead.)
Eddie doesn't know what he thinks. Wayne sets the record straight every now and then with a clap on the shoulder. You did what every parent wants their kid to do. You lived. I can't ask for more than that.
"You don't believe it?"
"That you hurt her?" You hold his gaze, face practically impassive. "No, I don't believe it."
He pulls in a breath that fills every inch of his chest. "I could learn to like Blondie," he says.
—
You're standing in the driveway of Eddie's trailer with a heavy bag over your shoulder, face to face with a man who kind of looks like him but not really. You assume it's his uncle because who else could he be? If you hadn't seen him here you'd never guess.
"Eddie's mom must've had strong genes," you say. You bring your shoulder up toward your cheek thoughtfully. "He didn't get any of your face. Was she pretty? Eddie's really pretty."
"She was," he says, peering down his nose at you.
"I got sandwiches. Do you want one?"
"What kind?"
"I have ham and cheese, or ham and lettuce and tomato, or I have pumpernickel cookies. Is Eddie a vegetarian?"
"Why?"
"'Cause I only brought one cheese and cucumber, and I have dibs."
He climbs down the last couple of steps and is still taller but definitely less imposing, face covered in scratchy salt and pepper stubble and crows feet deeply embedded into the corners of his eyes. He looks like a man who has been tired for a very long time. You make a mental note to bring him some lavender for his pillow on your next visit.
"You're Eddie's new friend?"
You nod your head briskly. "Yes, sir. I'm Y/N."
He opens his box of camels like a pro, bottom pressed to his chest. He tucks a cigarette between his lips and pulls his lighter out. He doesn't light it.
"It's nice to meet you," he says eventually, voice warming.
You search through the mess of your skirt for the zipper on your bag and peel it open, pulling out your tupperware of cookies and cracking them open to release the fragrant smell of cinnamon and almonds. It's a heady scent, fitting for the holiday season approaching.
You offer Eddie’s uncle a cookie.
"Thought pumpernickel was bread," he says gruffly, taking one.
"It is, but there's this little town in France that makes these every year at Christmas and they call them pumpernickel biscuits," — he takes a bite and winces at the hard snap — "you're s'posed to dip them in hot chocolate."
"You don't say."
You nod happily and he moves aside to let you pass.
"Thanks, kid."
You turn back to him with your fingers curled around the door handle. "Of course! It's really nice to meet you, Mr. Munson, sir."
"Wayne is fine."
You laugh and repeat his name in a similarly rough voice, letting yourself in as Eddie had told you to do. You find him immediately in a man-made corner of the living room, pale and in his pyjamas. The trailer is open planned, a living room they’ve divided by propping a couch against the kitchen counter, a slim hallway leading to a cramped bathroom and the single bedroom. It's exactly like in your home.
You're somewhat surprised to see him in pyjamas. Eddie doesn't wear comfy looking clothes out of the house — you've only ever seen him in jeans and jackets like a real rockstar.
"Are you ready?" you ask.
You've invited him to come and search for bugs with you. Catching any kind of bug, whether beetle or butterfly or spider, is really scary, but you need to be able to catch them to draw them.
You'd expressed this to him over the phone and he'd said, "I can come and help. I have good reflexes."
He rubs his hands over his knees. There's a blanket pooled around his feet, a quilt he must sleep with, and the room is decorated with not a whole lot of stuff but enough to make you take a step back.
"Is this your room?" you ask, enchanted.
"Kind of." He pulls his hair from behind his ear, obscuring a pale cheek. "I don't think I can come with you today, I'm sorry. I meant to call you."
You toy with a dark thigh high sock as you ease out of your shoes, height drastically decreasing. "That's okay, we can stay here. I brought you a sandwich. I brought you two sandwiches," you correct.
He nods. Rather sadly, in your opinion. "Alright. Thanks."
You step over a tented paperback and hand off the cookies before sitting down beside him on the couch he's occupying. It's smaller than the one against the wall and round like a clam, lots of room for your legs to stretch out.
"I feel like a pearl," you say.
You and Eddie have been friends for a little while now. Long enough for you to realise he's either depressed or mentally unwell in some way. You hardly mind keeping him company on his bad days if he needs somebody, so drawing bugs will have to wait.
His hair is limp, not totally greasy but not super clean either. His face looks fresh enough, though the bags under his eyes make you frown.
You pull your purse into your lap, thighs covered by the thin layers of your midi skirt. "I have just the thing for you," you murmur.
"Yeah? Bring me another bracelet?"
You like that he sounds eager. Making his bracelet had been a challenge, lots of knotting and double knotting, three restarts and one small under the breath tantrum. It's not anything special, black and white hearts seven strands wide, but he'd been very appreciative.
"No, but I can make you another one if you want. I mastered the inverse chevron last night."
He hums. You pull a saran wrapped sandwich from the depths of your crowded bag, glad to see it's mostly intact. When you open it up you find that it's the ham and lettuce and tomato one, so you drop it into his lap haphazardly and move onto the next.
"Aha! Here," you pull a cucumber from your sandwich. "For you."
He takes it between two tentative fingers. "Thank you?"
"For your eyes."
"There's cheese on it."
"I'll still work," you assure him.
"M'not putting cheese on my eyes."
You laugh because he probably shouldn't put cheese on his eyes, cucumber adjacent or otherwise. "Okay, don't. I'll make you a hot towel."
He drops his hand on your arm as you go to stand. You like how he touches you, soft but not scared. "You just got here. Stay here." He pats you nicely. "Tell me about work last night."
You settle heavily into the seat beside him, your thigh to his thigh, your hip squished against his hip, doughy flesh separated by nothing more than a strappy tank top and a cotton long-sleeve t-shirt. His heat quickly becomes yours, a sinking transference of warmth.
"Well," you begin, cheek turning into the couch to face him. "It was mostly okay. I dropped another plate, but this time it didn't have a stack of waffles on it."
He smiles ruefully and sinks back as you had. Neither of you eat your sandwiches. "Progress. Taking it out of your pay?"
"Yes, definitely."
"Discrimination."
"That's what I said! I said, Sarah, I was born with butterfingers and you know that."
"She didn't budge?"
"Dishwashing all week next week. Whatever, though, 'cause it's Saturday."
He laughs and shakes his head, his gaze dropping to your neck. He does that sometimes. You can't blame him; you wear a varying assortment of necklaces because you think they're pretty, and you're glad he likes them too.
"See my new one?"
"What?"
"New necklace." You look down at your chest and pull the newest addition from between the cups of your bra. "It's real silver."
"It's nice."
"It's surprisingly heavy. Wanna feel?"
"That's okay," he says, slightly strained.
Right, you think. I'm talking a lot.
You press your lips together in a mild pout and look at him through appreciative eyes. He's a very pretty boy, all soft and pale and sweet dark curls.
"Do you want me to put your hair up?"
His lips part before he talks. "I don't know if you should."
"Sure I should. It's getting in your eyes, right?" You take his hand where it's laid unsuspectingly in his lap and slip the hair tie from around his wrist, his fingertips tickling the inside of your palm. "Sit forward, Eddie."
He takes a deep breath, holds it, and sits up. You twist and then realise you need some more height, pushing a leg under yourself to kneel next to his lap.
You weave our fingers softly into the hair at the front of his face and rake away in lieu of a brush. After it's mostly tamed you pull it all into one hand and wrap the tie at the base of his head. You hum to yourself as you go, pleased when his lovely curls behave.
"Voilà," you announce, moving back on your haunches.
He breathes out. "Thank you."
You reach for a curl you'd missed at the very front and encourage it behind his ear. He has subtle indents in his cheeks today like he's in need of a good meal, and his skin is colder than it should be when you flatten your palm.
"You need something to eat," you fret. Your fingertips stroke under his eye, your thumb his smile lines.
He moves away slowly.
You pull your hand back into your lap. "Maybe we can go out and get something, if you don't like the sandwich?"
"What?" he asks, pale lips taut as he simpers at you. "Are you kidding? This is about to fix everything that's wrong with me."
His enthusiasm emboldens you. "It so will! There's ham and cheese too, if you prefer that one."
"Get it! I'm gonna eat both of them." S
Eddie eats both of his sandwiches and you eat your own, the two of you with your heads dropped back against the couch as you watch TV. There's a guy you've never seen before running around the streets of Chicago city centre looking for people to be in his play. Eddie's seen it before. He repeats dialogue in time with the characters, performing each line. Impressive, what with how tired he looks.
"What did he just say?" you ask, mouth full of cucumber.
"He said he's gonna throw himself off a bridge," Eddie informs. "Poor guy. I know the feeling."
You swallow harshly.
"Seriously?"
Your sad tone surprises him.
"I- No, I'm kidding," he says, scratching the base of his throat, friendship bracelet his only adornment.
His nervous itching makes you even more worried.
"If you did wanna do that, you can talk to me-"
He baulks, tongue poking out past his lips as he licks the corner of his mouth. "Thanks, sweetheart," he says, pet name like a kiss. It sounds silly but it really feels like one, right in the centre of your chest. "But I'm fine. Promise. It was a bad joke."
"Okay," you say, letting your suspicion shine through. You hold his eyes.
You haven't known Eddie long. It feels like you met yesterday, though really it's been two or three weeks. You fit together in a way you hadn't expected and adore more than you can articulate, two funny puzzle pieces.
"Well, I just wanted you to know. I like being your friend, I don't want you to disappear."
He laughs and licks his lips, a rough, chesty sound. "I don't want you to disappear either."
Tires crunch outside, a shushing sound and then the sharp shriek of a jeep being put into park. Eddie perks up considerably, his shoulders straightening.
"Hey, Chief," Wayne calls.
Trailer walls. Basically made of cardboard.
"Hey, Wayne. Where's the kid?"
You can't hear what Wayne says after that, words stolen by the TV.
"Is that Chief Hopper?" you ask, trying to catch a glimpse of him through the mostly shuttered blinds.
"Yeah, he- He's friends with Wayne."
"Why's he wanna know where you are?"
"'Cause I got into so much trouble."
You bite your tongue. His tone is hard, not stern but almost, and you realise you've overstepped as you usually do. You want to apologise but you don't want to pick the wound, eager to gloss over and make him smile again.
"It's pretty cool, isn't it?" you ask him.
"What?"
You spread your legs wider to slide onto your thighs and make him the taller one again, legs bent in a 'W' shape. "Coming back from the dead! First Will Byers, then Hopper."
Something surfaces in his expression. An irony.
"The undead," you croon, aiming for a smile, a laugh.
He cracks. "The undead," he agrees, smiling in bemusement. His eyes are a funny shade of brown.
—
Eddie shoo’s you home early that night but tries to do it kindly. He feigns exhaustion, a facade that's difficult to uphold when his entire body is thrumming with want. If there's one thing Eddie hates about being a vampire (there are literally hundreds of things he hates, but this one's special) it's that he wants to hurt the people he likes a thousand times more than the people he doesn't.
He can't explain it. Your blood is more appealing than any lonesome stranger's. Your pulse is practically music to his ears when you sit beside him. He'd kill himself before he ever hurt you, though. Or that's what he likes to think. Whether he has that amount of control is debatable.
No. He would kill himself before he hurt you, or Wayne, or any of his friends.
Steve can see the way that he's feeling on his face.
Hopper's delivery set to one side, a tall glass with blood congealed in a sticky ring at the bottom, Eddie curls under his huge quilt and tries not to pass out. Blood sate feels the same as a thanksgiving food coma. It's awesome.
He hates how good it feels.
"Stop feeling guilty," Steve says.
"He doesn't look guilty to me," Dustin says beside him, taller than the last time Eddie had seen him but still miles off of Steve's tall stature. He's changed his hat again, this one a garish green. It's not a good look.
"He looks like he's napping," Robin says, delighted.
"Can you guys go home?" Eddie asks.
"Shithead."
"What Steve means to say," Robin corrects, grinning her huge, catching smile, "is that no, we aren't going home. We brought games."
"I don't wanna play games." He does. Eddie needs the distraction, because eventually the blood sate will fade and all that will remain will be self-revulsion and a cruel desire to do something awful.
"I do not care even slightly," Steve says, deadpan, as he sits right there next to Eddie where you'd been sitting before. Steve's nowhere near as soft and he doesn't smell as nice, but Eddie's honestly glad someone is willing to sit next to him at all.
"Ouch, what the fuck?"
Dustin looks up from where he's sat himself on the floor. Robin giggles in her seat on the coffee table.
"Munson, are you fucking shedding? I just got stabbed."
"They don't work like that. They retract."
Eddie feels at his broken gums with his tongue. There's a clean incision where his fangs come out and then snap back inside after a time. They're remarkably thin, fitting in front of his natural incisors neatly.
Steve grumbles, hips lifted and hand searching under his butt for whatever it is that jabbed him. He retrieves exactly what Eddie had been expecting but hadn't had the forethought to prepare a lie about with a shocked gasp.
"Is this an earring? You don't have your ears pierced."
He swallows, knowing it's a very guilty gesture, and meets Steve's eyes straight on.
Funny how Steve's hair speaks as much as his expression, bobbing as he nods his head to emphasise each word, "Munson, do you have a girlfriend?"
Silence.
"...Not really."
"Holy shit," Dustin says, sounding extremely pleased. "No way."
Robin tucks her short hair behind her ears, hands paused in disbelief at her neck. "Actually?"
"I have a friend," Eddie admits.
"Thank god," Steve says, dropping your heart earring onto Eddie's thigh. The silver feels extremely hot over his pyjamas, like it's been held in the centre of a blistering hearth.
"I really thought Steve was gonna have to take one for the team and give you a pity handie," Robin says agreeably, scratchy voice coloured by genuine awe.
Eddie groans, "Harrington, get this shit off of me. You know I can't touch that."
"I forgot," Steve lies. "Can you wait? My hands are busy."
—
He has Steve put your earring between two pieces of kitchen towel and holds onto it. He doesn't see you for a week, and he keeps your damn earring in his pocket that entire time worried it's gonna slip out and brand him at any second.
Finally, you call him. He pretends he wasn't waiting.
"Hello," you say, like you're announcing something.
"Hey. How are you?"
"Eddie, I need your help. Badly."
He flinches up where he'd been leaning casually, hard enough to make Wayne jump. Eddie smiles at him placatingly and mouths a poor sorry, turning away to pretend there's a semblance of privacy to be found in such close quarters.
"Are you okay?"
"I gotta find a rainbow leaf beetle. Do you have a torch?"
"...What?"
"They only come out at night, so I'm gonna go look but I don't have a torch that works."
He relaxes, the lilting cadence of your voice enough to make his whole night. You sound so pretty even through the phone. He suspects you could hold any pitch, deep or high, and you'd still sound nice.
It's all in the way you — he says this with love — perform the words. You speak like each word you're saying has equal importance, and it's calming.
Even when you say stuff that's nonsense to him.
Right now, you don't sound upset or even worried about not having a torch, simply curious to know if he has one. If he focuses hard (and he's been trying not to, as you deserve your privacy) he can hear you all the way across the park, shifting from foot to foot in your bedroom, carpet crushed under your heels.
The action makes him think this might be more urgent to you than you'd first admitted.
"I have a torch." He also has amazing night vision. Like, impeccable. "Can I come help?"
"You want to?"
"I'd love to. Are you going out tonight?" He leans back to glance out the window. "The rain is finally stopping."
"Yeah, tonight! Is that okay for you? We could go tomorrow if you can't."
You're willing to change your plans now that he's asked to go with you. It's a gesture as lovely as you are. Eddie doesn't think you'd ever think it of yourself; your kindness is so intrinsic you don't notice it, like the fine stitching of a leather bound book. Integral and widely unappreciated.
"That's perfect."
Wayne raises an eyebrow when Eddie relays the conversation. "You're going out in the middle of the night with this girl to… look for bugs."
Eddie crosses his arms over his chest. "I swear."
"Be honest with me, kid."
"I am!"
Wayne swirls his coke can around in his hand as he thinks, a reluctance evident in his scowl. Eddie knows he's way too old for a guardian's oversight like this but he lets Wayne have a say because Wayne loves him, and Eddie doesn't ever want to put his old man through the turmoil he went through when he ran away. If that means a curfew in his twenties, Eddie's okay with that.
"If you're going to have sex with this girl, I'd prefer you did it here. You have to treat women with respect."
Eddie shivers, full body. "Wayne," he groans, covering his face. He can feel his cheeks pink under his palms, that's how quickly his embarrassment rises.
"I know you're more responsible these days, and you're a grown up. If you want a girlfriend and you want to do adult things with her-"
"Jesus Christ."
"- then that's alright. You don't have to fool around outside."
He drags his hands down on his face, pained. "It's not like that. You met her, you know she's…"
"Strange?"
"Alternative."
"No, you're alternative. She's cooky."
"Don't," he says. He knows his uncle isn't actually being cruel, so he lets it lie and fights for his own cause. "We aren't messing around. She genuinely wants me to go find these bugs with her. And…" He hates himself. "She has her own place, you know? If we were going to-"
Wayne seems stricken by the same mortified embarrassment as Eddie, raising a calloused hand in surrender. "Spare me."
"Thank you," Eddie says, spinning on his heel to hide in the bathroom for a while. It's only when he's sitting on the closed toilet does he realise Wayne hadn't mentioned his more dangerous ailment. For a time, he'd been a normal (debatable) person having a normal (horrifying) conversation with his dad. Not a vampire. Not somebody who ruins everything he touches.
—
"It's so quiet," you whisper.
For you, Eddie thinks.
You're in the forest surrounding the aptly named Forest Hills trailer park, wielding your borrowed torch carefully into the dark. Eddie's following in your footsteps, trying not to smell everything that's on you today and failing.
You smell like a person as everybody does. Over that is your soap, a faint hint of milk and honey that sticks to your skin even after you've washed it away. Over that is your deodorant, 'unscented', and over that is your perfume, which he likes most. It's a mix of smells, some Eddie doesn't know and some he does. There's lavender, though that might be down to the bunch you'd brought for his uncle wrapped in newspaper, and there's something fruity he can't quite put his finger on, all of it wrapped up in a cloying pairing of vanilla and coconut.
"Eddie?"
"What?"
"Are you okay? You're almost as quiet as the trees."
If only you knew the trees aren't quiet.
"I'm alright," he says quickly, catching up to you where you stand a few feet ahead. "What are we looking for?"
Best change the subject. How to explain he'd been smelling the notes of your perfume?
"They rest on tree trunks. You have to be careful, any sudden sound or light will scare them away. But if you flash the torch on them, they shine like oil stains."
He loves when you talk. "Where'd they come from?"
"Place called Snowdon. They're so rare, they think there's only about a thousand alive there."
"Well, how did they get here?"
You laugh under your breath, so quiet he would've missed it if he wasn't enhanced. "I don't know. How do beetles get to different places?"
"They fly?"
A twig crunches under your shoe.
Eddie tips his head to the side, thinking. "If there's only a thousand, how-" He stops, your circle of torch light growing further and further away. "Are you sure that they live here?"
"No, but if they do we'll be the first to find them."
"So they've never found any out here? In- In the midwest?"
"Not yet. Where'd you go?"
He shakes his head in an affectionate disbelief. "Right behind you."
You search in silence for a while. Eddie wishes he could say he was mad, or even mildly annoyed, wishes he had even the slightest regard for his own time, but really he thinks any time with you is time well spent. Especially if it's helping you do something you want to do. Whether you find your rainbow leaf beetle or not, he feels better knowing he's out here with you to keep you safe and in company.
Conversation is sparing. He doesn't mind. Your footsteps fill the sound and he finds even that stupid detail charming, the crunch, the pick up. His own are silent, a rare advantage to his terrible affliction.
"Any other beetles you want me to keep an eye out for?" he whispers.
"I'm not sure…" You turn to face him, torch pointed at your shoes. Rubber toes touched together, you lean in until you're all he can smell. Perfume. Blood. "If you see any cool spiders, too."
"You have the mason jar?"
"You know I do."
More than you realise, he thinks. The glass clicks in your bag.
There's enough light reflected to see the most minute details of your face. Your nose, the circle of your irises but not their colour. He suspects Eddie from early '86 wouldn't have been able to see hide nor hair, and it wouldn't shock him if you were technically blind right now.
"Thanks for coming out with me. I was gonna ask you."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, but I didn't want to come on too strong." He can sense your smile even though he can't see it. It's in the way your breathing deepens. "I know I can be a lot to deal with."
"Who told you that?"
"What?"
Eddie doubles down.. "Who told you that?" he sounds heartbroken.
He kind of is. Yeah, you're weird — Who cares? Who isn't? — but you're not a lot to deal with. He doesn't 'deal' with you.
"Everybody tells me that. All the time."
"Everybody's stupid." To say it so loudly, scathingly, is sweet. It's therapeutic. "They are. This whole town is stupid."
Your fingertips touch his thigh. He's willing you to turn the torch up and see his face, because he has a lot of feelings on display that he isn't brave enough to say out loud.
"You never make me feel stupid," you say softly.
"You're not."
You giggle breathily at his vehemence, fingertips pressing in with a touch more pressure before you pull away and shine the torch deep into the trees.
"This whole town is stupid," you mumble. "But not you."
He thinks of his friends who are definitely stupid, but he loves anyways. He's about to add them to the not-stupid (subjectively) list when he remembers Steve's discovery: your earring burning a hole in his pocket. He'd been carrying it for long enough now to forget all about it.
"Hey, I have something for you."
"You do?"
"Don't get too excited. It's not a gift."
He digs in his pocket for the tissue paper wrapping and hisses in shock as the silver plating of your hoop graces his index finger. You shine the torch at him. His eyes ache like he's been stabbed and he slams them closed, hand pulled to his chest.
How embarrassing.
