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minkdelovely · 1 month

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love and power

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chapter eight

“i want everything i asked for.”

Alastor x Fem!Reader ; MDNI 18+ ; [y/n] used sparingly ; Alias in Hell is Sylvie

tags/warnings: ‘fuck it, do him scared!’ or whatever the saying is, no plot cuz y’all have had enough of that, pheromones are putting in work cuz you have heart eyes, y’all are touch-starved and pent up, half-transformation demon alastor (i hope that makes sense lol), implied demon alastor, little bit of angst or even hurt/comfort at the end? 🥲 smut: clothes ripping, scratching, oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, slight degradation & praise kink dynamics, blood play & biting, handjob, orgasm denial, cream pie

word count: 6.6k *maniacal laughter*

author’s note: it wouldn’t be right to start this off without a formal apology for the cliffhanger and then, subsequently, the publishing delay 🥲✨ this ended up being more of a labor of love than i had expected; i just seemed to have such bad luck, this week of all weeks. thank you for your patience, and i hope this makes up for it! @hazelfoureyes one of these days i’ll have some more for you, but until then darling, you ever so kindly ‘asked’ me for smut so… 💅🏻💖

prelude ; chapter one ; chapter two ; chapter three ; chapter four ; chapter five ; chapter six ; chapter seven ; chapter eight ; chapter nine ; chapter ten: part one

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Alastor meant for it to be chaste, really he did. And while he had desperately hoped for acceptance, the ardor with which you returned the kiss was unexpected. The grip of your hands around his wrists was fierce, pulling him in; fingers like sticky fibers against the patch of bare skin nestled between his gloves and the cuff of his shirt.

So you were hungry, too… He couldn’t help but smile against your mouth at the thought.

Finally, his luck was turning around.

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When you offered your help to Alastor, a kiss was the last thing you ever expected.

Actually, you had been fully prepared for him to hurt you somehow, whether it was his intention or not. He had gotten upset so quickly, you assumed it must have been residual animosity from the meeting with Valentino that he could no longer contain. The more you thought about it, you truly understood how degraded he must have been by the whole affair, filling you with a guilt you worried might never go away. He needed a victory.

So offering your help was the least you could do.

But you never could have imagined the way he took your face in his strong hands, holding you with such care despite the intensity roiling off him in his half-formed demonic state. The strain on his face as he struggled to compose himself, his eyes switching back from black with red dials to that familiar searing red. The storming hunger you saw in them, half-lidded, as he closed the gap between you…

Your mind was practically rendered blank, running on instinct; the warm ache throbbing between your hips quickly taking up any remaining space that was left.

His mouth was softer than you expected but his press against you was firm and wickedly practiced. You felt him smile against you and for a moment you forgot to breathe, the resulting gasp being the perfect opportunity for Alastor’s tongue to snake into your mouth. If your eyes hadn’t already been closed, they would have rolled to the back of your head. His tongue was soft and big and hot, his movements steady and filled with purpose; not a drop of wasted effort. You could only hope to keep up…

It was such arduous work keeping your hands at his wrists, floored by the intense desire you had to reach out and touch him. But you didn’t know your limits here. He was still riled up — if anything, you had heard his antlers grow — and you didn’t want to make any wrong moves.

So you put all your longing into the grip of your fingers and mouth, your mind wandering on the feeling of him. Large, elegant hands cupping your face like glass. His body looming over you, offering shelter you were more than willing to accept. His mouth so hot against yours it would leave you feeling cold once it was gone. And he smelled so good this close, smoky and verdant like a bonfire on a crisp autumn night.

Your thighs rubbed together from the pulse radiating there, and he let out a small groan against your mouth as your nails absently dug into the skin of his wrists. The sound of him simultaneously made your legs weak and fanned the flame between them. His voice had always been nice — he didn’t build a career for himself on the radio for nothing — but you felt a growing fear at the aspect of never hearing something like that again after he was sated; knowing that no matter what it would haunt you for eternity.

I really am so fucked…

He was pecking now, his breath and teeth and tongue ghosting over your swollen mouth and face as he feverishly placed multiple at a time. You wanted to reciprocate so badly, whether with your lips or hands, but it was clear he needed to ravish you first so you stayed put in a shocking exhibit of will-power. But when you felt the tug of his teeth against the corner of your jaw you couldn’t stop the shaky moan that escaped you, not even noticing how your hips rolled on nothing but air.

That’s all it took.

Alastor pulled away and gave a quick kiss to your hands before dropping them to take up the torn fabric of your collar. He gave it a sharp pull, tearing your dress straight through to the waist; the sound ringing out in the quiet of your room with the promise of what’s to come. You were too stunned by the suddenness of the action, but the look on your face must have really been something if the expression you were seeing on his was any indication — ravenous and wild.

Your chest heaved with quickening breath, heartbeat kicking and head empty as you felt all the blood in your body rushing down. Too overwhelmed by the intensity of it all, you dared to bury your face in his chest, grateful to be just tall enough to reach. Mortifying as it was, it was all you could think to do.

Though safety wasn’t the only thing you found, pressing in so close to him like this, your throat going dry at the feeling of his arousal against you. No amount of time or experience could have prepared you for this, for him. You were beginning to think that there would be nothing left once he was through with you.

Just need a minute…

Mercifully, he let you. Even going so far as to cradle you against him, cupping the back of your head with his left hand. You relaxed into him, a hot puff of air leaving your mouth to soak into the fabric of his clothes. Alastor’s pleased hum in response vibrated against your face, and you brought your hands up to grip the lapels of his coat for fear of crumbling at his feet.