"Eddie, what happened?" you question loudly.
He winces at the sudden overstimulation. Slowly, he blinks, and finds you staring at him in a worry that softens every feature, even your nose. He doesn't know the logistics.
"It's okay. Stabbed a paper cut on the back. Your earring's in my pocket, the heart?"
"The hoop? I thought I lost it." Your worry turns to confusion and then melds into joy. You step forward and fish in his jacket pocket for your earring.
"Steve found it."
"'The hair'?"
"Yeah, the hair."
You both laugh and yours heightens when you find the earring, pulling it out like a knife to be brandished. "Yes."
"I meant to tell you a dozen times that I had it."
"You're the best."
There's a crunch of wood somewhere to the left like something heavy falling over.
The forest sprawls in every direction and the trees tower, their presence looming as skyscrapers. The wind ruffles the topmost branches and their trunks groan with pressure. It's enough to freak Eddie out super sense or not, feeling suddenly like he couldn't protect you. He could hear the individual droplets of drool dripping from a lynx's bloody maw, and he can sense each twig underfoot before he takes his next step, but none of that is going to keep you safe in the face of real danger.
"Maybe we should head back," he says tentatively.
"Okay. Do you want to come over?"
His breath catches. "You want me to?"
"Yeah, we can watch movies, I have leftover pasta."
That sounds more like what he should've been thinking. "I don't wanna keep you up."
"What kind of pasta?" he asks.
The torch flickers. "With the tiny tomatoes. You'll like it, super creamy."
"How do you know?"
"You like Alfredo," you say astutely, hitting the torch into the palm of your hand. It flashes weakly, the shadow of the trees flickering and so dark they're violet.
"Try tightening the handle."
You turn the barrel of the torch and the light switches off completely. You try to undo what you've done to no success, the sound of plastic rubbing plastic almost as loud as your heartbeat. Your pulse falters and then grows to racing when the light fails to come back on.
"Eddie," you say, sounding unsure. It's a new sound on you. "I don't know where we are. How are we gonna get home?"
Your admission is like a dousing of ice water over his head. "You don't know what direction we came from?"
"No, do you?"
Eddie wouldn't know if he couldn't hear the sound of the electricity pylon buzzing somewhere to the right. But how can he explain that? "Uh, we were turned around."
You creep to his side and grab his arm with both hands. "Are you sure?"
"Hey," he says gently. "Hey, it's okay. I know where we are. We'll be fine."
"Are you sure?" you ask again.
"I'm positive."
You take a deep breath that doesn't erase your shakiness, a failed attempt at self-soothing. "I really don't know where we are."
"You're not afraid of the dark, are you?"
"Not really… I don't wanna get lost out here."
"You won't. I know how to get back. C'mon," he prompts, pulling his arm to encourage you forward.
You let go of him and navigate a few steps by yourself. He weaves through the trees, waiting for your heartbeat to slow.
It doesn't. He opens his mouth to reassure you again when you gasp, kicking your foot against a root and tripping. You barely fall, catching yourself on the trunk of a tree, and Eddie remembers himself. You can't see the trees. That's why you're worried. You can't see anything.
Then the smell of blood hits him like a freight train.
—
Your hand stings where you caught yourself, palm scraped down against harsh bark.
"Shit," you mumble.
You're panicking badly, and you're confused as to why Eddie isn't. Not only was it fucking stupid of you to come out here with only one torch, it was stupid of you to assume you'd remember what way was home. It was stupid of you to come here tonight for that stupid beetle, and stupid of you to drag Eddie along. You're an idiot, and now you're bleeding.
Your eyes sting with tears, pain like a popped seal. I'm so stupid.
"Hey," Eddie says, his tone silky soft, "you're okay. Let me help you up."
You hold your hands out.
"Eddie, this is weird." Hopefully he understands that weird means scary.
He takes your hands, fingers closing slowly over your bloody palm. His breath is loud as he pulls you up toward him like he's panicked but his grip stays kind, and you abandon the notion when he rubs over your knuckles with his thumb. "It's alright."
He doesn't sound the same.
"Eddie, we can't see."
"We'll go slowly, okay? I'll put my hand out and we'll walk around anything that gets in the way."
"Yeah," you say hurriedly, heart bump-bump-bumping against your ribcage.
He keeps one hand, the injured one, and starts to drag you slowly through the trees. His grip tightens as you go until it starts to ache, until it feels like it might bruise.
"Ouch, Eds. You're hurting me," you say, going for a lightly teasing tone and missing the mark.
Instantly, he eases off. "Sorry, sweetheart. You hold onto me, alright?"
You do as he'd asked, hand clinging to him as he leads. He doesn't squeeze you again, walking slowly as he'd promised, and the closer you get to the edge of the forest the clearer it becomes. Light pollution from the centre of town leaches through the trees like water trickling from an overflowing basin.
His second hand is in his pocket.
"Here," he says after you've traversed to the very edge of the forest. "There's the park. We're bona fide explorers."
He looks out toward the park and you look at the side of his face. Something isn't right. Something uncanny.
You drop your gaze from his face to your joined hands. They come apart, blood smeared in both your palms like two halves of a dripping heart.
—
There is something weird about Eddie. As a residential freak of Hawkins you think you're an authority in this, and you don't feel guilty for judging him. Your brain can't stop going over your night in the forest. For days you play the scenes back and for days you lose the details. You forget how the wind had tousled his hair, how he'd smelled, what he'd said.
You remember the way he'd squeezed your bloody hand. You remember the way he'd spoken, strained.
Not strained like he didn't want to comfort you, he had, but strained.
Restrained.
You're poking at the shallow cut half-healed now in your palm at work when a dude walks in, very tall, handsome, and gunning straight for you.
You straighten your badge and hide your bracelet heavy wrists behind your back, receding slightly as he approaches. He slows in front of you.
You have a light bulb moment.
"The hair," you say.
He scowls. "He told you that, huh. Typical."
"You're Steve?"
"That's me." Steve crosses his arms across his chest, his back to a booth, your back to the diner bar. "You're Eddie's new friend."
"What counts as new?" A month and a half doesn't feel so new to you.
"Trust me, you're new."
He has the strangest patch covering the outside of his left wrist, the same peculiar scarring that you can see on Eddie's waist when he reaches for a glass out of the kitchen cabinet. You don't ask because you're not a dick no matter how curious you find yourself, but it makes your heart skip. What is that? You'd assumed Eddie's was road rash. Now you're not so sure.
He tucks it under his arm.
You meet his suspicious gaze.
"You want coffee?"
"No."
You kick your foot, shoe sliding over the shiny waxed floor with a squeal. "Is Eddie okay?"
"Did you want to come to a party next Friday?"
"No," you say honestly. "Like a cult?"
"What?"
"Are you initiating me into your cult?"
He finally smiles, eyes creased with amusement. "I'm inviting you to our club."
"Club where you chew on each other?"
You look pointedly at Steve's wrist.
"No. Club where we play board games and drink jiffy pop. Come or don't, doesn't matter."
"If it doesn't matter, why are you asking me?"
It's a strangely intense conversation to have this early in the morning. Patrons chatter about work, coffee gets poured. The diner smells of syrup and sugar and bitter cold-press. You're both in work apparel, both refusing to move back. If this is some kind of shovel talk then that's fine, and if it's a test you're determined to pass, even if Eddie's been super weird lately.
"I'll come if you promise not to eat me," you say.
"It's really not that kind of club."
—
"I had the weirdest visit in the entire world today," you declare, stopping in front of Eddie's porch with a smile.
"Yeah?" he asks without looking up, guitar in his lap and pen scribbling over a lined notebook.
You wait for him to stop before you continue, leaning forward with both arms braced on the porch by his feet. "Steve Harrington came to see me, and he was super mean. You said he was nice."
He frowns at you. "I told you he was a dick."
"You like him when you tell me stories."
"How mean?" Eddie asks, patting the seat beside him.
You climb up onto the porch and plop down onto the couch, worn leather cold with the weather and damp in the seams.
You take a strand of his hair and curl it around your finger. "Not really super mean, but he was, like, acting like I killed a baby."
"He's like that."
You sigh and lean your cheek against the couch cushion, watching Eddie's stubble move as he tamps down a teasing smile. "He invited me to a party next weekr."
"It's not a party- Sweetheart, what are you doing?"
You tickle his cheek with the end of his hair. "Nothing."
"M'gonna sneeze."
You tickle him again, fine dark strands brushing over his pale cheek. He's a very ashen guy, you've found. Likely because he barely goes out in the sun and he doesn't eat enough. You draw circles around the apple of his cheek and grin softly at his growing smile, a sweet, silly thing.
"I'll tickle you back," he warns.
"Promise?"
He steals the curl back and tucks it behind his ear.
"You're not a cannibal, are you?"
Eddie chokes on air. You startle at his coughing and move to pat his back, palm slapping a steady rhythm into his shoulder. When he calms down you run your hand down the length of his arm, long sleeve t-shirt soft beneath your touch. You linger at his wrist and decide to hold it.
He drops his pen and your hand travels until he's caught your thumb. He kneads it in his fingers.
"I'm not a cannibal. Why would you think that?"
"I don't, but you and Steve are in your club, right?"
"Hellfire wasn't like that," he says heatedly.
"No, not- Not that one."
He doesn't say anything.
"You have… He has this scar, on his wrist. Like something bit him, or-" He turns to you and he looks formidable and upset and himself, not mad at you but raw emotion in his expression anyhow. It's gone as quick as it came.
"When all that… stuff happened," he begins quietly, "we got hurt. A couple of us."
You drop your head, ashamed at having pried. "I'm sorry, you don't have to tell me anything else."
"Don't be sorry…" He squeezes your hand and lets it go. "Don't worry about it."
"Okay."
"We usually call ourselves a party, these days. Not a club."
"Do you really play board games and drink jiffy pop?"
"Sometimes we get really crazy and order a pizza. You should come."
You realise as he says it how much his wanting you to go had mattered to you. Eddie's your friend, and you don't think that you're going to stay friends much longer.
"You think your friends will like me?" you ask, voice descending to a new kind of gentle.
He puts down his guitar and his notebook. His full attention is something you've come to really enjoy, not because of the hunger you often see flitting across his face — though that's neat —, but because of the inklings of adoration clinging to his smile when he looks at you. His blinking lashes. He smiles at you and just slows. A usually frenetic boy calmed.
"Maybe not Mike. Mike doesn't like anybody. Except for Will," he muses.
"What about you?"
"What about me?"
"Who do you like?"
"I like all of them." He juts his cheek toward his shoulder, conceding, " I think Dustin's my favourite. He's funny. He's funnier than I am, and he's the smartest kid I've ever met. And he knows it."
Your eyes focus on the pink outline of his upper lip as he speaks. It's a pleasure to be this close, and see him in this kind of crazy detail. When you go home tonight you might try to draw him. You'll probably forget.
It's the kind of smile that deserves to be immortalised.
"I really like your smile," you tell him, hoping it'll last a little longer.
It stretches. The pink outline turns white. "Shut up."
"I do. I've seen a thousand different smiles but I've never met someone who smiles like you do."
"How's that?" he asks, edging toward you, face a mirror in which you can see your own charmed expression.
"Like you," — you shake your head with your lips parted — "know a secret. Something you won't tell anybody."
His smile abruptly ends.
You've nothing if not a talent for saying the wrong thing.
"A good secret," you amend.
He picks up his acoustic and gives it an experimental strum. "Maybe one or two," he agrees.
Relief catches you. You nibble at the inside of your lip and watch his fingers work over the neck of his guitar, tipping your head so you can read the words he's markered over the body.
"This machine slays dragons," you murmur to yourself. "Yeah? How many?"
"Just the one."
"Save any princesses?"
"Not yet." He plucks at the strings, lost in thought, before turning to you with eyebrows raised. "Can you play?"
You exhale out of the corner of your mouth as he pushes the guitar into your lap, an arm coming around your shoulder, the other reaching to guide your curled forefinger to the strings. You turn to face him, watching him talk with a growing fondness.
"It's easy, I swear. We'll do Call Me. Blondie's basic, even a baby could play it."
He realises you aren't listening and raises his gaze, shiny brown irises stuck on your lips. This close, it would be worse if he didn't look at them.
You glance at his, an obvious thing, half a wish. If he only lifted his chin.
Your breath mingles.
"It's easy," he says again, a murmur of his usual volume as his gaze pulls back up to yours. "I'll show you."
You wonder if he can hear your heart pounding; it's deafening. You wait, and you wait, and you turn your eyes back to his guitar and clamp your fingers down against the struts so he can't see them shaking with adrenaline.
—
Eddie sits beside Steve and tries not to admit to himself that Steve Harrington is, horrifyingly, his best friend (along with the rest of the party, obviously). Steve is the closest in age and Eddie can't make excuses (though he tries and tries and tries), Steve understands how much Eddie doesn't ever want to talk about anything that's happened to them, so he talks about literally everything else instead.
"It was the weirdest pawn shop I've ever been in. They had, like, a wall of combi's playing the same video at the same time but all slightly delayed."
Eddie blinks.
Steve turns his head from the TV, having expected a response. "Did you say something?"
"No." Then, because he's not a dick. "Sorry, Harrington. Want me to sit on your other side?"
"What for?" Steve says. Not because he denies how he's hard of hearing, but because he denies having conversations with Eddie.
He does end up moving to Steve's other side with a pathetic excuse. "I can't see the TV."
Steve doesn't say a word until he's sat down again. "Sorry I was mean to your girlfriend."
"Yeah, what was that about?"
"I was cranky because it was early and I don't want her to damage the integrity of the party." He gives equal weight to both reasons.
Eddie snorts at him. "Since when do you care about the integrity of the party?" Steve barely acknowledges that they are a party. He thinks that's a very nerdy way to say friends.
"Since always, dipshit."
"And inviting her to join the party was the solution because…?"
Steve drinks the rest of his coke and pretends to really care about what's on TV. "If," he begins after a minute, refusing to look at Eddie, "something happens with her, and something happens to you, that damages the integrity of the party."
"Steve," Eddie says, jaw dropped down to his chest, "do you have a crush on me?"
"Oh my god," Steve mutters. "Oh my god," he says louder. "I can't stand you."
To prove his point, he gets up from the couch with a wrinkled nose, stops to tap his shoe gently against Max's where she's sitting in the armchair across from the coffee table, and disappears into his kitchen.
Steve Harrington cares about me enough to give Y/N the shovel talk.
He feels kind of great about it.
But he's not sure your the one who needs warning.
That night in the forest, Eddie had almost snapped. There are rules to follow if he wants to keep people safe, self-imposed, Hopper-imposed, and he's broken too many with you already, the most important being no close proximity when he's hungry. Eddie doesn't even realise he is hungry half the time. He'll be standing by you and he'll want to touch you, and suddenly it's like he's three weeks in to the month without sating.
He thinks about kissing you and suddenly he's thinking about biting you, and hurting you, and it's literally tearing him up from the inside out.
How can he want to do that to you?
"You look so depressed and pathetic," Dustin says out of the blue.
Eddie pouts and falls back into the couch, Steve's fancy throw falling onto his shoulder. "I used to like you," he says, taking in Dustin's outfit with a kind of parental approval. He's getting older and it shows, slightly more handsome than he had been — he's kept all his baby weight and it suits him, his full cheeks surrounded by the softest brown curls Eddie has ever seen. The outfit stays immature, a funny t-shirt and ill-fitting pants.
"Sad. You have a sad face," Dustin says.
"Go play with your nerd squad, please."
He doesn't listen, collapsing in Steve's still-warm seat like a cheap tent and crossing longer, thicker arms over his chest. He smiles at Eddie genuinely. "Where's your girlfriend?"
"No."
"Where's Y/N?"
Eddie tips his head so he can see past the coffee table and points to where you're almost hidden, sitting with Robin on the floor by Steve's sideboard. You have a basket of tapes in front of you, the two of you trying to choose what's going in the stereo. Eddie prays for anything but Blondie.
You will most likely choose Blondie.
"What does she like?" Dustin asks curiously.
"Everything, kind of. Why?"
"I wanna know what to say when I talk to her."
Eddie smiles at his friend's face, a soft, surprised thing. "I don't know if she knows anything about the radio but if you're happy about it she'll be happy too. She's a good listener."
Dustin picks at a piece of lint on his t-shirt bearing a white and black print of a dog wearing sunglasses. "So you talk to her?" he asks without looking up.
"I mean, yeah. What else do you do?"
"With a girl that likes you? Huh, let me think." Dustin laughs and ruins his own sarcasm, pointer finger laid against his chin in a show of thoughtfulness.
"It's not like that," Eddie says lightly.
"It could be."
"Could it? I mean… I don't even know if she'll stick around. And I feel bad 'cos I can't be honest with her."
"Why not?"
"Hopper said he would literally put me in the hole if I even thought about it." There's no need to expand. Dustin would know better than anyone what he's talking about.
He cringes at the thought, self hatred a hot poker down his throat. He must've said it to Dustin a hundred times when he finally came around from his coma (that wasn't a coma, but a death, and then a rebirth). I can't believe I put you through that. I can't believe I put you through that. I'm so sorry.
I'm just glad you're alive, Eddie.
And for a while, Eddie hadn't felt the same. The world he'd woken up to was hard. There had been lawyers and grief and guilt and becoming. He doesn't have the words to describe how it feels to become something new, something that needs to hurt people to live, something that will hurt people to live, whether Eddie wants to or not.
The loss of choice is suffocating.
Though moments like this with his friends– they don't make it 'worth it', they're just how it had to happen. There isn't a scenario where Eddie could give up. He can't leave Wayne, and he can't leave Dustin. He can live with the grief of what he is if it means other people don't have to live with grief of what he isn't.
"Eddie, are you okay?"
He's missed something. Dustin isn't the only one looking at him.
He curls a hand around his forearm subconsciously. "I'm fine. I think I'm gonna go to the bathroom, actually. Gotta piss real bad."
"Eddie-"
"I'm fine, Henderson." He puts on a good show, patting Dustin's arm. His heart, usually so slow these days, has enough life in it to ache.
He can't have been in the bathroom for five minutes when somebody knocks on the door aggressively. He's expecting Steve, pissed at his disappearance and likely preparing a speech on attention seeking behaviours and how they're hurting the youth of America, so he opens the door with a tired glare.
He finds you, beaming and pretty, dressed ridiculously nicely for his idiot friends.
"Hi," you say. He can hear something from Blondie's Parallel Lines playing from the living room, familiar because it's your favourite album. "Any room for me?"
Eddie moves back. You close the door behind you. The bathroom becomes a vacuum of your sounds and smells.
"They didn't have any Dio," you say with a smile.
"I honestly wouldn't expect any different."
"You could've brought some tapes, your mix from the van," you suggest. "I love that one."
"Which one?" he asks, and he can't help it, whenever he's with you his voice crops to a dulcet murmur. The urge to speak to you as you speak to him is unconquerable.
"One with the winking smile on the slipcase. I really like it."
"You can have it."
You lean against the sink. "I can?"
"Mm. Whatever you want." Especially when you look like this.
You smile at him, your 'thank you' smile, all sticky fondness and mischievousness. He has no idea what you're thinking.
"'S a small bathroom in a huge house," you marvel. Your voice echoes "Where does he shower?"
"There's an upstairs bathroom."
"Two bathrooms? That's-"
"Audacious?"
"I was gonna say overkill."
Your candidness has him shaking with laughter. He clutches at his sides, arms crossed and leaning forward. You visibly take in his appearance, eyes panning slowly over his clean hair. He'd taken care to look like somebody you might want to look at tonight.
"Why don't you sit down, Eds?" you ask, eyes creased with an unreadable emotion.
Eddie feels blindly for the toilet lid and pushes it down so he can do as you ask, wondering why you're asking.
"You look very handsome today."
He hugs himself. "As opposed to every other day, when I don't?"
You take a step forward, a second, hands playing with the hem of your shirt. Your outfit today is delightfully simple, a pressed black t-shirt long enough to cover the waistband of your pleated skirt. There's an expanse of thigh that makes his heart beat spin out, one longer than the other where your thigh-high is falling down.
He wants to pull it up.
"C'mere," he says.
You take that last step between his shoes and he reaches out, getting his fingertips under the elastic of your sock and tugging it upward over the soft fat of your leg. Your hands come up to his shoulders for balance, and you say, "No, you look handsome every day. Today you look very handsome. I made the distinction."
He covers your thigh with both hands, looking up into your face as you look down. "You look really pretty today," he says boldly, fingers spreading behind your knee.
"Thank you. Do you like my t-shirt?"
It's a screen print of Debbie Harry. Eddie tries not to roll his eyes. "I love it, but your dedication to Blondie is seriously worrying, sweetheart." He gives your leg a short squeeze and pulls the most giggly smile out of you yet.
"Like Madonna."
"No!" he bemoans.
You laugh and grow closer, arms on his shoulder, a hand threaded into his hair. "Cyndi Lauper?" you suggest.
He puts a hand on your waist as you move in for a hug. Your arms wrap around his neck and the tops of his shoulders, cheek crushed to the top of his head.
He'd ask if you were okay if he thought you weren't. You're not upset or seeking comfort. You're affectionate. You've been getting more and more touchy for weeks, as he has. Stolen touches, your almost-kiss on the porch last week.
"No, not Cyndi Lauper," he says, his hand skirting around your back to pull you in properly.
"R.E.M?"
"God, no. Where are you hearing all this junk?"
"The radio."
"Tuned into the wrong station."
You pet the back of his head. "Yeah," you say softly, "I think I was."
The hug is shorter than Eddie wants it to be. You make one of your happy sounds and pull away to get your hands on his face, stroking curls from his cheeks with a protective touch. "Handsome," you say, turning your hand to stroke his cheek with your knuckles. "Pretty. You have really big eyes, Eddie, so brown, and so…" You tilt your head to one side, face inching forward.
He turns his face to suit, to fit, breath held as you close the gap.
"So pretty," you murmur, and kiss him.
His hands are limp and then alive, one clutching your hip, one splaying against your chest. He can hear the thud of your heart clear as day — you're bumping with excitement as you kiss him. It's a delicate, tender thing, the party suddenly far away, the music drowned by the sounds of your breathing. You kiss as you talk, as you move, gentle but with bursts of ardency. Your lips are a blissful heat, the tip of your nose smushing into his as you part your lips over his.
He lifts his chin higher, his neck craned to receive you. He's savouring every movement. Each pause for breath that you take. The feeling of your inhales over his quick-bruising lips.
Your hands play in his hair so sweetly it makes his eyes burn with an embarrassing amount of emotion. He screws them closed and squeezes up your waist, steadying himself as you feel along his bottom lip with the tip of your tongue.
You don't get much further than that, seemingly pleased with your own brazeness or perhaps his touch, eyes glowing with mirth as you pull away.
"Sorry," you breathe, not sorry at all. "You just really looked like someone should be kissing you."
You're flushed. Eddie can practically see the heat emanating off of your cheeks. He can feel it.
He stands up, your pulse a ringing in his ears. The wet valves of your heart opening and closing.
"Eddie?" you ask quietly, lifting your head to meet his eyes as he walks you back into the door.
His gums sting. A click.
It's a compulsion.
His hands curl around your elbows, holding you in place. Your eyes are wide with confusion, your lightly swollen lips parted. He can see the tiniest slip of your pink tongue.
He holds your gaze as he leans in. Your eyelids flutter closed. You wrap your arms around him as he descends, totally trusting.
He's a meaner kiss than you are. He starts slow but swiftly loses a handle on it, kisses short but insistent, hot presses like little crescent moons against your barely open mouth.
His hands move up your arms, a near vice-like grip until he finds your sleeves. His fingers slip underneath, hands hungry for your warmth.
You make the worst sound anyone has ever made as he moves back, like something has been ripped from you. A gutted gasp, near silent.
He placates as he wades back in. Thumbs rubbing your arms, lips mouthing damp kisses down your face. The corner of your pout, the hill of your chin, the skin under your jaw. Your head tips back against the door with an audible thud. You exhale hard.
Eddie can't feel his hands.
Your pulse hammers under his lips. He kisses it once. He can't think. He can't breathe.
"You're always cold," you whisper, your hands drifting lazily under the fabric of his t-shirt. Your fingertips trail up his spine. "But your lips are warm."
He kisses your neck, his lips parting slowly, a hair's width a second as he sucks your skin into his mouth gently. It's barely a kiss. He does it a second time. A third. You start to laugh, a golden sound.
The point of his fangs touch your skin and you stop.
Eddie closes his mouth abruptly. His hand leaps to your neck and he feels your heart skip as he holds you still. "I'm sorry," he says, nose rubbing over the damp spot he's left behind, your teased skin.
Your heart hikes again.
"I'm sorry," he repeats. He pulls away, an agony.
"It's okay," you say. Your breathlessness says otherwise.
Eddie takes as many deep breaths as he can stand, wanting to clear his head and filling it with you instead. Your everything; your smell, your skin. Your limp hands against his back.
"I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asks when he gets a look at you, your unreadable expression. He takes care to keep his head angled down so you can't see the lower half of his face.
"I don't think you could."
You cup his cheek in your hand and he leans into it, his weight against yours.
"I wanted to tell you something," you confess.
"What-" He licks his lips, wincing when his fangs slide into his tongue and scrape grooves across his taste buds. "What was that?"
"I know you…" You pause, fingertips rubbing at his cheek.
Does she know? Eddie thinks, horrified. He hadn't realised how scary waiting could be. A thousand worries condensed into a handful of seconds. Does she know?
How could she not?
You press your palm to his cheek with more insistence. "I don't want you to think you have to hide anything from me. I know you have scars," you say, fingers sliding into the soft baby hair at the back of his neck. "You don't have to cover up. You don't have to cover any of it."
"I won't hurt you," he says, trying to convince himself.
"I know."
-
You stay a while longer. Eddie's friends pretend that you hadn't been alone in the bathroom for an inordinate amount of time together. You thank them all silently and less so, trying to talk to as many of them as you can.
There's Lucas, who's really, really nice, and his girlfriend Max, who's less so. She gives you an unimpressed look through her thick-lensed glasses, but you compliment her crutches and she comes around.
There's Mike, who actually isn't anywhere as bad as Eddie had described him. He's not frosty or standoffish, he's sweet and he asks questions. There's a girl with him that you don't catch the name of, and a boy on her other side.
There's Dustin, who you adore immediately, Robin, who you adore more, and then there's Steve.
Steve offers you a pretzel like you're more than familiar. He strolls right up to you with a bowl of them in hand and doesn't leave until you've eaten half of them.
There's a couple of people you don't manage to talk to at all, and you feel guilty about it all the way home.
"What if they think I'm rude?" you ask, tired eyes locking onto the stereo system. The time blinks analog in the dark, 12:59AM.
"They don't, don't worry about it. You have lots of time to get to know them, anyway."
You hum and turn to his face, indulgent because you know he can't look back. "You're not too tired to drive, are you?" He's spent. Yesterday had been one of his bad days.
"I'm fine."
"You say that all the time," you observe, dropping your cheek into the passenger seat's headrest.
"I'm fine all the time."
"Liar."
"Nuisance."
You huff a laugh through your nose. The strands of his friendship bracelet, the small beads at the ends, swing like pendulums in the gap between his arm and the steering wheel. You can see the rough skin of a scar creeping out from under his sleeve.
"Mike was really nice," you say.
"He has a bleeding heart."
That feels accurate. "He reminds me of you."
Eddie rolls his eyes. You feel for every detail, the strange tension between you like a gaussian filter over everything. He's gorgeous in a horrific way, heartbreakingly pale, eyes dark as pitch, hands restless. They squeeze alone the wheel, thick fingers curling tight until his knuckles are stark white. Running down the back of his hands are veins like rivers. They're more purple than green.
"Eddie," you say, playful, a tiny bit insecure.
"What?"
"Wanna stay the night?"
His hand moves forward on the wheel like he's revving a motorcycle, the tendon in his wrist rising to the surface. He clenches. "Not sure it's a good idea."
"Just to sleep. It's late."
"I don't know if I can sleep next to you."
You don't wanna say please. You don't want to ask Eddie to do anything he can't or doesn't wanna do.
He pulls up outside of your house with his mind already made up. He gets out of the car and you follow his lead. He locks it, shoves the keys in his pocket as you join him on the path up to your porch.
He's been in here enough times to know what it looks like, but for some reason you find yourself checking his face, worried about what it is he thinks of your things, all your mismatched trinkets, your stained glass lamps, your life as you let yourselves in. He ducks through the beeded curtain into your bedroom wary that they'll get tangled in his hair like they sometimes do.
"Do you wanna call Wayne?" you ask, gesturing to your telephone on the right hand side, nestled between a stack of books and a cup full of coloured pencils.
You pull your knee up to your chest and unlace your shoes one at a time. Eddie punches the number into the phone and holds the receiver to his shoulder to do as you're doing. It takes him less time to pop his sneakers off than for you to get out of yours. He's just taken the phone back into his hand when Wayne picks up.
"Wayne?" he asks softly. "Didn't wake you up, did I?"
You can't hear his response.
"I'm gonna stay with Y/N tonight. Yeah, we had a good time. Yeah…" His eyes drift to you as you peel out of your thigh highs.
"Yeah, I'm still here. What?" He meets your eyes and it feels accidental, because he throws his eyes to your bedsheets and turns his face to the wall. "No," he says firmly.
You scrape together something to wear for bed and some fresh underwear and leave for the bathroom, telling yourself that nothing is gonna happen so don't get your hopes up but not wanting to get caught out if it does. You freshen up, brushing your teeth and washing your face.
You stare at yourself in the mirror and wonder if you should've left your face-powder and your mascara on. Maybe even the skirt. You'd looked nice and pretty for the party. Now you look like yourself, still pretty but without those extra touches. Will he care? Does it matter?
You debate your pyjama pants considerably.
There's a lot happening.
Eddie is… Eddie is something else. He's different, you'd known that for a long time, and his kiss had confirmed it.
He's something out of a science fiction book.
Well, nobody's perfect.
Whatever he is, he'd kissed you. You'd kissed him and he'd responded, he'd come back for more, and now he's sitting in your bed when he could've gone home. You bring your hand to your neck and crane to one side, fingertips poking at your unbroken skin. His hickey's haven't even bruised.
You screw the pants up and drop them into your laundry basket. You take off every piece of jewellery on your person.
"Do you wanna use the bathroom?" you ask from behind the beaded curtain. "I left a new toothbrush for you on the sink."
"Yeah, desperately, I…" He takes you in as you emerge. Fresh-faced, bare-legged. As naked as you've ever been in front of him, physically and otherwise.
Eddie meets you where you're standing. He's ditched his jacket, and for the first time since you met him you can see the full length of his arms.
"You're not wearing your bracelets," he says, looking between your bodies. His hand twitches toward yours.
"You have tattoos," you say.
"They were better, before."
There's a misshapen mess of black splodges near the crook of his elbow broken up by scar tissue. One arm is less scarred than the other, an almost perfect flank of white skin.
"Is that a puppet? He's super spooky."
"Mh-hm."
You bring your hand to his tattoo and feel over the skin. It doesn't feel like it's there. Eddie holds your wrist and the two of you move together, your fingertips stroking up until you're wrapped around his bicep.
Eddie brings his free hand to your collar. His index finger straightens, encouraging your chin up so he can ease forward and kiss you. He's firm, eager, and your lips curl up into a smile underneath it. He turns his head to the right and you fall left, smile worsened when you feel his own start to form.
He nudges your nose. You take it for a telling off and laugh. "Sorry," you apologise, kissing his top lip.
"You're making this difficult," he chides.
Despite any sternness, Eddie loosens his grip on your wrists to slide his fingers between yours, pressing your joined hands to your chest. He leans back down and he's careful, almost methodical in the way he kisses. Chaste pecks, hot and precious as tiny stars.
You reach for his waist.
Eddie kisses you a final time and steps back. "I'll be back," he promises.
You lower your chin, flustered and perplexed by his sudden departure.
Walking around to the right side of the bed, you click on your bedside lamp — a beautiful glass and foiled contraption that throws dainty stripes of stars and hearts over everything close in the dark — before climbing in. You sniff one of your pillows experimentally, trying to remember when you last changed the bed. You decide they're acceptable even if they really smell like your hair oil and flip them around to be safe, plumping them up with your hands.
You've curled up on your side and almost succumb to your fatigue when Eddie returns, bringing with him the smell of spearmint and a fuzzy feeling in your stomach as he shuts off the light and sits on the opposite side of the bed, facing you. The hair around his face is damp with water, baby hair's limp.
"I'm sorry I don't have anything for you to wear, I-" Youre cut off by your own gasp as Eddie kisses you, his hand on your neck, his nose bridge sliding into your own. You hadn't been expecting it, and it's no less dizzying than any other kiss he's given you today.
"It's okay," he murmurs lowly, lips pressed to your lips, "have to wear you, is all."
You huff a laugh into his mouth. "I swear I'm always laughing when I'm with you," you muse as Eddie dedicates himself to your bottom lip. You cup the back of his head. "You're amazing."
Eddie groans and eases back. "I'm not good with words, sweetheart. To tell you how I feel about you."
You push one of your legs toward his knee. "...You can show me."
He shifts in the bed until he can lean over the entirety of your chest, hands cupping your face and lips poised hovering over your own, a millimetre of space between your mouth and his. "Okay," he says quietly.
He dips down. You can feel his bottom lip tremble, and then he's kissing you too hard to feel it anymore. You wrap loose arms around his back.
"Are you sure?" you whisper to him.
He rests his nose against your cheek, eyes closed, drawing the tiniest left to right. "I want you," he reassures.
"And you're okay?"
"Yeah, sweetheart. I'm okay. Do you want to?"
"Yeah. More than anything."
Another loving kiss against your cheek, Eddie moves down, down, down. "Tell me if I do something you don't like," he murmurs, top lip dragging and leaving a line of dampness to the base of your throat.
He adorns the canvas of your neck in half-moon contusions, big hands caressing your shoulders, your chest. You hold your breath as his fingers pass over your nipple, fighting to keep in any embarrassing sounds.
Eddie disagrees with his plan of action. You shiver as he brings his lips to a close and his bottom teeth scrape upward, as he pulls his head up and says, "C'mon, angel, breathe."
He follows his command with a manipulative touch, a circle over your nipple that makes you shudder. He kisses you and it feels like a thank you, pressure, a heat as his palm smooths over the bump of your tummy to your thighs. He squeezes the outside of one and for a while you can kiss him back, and then he pulls your thighs apart and you break away. Eddie follows, kisses you even when your reciprocation is weak.
He pushes your thigh flat to the bed.
You feel the heat of your excitement start to grow. Your stomach aches with the want to be touched.
"You're like a space heater, you're that warm," Eddie says, hand coasting down the inside of your thigh. He squeezes until fat melds under his fingers. "Are you scared?"
His whispering in your ear, his hand as close as it is to where you want it, it winds you up like a coil. You sigh as his thumb strokes the edge of your panties, sound coloured by an awful, devouring desire.
His face presses further into yours in reaction.
His touch is like the tide. He wades in, away. His thumb strokes inward over something soft and then his whole hand moves back to your thigh.
"Teasing," you utter.
"A little… Why, is there something you want me to do?"
His clueless whispering is infuriating and exciting at the same time. Your heart races and you can't discern if it's more lust or love.
"Touch me," you plead, pouting, knowing he's a pushover.
Anticipation stabs like a needle in your tummy as he slides his palm over your cunt completely. He rubs a careful, almost casual rhythm into your panties with the breadth of his fingers, lips kissing a lazy stripe up to your forehead, where he rests his face. You both watch his hand move past the valley of your rising chest.
"M'gonna pull these off, yeah?" He sits up, fingers pushing under the sides. "Lift your- yeah, thank you, sweetheart."
You buzz with his pet names, his soft voice, the feeling of your panties sliding up to your knees and his gentle exhale. You swear you can feel it fan over your slit. "Shit…" he moan, pulling at your spread cunt.
He looks like he's in pain, eyebrows pinched together and murmuring curses as he circles the wetness gathered at your entrance. You turn your head searchingly as he starts to ease his index finger inside your heat, a gentle probing.
One becomes two. He muffles your sighing with firm kisses, amorous praises, "That's it, baby, relax," as he works you open, fingers wet with slickness but not enough. He changes his position, pushing his middle and marriage finger inside and curving as his thumb slides up your slit looking for the bead of your clit.
Slow, slow circles. "There, huh?"
You shiver as he pushes in deeper, fingers as far as they can go. He spreads them wide, drops reassuring kisses all over your face when you keen. It's so new to have him kiss you at all, and to have him touching you — you're melting into nothing right there in his hold.
"I got you. Tell me if it hurts, okay?"
"Want you to- I want you to fuck me," you murmur, arms wrapping around him so you can hide your face in his neck.
"Fuck. Fuck, baby. Gonna fuck you just as soon as I can fit," he murmurs back, sinking three of his thick fingers into your snug cunt. He pulls wetness out with every thrust, a line of slick dribbling down onto the sheets underneath. He wipes it upward and pushes it back inside, his chest heaving. "Y'so tight, gotta take my time. Take our time." He rubs his nose against your head until he can kiss the highest point of your cheek. "Make sure you can take it."
"I can."
It doesn't bear repeating how quietly you're speaking, a mouthing inaudible under the wet, rhythmic thud of Eddie's pinky finger slapping your sticky cunt as he ups the pace of his finger-fucking.
"I don't think so," he coos, pulling his fingers from your cunt and making a show of spreading them wide. Your slick ribbons between them, almost invisible in the dark. "Ruin your sheets before any of that, maybe."
Eddie sits up and gets his hands under your armpits. You laugh as he tugs you up so your shoulders are on top of the pillows, but you don't have time to be confused. He quickly moves to kneel at your feet and pulls your leg over his shoulder, your back lifting unevenly from the sheets.
He starts with a sweet kiss pressed to the skin closest to his mouth, your lower thigh, and then works his way up, open mouthed, barely kisses at all until his hair whispers against your sensitive cunt and he's nipping at the stripe of skin between your thigh and the place where you most want his attention.
"Pretty," he says into your damp skin, lips shining. You reach down to stroke his hair behind his ears, worried he's gonna get it dirty.
He looks at you from between your thighs, his eyes dark in the dim light, their lashes long and soft where the outermost flutter into your skin. He's lovely.
He holds your gaze as he pulls back to your inner thigh. "Pretty everywhere," he says salaciously.
His lips part over your skin and you think he might bite you, a bruising hickey, but he pushes you down flat to the bed by your hips and kisses your clit, a simple kiss. Your fingers weave deeper into his hair. Your fingernails scratch lightly against his scalp, every tiny lick or kiss reflected in the minute tightening of your hands.
He goes slow, mouths down, kisses wetter and wetter as he reaches your entrance. "Poor girl," he murmurs, hands pulled down to further scandalise. He sinks two fingers inside and laughs into your cunt. You squirm.
"What happened? You're dripping on my fingers." Your thighs draw closed around his head as he curls his fingers against a soft spot.
"Eddie, can you-" You swallow. "Please. Please."
He pries your thighs open and rubs them soothingly, lapping at the heat of your cunt in face of your pleading. His tongue appears broad and flat up the centre of you until he's kissing on your clit, fingers pumping in rhythm. Your fingers work into his hair and he groans, the vibration enough to make you whimper under his mouth.
He laps at your clit messily and you tip your head back, breath coming in tight pants. You don't know what you say, only how you say it, desperate "please,"s and keening "Eddie,"s.
His thrusts grow in enthusiasm, fingers rubbing eagerly against something sweet. You pull your legs up and nudge his face to your cunt insistently, thigh shaking as you hold it up. Eddie doesn't need any more encouragement, his pretty pink lips suckling at your clit until you see stars. You make a pained little sound and try to move away from his kissing, startled at the intensity of your high.
Eddie lets your clit pop out of his mouth with a lewd, slick sound, his hands moving under your thighs and pulling you closer. "Good girl," he says, rubbing his wet face against the inside of your thigh. He inhales hard as you are, though he pauses to kiss your kneecap and pat your leg. "Good girl, sweetheart."
"I'm sorry," you say breathlessly, hands pulling his hair from his face. Pleasure rolls through you in hot waves.
"For what?"
"Tugging on your hair," you explain, shoulder pulled up to your cheek.
Eddie kisses your tummy lovingly and climbs on top of you to do the same just under your chin. "It’s okay, sweetheart, I like that shit. That was good, huh?" he asks, lips dropping down to yours all wet and warm.
He's not bragging, he's genuinely asking.
You nod into his kiss, your hands coming up to his sides. You swear your ears perk up as he unzips his jeans and eases them down, a hand disappearing into the mess of fabric. He moans quietly at the first touch.
You move his hair out of the way to watch. Eddie tugs at the length of his cock with a cruel hand, a short dribble of pearly precum sobbing down the tip and under his fingers. He spreads it as it goes, the slickness emphasising the ridges and veins of his cock. You can see it throb, if you look close enough.
He sits back and eases his jeans and boxers down enough to reveal a thatch of curls that brush his hand with every pump downward.
"You okay?" he asks, smirking.
You pull your shirt over your head and your chest warms at his adoring smile. "Will you take off yours?"
He doesn't hesitate like you worried he might. He sheds his t-shirt, pulling the fabric over the back of his head and dumping it off the side of the bed.
You take in his chest and it's abundance of ragged scarring still purpled with newness. He has a tattoo over his heart, a black whorl of legs and eyes. Fine dark hair crawls from the middle of his chest down his navel, joining with the thatch of coiled hair surrounding his aching cock. You shuffle forward and wait with two tentative hands held aloft until he says, "It's okay," before you touch him. You run your hands down the soft slopes of his waist.
"Does it hurt?"
"Not anymore."
"Can I kiss it?"
He snorts. "Prefer you kiss something else."
That really makes you laugh. You dot a kiss against his jaw and can't make yourself stop, dropping them all the way to the skin behind his ear. Your hand creeps lower as you go, held to the curve of his tummy. His skin is hot to touch the lower you go, and his stomach feels solid, a heaviness you know all too well.
"Can I touch you?" you whisper into his ear.
"Please."
You drop your forehead against his chest and he brings his hand up to cup the back of your head. His cock pulses as you wrap your hand around it, skin smooth and slick as you palm slowly up and down. You watch in awe as a bead of precum wells at the tip, Eddie's rough breathing loud overhead.
"Lie down, Y/N," he says, hand moving behind your naked shoulders.
"What way?"
"How do you want it, sweetheart? We'll do it whatever way you want."
You think about it. Whatever way you want. No matter how indulgent, you know he means it.
"Will you spoon me?"
He pushes you gently and follows behind, dragging your body into his front and angling your hips, cock hot and prodding your back. He gets his hand under your knee and pulls it up, splaying your cunt. You jump in surprise as he pushes his cock through your folds, tip rubbing against the still sensitive bead of your clit.
Eddie wraps his arms around you, hugging you from behind. "You wanna put it in for me, baby?"
You reach between your bodies and take his sticky cock into your hand, shifting until the head nudges against your hole. He sinks in inch by inch, arms tightening around your waist and grinding you down onto his cock until you're whimpering.