As you steeled yourself, he didn’t desist from his poking and prodding at your exposed back with his free hand. It disappeared briefly, followed by the faint sound of something falling to the carpet before the air was ripped from your lungs at the touch of his hot, bare skin against yours. You whined into his chest as your back arched against his palm, your fingers nearly ripping through his coat with the force of your grip, earning a gruff and sinister chuckle from him. Being able to bask in the feeling of the rumble in his chest against you was a lovely consolation, though. And just under that… his heartbeat.

His hand against your back regained your attention then, scratching and massaging at its leisure; nails tracing indistinguishable shapes along your skin. Traveling up and down your spine at first, then your shoulders and, finally, the back of your neck where he paused.

His message read loud and clear: time was up.

Alastor pulled you away from him with a gentle firmness, managing to handle you delicately despite his clear desire for haste. You could see it burning in his eyes with no intent to extinguish any time soon. He was so mystifying like this, you couldn’t help but drink him in. Stately, powerful… beautiful. It felt impossible now to have ever been afraid of him in this state of half-transformation. He didn’t seem to mind the admiration, soft smile and lust-heavy eyes radiating with ego.

His antlers look so handsome when they’re branched out like this…

“Shouldn’t you have offered to take my coat by now? I’m your guest, aren’t I?” he teased as he swiped your dumbstruck mouth with the pad of his thumb. The filter dipped in and out over his quiet, low tone of voice, sending a fresh wave of heat to your core and cheeks as you fought the urge to nuzzle your face against his bare hand. How had he already reduced you to this? “But I suppose I haven’t been well-mannered myself. Just look at what’s become of your dress.”

His face was smug as he played with the decimated fabric, fingers dancing across your exposed neck and shoulders before pulling down the long sleeves. They had been the glue, apparently, your dress falling past your hips with ease and into a heap on the floor in near silence. Goosebumps pricked your skin as you stood before him in your underwear, already feeling naked as he took you in. You noticed him focus in on your shoulder and neck, the draw of his eyebrows confirming your earlier suspicion that he had left a bruise.

“It’s fine, it didn’t hurt,” you lied self-consciously, unable to keep the nerves out of your voice. It sounded like an apology. He hadn’t meant it and in the grand scheme of things was a bruise really so bad? It would be gone before you knew it.

He didn’t seem convinced, a sound of disapproval coming from behind his closed lips before a smile took its place. “Hmm… if you say so. Perhaps a kiss to make it better?”

Alastor wasted no time leaning down to place his mouth there, and you sighed as the heat of his wide, wet tongue swiped over it before he closed his lips with a small smack. As he nuzzled in — kissing, licking, sucking, nipping — your shaky fingers took to the task of unbuttoning his coat as he had suggested. The action earning you a growl and a bite, not yet enough to break the skin but taking your breath away all the same; the fire in your belly now flickering up into your chest.

Once the coat was loose you ran your hands under it, starting near his waist to travel up his chest until you reached his broad shoulders. Was he the one who was so hot, or was it you? It was impossible to tell. You used the top of your hands to start working the coat off of him, and he paused from his effort at your neck to assist with removing his arms from it before tossing it off to the side — his remaining glove along with it. You caught sight of the saliva glistening around his mouth and chin before he resumed his station and didn’t even try to hold back the soft moan that escaped you.

What was the point?

With a snarl — that was the closest thing you could think to call it — his hands hooked behind your knees and hiked you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around him for purchase as you gasped. Alastor’s mouth found yours again and you held his face to keep steady as you hunched over him, tears forming at the corner of your closed eyes from the relief of being able to touch him this time.

This kiss wasn’t as poised as the first had been. It was hurried and open-mouthed, messy and deep. Not enough, not enough, not enough. You broke away this time, seizing your opportunity to explore his face with your lips as he had yours. His claws bit into the flesh of your ass as your mouth latched onto his neck, sucking at the pulse you found there. The resulting buck of your hips from the action and the moan he let out only pulling another from both of you.

You didn’t even notice that he had been walking until you were suddenly tossed onto the bed, his body immediately caging you in beneath him. You hooked your legs around him as he ground into you, your cry of pleasure from the friction echoing off the walls. He did it again and you whined, squirming, his hands on either side of your head as he leered down; red eyes glowing with satisfaction.

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Alastor took a moment to take in the sight before him, feeling his eyes glitch as he roamed over your flushed face, but made quick work of grabbing it with one hand to pucker your mouth before returning to explore it with his tongue.

It surprised him how much he was enjoying this; kissing you with abandon, somehow never scratching the incessant itch despite his efforts. He captured your bottom lip with his teeth, resiliently managing not to bite straight through it as you moaned into his mouth.

“Alastor…!”

His name was a song on your breath, scorching down from his ears to his cock, all of which reacted with a twitch.

One string loose.

How many more would he need to cut before you went slack?

Who had bound you up like this in the first place? It certainly hadn’t been him. On the contrary, he was so eager to see you torn open and bare, stripped of all the little secrets tangled like knots on your tether to him. Always keeping your guard up around him wasn’t only irritating… it was selfish. And there was only one of you here allowed that luxury.

Still, this was quite the consolation prize, seeing you surrender to him so easily. He had barely gotten started and you were already making such a pretty face for him; a new favorite, even. Your little pout that normally inspired vexation looked sweet like this, swollen with his kisses. It was an image he would soon not forget, being so much better than what he had imagined.