You grab at his arms with your hands and tether yourself to him as he starts to rock his hips, his thrusting tender and his face turned into your neck.
He presses his hand flat to your abdomen, an anchoring point as he moulds your weepy cunt around his length, each slovenly movement into your heat spreading you that little bit wider.
"Fuck," he says finally, sounding seconds from a black out. "Oh, fuck- You're tight. Gonna fuck you open slow, okay?"
You're pretty sure you'd let him do just about anything. You bring his hand to your mouth and kiss every white knuckle, every freckle you can see on the back, and when he bottoms out your cover your lips with his stolen hand to smother a tearful gasp.
Eddie's thrusts are spearing in their steady rhythm, a dirty slap ringing with every punching thrust forward. You curl in on yourself and hide your mouth in the sheets, wet pants smothered by fabric. Eddie's grip falls to your hip, where he pulls your body back and forces your cunt open even deeper.
His cock pushes into your sweet spot sudden and emphatic. You moan and he stills, rutting into that same space without pulling out until you're babbling his name, body knocked forward with every thrust.
Eddie turns your face toward him as much as he can without hurting your neck, your moans echoing in time with each thrust. "There you go," he says, "wanna hear how good it feels."
If he cares that you can't answer him he doesn't show it, arm coming up under you arm to grasp at your chest, your breaststroke soft and aching under his hand as he squeezes tenderly. His cock kisses at the sweet spot inside you intermittently; you're dizzy with it.
Eddie can't keep quiet either, his moans breathy, his breath hissing between his teeth when you clamp down around him. "Fuck," he begs, dragging his cock out of your heat, "fuck, Y/N."
He says your name like the syllables alone are appraising.
You can tell when it gets too much for him. He slows. His face drops into your shoulder, and he matches his pace to the wet kisses he leaves behind. Your wetness feels stickying, each of his thrusts snug.
His breath hitches, ragged pants accompanying every slow push of his hips. "Where's my girl?" he asks, eyes still closed as his hand abandons where it'd been squeezing the bump of your tummy to search further downward, fingers disappearing into your folds, short curls wet with slick. He can't find any purchase. You roll your hips, chase his touch and the pleasure that comes with it.
He groans into your shoulder. It sounds more pain than pleasure.
"Are you okay?" you ask, trying to turn in his arms. He holds you in place. "Eddie?"
"Yeah, fuck, I'm okay." He grinds up into your cunt. "Fuck, you're perfect."
"Will you kiss me?"
He does. It's nowhere near the bruising press you'd wanted. It's too careful.
"Listen," he murmurs, "I'm gonna get you on your front, okay? Gonna make you feel so good," he promises, waiting for you to nod before he pushes your shoulder away from him and climbs up behind you. You lay flat on your stomach and Eddie settles on your thighs, a heavy weight.
He pushes into your cunt with two fingers first, the new position allowing for a new pleasure. He pumps in and out and swaps his fingers for his cock quickly after, bearing the full weight of his body into your back as sinks to the hilt.
You both moan in time, hands fisted in the sheets.
He kisses your neck, lips parted, and his teeth feel so sharp that your heart sinks as it had in the bathroom.
"Eddie-" you start.
He pulls away, stops every movement.
"Eddie," you say again. What are you supposed to say? You both know what he is.
There's a lull where neither of you knows what to do filled by your too-fast breathing.
"I won't hurt you," he says, hands rubbing up the length of your back and then under. He holds a hand over your heart. He drops his lips to your back. "Do you want me to stop?"
He must feel your pulse calm under his touch, but he still asks again when you don't answer. "Do you want me to stop? It's okay if you do. You're okay, baby, I promise."
You steal a pillow from against the headboard and rise up on elbows. Your admission comes weak but completely honest. "Fuck me, Eddie, please... I want you. I want you-" Your murmuring's interrupted by a sharp breath as Eddie starts to move again, the head of his cock pushing into your cunt, a slick, perfect feeling.
He moans from the back of his throat as his cock pushes into you again and again, hips smacking the dough of your ass as his pace quickens. You hug your pillow tightly, tears popping up in the corners as he ruts deep.
"Being so good for me," he groans, clamped down on your hip with a vice-like grip. "Fuck, you feel so good. Fucking clinging to me every time I pull out, baby, Christ." His blasphemy is punctuated by a thrust that has you sliding up the bed, sheets wrinkling under your arms. You spread your thighs and wetness pools at your clit as his pelvis thrusts into you, driving pleasure so deeply it aches in your hips.
You moan pathetically and reach back to hold his hand, wiggling your fingers. He takes it in one and presses your arm against your lower back with the other, struggling to maintain a steady pace as he gets close to cumming. You're a babbling stream of sounds as he fucks in deep, swollen sweet spot tapped against mercilessly.
He throws himself back on his haunches, cock dragged out of your heat.
You pull your legs out from underneath him and curl onto your side to watch, eyes wide as white spurts of pearlescence jump out of the head of his reddened cock and drip down the bumps of his fingers. He leans back, his stomach and thighs tensed with every pump.
He groans through a smile, moan's coloured by a happy, relieved laughter. "F-uck," he drags, fisting his cock dry.
He meets your eyes as the last of it slides down onto his stomach.
You smile softly. "Fuck," you mumble.
Eddie wipes his hand in his jeans like a fucking hooligan and tucks his cock back into his boxers with a wince, and then he collapses on top of you. He's sort of nice about it, his arm over your shoulder and his face behind your ear.
"Fucking beautiful," he praises, dropping his head back on the bed so you're face to face. "You're so fucking pretty. So perfect." He kisses you. "You're perfect," he repeats, staring intently into your eyes.
You pull a hand from between your legs, smelling of sex. Eddie literally couldn't care less if he tried, and he lets you take his face into your hand without complaint.
He gets his arm under your arm and starts to rub your back. "You want me to take care of you again?" he asks, eyebrows raised gently. "Yeah?"
And you would let him, you would, but you need to see them for yourself.
You touch your index fingertip to his lip.
"Can I see?" you ask.
He loses his boisterous joy, tamps it down. He realises that he can't lie, that he hasn't been lying, and he nods. You tremble as you pull his lip up over his canine tooth, excited and scared.
A sharp, exceptionally white tooth pokes out of Eddie's gums. You're taken aback, though you'd known exactly what you'd find.
A fang.
Blood oozes at the gums.
"You're bleeding," you worry aloud, touching your finger to the dark beading at the base of his tooth.
Eddie's eyes rove over your face thoughtfully. He pulls your hand away from his lip and sets it on his neck instead. "They always do that. The gum heals, breaks when they wanna come out."
"How often do they come out?"
"A lot more since I met you. Whenever my adrenaline spikes, they seem to think it's… feeding time."
That is a dizzying thing to learn.
You're not sure how you feel, but you know one thing: he's Eddie. "It's too bad," you say, forcing a lightness that turns real more easily than you expect. "I really want to kiss you right now."
He strokes your cheek with his thumb. "I really wanna kiss you too. Maybe a small one?"
You find yourself leaning forward, unafraid.
He kisses you once, twice, three times, the two of you holding each other's faces and covered in mess. Slick and sweat and blood. The hearts and stars from your lamp spray over his hip and paint him with pinks, greens, oranges, a rainbow cutting over his trim waist. You rest your hand overtop, feel his keloid scars like hills under your fingers.
"My boyfriend's a vampire," you mutter, bemused at fate.
Eddie blinks at you. "I'm your boyfriend?"
"Yeah, I think so. Don't you?"
Eddie pulls you into his chest and doesn't let you go for a long, long time.
-
Your first time watching a blood sate is weird.
For one, Chief Hopper is firmly against it. He's got his kid with him, the boy from the party that Mike had been so heavily doting on, and if he didn't you might think he was a pretty scary guy.
"I think this is stupid," the chief says plainly. "I think this is stupid, I think you're stupid," — he points at Eddie where he's sitting sickly in the round couch — "and I think you're plain crazy, kid." He points at you last.
You beam at him. "People have said that about me."
His kid laughs.
"Will," Hopper says tiredly, "go sit in the car."
"Look, Chief, I know I messed up, okay, but she kind of stuck her hand in my mouth and I didn't really have a choice."
Wayne looks at you with new eyes. "You did?"
You nod at him faux-seriously.
"And what gave her the inkling that you might have had something in your mouth worth looking at?" Hopper says, which is hilarious. You laugh behind your hand.
He gives you a disapproving look that you completely ignore. If you'd taken notice of disapproval you would've stopped having this much fun years ago.
"Uh, well, she might have… felt them?" His pitch rises.
Hopper looks like he's about to blow a gasket when Will says, "What was he supposed to do? Never talk to anyone new ever again?"
"He did a lot more than just talk to me," you say. There'd been a fixed bike, phone calls, lots of sandwiches, bug hunts, an entire sketchbook full of drawings.
"I told you to wait in the car," Hopper says.
Will grins and raises his hands in surrender. "Bye," he mouths. You wave.
Hopper waits for the door to close before he continues. "I get it, when you're a teenager you think your hormones are the end of the world-"
"I'm almost twenty three."
Hopper pinches his hand closed. "But you do not understand the danger that you are creating here."
"Like a stake-ing," you whisper, very very quietly. Eddie's the only one who can hear you, and he laughs so hard he snorts.
"I'm glad you find this funny." Hopper's tone could not imply the opposite any more.
He hands Wayne a paper bag that audibly sloshes and stalks out, his anger a palpable cloud of steam rising off of his shoulders. Eddie seizes up beside you at the sound, lips parting as his fangs come through. You don't touch him because you value your blood inside your body, only slide away from him and smile. "You okay, handsome?"
"Kid, maybe the chief is right. We don't know how Eds is gonna act with you here," Wayne says.
You nod respectfully. You like Wayne, and he knows about all of this stuff more than you ever could.
"No," Eddie mumbles, putting his hand out for you across the couch.
You take it without thinking.
Wayne sighs. You can hear him grumbling as he disappears from view into the kitchen and puts a pot on the stove. There's the sound of a bag being punctured with a knife, a wet slosh. Eddie's grip on your hand tightens.
You're still fascinated that he even drinks blood in the first place. That's wickedly sickening. Wicked, because it's cool that he's a vampire, with his impressive hearing, senses and smell. But sickening, because if you had to drink a pint of blood every couple of weeks you'd throw up.
"I read about a new blood-sucker."
Eddie raises his heavy head. "Another bug?"
"No, a finch! A vampire finch. They're really pretty, Teddy. They're small and brown with long beaks and they drink blood because there's barely any water on their island." You give him a loving smile. "They aren't parasites. S'just how they had to change to survive."
He squeezes your hand, this time on purpose.
"Are you gonna come and have it in here, Eddie?" Wayne asks, one last shot at separating the two of you.
"I'm okay," he says loudly. His eyes trace your smile. "Really."
It can't be fun to have two people watch you drink a warm mug of blood, but Eddie finds it funny. He keeps laughing every time he brings the rim of the glass to his mouth.
"I can't do it if you're looking at me," he says.
Wayne rolls his eyes and looks away. You cover your face with both hands and part your fingers to spy on him through the gaps. He makes it look easy, draining the mug basically in one long pull, though his hunger turns violent as the cup empties. He chokes. Blood trickles down from one corner of his mouth.
You automatically want to reach over and wipe it away. Wayne grabs your arm before you can and gives you a fatherly look that says, I wouldn't do that if I were you.
"Shit," Eddie says, slamming his now empty mug down on the coffee table. It makes a grating sound like a ground mortar and pestle. He sits as far back on the couch cushions as he can, nausea clear on his face.
"Deep breath," Wayne says.
"Fuck, Wayne."
"You're aces. Deep breaths."
Your heart hurts watching Eddie like this. He covers his mouth with eyes closed tightly and breathes hard through his nose. Already there's colour coming back into his face, not a lot but anything is an improvement. He'd been practically grey.
When Eddie pulls his hand from his mouth blood has spread over his lips and jaw. Your eyes widen.
"I'll get the shower running," Wayne says, slapping his knees as he stands. He stops before the hallway. "Good job, Eddie."
The boy in question slouches into a ball on the sofa and nods into a cushion. You wait for the sound of Wayne pulling the shower cord that turns on the hot water before you stand up, head tipped to one side.
"You okay, handsome?".
"Tired."
"You want a hug from me?"
"Is anyone else offering?" He opens one eye to peek at you and grins at your distraught expression. "I'm joking, I'm kidding. C'mere, before I start bawling." You sit and then flop onto your side, pulling your legs up next to his. "Such a frowny face." His voice is adorably tired.
"Better than yours. You look like someone from Night of the Living Dead, baby."
Eddie's arm lies limp like a dead fish over your waist. "Lemme nibble on your brains," he says, words thick as dark honey, eyes closed. "Just a snack."
You're waiting for someone to pull the rug out from under your feet. No way your boyfriend, your cries at the end of every movie, brings you flowers because he felt like it, won't step on cracks in the sidewalk boyfriend just skulled a glass of O-negative like it was a milkshake.
You feel guilty as soon as you think about it. He's not confined to all his softest parts and he never will be. He's snarky and angry and loud. He plays guitar like a real rockstar and he doesn't take anyone's shit. He's a survivor. A glass of blood every now and then was never gonna stop him.
You keep wondering if you should let him suck your blood. It could be hot. It could also probably be the worst idea ever, a relationship faux pas up there with proposing after a month or saying I love you on the first date.
"What are you thinking about?" he asks.
You brush the hair out of his eyes with your ring finger. "Embarrassing relationship fumbles."
"Oh yeah? Like letting your girlfriend watch you drink human blood from a mug shaped like Woodstock?"
"Least it wasn't Snoopy."
"God forbid."
"Is it always like this?" You stroke your hand down his face and rub along his jaw with your thumb. "D'you always get sleepy?"
"Yeah." He turns his face so your hand covers his mouth.
You've stopped wearing silver jewellery, your wrists bare besides the endearingly awful friendship bracelet he's constructed for you. Not a friendship bracelet, he'd corrected. You're not kissing other friends, are you? Because that's really gonna put a downer on this whole thing.
You dip your forehead to his chin and the two of you lay there in silence. You can smell blood, a thick, metallic stick permeating every corner of the room. It's especially strong between the both of you.
"Do you wanna bite me right now?" you inquire without opening your eyes.
"Not really. Blood sate kicks in quickly. It's the worst for, like, the first ten seconds after. Now I wanna sleep, but Wayne's gonna make me shower."
"Maybe I can shower with you."
"I'm sure he'd jump for joy if you suggest it."
"Really?"
Eddie kisses your hand. "No," he says with a giddy laugh.
"I'll pretend I'm gonna sit on the toilet. Keep watch."
"How will you stop your hair from getting wet?"
"I'll lean out."
Eddie laughs even more than he had been, peeling laughter that warms you from the inside out as he kisses your hand again. "That'll definitely work."
Wayne clears his throat.
"Shower's hot. I'm going out. For an hour." Eddie perks up. His uncle looks him dead in the eye. "Don't make me regret this."
And while Wayne had been under the impression you and Eddie were gonna have some grown up fun together in the shower, what you really do is an innocent act of affection: you wash Eddie's hair.
"You have to lean your head back," you chide.
"I am."
"More than that."
"There's no room."
You're lucky you both fit. You're freezing standing behind Eddie, the only relief the warm water that trickles down from your hands to your elbows as you draw circles in his scalp, working the shampoo into a fine lather.
"How did you get blood here?" you ask, scratching rusty flakes from the hair behind his ear.
"I don't know. It gets everywhere. Like eyeshadow."
You push your chin over his shoulder. "You wear eyeshadow?"
"For shows."
"Really?"
"Is it hard to believe?"
You encourage his head under the water and rake your hands through his curls, encouraging the soapy water down to the ends with patient hands. "Lip gloss too? Hey, can I do your makeup?"
"Maybe tomorrow," he bargains. While the shower has helped to wake him up, lethargy remains thick and unshakeable as adamant.
You kiss the wet ridge of his shoulder blade, picturing his pretty face decked out in dark liners and sticky balm. "Thank you."
"I haven't worn any in a long time. Haven't played a show in a really long time."
You wring the water out of his hair and search in the steam for his conditioner. It's mostly empty. "You could put on a show for me. I never got to see you play," you say, shaking it really hard. A dollop collects in your hand and you work the dregs through the ends of his long hair.
"You want that?"
"I think you're the best guitar player in the world."
You're not joking. He's the best, and he plays guitar. And he's pretty good, semantics aside. You love sitting out on the porch with him and listening to him play old rock songs off the top of his head. You could watch his hands move over the strings for hours.
"If that's the case, I can definitely put on a show. Make-up, costume, stage dives. The whole nine yards. Anything for my girl."
You roll the ends of his hair between two coated palms and step back. "There. You have to let it soak in for a couple of minutes."
Eddie turns with a grin, angling his chest and hair forward, away from the stream.
"Whatever will we do?"
You wipe an escaped streak of blood off of his bottom lip and smile. "I have no idea."
You kiss. Eddie leans down and you move up, damp noses glancing off of each other. You're used to short kisses, never enough to make his heart race in case it prompts an unnecessary appearance of his fangs, so when Eddie encourages your lips apart to wade in deeper you pull back questioningly.
"Blood sate. I'm 'sated'. They won't come out."
Your jaw drops. "For real?"
He shakes his head with a pleased smile. "For real. Kiss me sick, sweetheart."
You throw your arm around his neck and drag his face to yours, kissing with an ardency that both surprises and amuses him. He laughs into your open mouth until suddenly he's not laughing at all, only breathing, pushing against you with the same urgent force and the same adoring smile.
"Does this mean you can give me a hickey?" you ask enthusiastically. Eddie has yet to give you a proper love bite.
He leans back under the show spray and pulls you in with him, laughing when you dissolve like rice paper in his arms, finally warm. There's never been a sweeter sound.
/\^._.^/\
thank you for reading! | my masterlist | my halloween party
if you enjoyed reading his, please consider reblogging. i promise it makes a huge difference
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x reader fluff#eddie munson x reader imagine#eddie munson x reader hurt/comfort#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson x afab!reader#eddie munson x fem!reader smut#eddie munson smut#stranger things x reader#stranger things fic#stranger things#vampire!au#vampire!eddie#vampire!eddie munson#vampire eddie au#vampire eddie smut#vampire eddie munson#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fic#stranger things 4#stranger things 4 spoilers#eddie munson x reader smut#eddie munson x afab!reader smut#fem!reader#luveline's halloween party
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Let's Break Up (I)
summary : you try to do the break up prank on your boyfriend.
word count : 0.5k
type : headcanons
pairing/s : Jason Grace / Percy Jackson / Nico Di Angelo x Reader
warning/s : none
here is my masterlist! Part II is composed of Leo, Frank, and Will.
Jason Grace
"Let's break up."
Jason is formally trained to remain calm and level-headed in the most drastic of situations ever since he was young.
So if you're expecting him to look surprised or upset, he won't.
Don't be fooled though, he may look like he's listening as you explain but deep inside this electric boy is panicking! 😂
"Okay, Jason. What in Jupiter's name have you done to make (Y/N) upset? Think! THINK!"
It might take a while for Jason to respond because he is torn between asking you what he can do to fix it, what he did wrong, or just be desperate and beg you to stay with him.
So he does what any Roman would do in his place. Accept his fate.
He fixes his composure and coughs a little to avoid his voice from cracking.
"If that's what you think is best, I understand-"
"It's just a prank, love."
"Thank the gods."
You never knew your boyfriend could sigh that hard.
Jason laughs in relief and hugs you tightly, like he wasn't thinking of crying his heart out and eating ice cream alone in the Zeus cabin later.
He'll never tell you that though.
Percy Jackson
"I want to break up."
"Nope."
Percy just can't see the two of you breaking up. No matter how much he tries, he knows it's literally imposible.
He already has a list of plans; when he will propose, where to get married, where you'll spend the rest of your lives together, how many children you two will have, and their names. Even the number of pets allowed in your future home.
But you don't give up easily.
"What do you mean, no? Isn't that my decision?"
"OUR decision, (Y/N). And I say no."
"But-"
"No buts, baby. If you're tired of this relationship then rest. We'll try again in the morning."
You just pout in defeat, taking a bite of the blue chocolate chips cookies his mother made for him before he left for Camp Half-Blood.
He smirks like the handsome devil he is, pulling you into his arms and lays his head on your shoulder.
"There's no getting rid of me, (Y/N). You're stuck with me forever."
He doesn't notice the small smile on your face, preferring not to have it any other way.
Nico Di Angelo
"I was thinking of breaking up."
He would shadow travel even before you could say another word.
Just YEETS HIMSELF OUT😌
Good luck trying to find him because he would be nowhere to be found. You already asked everyone yet nobody knows where he is.
Hours passed, no sign of him. You got truly worried that you can't even fall asleep.
You were just laying on your bed, staring into nothing when you hear a knock on your window.
It's Jules-Albert, holding a bag of McDonalds with your favorite foods and drink. It also has a note.
"Just think about what you said with a full stomach. You do stupid shit when you're hungry."
You don't know if you should be offended or laugh.
Still in your pajamas, you run to the Hades cabin and knock on his door. No one answers.
You do feel a pair of arms around your waist and cold nose nuzzling your neck.
You turn your head to kiss Nico's cheek as he leans more into you. He then whispers in your ear-
"I love you, tesoro mio. Don't scare me like that again."
Gods, you didn't have the heart to tell him it was a prank.
#percy jackson#percy jackson and the olympians#heroes of olympus#percy jackson x reader#percy jackson headcanons#percy jackson imagine#heroes of olympus x reader#heroes of olympus headcanons#heroes of olympus imagine#jason grace#jason grace x reader#jason grace headcanons#nico di angelo#nico di angelo x reader#nico di angelo headcanons#break up prank#riordanverse
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what is your vision on Alastor with a Male Reader who is the opposite of him? Rarely smiles, isn't very chatty and is kinda rough? Maybe, since Alastor loves dancing and singing, Reader or feels shy about it and doesn't like the way he dances and sings or doesn't hate it and watches Alastor dance and sing
ooh, this is a fun ask, lets go
Alastor with a male reader who's the complete opposite of him
So you joined the Hazbin Hotel out of genuine curiosity
You had died fairly young, almost in your late twenties. You have never figured out why you ended up in hell
So it is safe to say, that when you heard of the Hazbin Hotel, you were eager to join, albeit a little skeptical
Of course, it came with your fair share of anxiety when you knocked on the doors of the hotel and were greeted with the ever-smiling radio demon
It spooked your little heart TO THE CORE
Ah well, fast forward a few weeks later and you were adjusting well
Angel Dust was quite protective of you, claiming you to be his younger brother
Niffty initially took to you since she thought you were a "bad boy" but hey, at least she considers you as a friend now
Charlie and Vaggie have been sweet to you and so have Husk and Sir Pentious
Of course, you'd have trouble trying to bond with Alastor
Alastor was loud, boisterous, and loved to scare the living shit out of people whereas you were quiet, reserved, and soft-spoken
Alastor didn't even pay mind to you that much. To him, you were insignificant
All that changed when he tasted your food though. You cook a mean jambalaya. (You were surprised to find Alastor's plate clean when you just turned around for one second)
After that, the radio demon hung around you from time to time and you started growing comfortable with him as well
You were not a fan of him pulling you along to dance on random occasions when jazz played through the radios
Still, you tried your best to keep up with him. You weren't into all the swing dancing so you resolved to just watch him do all the work lol
You aren't that chatty of a person so you just listen to Alastor blab about anything and everything. He once told you that you were a good listener and patted your head
He gave you a personalized radio one day. He bragged about how he came up with the immaculate design but you were too flustered to notice
So it seemed was the rest of the hotel
The big bad radio demon gave you a gift??? Are we talking about the same radio demon here?
It didn't stop there. You were bombarded with gifts every other day. Sometimes it was books, flowers, tea cup sets, or a full-on attire (He gave you a coat that looked just like his, except with the colors reversed)
You asked Alastor about his...frequent gift-giving and he very bluntly stated, "Why, my dear, I am trying to court you after all. "
Error 404
He took you out on a date after you recovered from your slight panic attack
You realize you don't mind being the radio demon's boyfriend
He even started being respectful of your quiet nature. He quite likes the peace anyway
Vox is foaming at the mouth and plotting to kill you as we speak
A/N: This turned out a little different than I'd hoped but I hope you enjoy it!
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caught
paring: paige x fem!reader
synopsis: reader walks in on kk and paige during a tiktok live and accidentally exposes their relationship
warning(s): none ! (sfw)
word count: 742
a/n: shoutout to oomf for giving me this idea lmao
"hey guys. where's p?" you question after you opened the front door to one of the team's shared apartment.
you had first stopped by your girlfriend's shared apartment which was next door, only to find out that she wasn't there. confused, you had sent her a text that had gone unanswered for ten minutes. so then you decided to go next door to see if her other teammates knew where the hell she was.
you were first met with amari as she held a jar of pickles, half of a pickle being chewed in her mouth while she held the remaining half in her hand. aubrey sat on the couch cheering on aaliyah as she wildly danced in front of the tv playing just dance 4.
amari was the only one who actually noticed your presence and she nodded towards the back of the apartment where the rooms were located since her mouth was still busy chewing on the salty pickle.
you thanked her as you made your way out of the common area and into the hallway. you could already hear loud chatter accompanied with the sound of music playing. you instantly knew one of the voices belonged to kk, so you decided to open it because paige was known to keep kk by her side most times.
your assumption was proven right once you finally opened the door and laid your eyes on kk and paige goofing off in front of an iphone camera. their backs were faced towards you while ice laid on the bed playing fortnite so she noticed you first. yet, her eyes widened a bit before they quickly cut towards kk and paige's direction. but before ice could say anything you had beat her to it.
"babe, seriously?"
kk paused her dancing while her and paige both turned around to the sound of my annoyed voice.
you watched confusedly as kk let out an 'oh shit!", scrambling to grab her phone and tap the screen quickly. before you could question it, paige was walking towards you with a surprised expression.
"y/n?" paige questioned. "i thought you said you couldn't come over tonight?"
you smacked your teeth and shook your head at her. "i texted you saying nevermind. then, i showed up to your dorm but you weren't there and when i texted you again you never responded. where is your phone?"
"it died so i had it on the charger while kk and i went live…" paige scratched her head, glancing back at kk who was now sitting on ice's bed biting the inside of her cheek.
"oh shit, you were live? i thought you were making one of those stupid tiktok videos-- ice! why didn't you tell me?" you whacked the side of her leg as she yelled out dramatically.
you and paige haven't exactly made your relationship public yet and you literally avoided the girl as if she was the plague whenever one of the girls went live. it was honestly all your decision for it to be this way because you didn't want the media to focus on who paige was dating rather than her actual talent and love for her community. you also knew how many fans she had and you could only imagine what they would say about you if they had found out that you were dating the paige bueckers.
"hey, i tried to warn them!" ice defended herself, still trying to concentrate on her game.
"they probably screen recorded the live, too" kk added, looking back and forth between you and unbothered paige.
you groaned as paige wrapped her arms around you, resting her cheek on top of your head. "nah it's fine… you weren't in the camera anyway so they can speculate all they want about it."
laughing, you hugged her back. she had practice earlier tonight so she smelled like fresh clean clothes and the lavender soap she uses. you inhaled and relaxed against her body. "your fans aren't dumb, paige…"
paige pulled back a bit to look at your face. "i don't care. i'm tired of hiding you-"
"um, not to be rude, but can y'all do this lovey-dovey shit somewhere else…" kk feigned disgust and held her stomach as if she was sick.
paige rolled her eyes and you let out another laugh. you said goodbye to her two teammates as your girlfriend grabbed you by the hand and walked you out of the room.
#paige bueckers#paige bueckers x reader#uconn wbb#uconn women’s basketball#kk arnold#ice brady#amari deberry#aaliyah edwards#aubrey griffin
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arguments and make ups
when he realises he fucked up,,
-dazai x gn reader
warnings: nothing too specifically mentioned that you are arguing over
proper fallouts with dazai were uncommon. little bickers were bound to happen yet this had spiraled a little from something you just wanted to ask about. you were asking a genuine question over god knows what, it had been a long day for the both of you and sarcastic answer after sarcastic answer had put you both on your last straws.
stood in the kitchen, he was still joking around and it was frustrating. he's a man too smart for his own good, yet he hadn't realised that you were tired and didn't want to drag anything on. sighing, you pinched the bridge of your nose for a moment and looked at him.
"no, osamu, it's not-" you spoke, yet he only heard those 4 painful words. you don't call him that. you don't call him osamu. you call him 'samu or something sweet only he can hear. he became instantly lost in his own thoughts, staring off into space and you saw he wasn't listening to your point.
groaning, you walked into the bedroom. neither of you even remembered why or when this started. he stood there, knowing his sweet nothings wouldn't get him out of this situation. he should have just given you the answer straight up and not wind you up like he would for amusement any other day.
nobody ever called him osamu, at work he was dazai, chuuya called him an array of insults and at home he was 'samu. for someone so clever, and who always has a plan, he would have never planned to upset you. his mind began a competition of what voice inside his head could say 'no' the loudest to every possible solution he came up with.
if he was thinking rationally, he would have known you just wanted two peaceful minutes after a stressful day. he waited until he could hear you turn the shower on before quietly leaving the house after taking some leftovers out of the fridge for you to see when you come out to eat.
he wandered up and down yokohama's streets a little, feeling regretful. he knew you wouldn't hold a grudge but he wasn't going to forgive himself. you always treated him so well, never making him feel like a 'demon prodigy' or half of the 'double black' duo, and you unknowingly proved odasaku wrong. he always thought of how oda's words that claimed "there is no place in this world that can fill your loneliness" died the moment he met you.
osamu checked the time, thinking he should head back. he knew it would take more than a silly keychain of toro inoue to save his case yet he still bought one as he passed a corner shop.
arriving back home, you walked out of the bathroom door as he took off his shoes. he quickly shrugged off his coat and rushed towards you, pressing a chaste kiss to your hairline with a whisper of "give me 5 minutes, love." and hurrying to the bedroom and bathroom to get changed and have a shower - knowing it will boost his chances of getting you to cuddle with him as he apologises.
scrolling on your phone on the couch, you heard soft footsteps plodding over. a man who resembled an ashamed dog with his tail between his legs carefully sat down next to you. not looking up from your phone, you could feel his sorrow radiating off of him.
"darling, you know i-" you cut him off, "'samu, it's just been a long day." you responded calmly, looking up at him before a faint smile tugged at his lips. he could tell you were feeling better and wrapped his arms around you. falling down so that his back was laying on the couch and holding you on top of him.
"i'm sorry" he sprinkled in hundreds of times through peppered kisses on your head. giggles filled the room as he wriggled you around, smiling and forgetting about a silly frustration.
whoops!! accidentally forgot this is a blog with silly little fanfictions - consider this an apology pretty pleaseeee
also: sorry for not chatting with my mutuals recently! life got in the way and shit hit the fan for a second!!
#bungou stray dogs#bsd#bungo stray dogs#bungou stray dogs x reader#dazai osamu#osamu dazai#bungo stray dogs x reader#dazai x reader#dazai#dazai bsd#dazai osamu x reader
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My Love, Mine all mine -Simon 'Ghost' Riley
Based on a request:
"Broken men know who to love, but not how to love. Broken women know how to love, but not who to love." This is so Simon related 🥺🥺
----
F!Reader, fluff
----
A/N: Because he isn't always some tough masked solider, he is a man with wounds and a life beyond the battle field
It wasn't a shared feeling, he knew that well. You and he had stayed up and talked about a future like you had a clue. He knew your issues, love isn't what you want at times, you miss it, want it, but sometimes just at times, you can't give in to it, in fear of something greater that you don't know about. The smoke of his cigarette gave his not-so-secret hiding spot away. "Better not ask for my jumper again, doll," he knew you were there, knew those steps all too well. You chuckle, "You have to be some superhero," you sit beside him. He shrugs, "Just a mere mortal," he smiles. Silence between you two, speaking the words lips fail to say.
Simon knew you he was meant to love you, but not ever meant to show it. And just as he was about to speak, you rested your head on his shoulder. Classic way to ask for his jumper because you once again forgot your own. "No, not this time, I'm sick today," he excuses. "What if I get sick?" you ask and he chuckles. "You can never get sick darling, remember New Year's Day last year?"
It was cold, wind and snow surrounded you and he walked to you. The night died down rather quickly, lovers kissing inside as you walked in the snow. Thirteen years of knowing the other, he knew you too well, you want to avoid the romance, avoid the cliche and have something different, but not all can be unique. You know well, he knows too, you turn around, "Go back inside, Si, you'll get sick." He shakes his head. "What, you're telling me you won't take care of me, love?" He gets closer to you, a little pout as he gives you his puppy eyes. "Don't do that, Simon." He smirks. "Doing what, all I'm saying is, why not let me be here with you and just shit-talk all those people who might invite us to their baby showers?" You laugh. "I'm wearing blue," you comment he rolls his eyes. "No way you'll make me wear pink," he shakes his head. You ignore it, knowing a baby shower would come within nine to ten months from your friends.
He knows you. He just doesn't know if he can ever love you. In this world, a man like him isn't guaranteed a happy ending. Maybe a cut to the throat, death in a dark place, bullets blazing as his body takes its last breaths, that is a guaranteed end. Nothing in this world belongs to him, not even the knife he carries. "I almost got sick," you recall. "Keyword is almost," he looks at the skyline. "So, what is new?" he looks over to you. "Same old story." It was mad, to know he can be the man who loves you unconditionally. You could stab him in the back a million times and a million times he would thank you for doing it. Love works in different ways, his love is dark and deep but real. You could break his heart, expose him to the world, turn him into his enemy, kill him over and over, and each time, he would say he loves you.
It's a dark and twisted fairy tale to love him, but it's love that no one can take from him. He can tell you he loves you over and over, but you would still ask him if it was true. You can kiss him, care for him, hug him in days or nights when he is the most vulnerable, burn the world and watch it fall apart for him, only to have him think it's all foolery. One hug, one kiss, and he would still question what love is. The meaning displayed in your eyes, the feeling displayed in his gaze but neither are too brilliant to take a step and claim what the poets oh so need to see. You are conflicted, getting your heart broken over and over by many lovers, asking and crying to the starry nights what is so wrong with you.
Do you love too much, do you care too much? What if it's you and not them? What then? Simon, the cold stare to the passers and the soft gaze to you. R/N, the confused lover with issues and questions that one man's lips hold the answers to. One New Year's Day, one whisper of a truthful 'I love you,' two hearts, one bed, tears and promises. What makes love is not what others perceive it as. Not for a soldier, not for a civilian who questions all her love. At dinner with friends, questions were asked of when either would settle down like the others did, not knowing the answer was right at that table. Simon and R/N, are two complicated hearts that beat for one reason. To live. But those two words can be more than just a basic meaning.
One stormy night, knock on the door and he opens, shirtless and with hope. "Hi," your hoarse voice is too soft. He opens his arms and you run to them. Antidote, what a soldier like him found in that night when he promised he would be more than just a soldier but a man who loves a woman. A woman who cries in his arms as she gets heartbroken again. Boyfriends, thinking they are better than a true woman who all she wants to do is love and care. Something a soldier like him looks for in the dark. "They don't know what they lost, dear," he kisses the top of your head as he holds you close to him. He is done trying to find reasons to not love you.
You are tired of not finding enough excuses to call him home. Your home. His home. An embrace of a man who all he wants to do is protect the last thing on this earth to love him. It was a shared feeling, you both know that well. It is believed that since the creation of our universe, our galaxy, the dust that made us, always tries to find a way back to its other half. And, as he holds you close, two hearts, under one roof, he finds home, and you find home too. It's not about what piece is broken but what is still there. It's not about love or who or how to love.
Sometimes, love is not just a kiss, sex and a caress. Love is sometimes about waking up late morning, hair all messy, bodies tangled with the sheets and a burst of lazy laughter as you realise your lipstick is all over his face. Love is respect, honesty, trust, happiness, fun, and him, holding you near as he watches you cry over something small. Love is about being imperfect, flawed, broken and having the one you care for sit down, love you a little extra that day and watch as you fix yourself with his hand holding yours.
Tags:
@ghostslillady @queen-ilmaree @jnsmeyv @madamemelancholysstuff @kit-kats06 @ghostslittlegf @trulyunknownone @rogerfxckingtaylor @cripitique @sinners-sins
#ghost cod x reader#cod x reader#cod#cod ghost#ghost cod#ghost mw2#ghost call of duty#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley#ghost#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon riley imagine#simon riley x y/n#ghost simon riley#mw2 ghost#simon riley fluff#simon riley#simon riley call of duty#simon ghost x reader#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost x you#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost riley x reader#ghost riley x you#ghost fluff
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Theodore nott fluffy dating head canons please 🥺🥺🥺🥺
AGH YES YIPPEE I LOVE WRITING THESE I HAVE SO MANY IDEAS
Theodore Nott Headcanons <3
Let's get right into it with some basic Theo headcanons, and then some dating ones too!
- Deffo has a Bernese Mountain dog back at home tbh, his mum loved them and got one before she died, and he loves that dog because it's all he really has left of her presence in his home
- Besties with Mattheo since they were both really little
- His mum died when he was eight, in childbirth, when giving birth to his little sister.
- his family is the Slytherin equivalent of the Weasleys, but reversed. He has four older sisters, and two younger sisters.
- Forces Mattheo to help him babysit his sisters
- Lapses into Italian when he gets tired
- Deffo sleeptalks in Italian, and when you first started dating you probably got so confused 😭
- He's really irritating when teaching you Italian, he'll throw in a word into his sentence and then make you look it up in a dictionary
- For sure loves dancing, whether or not you're good, if you're alone and there's music, call yourself Ginger Rogers
- Big fan of hand holding, he likes the feeling of having you that close.
- Hilarious when drunk, drunk words sober thoughts fr. He'll insult Draco's bleach, but then look at you and be like "Amore mio! guarda Matteo, guarda com'è bella! Aspetta, cosa stai facendo? Smettila di guardare la mia ragazza!" (My love! Look Mattheo, look how beautiful she is! Wait, stop looking at my girl!)
- Definitely a cat person besides his Bernese, and would adopt a black cat ASAP
- Would totally be an animagus, probably a black cat or a wolf
- If wolf, he'd maybe let you ride on his back. Only if he was in a good mood though.
- His music taste: Classical, specifically Beethoven, chase Atlantic, Coldplay. Guilty pleasure is Ariana Grande.
- Love language? Teaching you Italian for sure. Although does give presents randomly if he feels like it, but not too often.
- Definitely ambidextrous, and will help you write your homework. He learns how to mimic your handwriting so that if you don't feel good, he can do your homework for you
- convinced he sleeps with so many blankets that trying to find him in that MESS of a bed is impossible 😭
- actually apologises to your teddies if they fall of your bed
- reads poetry to calm down and will write it about you (you'll never see it though)
- definitely the designated driver most of the time 😭
- he's got snacks stashed all over the castle incase you two get hungry but you'll never know where he's hiding them 😭
- he has a resting bitch face until you're in the room
- queen of accidental photo bombs and there is not a single cute picture of you two no matter how
- pookie CANNOT swim. Don't even get him to try 🤡
- he's an ambivert, so mainly introverted with people he doesn't know, but is actually the clown of the group (him and Mattheo)
- He can play cello and double bass, but only plays for you if you ask
- actually the biggest hopeless romantic, Mr Darcy type shit
- Insanely good singer, and will sing to you in Italian
- good at herbology, took it for OWLS and NEWTs and became friends with Neville through it, they partner every day
- his favourite colour is navy
- Will speak Italian to Mattheo, who can speak it too, just to be funny. Like he'll be glaring at Draco and saying to Mattheo:
"So you think firewhiskey is worse than Muggle tequila?"
"Uh yeah, why are we glaring at Draco?"
"I want him to think we're shit talking him. So do you eat crackers when you drink or not?"
"No, gross. Nutella pancakes."
"Sounds... surprisingly good."
- He cannot wink, so he'll pass you a note in class and try but it looks like he's got something in his eye because both his eyes start twitching 😭
- He thinks pick up lines are shit, and won't use them. He will however ask you out politely and take you on a date or a few before he asks you to be his partner.
Hope this is what you were looking for! Love and thanks for the request <3
#theodore nott x fem!reader#theodore nott x y/n#theodore nott x you#theodore nott headcanons#theo nott x reader#theodore nott x reader#theodore nott#harry potter#don't even ask#slytherin#slytherin boys#slytherins#slytherin boys headcanons#slytherin boys fluff#mattheo riddle headcanon#mattheo riddle
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Dreams
Simon Riley x Reader
Warnings: mentions of death, angst
A/N: just a little angsty type short blurb I had in my head.
--‐------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Since when did Simon Riley get so romantic?” You jeered, booping him on the nose playfully. “I won’t complain, though, this is nice.”
“I don’t know what I did to deserve you.” Simon whispered to you, as he stroked your hair lightly. “You are my everything, Y/n.”
The two of you were lying in bed together, wrapped up in each other's arms. Neither of you had moved for hours.
“I’ve always been this romantic, don’t know what you’re on about.”
You chuckled as you shoved your face into Simon's chest, inhaling his scent. “ I love you.”
“I love you too, kid. Always.” He leaned down and pressed his lips to yours.
You sighed deeply into the kiss, and moved so you were sitting on top of him, straddling his waist. Pulling away, you smirked down at him with a devious look in your eyes.
“What are you up to?” He asked, matching your smirk.
*RING*
“Nothin.”
"Nah, I know that look."
"Don't know what you're talking about, just showing my man how much I appreciate him is all." You bit back a giggle, an elated smile forming on your face.
Simon was jolted awake by his phone going off. He sat up in his bed and sighed. That’s right, that was all just a dream. You’ve been dead for over a year. He grabbed his phone off the bedside table and saw Price’s caller ID flashing on the screen.
“Simon, meet me in my office. We’ve got to discuss something. Urgently.”
“Hello?” Simon grumbled, answering the call.
Price hung up the call immediately after.
Simon tossed the phone to the side and threw his head into his hands. He'd been having more and more dreams about you lately. It seems his mind wouldn't give him a break from you. Even when he wasn't conscious, you'd still find your way into his head.
He looked at his nightstand and saw the watch you'd given to him as a birthday present, just a few weeks before you died. It was the only thing from you he had left. He never went anywhere without the watch. Grabbing it and slipping it on, he went to get ready to meet Price.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
On the way to Price’s office, Simon let his thoughts drift to you once more. He missed you terribly. You were his everything before you died. Though the two of you weren’t in a relationship, it was clear the two of you had feelings for one another. You were his shadow, and he was yours. He’d have done anything to save you.
He took exhaled deeply and composed himself before entering Price’s office. He slowed as he was met with a rather solemn look on his captain's face.
“Simon. We’ve got news. Why don’t you have a seat.” Price nodded at Simon and pointed to the chair across from him.
“‘M fine standing, what’s this about?”
“We need to talk about Verdansk.”
Simon's blood chilled at the mention of the mission. The mission in which he’d lost you. Ever since that day, he refused to ever go into detail about the mission. It hurt too much for him to replay it. He watched as you’d gotten shot right in front of him, taking the bullet that was meant for him. Your eyes had found his before your body hit the ground. Everything happened so fast, and he wasn't able to get to you in time. He had to watch on helplessly as the enemy dragged your dead body away from him.