Your scent had truly blossomed now, dizzying him with the potency of its floral, nutty musk; just a hint of sweetness underneath. It complimented his own smoky, green, and bitter scent so well. But Alastor was ready to make his next new discovery, his hips finally lifting away from you as he gave you a final peck on the mouth.

“Hmmm, delicious as your mouth is, there’s another place I’m quite eager to kiss.” He could feel the wickedness on his face as he said it, unable to contain the static that flared around him as you breathed out a curse, body trembling.

Alastor made a slow descent, teasing you with licks and bites and kisses to draw out as many moans and whimpers as he could from you. Such music you made for him. Only for him. It was a good thing he had already resolved to avoid sleep as much as he could in the future; he wouldn’t get much anyway with the sounds you made ringing in his head like church bells.

He could see the damp soaked into your underwear before he even touched them, already intoxicated by the smell and heat wafting off your core. He’d have to be careful here… not an easy task, but he’d manage. The self-advised warning did little to stop him from tearing the garment in half with ease, enjoying the wide-eyed look you gave him as you quickly propped up on your elbows from the sound.

“I’d apologize for frightening you, but I’m afraid I wouldn’t mean it,” he said, holding your gaze as he palmed your bare sex, thrilled by how wet you already were. You were having such a hard time keeping your composure, serving only to egg him on. He hummed and continued, almost surprised by the words that came out of his mouth, “You don’t seem to mind, though… how lewd.”

Your head fell back with a loud whine, arms giving out so that you were flat on your back again; face scarlet as his fingers moved against you, collecting your arousal. His dick throbbed against him at the sight, leaking onto his skin and clothes. He couldn’t help the hiss that spilled from between his teeth when he tested you with his middle finger, tight as you were wet.

“Oh my… it’s been a while for you too, hm? I’m honored,” he cooed, relishing the way you whimpered and clenched at his words. “I do worry how you’ll fare… Contrary to the restraint I’ve shown so far, I must warn you… I don’t have the capacity for gentleness today.”

Your eyes shot open with shock, and with that he removed his finger and brought it up, putting the entirety of it in his mouth to suck you off as you watched. His eyes closed in pleasure, groaning as his tongue lapped up every bit of you, savoring every second. Clean and tart… like a ripe summer cherry. He couldn’t stop the bit of drool that escaped the corner of his mouth, the rush of saliva incensed by your taste coming on too quickly to swallow it all.

Alastor was breathing hard through his nose, a fresh wave of hunger — he wasn’t sure what else to call it — trembling through him with a fierce burning need. His smile and voice were sharp, static fraying as he spoke, “Hmmm… My imagination wasn’t even close. Aiming to please, dear?”

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His fascination with licking you off him would be your second-death. Not only that, but you hadn’t expected him to say any of the obscene things that were spilling from his mouth, let alone the way you were responding to them. You had been subject to dirty talk before and enjoyed it (if done well), but… there was just something about it all coming from Alastor that set your veins on fire.

“Alastor, please, it’s embarrassing,” you pleaded through gasps, watching through half-open eyes as he licked away at his hand. You felt as if you had a fever, your face was so hot, hair already beginning to stick to your forehead with sweat.

As if falling on deaf ears, he merely proceeded to give a sharp tug to his bowtie, removing it in one go before unbuttoning his shirt. Something about the harsh way he pulled his shirt from the belted waist of his pants made you dizzy, but you felt a scream die in your throat watching the way his shoulders and chest moved as he freed his arms, with just the slightest flex of his abdomen; your eyes unable to resist following the trail of hair below his navel that disappeared under his belt.

You had made peace with your budding attraction to him — it was easier that way, considering your near-constant state of proximity — but this felt like being tossed directly into the fire.

Burning at the stake.

As he towered over you, you took in the large, pink scar lacerated across his chest from left shoulder to the right side of his ribcage. There had been mentions of the battle against Adam and his Exorcists within the group; how terrifying it had been, how brave everyone was. The loss of their friend Sir Pentious, who had died trying to help protect them against Adam. That was when the conversation normally tapered off, the grief still too close at his loss, but also because of what led up to it.

From what you understood, Adam had been Alastor’s appointed target to handle. One he was unmatched against, if the scar was any indication. A killing blow he had managed to survive. You hoped the pity you felt wasn’t making its way into your gaze as you looked at him, knowing he’d dislike it. Still… You sat up with hands stretched out, the instinct to touch and comfort him too strong to fight. But he pushed you back down, a shadow coming over his face as he bent over you.

“Patience, sweetheart. I still owe you a kiss.”

You didn’t have time to process the dismissal before he raked his nails on your skin as he dipped down, your back arching up to meet them as you breathed through the small sting of pain. A splash of sobriety hit you as you felt the heat of his breath hovering over your cunt, your stomach tight as he moved closer, a wanton cry as he finally lapped at you with his tongue; a slow, wide, firm sweep from hole to clit. Sealed with a kiss, as promised.

You shuddered and gripped the duvet as if your life depended on it. The image of him nestled between your legs making your brain short-circuit. His eyes were shrouded with a predation that should have terrified you. So why did it thrill you instead?

“Oh my god…”

That wicked grin of his…

“Last I checked, Hell is the absence of God. Let’s try again, shall we?”

He hiked your legs over his shoulders, looped his arms around to grab the top of your thighs, and pulled you to his mouth. You saw white as he didn’t hesitate in setting a voracious pace, his tongue dipped into you — long and thick — as his nose pushed against your clit with every open-and-close of his mouth. His chin providing a pleasant hardness that nearly knocked the wind out of you.