“No, no. I’m not talking about that. We’ve agreed to never speak about that again.”
“Lieutenant, listen to -.”
“NO! I am not going to stand here and rehash this shit again. I can’t and won’t do it. You promised.”
“Simon, we found her. She’s alive.”
Simon’s entire world came screeching to a halt as he took in Price's words. “What did you say?”
“I said we found her, Simon. Y/N is alive.”
----------------------------------------------------
A/N: Not sure if I want to turn this into a mini series??
#simon riley x reader#simon riley imagine#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley#ghost cod#ghost x reader#simon riley angst#mw2 imagine#mw2 x reader
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husband — lee seokmin | 1,220 words | fluff
this one is dedicated to lee seokmin's smile :)
gender neutral reader. warnings: none.
"no."
"what do you mean, no?" dokyeom asks, manspreading. the exasperated eyebrow raise you give him doesn't deter him in the least.
"no, i'm not sitting on your lap to watch a movie."
"there's not much place on this sofa, though," he says, spreading his arms along the back of the sofa to emphasize his point. he really can take up a lot of space if he wants to.
"the floor is all free real estate, as far as i can tell."
"there's no way i'm letting my sweetheart sit on the floor when i'm on the couch."
"this is how your sweetheart can do it," you say, simply sitting down cross-legged on the floor in front of him and fumbling with the remote to find some good movie. you barely have two seconds of peace before he scoops you up in his arms and pulls you onto himself, so you're exactly where you said you wouldn't be.
"dokyeom."
he gasps. "my whole name?"
"be thankful i didn't call you seok—"
"can't hear you," he says loudly, one hand coming up to your mouth to stop you from saying his real name. you shut up for a second.
"ew," he says a moment later, taking his hand away from your mouth like it's on fire. "you licked it!"
"be thankful i didn't bite it."
"i'm thankful for you! isn't that enough?" he whines, hand returning to its place around your stomach.
your retort dies on your lips. you're still not used to how open dokyeom is with his words.
"i guess," you say. the remote lies forgotten on the floor.
"so," he says, turning you to face him, "why don't you want to sit on me?"
"i paid for this sofa, silly. i should be able to sit on it if i want to."
"but you know you don't have to pay anything for me. i mean, unless you want to," he adds with a sleazy wink, and it makes you laugh.
"what about functionality?"
"what about it?"
"the sofa's soft. sitting on you is like sitting on a rock."
"all that workout and you call me a rock? at least i'm warm!"
"okay, but what about a headrest when i need one?"
dokyeom guides your head down to his chest. "how's this?"
"hm. your heart's beating a bit too fast."
"that's because you're so close to me."
you let out a fake groan. "why did i have to get stuck with the cheesiest husband in the world?"
the moment you actually hear your own words, even mortified doesn't begin to cover what you're feeling. dokyeom lowers you down to the sofa and sinks to the ground on his knees, looking at you like you've given him the best gift he could've ever asked for.
"stop looking at me like that," you say, but you're not trying to bury your face into the fabric of the sofa. part of you wants to know what he thinks about your words.
he has that shit-eating grin on his face, the one that's burned into your eyelids even when you close your eyes. it never fails to make you smile.
"i'm not looking at you like anything," he says, but one of his hands has snaked up to your face, tracing your cheek.
"you look like you're in love. it's embarrassing."
"you're the one that called me your husband. that's worse."
"is it?"
dokyeom looks at you with a softer smile before he leans down to press a gentle kiss to your lips. you loop your hands around his neck, pulling him back in for more. you never do get enough of him, even on days you spend all twenty four hours by his side.
"i think," dokyeom says when he pulls back, having kissed you to the point where you've forgotten your name for a few moments, "being married to you would be the worst thing ever."
"yeah?" you ask, tugging him up to his feet and letting all his weight fall on you. it's not often that he lies on top of you, and you're reminded of how strong he really is.
"mm. you'd have to change your last name to match mine."
"what if i don't want to?"
"i could always take yours."
you smile. "oh? and how would the wedding be?"
"we could run away and get married, just the two of us."
"and what, have seungkwan curse us for the rest of his life?"
"our lives," he corrects, propping his chin up on your chest. "we could have a beach wedding, though. or a wedding at our dining table."
"who'd be your best man?"
dokyeom shudders. "not facing that headache till we actually get to it. your turn. what kind of a ring do you want?"
you pretend to think. "an adamantium one."
"funny," he deadpans. "i was thinking we could get married on the moon."
"you were thinking about marrying me?" you ask, wiggling your eyebrows.
"isn't that what we've been talking about all this while?"
"what else would be terrible about being married to me?"
dokyeom is the one who pretends to think now, his chin digging into your collarbone. not that you mind. "i'd want to be around you all the time. i'd make you call me your husband every time we meet someone. i'd spend so much time trying to find houses we'd like. terrible, no?"
you press a kiss to his forehead. "horrifying. would you marry me if i asked you to, right now?"
he looks at you for a moment more before hiding his face in your neck. "i hid something in the knife drawer that says yes," he says, voice muffled.
"the knife drawer?" you ask. "of all the places you could possibly..." dokyeom really does have the annoying ability to steal your breath, both with his kisses and words; your words dry up when you realize what exactly 'something' means.
"i learned it from the boys," he says, looking at you again, all proud. "you never know where to expect the mafia to hide their money."
you're not listening to him. it's the way he says it so easily. you were just joking about it, not even intending to say it, but the fact that he's had it in there since who knows when...
"kyeom, has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?"
dokyeom looks up at you with wide eyes. "are you saying that just because i have a ring for you?"
you snort, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. "no, silly. i love you. i know i don't say it enough."
"you don't need to," he says, gentle. "i know you do."
both of you lie like that for a while, your hand gently scraping through his hair.
"so if i ask you to marry me right now..." you say again, because you just want to hear his voice.
"ten more minutes and that ring is yours. but it's not adamantium."
"what a shame."
you can feel his grin against your skin. "what did we even want to watch?"
you can't be bothered to remember. "i don't know, but i want to watch you."
dokyeom snorts. "stop trying to be cheesier than your own husband."
you don't think you're ever going to tire of hearing that.
#bias wrecker ahh lee seokmin i love you and your smile so much#you have no idea how painful it is to see this sitting in your drafts for four days straight#lee seokmin#seokmin#seventeen#seventeen fluff#svt#svt fluff#dokyeom#fluff#waldau writes#🍃 — svt
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Bunny ghost anon again, with a slightly more normal but not really idea, where one of the things that tips Johnny off to Ghost’s species is the amount of greens he goes through. This is a man Johnny has found at 3am, shoveling arugula into his mouth from the bag. No salt, no oil, no dressing. And it’s happened more than once. You’d think a man as beefy as ghost would be an absolute carnivore, but Soap knows better than most that leaves can translate into the plumpest bunnies. So he goes on the ever-so-subtle mission of finding Ghost’s Favorite Leaf. Different lettuces, bok choy, spinach, watercress, parsley, cilantro, basil, blackberry, raspberry, mint, fennel. Ends up with a whole garden on base trying to keep his favorite rabbit well-fed.
-🐇👻
I love this so much, but I'm gonna approach it a bit differently.
Once Soap finds out Ghost is a bunny shifter he's initially shocked, and then appalled. He's seen Ghost eat. (How the hell he ignored the buck teeth, which should have been his first sign, he'll never know.) He's seen Ghost eat meat. That's not good for him. Wild rabbits have been known to eat meat when food is scarce, but that's when things are dire. No wonder the man was so lean.
That just wouldn't do. Soap made it his mission to correct Ghost's appalling diet. At the next meal, he found Ghost in the mess, a tray containing eggs and bacon in front of himself. He was about to dig in.
Soap swipes the tray away. Thump. Ghost is not pleased. "Sergeant. That's my breakfast."
"You're an herbivore."
"I'm hungry. Don't make me make it an order, give me back my food." Thump. Soap takes off running.
He runs into the kitchen, rips open the industrial fridge, and grabs a head of bok choy. He whips around to find Ghost bearing down on him, absolutely about to beat his ass, fist raised, and he thrusts the veg into Ghost's chest.
Ghost... examines the food... takes a bite... humms a bit... and backs down. Soap very nearly died, and damn was it worth it to see the softness overtake Ghosts features.
***
Soap gives a list to Price, of all the things rabbits can eat, who gives it to medical, who puts in a request for the kitchen staff to start offering vegetarian options at every meal.
There's a garden on base after that. Soap tends to it. Sometimes finds his Lieutenant stealing from it.
"Hey, get out of my fucking garden!"
"I'll shit in your fucking garden!"
Which wouldn't actually be a problem, rabbit excrement makes excellent fertilizer. It's the principle of the matter.
#ghoap#ghostsoap#soapghost#john soap mactavish#fanfic#call of duty#modern warfare#simon ghost riley#rabbit shifter ghost#trans!ghost#shifter au#ask hoard#ask answered#ask
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⏤͟͟͞͞☆Dating Kenny HCS|| Reader x Kenny McCormick
✰ - SFW & NSFW - ✰
Plot: Just sum HCS!
Note: I love Kenny McCormick so fucking much he's so pookie smookie, also first post yippee!
TW: Drugs, death bcs of drugs (its Kenny he comes back-), incest ment (concerning rats), smut HCS at the end
Gender: AFAB Gen neutral
✰ - SFW - ✰
FLIRTS NONSTOP. all day every day, he just doesn't fucking stop. But the moment you flirt back.
Bro is dead, 6 feet under, giggling and kicking his feet
Has trouble falling asleep and sometimes you'll wake up and he'll be just staring at you
"Kenny what the fuck are you doing... "
"You're so pretty... Can I not stare at my partner in the middle of the night!? :(("
Demands you cuddle him to sleep
Did I mention touchy?
Yea
Super fucking touchy
Literally has to be touching you all the time as if you we're his phone in his pocket or he'll freak out
Actually learned the value of life once you stepped in. He's died only once.
Why you ask? In his words
"I can NOT just say no to free drugs"
Drugs in question were something called... Crazy 8...basically 8 fucking drugs mixed together.
Yea he wasn't gonna survive.
Now you have to keep an eye on him, and tell him to just stick with weed
Oh yeah weed
Bro is toasted most of the time.
AND reeks of weed 24/7
Anytime you smell weed the first thought that pops into your head is, "where's Kenny? "
Basically weed is a comforting smell to you now 💀
Asked you to get high with him
You were reluctant at first but then you tried it... Let's just say it's a common occurrence now
You think he's flirty when he's sober? When he's high omfg.
Compliments like crazy, and can actually take compliments back when he's high
You adore high Kenny because he literally turns into the silliest mf alive
Super duper touchy when you're both high, like on top of each other the whole time
Piercings out the wazoo
Tattoos to come...
You let him shower at your place so he actually became CLEAN once you started dating.
Like his hair is actually touchable now, and not greasy
He's still a rat boy tho, and does dirty rat boy things
Actually HAS rats
You came over one time and he introduced you to his ratty children
"This is Frankie, and Frankie Jr, and Frankie Jr Jr, and that's Maggy, and Rosie and- FRANKLIN JR GET OFF YOUR SISTER RIGHT NOW! >:("
"Um, Ken... I don't know how to tell you this but rats dont care about incest..."
Almost cried, "it's like medieval Spain all over again... "
You pat his back, "it never gets easier... " you sighed dramatically
Loves animals, you guys wanna get a dog and cat together!
He loves you and adores you so much
He thinks you're the best person to ever come out of this cruel world, and he tells you that all the time
You also love him. So much. You think he's the prettiest, sweetest boy
You tell him that most of the time when you think he's asleep, he usually isn't because he loves hearing it
Back to the weed thing, LOVES when u guys order McDonald's when ur both high and have the munchies
Bro can throw down 2 big macs, 1 double quarter pounder, 20 piece chicken nuggets, and 2 orders of large fries and still be like
"I need something sweet... " 💀
Anytime you're out with your friends, Kenny's usually wearing his parka and you're the only one who can understand Kennish
Also holding hands the whole time
It took you awhile to get used to the fact you had a super clingy partner but you got used to it
You guys were able to get a place together eventually after high school
It's super shitty but it's home <3
You'll eventually upgrade after grueling work and endless shifts
But you definitely make time for each other
✰ - NSFW - ✰
(The fun begins *rubs hands evily together*)
SWITCH KENNY SUPREMACY!!! Literally does not mind either, as long as he's with you and he's naked? And you're naked? Bros chilling
Fucking loves oral, receiving and giving
First time he ate you out, you were on cloud mf 9, seeing stars n shit
He LOVES your thighs, like before he eats you out he just likes kissing and squeezing your thighs
HOWEVER. The first time you sucked him off. Omg, HIS thighs were MESMERIZING.
Something about boys thighs... Just seeing them pushed together, your fucking weakness.
His thighs are pale and ever so slightly plushy... Help me
KNOWS WHAT TO DO WITH HIS MF HANDS‼️
He grabs you and stimulates you in the best fucking spots
LOVES COCKWARMING. NEED I SAY LESS.
You guys will just be chilling watching a movie, and he'll just go like
"Babeeeee... " that's literally all he needs to say bcs you know what he wants.
After some time of just being on his dick it kinda hits you, "I'm on his cock, I could literally do what ever I want... " you think, evily
You'll shift your body around to where you're looking at him and he already knows what's coming, his hands are IMMEDIATELY on your hips
And you start slowly bouncing up and down
Doesn't take him long to start making noises
He's very vocal during sex, he sees no point in staying silent
Plus the first time he moaned super loud during sex you literally came on the spot.
Now he can't help but moan and whimper when you're on top of him because he knows you love it
AFTERCARE KINGG
Usually urges you two to take a shower after sex
Sometimes ends up into shower sex if the both of you still have the energy
You bought a shower stool so you both could fuck in the shower because one time he almost slipped and will NEVER live it down
"IT WAS SUPER SLIPPERY OKAY"
"You stepped on the soap babe... You almost went flying"
Yea a shower stool and those mats for the shower floor
#kenny mccormick#kenny x reader#kenny mccormick x reader#kenny x reader smut#kenny mccormick x reader smut#south park smut#south park fanfiction#south park hcs#✰Star's shooting comets
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Everything
PJO Show Ares x Child!Reader (no gender specified)
Word count: 2459
Summary: Ares supposedly hates kids, so it’s really strange that he comes when you call. (Do not let the summary fool you, this is not fluff. Based on a dream I had a couple days ago. Warning for possible ooc Ares and brief mentions of abuse. Blink and you’ll miss it type shit)
“I don't wanna say”, Grover fingers fidgeted with each other as he purposefully avoided eye contact with you.
“We're friends, right?”
“Of course!”
“Then you have to tell me! You spoke to my father, I gotta know what he said! What was he like? I bet he was really cool! Man, I wish I could've been there and talked to him”, you looked down at your shoes and added more misery to your face than was necessary. It was extremely childish and petty but Grover kept refusing to tell you what your father Ares was like. You had to know though. You doubted he brought you up, but you still wanted to know what he said and what he was like when he was just out and about. Grover had the opportunity to have a long talk with him and that was something you'd kill and suffer for.
“I doubt you'd wanna do that” he mumbled, but you heard him.
“Why'd you say that?” You asked.
Grover refused to expound on what he meant… at first.
Everyone knew Grover couldn't hold water so it didn't take too much prodding before he spilled his guts.
The memory replayed in your head more than you'd like to admit, and if it were up to you, you'd no longer be a half blood.
It made you feel pathetic. Tons of gods- no. All the gods were shitty parents. After all, they had children with mortals and left the children on Earth, knowing they'd be hunted down. Plenty of half bloods died in a gruesome painful way and at a young age. Plenty of gods never claimed their children, even if they made it to Camp Half Blood. But Ares did claim you, so you assumed that that meant he cared for you in some way. He even gifted you with a double sided sword. Surely, he must've loved you.
You were foolish and you hated how foolish you were. You should've known he didn't care. He left you here with mortals and watched as your home life got worse and worse which was due to multiple factors including a piss poor mother and step family, the aura children of Ares give off that makes people around them experience rage and of course the random monster attacks that your family blamed you for. It was as if they thought you begged Ares to be his child. As if you'd ever do something as stupid as that.
The rain soaked through your hood, making your hair all wet and gross. You were an idiot. You tried coming home for the school year, thinking maybe your family changed. They said they did. They tended to lie a lot though. You got into a huge fight and stormed out and you were in such a hurry that you completely forgot to grab your pouch full of drachmas and you didn't wanna step another foot in that house. So now here you were, outside with freezing cold hands that couldn't be warmed because your hoodie was soaking and you couldn't call Chiron. Perfect.
You checked your pockets once again, hoping to find something other than the lighter and fruit roll up that was there but alas, nothing magically appeared. You held the two objects in your hand and an idea formed in your mind.
You could always set the fruit roll up on fire as an offering. You could pray to your father and hope he hears you and sends you something to help.
No. That's incredibly stupid. Could you even light a fruit roll up on fire? It didn't matter. Not only was that the stupidest offering ever but you refused to pray to him. You'd rather sleep out in the rain then sneak inside when your family was gone to get your shit.
You put the two objects in your pocket and let your head rest on your knees, exhaustion hitting. It wasn't even physical exhaustion. It was all mental and emotional. Like a leech was sucking on you constantly. Or a vampire. You'd prefer that. At least you'd die quicker.
The hum of a motorcycle filled your ears, getting closer and closer. Best case scenario, it was a neighbor. Worst case scenario, it was a murderer. Honestly, you'd welcome both.
The hum stopped and a familiar voice made you look up, “rough night”.
It was him. Ares. God of war. Father to who knew how many. It was someone you definitely did not want to see… or so you thought. Part of you absolutely despised him now and everything to do with him and wanted to rip him apart. The other part of you though still felt an immense amount of joy when you saw him and you wanted to cling to him like a child clings to its favorite toy. If you were alone, you would've screamed.
Then a thought crossed your mind. You didn't burn anything. You didn't make an offering.
“You were going to” he said, seeming to read your mind.
“Why are you here?” you managed to get out after some time of just staring at him.
“Why do you think I'm here?” he asked and you could tell by his tone he meant it sarcastically. Like “the reason is so obvious. Stop being stupid”.
Something about that sarcastic and irritated tone made you think back to what Grover told you.
“Why don't you like me?” You asked and you hadn't meant to. It was supposed to stay in your head.
He squinted his eyes at you and looked you up and down, “what?”.
You could've let it go. You could've said nevermind, thanked him and let him help. You couldn't though. You didn't know when you'd have this chance again (the camp visited them but damn, there was a lot of you) and if you did something to make him not like you, you wanted to fix it. But that wasn't your job, right? Parents are supposed to care for their kids.
You did that a lot. Your mind juggled opposite thoughts and it drove you insane. This was just the latest bit of juggling you'd been doing.
“Grover said he spoke to you-”
“Who is Grover?”
“Percy's friend. The satyr”. A look of anger flashed in his eyes. You knew he remembered Percy. You didn't give him time to start yelling about the 12 year old that beat him in a fight. “Grover said that he spoke to you. I asked what it was like and he said that you said that you hate kids. Even your own. And when we visit, it's the worst day of the year. So, I was just wondering why you don't like me. Is it something I've done?”.
Ares just rolled his eyes and sighed, “you're taking that personal?”.
“It's kinda hard not to”.
“I came to take you back to camp, not talk about whatever crisis you're having right now”.
You didn't know if you were angry because of what he said, or because of his effect on others. Either way, blood started rushing to your head. “I'm not asking for a lot. I'm asking for an answer. A simple answer. Why don't you like me?”
“I don't like any of my kids”
“And that makes it better?” You asked in disbelief. Ares just stared at you, emotion void on his face.
“Why do you do this? You keep having kids even though you hate them. Why?”.
“It's not that simple and I don't have to explain anything to you”. You wished he'd show emotion. Any sliver of it. He was too calm, too numb. You'd prefer him yelling at you but nothing seemed to phase him. He was talking to you the same way you'd talk to a toddler.
“It is incredibly simple. Just stop having sex with mortals. You already have Aphrodite -who is a married woman but whatever-” you rushed the last part. You didn't particularly care for the affairs between the gods. “How could your eyes possibly wander?”.
Seeing him show a sliver of anger when you mentioned Aphrodite only filled you with more rage. That’s what angered him? That’s what got emotion out of him? “Really? That's what gets you? What about me being drenched?”
“You chose to come out here” he said through gritted teeth. If you knew Aphrodite was the key to him showing any piece of human emotion, you would've brought her up earlier.
“I didn't choose this!” Your voice rose, “I didn't choose to be abandoned by my father and be stuck with a dysfunctional family for the rest of my life. You should be angry at that, not me mentioning Aphrodite. You should be enraged at the thought of anyone putting their hands on me and your hands should be covered in their blood! That is how it should be”.
“Believe it or not the gods aren't too keen on the idea of killing mortals”
“But turning them into various objects and ruining their lives when it's a boring Tuesday is ok?”. His face went back to being blank and emotionless and your plan to stop talking was scrapped. You weren't even sure what you wanted. You wanted him to show something besides anger. Sadness? Regret maybe? Just something to show that maybe, just maybe, he cared deep down and regretted leaving you.
“None of us asked for this. You all just decide to create and leave us. And you hating the people you created is… I don't know. And it's so stupid that I've spent years of my life trying to get you to be proud of me, only for it to be impossible!”.
“I claimed you didn't I?” he defended himself, but you scoffed.
“That's the bare minimum dad! That's like saying your kids should be grateful because you feed them!” You were full on screaming by now and you wouldn't have been surprised if a neighbor came out to see what the fuss was about. “I don't even know why I'm having this conversation with you. You probably hate being called 'dad’ and you don't care. You're never gonna get it”
“I try everyday to make you see me and you do everything in your power to not see me. To not see any of us. I would work myself to death for you. I would betray anyone close to me for you. If you asked me to burn down the world for you, I would. If you asked me to extinguish the sun, I'd find a way to because to me… to me you were everything. You are everything”.
You couldn't tell if your face was wet from the rain, or from tears of sorrow and anger. It could've been both. Your eyes certainly stung and you hated it. You knew you had every right to be frustrated, but you hated how weak it made you feel. The children of Ares weren't supposed to cry. They were supposed to be headstrong and fight their enemies. They were supposed to be fierce warriors capable of bringing armies down to their knees. They were meant to shed blood, not tears.
You thought for a second you saw an emotion cross his face. You couldn't pinpoint it though. It happened too fast and there was a good chance you were imagining things.
“You can go. I'd rather sleep in the rain. I wouldn't wanna be even more of a burden” you spat with such venom you didn't know it was possible. Sure, you could have a bit of a temper but this felt different. It wasn't just anger or annoyance. There was a mix of grieving.
It went silent for awhile, and the adrenaline you felt slowly went down. Reality started to sink in. You just yelled at a god. People who were known to cause destruction for something as small as “I think my shoes are better than yours”.
“Are you gonna curse me? Or, I don't know, strangle me with my own shoe laces?”. Ares reached into his pocket and you looked away and closed your eyes. You expected to feel a burning sensation. That's what you assumed being cursed was like. A burning sensation and then you'd lose a limb or something.
All you felt was something land on your lap. You looked down and saw a red pouch with gold string keeping it closed. You looked up at him, but he didn't say anything. You untied the string and opened the pouch and inside laid a pile of drachmas.
Now he spoke, “call Chiron or whoever else works at that camp. Don't die out here”.
“You're leaving?” You asked. You didn't know why you were disappointed. You should've been happy. After all, you just went off on him about how shit he was.
“I have a busy schedule”. You wanted to ask if he'd be seeing the married woman he slept with or another unfortunate mortal, but you figured you pushed your luck enough today.
“Thanks uhh…” you debated on calling him dad but instead you called him by his name. “Ares”. Then you remembered some gods could be particularly upset when you used their name. “God of war and all those other honorifics”.
“Yeah” was all he said before he sped off, leaving you alone once again. You didn't know what he was saying “yeah” to but you didn't have enough time to ask and he probably wouldn't even answer.
You called Chiron and asked to be brought back to camp but you didn't tell him about the conversation you had with Ares.
You couldn't get the conversation out of your head, even after you showered and laid down to finally get some rest.
Of course you kept thinking about the conversation and how lucky you were Ares didn't throw you into the street and run you over.
Another thing stayed on your mind though.
You didn't give an offering. You were told the gods would listen if you burned something that mattered, like the thickest piece of meat on your plate. You weren't sure they were actually listening and honestly you thought it was a real asshole condition.
All you had was some stupid candy and you didn't even burn that and the minute you thought about it, he appeared like he was already watching.
But you doubted he was watching. You doubted he listened to your prayers at all.
You were one of his children which was something he hated. He'd claim you, possibly send a gift then be done with you. He didn't listen to you anymore. He didn't watch over you anymore.
It was a coincidence. That's all it was.
You were sure of it.
At least, you tried to be.
This is definitely ooc Ares but YA’LL KNOW I’M A LITTLE FUCKING SLOW! BE PATIENT WITH ME GOTDAMMIT😭
If you saw any errors, no you did not. I already proofread it once and I don’t feel like doing it again like I typically do. It’s 1am. I should be asleep.
#percy jackson#percy series#percy jackson ares#pjo tv show#ares pjo#pjo series#pjo angst#percy jackson angst#ares x child#ares x reader#ares angst#idk what else to tag#ares would’ve probably drove off but LISTEN-
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YANDERE!knight x PRINCESS!reader
you could tell I'm in love with royal stories?
warinings// alot of skipping times,mentions of a
k!$$,reader is an illegitimate daughter,one bad word
reference;you,y/n,your highness,my lady,her
"curse" "pathetic" "shame"
you've heard those words alot in your life.
You were an illegitimate daughter of the king,The result of a forbidden relationship,A reminder to the queen of her husband's cheat.
your biology mother has died when she gave birth to you and your father,the king,has taken care of you ever since.
he has been nice to you,He didn't differentiate between you and your sister at all,he was giving you everything you need everything you want,like you were a real royal figure.
but it was.
when the king died everything has changed
the queen has treated you like shit,well she didn't make you become a servant or smth,she always said she didn't want to see your face so that's why.
but you've been alone,no one dared to talk to you.
your "sister" didn't say anything about you or treating you wrong she simply...act like you never been there.
yeah everyone was calling you "princess",respecting you.
the servants kept serving you(even though they won't talk to you),you had your own garden even!
but to be all alone between a lot of people was torturing.
so you were visiting the village/city every week. everyone adored you.
you were so kind, gentle, you were...angelic.
you could hear gossiping in the halls as you walk
talking about a personal knight for the princess,your sister.
You laughed internally,praying for whoever that person was. your sister was...a bit grumpy, you've never interacted with her before though.
as you were heading to your favorite place,your garden,you saw your sister heading somewhere and that usual frown on her face.
there was a big man behind her,wearing armored clothes.
he looked at you from the corner of his eye,you waved at him with a smile.
ignore
oh yeah,of course.the queen has warned him from you,like everyone else.
you sighed as you continou your way.
8 P.M.
you wasn't a fan of social interactions or gatherings.
but here you are sitting in the corner. there was ball,everyone was noisy, dancing and drinking.
you were far from everyone, just sitting in the corner drinking your drink in peace.
untill you hear footsteps coming your way,you swear if it was someone want to dance with you too you're going to snap out-
"sorry for interrupting you,your highness" someone talked in a firm tone
you look up to see...your sister personal knight??
"i think it's a bit dangerous for you to sit all alone here,anyone could take advantage from this situation"
you place your drink down and smile
"don't worry I'm capable to defend myself"
"forgive me,your highness, i didn't mean to offend you or something, i just thought it would be right to tell you."
"it's okay you didn't say something wrong"
....
there was an awkward silent
"want a drink?" you broke the silent
"i don't have the right to want anything while I'm in your presence,your highness"
how could he answer so quickly-
"don't be like that...it's a ball for everyone to enjoy"
no answer
you sigh as You sign to the servant to bring another drink, as the servant bring it to your table.
you're confused why he didn't go away but you give him his drink anyway.
"your highness it's really not necessary i-"
"you dare to refuse my offer?"
".....no i don't. thank you,your highness"
you smile slightly as he took it
after some minutes you started "why didn't you went away?"
"do you want me to go,your highness?"
"no-no i mean why didn't you?"
"may i know why would i?"
"didn't..-the quee-i mean her majesty tell you about me?"
"yes,she did"
"but you're still..."
"i understand your point,your highness. but i don't understand her majesty's point"
"in any way?"
"forgive me but i was watching you sometime by now"
"wait-what?"
"we're in the same palace i would definitely run into you,and I've heard the commoners talks about you quite often and by what i heard you were too good to them that's made me curious as why her majesty doesn't want anyone near you"
"oh"
you was too stunned to talk...oh was everything you managed to spit out
you wanted to tear up right now, it was just a normal few sentence someone could even mistake it as an offending to them, but for you..no one has said such things like that or even talked to you in the first place
you bowed your head down
the knight speak as if the realization hit him
"i didn't-i didn't mean to offend you,your highness"
"no you..didn't" You raised your head but looked away "i appreciate what you just said,thank you-...uh may i know your name?"
"my name? he cleared his throat my name doesn't matter I'm just your servant,your highness" he said with more respect
"it's a command"
"senor"
"what a strange name,but it's a beautiful one. I'm Y/N if you didn't know my name earlier heh"
"it's such a honor from you to tell me your name,your highness,but if it's not a bother i feel more comfortable calling you "your highness" "
"of course, go with anything makes you comfortable. even though i don't think we'll interact again" you mumble
"if you'll excuse me your highness, i have to go back to my position" he bow and go back when you nod
you didn't want him to go, it was a nice feeling to talk with someone again
(the villagers doesn't count because you couldn't have a proper conversion with them because they'll be too tense to talk with you)
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
after that interact with senor he have been noticing you more he's not ignoring you that much
he would react to your waves with a nod from a far or small movement so you'll know that he saw you
your sister wasn't caring much if he was there or not so you'll take this opportunity to steal him away sometime even if he wasn't approval of your idea
by time you grew closer and closer each time he even visited your personal garden! and became less offical with you but not much
you were too happy to find someone to talk to and spend time with
as for the queen,she's so busy with her duties to even noticing something, maybe she just set this rule and never cared if it broke?
5 A.M.
you and senor where walking in the forest by the river
you planned to go alone in the first place but when he saw you he said it's too dangerous to go alone
"so..you say you knew my father?"
"yes, my lady i did. he had saved my mother from death."
"was..your mother ill?"
"yes, my father wasn't there and i was young to have a job so she was the one working but when she fell down i couldn't do anything....then one day i saw his majesty's court and ran to him the guard has stopped me from going near but i kept shouting for him to help us..then he commanded the guard to let me go as he begin to listen to me, the next thing i know is a lot of money placed in my hand"
sob
senor looked at your way as soon as he heard you sobbing
"my lady are you-are you crying? i-i didn't mean-"
"it's so sad" sob
he just looked at you with big eyes don't know what to do..you..hugged him his hands was in the air where to place them?!
beat beat
shit you were too close,your body pressing against him. did you feel his heart beat? because i think even the village could hear it now
finally he decide to place his hand on your back.
you were talking but he couldn't hear you now, he's more focused on your position.
he was feeling that for a while now but he just denied it. no impossible how could he fall for the princess?
control yourself senor!
"thank you for your kind words my lady" He pushed you back a little
"I'm-I'm sorry i couldn't control myself" you walked back to give him a personal space
your foot slips from the edge as you fell down in the river.
"my lady!" senor yelled as he swim after you
his armor made it difficult to swim fast but eventually he catchs you.
he saw a rock and hold on it "hold on my lady I'll save you" he said between his breath
sitting at the groumd holding you against him, he was panicing now, why hasn't you opened your eyes yet??
"my lady, y/n,are you okay? wake up!"
cough cough
"oh god you're alive"
you opened your eyes slowly, your view still blurry becouse of the water
he made you sit straight as you coughed the water inside your chest
"are you okay?"
you nod as you looked at him.
"thank you. you're really my hero" you giggled
that wasn't a funny thing! you were about to die he should be mad now, scold you even.
but again he's heart start bounding. your hero? your...and you were his lady, he couldn't control himself anymore.
the next thing you see is his lips against yours,it was a long deep kiss he wanted for sometime now.
senor could care less if it's forbidden he was about to lose you seconds ago you're just paying for scaring him to death.
when you return you got a long harsh lecture from the queen on how you were just a wight on her to take and useless
was it? you don't know anymore. all you could think about is that kiss and senor, what was he doing now?
my back hurt :') i have exams soon so i just thought why don't i write something before it?
I'll make this a series too
hope you liked it!
have a good night/day
#yanderexreader#yandere x reader#yandere oc#yandere knight#yandere oc x reader#yandere x you#yandere x y/n#yandere knight x reader
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Talk Dirty || Kinktober - Day 4
pairing ▸ park seonghwa × f!reader × choi san
now playing ▸ talk dirty - daniel di angelo
⤷ ❝i think i'm fucking addicted to your body. baby, can you blame me?❞
genre ▸ idol au, polyamorous relationship, smut
warnings ▸ free use, degradation, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, double penetration, marking
── ⋆ ⋆ ── 𔘓 ── ⋆ ⋆ ──
When you got hired as ATEEZ's personal fucktoy, you never expected to fall in love with them.
Your contract expired months ago, but you never left them. They asked you to be their girlfriend and the rest was history.
You cuddle into Seonghwa's side, enjoying your movie night. He chose something random, not really caring about its plot. He just wanted to spend time with you.
San walks in from his room, pulling your bottom half close to him.
Seonghwa smirks, knowing where this was going.
San: What you guys watching?
Y/n: Don't remember the title. But this guy's going around killing everyone. Must be important.
San: Oh, yeah?
He pulls your bottoms off, discarding them on the floor. You won't be needing them anyway.
You resist grinning in excitement, his fingers opening you up with ease.
Seonghwa: Really, San? During movie night?
San: Don't act like your dick isn't getting hard. She's our girlfriend for a reason.
You just stare at the TV, acting blissfully unaware of the conversation. Just like how your boyfriends love it.
Y/n: Look! He found the main bad guy.
San: So interesting, sweetheart.
You know he doesn't give a shit about the movie, but it's fun to indulge the idea he could.
He takes off his sweats, kicking them off somewhere. He aligns his cock into you, moaning at the feeling. You hum, holding back from reacting.
You continue to stare at the TV, loving the way San's cock stretches you out.
Seonghwa unbuttons his jeans and quickly takes them off. He pulls your shirt over your head, growling at the sight of your bare chest.
Seonghwa: Hey, baby. How was your date with Yunho?
He guides your hands to stroke his cock. You mindlessly continue, wanting so bad to take him in your mouth.
Y/n: It was- Mmm- It was so fun. We had a picnic at the park. Picked a spot with a great v-view of the lake.
It's getting really hard to not moan. San's cock hits your g-spot so deliciously.
Seonghwa: I'm glad you had a good time, baby.
He pulls your head down, shoving your head down his cock. His hips slam up into your throat, brutally abusing your mouth.
You desperately want to react having both of them using you like the whore that you are, but you just continue to stare at the TV.
San: I'll be asking Yunho for pictures of your date.
Seonghwa lifts your head, letting you answer San.
Y/n: He took- Hm- He took a lot.
Seonghwa: I bet he did. What'd you wear, darling?
Y/n: Sundress. The yellow one he bought me.
San speeds up, ramming his cock inside you repeatedly. Seonghwa leans forward and starts covering you in hickeys.
Y/n: How was work today?
San: It was great. We went over the choreo and fixed up some vocals in the studio.
Seonghwa: Same here. Nothing too major.
Y/n: Can I- Fuck- Can I visit next time?
San: You can go whenever you want, gorgeous. I bet the others would love to see you.
Y/n: Miss you guys lot when you work.
Seonghwa coos at you. He can see you crumbling at their touch. He can see the drool wanting to spill.
He shoves your head back on his cock. He moans as your tongue rubs the bottom of his shaft.
San: Look at you, so pathetic. Our hungry cockslut doing so well to please us. I can feel you cumming on my cock right now.
Seonghwa: Is she, now? So perfect for us. It's okay to react. We love watching our little whore enjoy herself.
You try to talk, but just choke around the big cock in your mouth.
They find you so cute.
San grabs your hair and pulls you off of Seonghwa, back against his chest. He bites your neck, watching you roll your eyes and fuck yourself on his cock.
Seonghwa: I was wondering when she'd crack.
San: Lasted longer than I thought. Guess she deserves her reward.
You scream, not holding back from the pleasure you're feeling. He fucks you so good.
Seonghwa stops you from moving, making you whine.
San: Watch it, princess. Or else we'll stop.
You bite your bottom lip, whimpering as Seonghwa lifted you off of San. The loss of contact was heartbreaking, but when San covers your holes in lube, you gasp in surprise.
San: Think you can take both of us at once, sweetheart?
You nod furiously. You love feeling both of them fucking you dumb.
He slowly enters you from behind, a string of curses leaving his lips.
Seonghwa grabs your legs and lifts them onto his shoulders. This was a new position, but you're not opposed to trying it.
He slides into your aching cunt, both of their arms wrapping around your waist.
Seonghwa: Remember your safe word, darling?
Y/n: Star.
San: Good girl. What's your current color?
Y/n: Green.
They exchange a look, slamming you down as both of their cocks enter you. You scream, scratching at Seonghwa's back from the pleasure mixed with pain.
Y/n: So- Fuck- So full!
Seonghwa kisses you, muffling your moans as San bites your neck. Tears stream down your face, the pressure in your lower stomach intensifying with each double stroke.
San: Aww, look at her. She's a babbling mess. Can't even talk properly. So fucking cute.
Seonghwa: Wonder how she'd do with all eight of us fucking her silly. We'll have to plan that day out, won't we?
San: Fuck, yeah we do. Take her to the dark room.
Seonghwa: Absolutely. Has Yeosang finished the arrangements?
San: We'll ask later.
You don't even give a warning as you squirt all over Seonghwa's cock. It dripped down onto San's cock in your ass.
Your boyfriends cum at the same time, stuffing you to the brim. You love it that way.
They don't stop fucking you, though. They just keep pounding until you no longer can think. Everything felt fuzzy.
San: Fuck, she's getting heavy.
Seonghwa hums, both of them slowing down. When you get this non-verbal and exhausted, they end the scene immediately.
San: I'll get the bath ready.
Seonghwa strokes your hair, seeing your eyes flutter between open and closed. He can tell they pushed you too deep into sub space.
Seonghwa: You did so well, darling. Our good girl. We're sorry for losing control like that. We love you and never want to hurt you.
San comes back, carefully lifting you into his arms. You giggle, feeling like you're going on a rollercoaster.
Seonghwa kisses your temple, chuckling at how cute you are.
They take you into the bathroom, cleaning you up and massaging your body.
It feels nice to know that even though they say cruel things while fucking you, they never actually mean it.
They couldn't have asked for a better girlfriend. You are everything to them and more.
═══
a/n: i gotta stop reading nsfw tweets... they give me ideas for more fics. thanks for reading! ‹𝟹
#ateez#ateez fanfic#ateez imagines#ateez fic#ateez x reader#atz fanfic#ateez smut#atz smut#atz x reader#atz san#atz seonghwa#ateez san#ateez seonghwa#ateez x you#ateez x y/n#ateez san smut#ateez seonghwa smut#kpop#kpop smut#kinktober#kpop kinktober#free use slvt#free use kink#ateez hard hours#ateez hard thoughts#idk what else to tag#sanhwa#ateez choi san#ateez park seonghwa#ateez seonghwa x reader
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Y/N is a sorcerer and Gojo's student
Geto and Gojo are discussing something important while Y/N interrupts them.
Bad luck Y/N .. Well is it really 𝒃𝒂𝒅?
Warnings:
Threesome
Sensei kink
Manipulation
Explicit smut
Minor rape
Double penetration
BOKU NO STUDENT
Your heart skips a bit when you think of interacting with your sensei. Sweat trickles down your forehead.You place a hand on your thumping heart.
You are always nervous when it comes to talking to him.
It's only been a few months since you met him but you find him quite attractive. He asked you to join jujutsu because you can see curses which you willingly did.
Like who has the audacity to say no to him..
Whenever he tries to talk and his lips part, whenever he stares at you through his blindfold and laughs childishly, whenever he compliments you ... It just turns you on so badly but you know Gojo will never see you in that sense so you try to ignore your feelings for him...
But deep down you know you want him ...
Let's do this Y/N.
You knock at the door.
"Sensei", you say slowly, "It's me Y/N".
The door opens and Gojo's face lights up. "HEY Y/N!", he says gesturing me to enter.
"No it's fine I-I just wanted to give this to you".
You hand him the bag containing Gojo's fav Kikufuku.
An unwanted blush appears on your face.
"Why did u bring this?", he asks you with a confused look.
"You don't like it ?", you ask back looking concerned.
"NOOOOOO I LOVE IT BUT I WAS JUST WONDERING WHY WOULD YOU BRING IT FOR ME...TODAY'S A SPECIAL DAY huh?" ,
"No it's just I was passing by the store and I thought about bringing some for you."
"So thoughtful of you Y/N", Gojo says as he looks through the bag you gave him "Smells wonderful!"
Your face heats up when you hear your name escaping your sensei's damn lips.
SHIT STOP THINKING ABOUT THIS RIGHT NOWWWW...
"I think I should get going", you flash a smile.
Just as you turn back to return, you feel a hand on your shoulder.
"No wait you would love to meet someone ", he says with cheeky grin on his face.
"Uhm who?", you ask peeking inside his home.
"Come in", he pushes the door further for you to enter.
You enter your sensei's home and then into the room where your eyes meet an unfamiliar pair of black eyes.
He is sitting on the middle couch. He is a tall, slim man with long black hair partially tied up behind his head while the rest drapes down his back. He has small black eyes and he is wearing a fairly large circular earring.
He smirks and looks down.
Gojo taps your shoulder and places the bag you gave him on the small table and you are brought back to reality. You look at him confused and speechless.
"I can't kill them----they are humans... I can't do this", you say .
Your hands start shaking as you clutch the knife more tightly.
"No, they are not...You know Y/N... Sometimes you need to choose what's right even if that leads to the loss of your loved ones", Gojo says looking at the sky.
"Huhhhh...I DON'T KNOW HOW TO EXPLAIN THIS TO YOU", you say as the curse approaches you.
"Look at me Y/N", Gojo says as you turn to look at him.
He unties his blindfold and you stare into his mesmerizing blue eyes. "Kill it", he says with a stern look pointing at the curse.
It is for the first time you are seeing his beautiful blue crystalline eyes...
You take a deep breath and insert all your curse energy into the knife and flung it at the curse.
Within a seconds it dies after getting hit by your knife.
You turn to Gojo who is clapping at your success.
"Congratulations Y/N, you did it", he says approaching you.
He puts his hand inside his pocket and gives something to you. It's a picture of him and a guy with black hair.
"Who's this sensei?", you ask looking at the picture.
"It's Geto my ex-best friend...We had to go our separate ways.."