He was incessant.

Sucking, prodding, licking, and swallowing; a starving man who may never eat or drink again. Your hands found purchase on his antlers, a bit smaller now but still looming, earning a moan of approval into your heat that blossomed in your chest. The room was filled with the sound of wet smacks and a harmony of throaty groans from him; keening, breathy moans from you. Both unabashed.

In between breathing his name, words were tumbling from your mouth that you couldn’t register, too lost in the feeling of him on you. Not just your pussy, but your legs, too. His hands gripping your thighs so fiercely as your hips rolled against his face that you hoped for bruises. A keepsake. It was impossible to know if this would ever happen again.

You hadn’t even realized you were slipping away from yourself until he pulled back with a sharp gasp, finally coming up for air, jerking his antlers from your hands. The lower half of his face shimmered with a blend of your arousal and his spit, the sclera of his eyes gone black, dials taking the shape of his red irises. Again, your arms reached out, shaking from the effort as you tried to catch your breath.

“Kiss…,” you barely managed to say, dizzied as you were.

Alastor obliged, climbing up to your open hands as you pulled him down to you, unable to find the strength to meet him halfway. He flinched as you ran your tongue over his left cheek, licking up some of the mess there as he wiped at the other side with the back of his hand. The taste of your combined fluids sent a jolt of pleasure through you and you moaned through the sloppy, open-mouthed kiss that followed. The laugh that escaped him was sinister but sent another wave of warmth through you all the same.

He rewarded you with a finger, followed quickly by another. And before you knew it, another. Pumping in and out of you with a delicious stretch and a maddeningly consistent pace before they curled, teasing your spongy core as his thumb circled your clit at the switch; the sudden onset of your orgasm had your body trembling under his touch.

“Ohh… mm, fuck…! Hmmmnn… Ah—! Alasto—ahh!”

“I know, sweetheart, I know.” His voice was rough but soothing. A crackle of static melded into your moans and the wet sounds of your cunt, and he gave his head a violent shake as if to clear it. There was nothing but a growling need when he spoke next. “I’ve got you, don’t fight it. Let me see how pretty that sullen face of yours looks when you cum…!”

It was all too much. Just the intensity of his eyes on yours boxed in between your hands holding his face could have sent you over the edge. But his words again, that pet name…

The tether snapped so viciously you were fairly certain you passed out for a moment, your vision gone black as you screamed. Only to be brought back to consciousness by Alastor’s fingers slowly riding the wave of your orgasm, no longer stroking with purpose — you were clenched around him so tightly his previous pace would have probably injured you both — but with a languid solace. Graciously accepting every roll of your hips into his hand as you moaned his name and gasped for breath.

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God, it was so fucking satisfying to see your face twisted up, eyebrows knit and your pouty lips salaciously framing your open mouth as you cried out for him. Another perfectly shattered expectation, much like the rest of this experience had been. He didn’t even mind that your eyes were shut. The consolation being the glimpse he caught of them rolling to the back of your head before they were out of sight. That, and, this would only be your first. He was determined to get at least one more out of you before this was over, truly unsure how much you could handle.

He was surprising even himself, speaking to you in the manner he was. He enjoyed a good tease, but he couldn’t recall going to this extent before. Perhaps it was a result of the pheromones, but he simply couldn’t seem to help it. The reactions it was pulling from you were too exhilarating to deny himself… and by extension, you.

His static was filling the air, buzzing with the energy of a lightning storm as he sucked you off his fingers once more with a snarl; his free hand sloppily undoing his belt before giving it a freeing tug, desperately hard erection weeping slightly at the bit of alleviation. As the realization that he was preparing to enter you sunk in another ripple of goosebumps pinpricked his skin, causing him to bite down on the inside of his lip from the sensation.

The taste of his own blood came with inspiration.

Alastor tucked back some of your damp hair before bringing his face down to meet yours, swiping at your lips with his blood-coated tongue. Testing the waters. Your eyebrows drew together and you stretched underneath him, as if waking from a night’s sleep, before blinking your eyes open. He watched as your tongue responded with a quick prod of what he had left there, and felt his smile grow when you let out a hum of content.

He would never tire of being right.

“I thought you might like that, my little killer… Have some more,” he whispered against you. Giving your lips another rough lick before taking your mouth again, groaning into each other as your tongue soothed his still-bleeding lip.

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Something about this kiss was different.

There was a fierceness this time that hadn’t been there before, no doubt spurred on by the blood pooling in Alastor’s mouth. It had been shocking to taste at first but then… you found that it wasn’t too bad. Diluted with saliva, it was almost sweet, and you relished the way he enjoyed your tasting of it.

Your hands traveled up to the back of his head, gently scratching the prickly velvet of his undercut with one while the other pulled at the hair on his crown. His hiss into your mouth made you moan with another jump of your hips, and you felt him shift over you then; vaguely aware of the sound of him unceremoniously tugging down his pants before he took your hand from his crown and brought it between you.

The gasp that escaped you was sharp, your hand instinctively wrapping around his length as he guided you through stroking him. He was so hard, wet, and heavy, burning to the touch, but distant alarms were ringing about your ability to take him all. It scared you how much you wished to try.

His moan of relief was another keepsake, the sound of it so soft and pleading in your ear that you nearly sobbed from your desire. You couldn’t help but wonder what his face looked like, making a sound like that, and found yourself jealous of the skin of your neck he was hiding in. You stayed like this for a moment, his hand leaving you to work on its own as he cradled the opposite side of your head to lick and kiss your neck between gasps and moans. With a final nip to your skin Alastor pulled back, the mattress dipping as he put all of his weight onto his forearm to the right of your head as he adjusted himself.

“Don’t close your eyes,” was all he said before pressing into you, the tip of his cock already threatening to overwhelm you as it teased your entrance.

It was not an easy task, your eyebrows drawing together in such a way that it nearly blurred your vision. You whined between closed lips, doing your best to breathe through the sweet stretch of him finally entering you. Despite his direction, he didn’t seem to be doing much better; sweat beading on his forehead over furrowed brows, kiss-swollen mouth open with panting breaths. Flushed cheeks. Even in the state he had reduced you to, you were trying to sear the image of his lust-strained face into your psyche.

He was rocking his hips slowly, allowing you to adjust to him with each little thrust as your arousal coated him, easing his advance; breathy moans collecting between you in puffs of steam, joining the two of you together in all the places you weren’t touching.

All the while, your eyes were locked on each other. Had anyone else ever seen his the way they were now and found them beautiful instead of horrifying? You moaned as you stared at him; taking in his large, elegant antlers and sweat-damp hair, reminding you of the bedhead you had seen the other morning. His handsome and sinister face. He could easily tear you to shreds — and in a certain way, he was — but you were overwhelmed at the amount of care he had shown you so far, even with his earlier warning.

His thrusts were building in sharpness, parting you with a tantalizing push-and-pull until he finally bottomed out with a growl. You cried out from the fullness he gave you, already twitching around him despite his stillness as he gave you both a moment to try and catch your breath.

Alastor peppered your face with kisses and licks as you relaxed into him, testing you with a shallow thrust that had you biting down on your lip. Another. Another. Another. Until your mouth was hanging open, your hands traveling up to hold onto his triceps in your need for stability and to keep him close. Suddenly you felt him leave you completely, not even able to process the emptiness before he slammed back into you with a harsh grunt that made you squeal; writhing as he pressed up into your cervix.

He must have really enjoyed that, because he did it again. And again. And again. Settling into an excruciatingly blissful pace, his hard length massaging knots out of your body you didn’t know where there. Your legs instinctively hooked around him, nails digging into the flesh of his arms as you gasped and whined.

“So — ah..! Good… Alastorrr…!”

“Fuck!” he hissed between gritted teeth as your hips bucked, brows knit tight as he shook his head as if to clear a fog.

You didn’t know he was actually trying to keep something at bay, the additional inch of growth in his antlers lost on you in your current state.

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Alastor’s hips stuttered for a moment before muscle memory guided him back to rhythm, desperate to regain the ecstasy that was torn from him. It had been a close call, but he managed to keep the switch from happening. Though the monster inside was still there, clawing at him just below the surface.

He felt as your hands moved from their place on his triceps (which he had quite enjoyed) to settle on his chest, your fingers delicately tracing his scar. The line wasn’t steady though, perforated by the impact of his thrusts, which you were handling with a surprising welcomeness.

It was almost…

There it was again, lying in wait; that ravenous, goading shadow roiling inside of him.

Take the risk…

Could he, though? Composing himself was practically second-nature, after all…

Say it!

Alastor exhaled, somewhere between a growl and a sigh. “You’re doing so well, sweetheart.” He allowed himself to relish the sound of your cry and the blissed out look on your face, which in turn provided a moment to steel himself before continuing, “I didn’t think you’d be this greedy.”

“Fuuuck…! Alast — oh my god…!”

A fresh wave of your arousal flooded over him as you desperately rolled your hips to meet him, but the intention had been to make you climax — and judging by the way you were spasming around him, you were close. Not drive him to his own at the sight of your glowing eyes, just as they had that day in the alley.

He had miscalculated.

With an agonizing force of will he pulled out of you, harsh breaths straining his lungs as he got off the bed to hastily remove his pants and shoes. He groaned through the ripple of adrenaline that was tearing through him, heartbeat pounding in his ears like a drum, the feeling of it causing his hair to stand on edge. Fuck. He wouldn’t be able to hold it off… not this time.

“What’s wrong?” Despite the question, your voice was still so thick with lust that it made his back hunch over.

It was taking all he had not to wrap his arms around himself in what he knew would be a useless attempt at containment. Even breathing was painful. The air saturated with the smell of sweat and sex and Valentino’s goddamn pheromones!

I really am going to kill that son of a bitch!

“Alastor…?”

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Burning at the stake.

It had been a good way to put it.

He had been burning you alive before dousing you with ice.

What had gotten into him? What had gotten into you? No one had ever said something like that to you before and received anything but a slap in the face. Greedy… The word made your heart stutter, some of the blood from the lower half of your body traveling back up to your face. Was it true?

Embarrassment was beginning to sober you up. Had you gone too far? It seemed strange that you had, considering the words came from his mouth and not yours. Fuck, all of this had started because of him. How else had he wanted you to react? Or was he ashamed of himself?

Was he regretting this already?

“What’s wrong?”

You watched as his back arched up like a spooked cat, the force of his breathing revealing the ribs and notches of spine under the skin. He looked like he was in pain… Maybe the scar on his chest wasn’t as healed as it seemed? You climbed off the bed and made a timid approach.

“Alastor…?”