"Why?"
"He is a bad person. He chose a path different from mine", he says walking past me smiling, "Come now we should go".
"WAAAAAAAAAAIT UPPPPPPP DONT LEAVE ME ALONE HERE", you say trying to catch up with him
"I kn-ow what you are thinking...But don't get me wrong", Gojo says
"But you said he is a bad person", you say that aloud which wins you a scuff from Geto.
"It's not nice to talk bad about people when you don't know about them", Geto says.
HIS VOICE IS SO SOOTHING.
"Yes Y/N, bad girl," Gojo says pouting like a baby.
You look at him with rage "stop humiliating me you lied to me", you whisper to him.
Gojo sighs and sits on the couch beside Geto. "Come sit Y/N", he says and you sit on the couch on the other side of Geto...
Geto's sharp eyes fall on you as if he is observing something.
Your attention falls on Gojo opening the bag...He takes a Kikufuki out and starts eating it, "So good. Oh btw Y/N meet Geto Suguru..and he is not a good man".
Bruh
"Gojo shut up you are worse than I am", Geto says snapping at Gojo.
You smile at their childishness.
"Just kidding haha and this is Y/N my favorite and lovely student. ", Gojo says.
WHATTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT OMGGG EBAHARHJSHHS HE COMPLIMENTED MEEEEEEEE
You blush hard biting your lower lip and smile as you look down hiding your face from them.
"So respectful and obedient", he says in a lower tone.
Your pupil dilates. You can feel him smirking even if you are not looking at him.
"Y/N, tell me something", Geto suddenly speaks to you.
You raise your head and face him...
"Yes, sir"
Gojo almost chokes on his food.
"No call me Geto... Not 'sir'", he says with a grin as he asks for a kikufuku from Gojo ..Gojo gives him one and Geto passes it to you...
"Okay, Geto thank you".
He winks at you and asks for other kikufuku from Gojo without moving his eyeballs which are fixed on you.
"OKAY SO WHAT YOU WERE GOING TO ASK HER?", Gojo says after finishing all the kikufuku . His playful tone offsetting the unbearably tense atmosphere between you and Geto...
"So tell me Y/N...",Geto interjected before Satoru could say anything more, staring you down with a gaze that made your skin crawl.
You hum in reply.
"YOU RESPECT THIS MORON?", Geto suddenly bursts out laughing.
"huh-?", You give him a ;-; look
"He does not even deserve to be called sensei", Geto says wiping his tears as he laughs hard.
"SHUT UP GETOO...She is a good girl... WAIT YOU ARE JEALOUS", Gojo says casually.
Under most circumstances, you could keep your cool. But, right now, it is like your body isnt cooperating. Your feel too unsteady, your cheeks hot, your stomach knots up.
"She does not know stuff about you... Does she?", Geto threatens...
Stuffs about Gojo?
"Soooo... Y/N", Gojo says ,"We were planning something before you arrived"...
Geto looks at Gojo and Gojo rises from his sit...
"So Y/N as u r my most trusted student, I should tell you this..", Gojo says with a serious face.
"Tell me what?"
"Geto shall I say her?", Gojo winks at Geto.
WTF WHY THE WINK
"You sure she is trustworthy?", Geto replies...
"Yup trustworthy and cute", Gojo replies and winks at you...
WTFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF DID HE JUST SAY?
You could not believe yourself. You are unable to say anything.
Geto says, "So ... We shall be going on a secret mission... Actually we want to ruin you"
"yuga- I meant a curse .. CURSE", Geto says rectifying himself
"Shut up Geto lemme tell her.. Can't even speak in the right way...Tsh", Gojo says annoyed..."So Y/N .. Yea he can't speak well don't mind him...He is an idiot .. Let me tell you...We shall be conducting a secret mission and we need a strong girl... I think you are perfect for the task."
"REALLY MEEE??????????????", You yell in excitement.
Miwa will be so jealous of me...I know she likes sensei too but I m going to spend more time with him and remain his favorite yeyyyy...
"Yup you", he says coming closer to you.
"You sure about that Gojo? I don't think she can... The work requires lot of courage", Geto says tilting his head to his side and observing your body...
"Y/N, You can do it right?", Gojo says as he stands next to you and puts a hand on your shoulder.
You look up at Gojo. He has already removed his blindfold. His hypnotising blue eyes forcing you to answer in affirmative.
"I-think I-
You can do it Y/N
I can do it sensei", you say as you lift your chin to face Gojo who is now looking at you with a cheesy smile.
"She says she can," Gojo says looking at Geto.
"I need proof", Geto says in reply.
"You will prove it to Geto right?", Gojo says bending towards you "Y/N", you could feel his hot breath touching your neck.
Nerve pulsating at the back of your throat still you manage to speak, "What do I have to do sensei to prove myself?"
"Well follow me", he says leading you to his bedroom?
Geto follows us.
Reaching there, you look at Gojo confused...
Gojo sits on his bed and asks you to sit beside him.
You do as he says and Geto sits beside you...
Too close
"So now?", you ask pouting your lips.
"Gojo I think it's time", Geto speaks suddenly.
TW⚠
"Time for what?" you ask concerned facing Geto.
"Nothing. Look at me Y/N", Gojo says looking at you and taking your hand in his...You immediately take your hand away... Even if u like his touch, you are scared...
"Are you afraid?" Gojo asks
Im not, you say, the words coming out slightly too fast to sound completely genuine.
We have no intention of hurting you, Geto says as he brushes some strands of your hair aside which were falling on your face.
Im not scared, you bite out, the falsehood ringing hollow even to you
Theres no reason to be ashamed or afraid, Suguru says you.
His soft, light tone of voice assures you that there is no danger.
Geto smiles, warm and sweet and unnerving.
Satoru throws an arm around you, making you gasp and jump
Sensei has cold hands.
His intense stare is making you wet down there...
"Gojo I should go-", you stand up on shaky legs, having every intention of getting out of here, of running away as fast as you could.
You just want to get away from them today.
"Wait , Satoru says, as he grabs you by your wrist making you sit on the bed as before.
"You just called me Gojo instead of sensei..."
SHIT DID I JUST SAY GOJO INSTEAD OF SENSEI FUCK FUCK FUCK
"Don't worry you can call me that", Gojo says taking your hand in his, "You can call me anything you want".
IS THIS A DREEEEEEEEEEEEAM?
"Gojo~", Geto says in a baby voice...
"So yes as I was saying we need a strong girl and you are perfect for the task and we need teamwork and-?"
"Okay", you say "and?"
You feel Geto shift towards you but you are more interested in what Gojo is going to say...
"Mmhmm you need to prove you can cooperate with us", he says biting his lower lips.
"And how shall I prove that to you", You say.
"Just listen to what we say", Gojo says, "So promise us you will be a good girl and listen to what we say"
"Yess..", you say reluctantly.
"yes but first look at me " Geto grabs your other hand.
You face him and Gojo grabs your waist , pulls you towards him tugging you down onto his lap. When you yelp and struggle, his arms only tightens, keeping you pinned against him.
"Wait why do-", you try to say something but Geto puts his finger on your lips.
"Shh", he says.
"You need to cooperate? Remember your promise dear?", Gojo says near your ear. His hot breath touches your bare skin.
All you can smell is his cologne, all you can feel is the solid strength of his body.
HOLY SHIT I CAN'T BREATHE WTF
"Look at me Y/N show me what you can do", Gojo says lifting your chin...
"I can't understand yall", u gently push Gojo's hand away from your skin but he remains unaffected.
"Y/N, show Geto how obedient and trustworthy you are", Gojo says putting his head on your shoulder
Geto starts caressing your arms in a way of comforting you.
"Like how?"
"You need to give a test", Geto says as he stands up and leaves the room leaving you and Gojo alone in the room.
You look at Gojo who is smirking while watching Geto leave.
You try to stand up but Gojo pulls you back.
"No Y/N", he says with a stern voice," You can't leave now".
"but-",
as you were going to say something you see Geto is back with a blindfold and ice??
Why is that needed?
"You see that Y/N..That's how we are gonna test you".
You still don't understand their objectives so you just keep quiet.
"Open your mouth Y/N", Geto says as he picks up the ice on his right hand and waits for you to open your mouth.
You look at Gojo...
"You have to obey us Y/N...If you want to be a part of the mission", Gojo says...
You nod and reluctantly open your mouth...
Gojo wraps his hands around your waist and you keep your hands on them...
His touch is making me crazy STOP STOP PLSSSSS
As much as you want it to stop, you want don't want to ruin this golden opportunity being offered to you.
Geto puts a cube of ice inside your mouth and then another.
"Don't swallow them neither you can eat them, understood?."
You simply nod and squeeze your eyes shut as you feel Geto putting the blindfold on you...
"Mmhngm" you try protesting but you have the ice swirling around your tongue.
"You have to SHOW us how good you are, okay princess? Answer our questions... That's your test", Gojo says as he starts nibbling your ear.
Is my mind going blank?
You try to melt the ice cubes using the heat of your saliva as fast as you can...
You feel a hand on your thigh but you can't make out whose hand that is...
You whimper as the hand reaches your sex. You try to push them away but someone's hands stopped yours...
The ice cubes are so hard to melt...
It is a cold day so it is taking a long... Your mouth is aching...Even in this situation, you are getting turned on...
You feel someone pushing the fabric of your skirt up and spreading your legs a little more with a strength you cant possibly fight... His long fingers hook beneath the hem of your panties.
You bang your head on Gojo's chest trying to tell him that don't want this...
"I don't want this please"
I don't want this still I'm getting wet...
"Sweetheart you agreed to us right?"
You nod cursing yourself for agreeing with them...
You let your panties slip down.
Without the barrier, hands readjust your thighs wider, using his thumbs to separate your labia and expose you to his eyes entirely.
The loss of control, allowing them that level of dominion over your body is distressing. Your heart hammer against your ribs.
A hand starts massaging your clit in circles.
Is that Geto?
"Mnsshg mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm", You loudly hum.
The atmosphere is so quiet...The only sound you can hear is your pounding heart...
A sudden movement makes you flinch... Your top is pulled off and someone grabs your breasts softly and Gojo cooes near your ears.
Slowly they takes of your bra too.
The ice cubes were about to melt. You wanted to break them using your teeth but then you remember you need to maintain your obedience at all costs.
"She is so wet", Geto says.
Gojo groans...
You feel his fingertips grazing your nipple area...Gojo's cold hands are making your nipples painfully erect...
Just as the ice cubes are about to melt, your legs were pulled apart and probably Geto's breath starts hitting your wet area.
Geto lightly blows against your hole and you can feel you are clenching hard around nothing.
Gojo moans making you realize you are pressed up against his erection.
Please no, please.
You arch back as his fingertips graze your clit and he puts a sloppy kiss on your inner thigh.
He starts licking your thighs, then slowly he reaches your clit and starts moving his tongue on your clit around your sensitive bud.
Yes, the ice cubes melted...
You swallowed the cold drops of the remaining water and open your throat to finally say something...
"Please don't do this. AAh"
"We will do this Y/N... It's a part of our deal remember?"
"No there was no deal like th-"
Geto starts licking you harder and a small moan escapes your lips. You try to push Geto's head away but Gojo takes your hand and puts your index finger in his mouth.
"No sensei please", you struggle between the two big men...You shut your eyes.
Fuck this is so embarrassing...Why did I end up like this??!
Your abdomen starts shaking as you feel yourself near your edge... You unconsciously move your hips to create more friction but Geto holds your thighs and keeps you in position.
Meanwhile, Gojo plays with your right nipple and sucks on your fingers...
Your toes curl and you feel you are about to cum.
Suddenly Geto stops and you feel empty clenching around nothing.
You sigh in relief thinking it's over...
"You think we are done yet? It's just the beginning", Geto says with a smirk on his face.
Gojo chuckles and brings his face closer to yours... You feel as if your breath is cuddling with his...
He kisses you and you moan in Gojo's mouth.
Gojo's mouth is hot and yours is cold because of the ice cubes. His tongue moves in a rhythm and at a fast pace so fast that you are unable to keep up it.
He puts his hand on your head and pulls you closer...
He slows down his pace.
Geto on the other hand is busy finding your sweet spot. Geto sinks two long fingers into you, uncaring that two was a bit much to start with when his hands were so much larger than yours, uncaring of the filthy squelch as he drives them deep.
"So tight. Squeezing my fingers so good", Geto says in a husky voice.
All you can manage are soft puffing sort of moans, lower sounds of distress when he is being too rough. Suguru clearly isnt worried about being considerate, not worried that you are virgin , not even about the aching stretch or the cruelty of how deep he is going.
You try to struggle due to the pain.
Just relax a little, hm? Ill make it better, Suguru tells you, his long fingers curling against your g-spot.
Gojo's grip tightens and you feel something hard twitch near your ass.
Geto inserts another finger and you mistakenly bite Gojo's tongue.
Gojo breaks the kiss and you receive a hard slap on your face...
"Bad girl Y/N", Gojo says.
Tears sting at the corner of your eyes...
Gojo starts leaving hickies along your neck, sucking and licking and nipping at the skin.
Gojo pulls you closer and you rest your head on Gojo's chest with your ass up... Only your knees are supporting you... Your hands are being held tightly on your back...
I don't want this but why does my body want it...
You don't want it but your body is honest... You are squeezing Geto's digits and your body craves for more...
Geto keeps on fucking you harshly with his three fingers...
You scream against Gojo's bare chest...
"Geto she is a virgin be gentle with her", Gojo says in a serious voice...
HOW DOES HE KNOWW
"Look who's saying", Geto says mocking him.
Geto reduces his pace...
You can't any longer stop yourself from cumming as you spread all your juices on Geto's fingers.
"WHO TOLD YOU TO CUM BITCH", Geto says smacking you.
"GETO", Gojo warns, "be nice to her".
"I m sorry", you say... Tears no longer listen to you as they start pouring in...
Gojo starts choking you gently and puts his mouth on your neck...
You tilt your head towards him as you feel a tingling sensation.
"Gojo I think she is ready for it", Geto says moving away from you.
"Ready for what?", you ask.
"Ready for the real exam baby", Gojo whispers near your neck.
You freeze.
What more they will do to me? Isn't this enough?
"I-i m tired Gojo sen-sei", you say in a low voice.
"Tired already? I told you Gojo, she is not cut out for the work", Geto says.
"Are you gonna prove my words all lie Y/N?", Gojo says as his grip tightens right your neck.
You shake your head to deny it.
"Aren't you my good girl who listens to me always? I always care for you right?", Gojo says.
This man knows how to play with my fucking emotions...
You nod and at last give in your body to them...
"That's my good baby," he says.
Gojo puts you aside and rises from the bed. You don't feel Geto's presence anymore.
Phew
You feel somebody grab your ass...
Prolly Gojo
The bed squeaks under pressure and a warm hand pulls you gently by your arm and makes you sit up.
Who's this now?
He strokes your back trying to relax you.
You try to inspect the place you are sitting on.
You grab something hard under your ass
"Aah"
You hear Gojo's moan.
Fuck embarrassing....
Gojo lifts you by your hips and your hands lay on Gojo's chest to balance yourself...
You hear them say something in a low voice but your brain is unable to focus on what's going on.
You feel someone teasing your entrance with something.
It's Gojo.
Gojo spreads your legs further and pushes you down further trying to insert the hard thing inside your vagina...
"First question...You are liking it right?", Gojo asks.
"NOO", you reply immediately.
You feel the thing entering you more. It's hard and thick.
You hiss in pain.
"Relax we are not gonna kill you... We are testing and preparing you, right Geto?", Gojo's voice echoes.
"Hmmm do it Gojo", Geto speaks.
"Do wha-"
You feel the thing entering you more.
Your legs twitch in pain.
"You are so wet yet you say you are not liking it huh", Gojo says mocking you.
A hand grabs your hair and pulls you in front...Your nose hits someone's hard abs.
Prolly Geto.
He holds your chin and pries your mouth open with force. He pushes your head down putting something inside your mouth.
"Suck it nice hah", Gojo orders.
"Second question...Whose dick are you sucking huh?", Geto says.
Dickkk??
You try to open your blindfold but a sudden thrust makes you scream making it easier for Geto to fill up your whole mouth with his dick...
Drools and tears fall from your face.
He pulls the dick out.
"Who's dick do you think you are choking on?", Geto asks.
"Mmnsf", you try to reply gagging.
What? Baby", Geto says.
Geto pulls out his dick from your mouth...
"Ssensei", you say trying to catch your breath...
A hard slap falls on your ass and one more on your cheeks.
"Wrong answer", Geto says as he caresses the place he slapped you...
Your lips twitch and you mutter sorry under your breath.
The hard thing inside you twitch...
"You should be thanking me, Y/N... You are no longer a virgin", Gojo says...
Gojo took my freaking virginity??????????? WHY DID HE DO IT?
"Please open my blindfold, please" you beg.
"Fine be a good girl will you?", Geto says patting your head.
"Mhnm please"
Your blindfold is slowly removed.
You adjust your eyes. You see Gojo's dick is inside you and Geto's dick is hard, his cock curving upward and the tip flushed red, glistening with a pearly bead of precum, waiting for you to open your mouth again.
Fuck no...
Your mouth wides open on seeing how big Geto's dick is.
Geto frees his tied hair and speaks," You like it huh? Opening your mouth to suck it further, huh?
You look down at Gojo. His face is red and he is looking at you with half-lidded eyes.
"I know you are liking this baby", Gojo says.
He pushes you up and again puts you down on his dick.
You moan louder.
Geto grabs a handful of your hair and forces his dick in ur mouth impatiently
Gojo keeps on thrusting inside you at a slow pace. Geto on the other hand fucks your mouth harshly.
You whimper in pain...You look painfully at Geto as he fucks your mouth roughly...
"GETO", Gojo looks at him with a serious face.
Geto's pace decreases.
Gojo grunts at your tightness. You are going to cum again. Your hands tighten on Gojo's chest. Geto closes his eyes while cursing under his breath.
"Not so fast baby", Gojo says as his dick leaves your pussy.
Geto keeps on fucking your throat.
It is becoming unbearable for you to breathe moreover your mouth is aching.
Geto pulls his dick out of your mouth.
Gojo starts massaging your butthole with his cold fingers and his mouth is on your tits... Gojo takes his dick out of you...
"Sensei please", you beg to look at Gojo with tearful eyes...
"Please what?", he says.
"Please do it", you say in a low voice.
"Do what?", Gojo replies.
"Make me cum", you say almost inaudibly.
"Loud and beg for it", Gojo says.
"PLEASE SENSEI MAKE ME CUM I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE", you say... Eyes squeezed close letting the tears fall from your cheeks.
"You wanna make a mess, hmm. Go on, cum. Give us a show.
"You are impressive Y/N..I like it when you beg...hmm", Geto says lifting your chin and thrusting his tongue inside your mouth. He wipes the tears off your face using his left hand and he plays with his dick with another hand...
Gojo puts his dick in you again , his one lubed finger enters your ass then another...
You moan against Geto's lips.
Geto smiles against your lips.
"You can't wait to get another hole to be filled up yea?", Geto says in a husky voice.
Gojo puts the third finger inside your ass...
You don't reply as you close your eyes and feel Gojo's dick in you pleasuring your deepest spots.
"I will take it as a yes", Geto says as he goes up to your ass.
"No wait I don't know whether I can take both of yall's together", you say protesting.
"You can dear I know you can. You are such a good girl always listening to her sensei's words. I love you Y/N. Such a good girl taking my cock so well", Gojo says.
DID HE JUST SAY HE LOVES ME...
You smash your lips with Gojo's unable to control your happiness.
Geto caresses your ass .
"Sen-sei", you say breaking your kiss.
"Yes baby", Gojo says in reply closing his eyes in pleasure while he thrusts inside you.
"I love you too", you say.
"What about me Y/N? Don't forget about me...I love you too", Geto says while teasing your butthole.
"I love you too Geto", you say unconsciously.
WHY I AM SAYING THESE...
Geto inserts his tip in your ass and Gojo pulls you for a kiss.
You moan inside Gojo's mouth while Geto's dick enters your ass.
You are now in between Geto and Gojo squeezing you with their chests.
Geto puts his hands on either side near Gojo's head.
You put your hand on Gojo's chest and Gojo holds your tits.
You are now at your limit...
You scream as you cum on Gojo's dick.
"I am gonna cum too...Inside you Y/N...Can I?,", Gojo says.
"YES PLEASE INSIDE ME, MMMM", you yell as Gojo bites your nipple and plays with the other one...
"You want my babies so bad huh?", Gojo taunts.
You nod unable to think straight as they rob your ability to think.
"So tight squeezing my dick so good. I can't hold any longer", Geto says.
After a few thrusts they both cum inside you.
Your brain is unable to process anymore as they lay you down in bed...
They both pull their dicks out...Cum oozing out from both of your holes.
"Such a poor girl", Geto says.
"Let her rest..Look at him... So cute and happy", Gojo says cooing at you.
"Stupid, don't forget to buy her birth control pills", Geto says, cleaning himself...
"Why the fuck? Are you jealous of the fact that she is gonna carry my baby? Besides she wants my kids too", Gojo says defending himself...
"Shut yo ass up .. Just do what I say"
"Fine phew".
"Nice show huh", you hear another familiar voice and you open your eyes at once...You turn your head with all your strength left in your body in the direction of that known voice...
Nanami.
I never noticed him in the room.
You blackout soon with a smile of satisfaction on your face...
#gojo x reader#geto x reader#geto suguru#gojo satoru#jjk gojo#jujutsu gojo#gojo smut#satoru gojo#geto#satoru#jjk art#teacher x student#teacher love#threes0me#minors dni#rapekink#jjk nanami#candystories
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