He flinched at the touch of your hand with a hiss, the shock of his reaction making you trip over yourself and fall back onto the bed. He kept his back to you when he spoke next, the absence of his filter making you shiver in pleasure and worry.

“You remember what I told you earlier, yes?”

I don’t have the capacity for gentleness today.

How could you not remember that?

“I do,” you answered, just above a whisper.

He straightened himself then, still turned away from you and managing to look regal despite his trembling. “I need you on all fours… and you must promise not to turn around. Do you understand?”

It was a question that didn’t leave room for any response other than yes. So you just positioned yourself on the bed, facing your headboard and gathered the pillows there underneath you for support. You had just finished settling when you felt his weight dip the mattress behind you, heart in your throat as he ran his nails down your spine before slipping his fingers into you.

You both sighed as he pumped you, filling the room with that familiar lewd sound between breaths. Stoking the embers of your stolen orgasm with every drag, until he removed them completely. You whined at his absence, the tightness in your belly teetering somewhere between pleasure and pain as you heard him shudder through stroking himself. His free hand resting now on your hip.

“Don’t get comfortable. If you cum facing away from me I’ll never touch you again.” His voice was tight with effort, the filter over it harsh and pocketed as he adjusted himself behind you, the grip of his hand on your left hip promising to bruise.

To your shame, the threat alone almost made you, a graceless moan tumbling out from your chest as you barely managed to nod your head in confirmation; your cunt flexing around the words echoing in your mind. The obscene sight of it drew out a sound from Alastor that could only be described as animalistic, earning the plump skin of your hip a few punctures as he thrust into you, bottoming out.

It was a brutal pace, his cock nearly leaving you with every thrust before plunging back in. He still had one hand on your hip while the other grabbed your shoulder, the slapping sound of your skin meeting quickly overpowering the gasps and moans falling from your mouths.

“Haahhh… nnghh…! …fuck!”

“Alastor…”

You felt him twitch inside of you at the sound of this name before he practically shouted, “Again…!”

The blush burned down from your face into your chest, but you complied and whined his name again. And again. Until it seemed to be the only word you knew.

“Ohhh, fuuuck…,” he hissed, followed quickly by a snarl.

You could’ve sworn you heard fabric tearing before a green glow reflected off the lacquered wood of your headboard. Alastor’s huge silhouette taking shape as it intensified; invoking the image of a nightmarish spider more than the deer demon you knew. You closed your eyes and buried your face in the pillows you had gathered, refusing to turn around despite your instinct to do so. And even through the fear, you still felt your orgasm building, the battle to keep it at bay quickly turning against your favor.

“Alastor… I… I can’t… I—”

The words were stolen as he suddenly bit into your shoulder, his mouth so wide you felt his teeth sink in from shoulder blade to collarbone. You screamed into the pillows as his hips stuttered, until there was a final thrust so deep it would have pained you if it weren’t for your throbbing shoulder. His seed spilled out hot and thick, fueling the aching fullness inside you as he grunted into your flesh; teeth still latched to you as if making a primal claim.

Hot tears fell down your face as he rode out his orgasm behind you, unsure if they were caused by the savage bite to your bruised shoulder or lament over the deprivation of seeing his face. But you had done as you were told, managing not to turn around or climax. The bite he was now nursing with licks and sucks and kisses providing plenty of distraction.

Almost too much…

As he tried to catch his breath, you could feel him shrinking behind you as he pulled out, his slick torso laying flat against your back as he lapped up the blood dribbling from the bite. And in between his kisses that traveled from your shoulder to your tear-stained face, his hands were petting you with such a tenderness it only wrought more tears.

His soothing whispers of shhh, I know, I’m sorry, I’ve got you, I’m sorry ringing in your ears as he brought you to lie down, cradling you to him as he caressed your face with his hands that inflicted such pain and comfort… protection.

For what seemed like hours, the two of you laid in silence, looking into each other’s eyes as his thumb stroked your cheek. Until finally you buried your face into his chest, hands over his heart.

And slipped into shadow.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

ps: phew! we fucking made it y’all… i truly hope it was worth the wait. but i do want to announce here that i will be taking a little break. i know this one was already late, but it kinda took a piece of my soul lmao since we only have two more chapters i need to make sure i have all my ducks lined up to wrap this with a pretty little bow. thank you for your patience and love, i really do appreciate you. and i’ll see you on may 5th 💖

tag list: @fairyv-ice, @wat4r, @midorichoco, @raynerrold, @krak-jj, @tremendoushearttaco, @redfoxwritesstuff, @chibistar45, @kaylopolis, @cutiebimbo, @lousypotatoes, @rfox1998, @cosmic-lavender

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fan fiction #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor smut #hazbin hotel smut #slow burn #alastor slow burn #song fic #if i can't have love i want power #love and power #x reader #alastor the radio demon #the radio demon #alastor x reader slow burn

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lovebugism · 1 year

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oh my god,,,, gurl!!!! THE CUSTOMER'S ALWAYS RIGHT fic is sooo good 😫 my heart literally breaks every time I read this story. Thank you for blessing us with this masterpiece <3

THE CUSTOMER'S ALWAYS RIGHT | square one

summary: eddie makes a confession that's been weighing heavy on his heart. you realize that your future with him is haunted by ghosts from your past. pairing: virgin!eddie munson / f!reader word count: 16.3k warnings: hopper, steve, and robin being the reader defense squad, hints at reader's previously poor mental health, mentions of abusive and toxic relationships, a banshees of inisherin quote, b*lly h*rgrove because he needs a warning. (pretend any typos don't exist pls and thank u!) a/n: guess who's back, back again? ✨✨ i'd apologize for disappearing for a month, but then there'd be apologies in all my notes, so just know that i'm sorry every time i disappear unexpectedly, okay? 🥲 thanks for being so patient! please enjoy this long-awaited installment of tcar ily <3

( PREVIOUSLY ) | ( SERIES MASTERLIST ) | ( NEXT )

Eddie’s got a 1986 Van Halen tape in his boombox and a baby pink heart stitched into the fabric of his shirt. He’s the least metal he’s ever been, but he couldn’t be happier.

You keep your promise to him to patch up his torn Hellfire tee. If anything, you use the absentminded assurance as your excuse to see him again. The night you shared before, all but baring your scarred souls underneath glittering stars and streams of pale moonlight, hadn’t satiated your hunger for him. Eddie left you craving in a way you weren’t used to before — a yearning to be close to him that went beyond the boundaries of physical intimacy.

It was a simple sort of longing. It was a homesickness. A sense of nostalgia for a love you’d never felt before.

You wish you could wear Eddie’s adoration for you like a blanket, wrap yourself in the hand-stitched quilt of many colors and bundle it tighter around your shoulders when the cold comes. You want his softness to hold you in a way you’ve never been able to hold yourself.

You feel swaddled in it, succumbed and cloaked and at peace in all his tenderness. You’ve never been so at ease, so blissfully comforted by the presence of another human being. And Eddie feels all of that, every ounce of warmth you feel, because it pours out of you like rays of sunshine and bathes him in shades of gold.

He didn’t think you could get any softer than you had been that night at Skull Rock, until you were nestled in his unmade bed the next morning. You curled your legs underneath you as you weaved the needle and thread through the tear in his t-shirt, eyes squinted and tongue poking out the side of your mouth in an astute concentration.

All of the sudden, you were marshmallow fluff and honey on toast — made of all things sickly sweet that made his stomach feel suddenly full.

You finish mending the rip in record time and beam when he wears the heart-shaped stitching with pride. The rest of the day thereafter was spent in the tiny confines of his one hundred square-inch bedroom. From there, the both of you came to the silent understanding that you didn't want to spend another day apart.

The weekend had given you a limited sort of freedom, allowed you to pretend that you lived in a world with no responsibilities or anything other than Eddie Eddie Eddie, but adulthood made you no such promises. He had a side job to do to keep himself afloat, and you had a cat that thought it was the end of the world anytime you were gone for longer than a night. Both of those things together meant that the eve of parting was ultimately inevitable.

Every second you spent away from Eddie felt like you were grieving.

You mourned for him in the darkness of your apartment and tried to pretend you weren’t half a person in the cat food aisle at Melvald’s.

You tried to lessen the unbearable distance with phone calls, though it didn’t come nearly as close as feeling his fingers thrumming imaginary beats on your thigh or his heartbeat thudding against your ear.

But his voice filled the emptiness of your one-bedroom apartment and the Eddie Munson shaped hole he’d left just behind your ribcage, and that was good enough for you.

When you weren’t with him, you were roaming around your apartment like some kind of ghost, with the phone tucked between your ear and shoulder and the rotary clutched in your free hand.

You cook yourself dinner with him ranting about his day in your ear. You hold the receiver closer to Bowie and force him to hear her purr when she’s being exceptionally cute. He falls asleep some hours later to the sound of your soft snores, and you wake up the next morning to the sounds of his.

It was pathetic, truly.

You’d be gagging at how sweet it was if it wasn’t happening to you.

But it was.

Every ounce of this sticky sweet goodness was yours, and it tasted just like honey on your tongue.

It was the honeymoon stage times a thousand, all rose-colored and reflecting light — your own personal utopia. It brought with it a heavenly sort of refuge, a bubble of peace you never wanted to pierce.

Eddie basks in the serenity of it all when he finally has you with him again. You’re in his lap, on his lips, and all over him, but it still isn’t quite close enough. He doesn’t think he’ll be satisfied until you’ve successfully melted with him and your limbs have entwined with his like tree roots, destined to remain that way for the next couple of centuries or so.

And it’s weird because he could hardly handle living in such a tiny trailer with Wayne, let alone stomach more than a couple hours with the guys from Hellfire all in one place. But you? You entered his life all at once and now he can’t remember what it was like without you.

He doesn’t particularly want to, if he’s being real honest.

It’s why he’s always less enthused about letting you leave when you’ve both got responsibilities dragging you apart. He begs you to stay with him a few hours more, pleads for you to stick around while he makes a quick deal or an emergency pick-up when Dustin Henderson calls and says he needs a ride.

And you promise you’ll wait on him there, because he makes it virtually impossible to say no to his rosy pouted lips and chocolate syrup puppy dog eyes.

That’s when you run into Wayne for the first time, when Eddie’s out and you’re making breakfast for when he comes back.

French toast and scrambled eggs sizzle on the stove and warm the kitchen with all its cinnamon confections. It makes the man’s face screw up in confusion when he steps inside the trailer because he’s never known Eddie to cook a day in his life. And then his eyes find you — a young, pretty girl all alone in his kitchen with his nephew’s van gone from the drive.

“…Who the hell are you?” he wonders gruffly and pops a cigarette between his lips, totally unbothered.

He’s got no reason to be intimidated by the stranger in his trailer. He’s more confused than anything else, and he’s got this contorted look on his face like he’s blaming the exhaustion from the graveyard shift for his vision of you.

“Oh— my god,” you mumble through the mouthful of whipped cream you’d squeezed into your mouth moments prior. You fight to swallow it all down. “Uh. Hi. I’m, um… I’m Eddie’s... girlfriend?”

It sounds like you’re lying.

In some ways, it feels like you are.

You’ve been spending more time in his trailer than in your own home, but it’s not like either of you has motioned to make anything official just yet.

He eyes you with a tired and heavy gaze, eyes as dark and as infinite as Eddie’s. The man gives you a once-over and then chuckles lowly to himself as he tosses his corduroy jacket onto the back of the recliner and his tin lunchbox to the coffee table.

You shift awkwardly on the other side of the room. “…What is it?”

“When Eddie said he was talkin’ to a pretty girl on the phone every night, I thought he was lyin’,” he admits through hearty chuckles.

It makes you laugh too.

There’s little talking after the fact, besides you offering him some of the breakfast on the stove and him joking that you should come around more often.

You recount the story to Eddie when he returns, utterly mortified about the whole thing. You’re even more embarrassed when the boy finds amusement in your horror and starts to chuckle to himself — not exactly at you, but not with you either.

He laughs louder when you swat at him for it. You clamber on top of him, mattress squeaking mattress under your weight, as you demand him to stop through giggles of your own.

Somewhere down the line, both of you stop caring.

Neither of you is quite sure where the conversation stopped and ended, only that when you started kissing, you couldn’t stop.

They weren’t innocent little pecks, but they weren’t sloppy and full of tongue either. You press your lips together with the intent of being as close as you can to the other, like you haven’t spent every second you could together.

Neither of you will be satisfied until you’ve swallowed each other whole.

And you, you’ve got this ache for him. A swirling of want that’s constantly rippling in your belly for this boy. He’s just not usually under you when it’s happening — and now that he is, the crackling embers have burst into white and blue flames behind your sternum.

Your lips click each time you part, a lewd noise you never want to stop hearing. The sound of it gives you goosebumps, like a good song you’ve just heard on the radio. You wonder if Eddie can feel them as his hands start to creep up beneath your shirt and find purchase along your waist.

You open his mouth with your own and sneak your tongue inside just as you roll your hips over his lap.

It’s the most forthcoming either of you had been in your three-day stint of nonstop talking. Even when you were over at the trailer, totally alone and pressed underneath him, it was otherwise completely innocent. You just make out like a couple of teenagers until one of you wants to make a food run or offers to roll a joint.

And you like that. You like that he doesn’t expect anything from you, but it does get a little agonizing when you’ve tried every attempt to give yourself to him and he just won’t take it.

Like usual, Eddie tenses when he feels you grinding on top of him — partly because he feels a tingle at the base of his spine when he gets instantly half-hard, but mostly because he knows there’s nothing he can do about it.

He keeps preaching to himself it’s not the right time, it’s not the right time, it’s not the right time — but he’s got no idea when it’ll ever be the right time, if it’ll ever be the right time, or if he’ll know it when it comes.

Because he’s had you to himself for days now — no Wayne, no responsibilities, no pressure — with his tongue rutting against yours and your hands fidgeting with the metal buttons of his jeans, and it still doesn’t feel good enough. Eddie doesn’t feel good enough.

He’s not sure if he ever will.

And it’s not you. God, it’s the farthest thing from you. As far as Eddie’s concerned, he’s never had more fun with anyone else. He’s never laughed harder with anyone else. He’s never felt as comfortable with anyone as he’s starting to feel around you. So he’s not entirely sure why he finds the rest of it so hard.

Eddie wants you so bad that the ache of all his yearning is palpable. It’s like the weight of it is what’s keeping him from you — unstoppable force, immovable object, blah, blah, blah.

Either way, it leaves him entirely unable to take things further with you, however much he wants to. There’s something in his way and it’s him.

Your heartache is his own when he has to pull away from you.

“You okay?” you ask him with wide eyes and swollen lips, always so concerned for him.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good,” he’s quick to assure you. He’s still breathless when he fidgets beneath you, trying to prop himself up on his headboard without rubbing his half-hard cock against your thigh.

When he succeeds, he musters a smile that shakes at the edges. “It’s just… you know, not everything… It doesn’t have to be about sex, you know?”

He makes himself as soft as possible for you when he says this. He gets rid of all the usual teasing lilts that tend to lurk on his tongue as the words spill from his mouth. The last thing he wants to do is hurt your feelings or, in some roundabout way, make you think you’re the problem.

He just wants you to know that that isn’t why he’s been wanting to spend so much time with you. There was never an ulterior motive with him other than all the adoration he holds in his hands and his mouth for you.

The strike of hurt that flashes across your face is obvious to only Eddie, who’s spent enough time mapping out your features to know what twitches are ones of discontent. The slight frown that dips between your brows when they scrunch together for half a second comes like a stroke of lightning. It’s a brief flash of purple in the sky that leaves so quickly that it makes you wonder if it was ever there at all.

You fidget on his lap, not resting as comfortably upon him as you had been just moments before. “Oh…” you murmur through soft, jutted-out lips. “Sorry. I, I didn’t—”

“No, it’s not— that’s not what I—” he tries to assure over your insecure stammers, but succeeds only in tripping over himself in return. He cuts himself off with a breathy laugh, shaking his head while his fingers fidget on your hips. “That’s just not what this is about for me, you know? I just… I wanna spend time with you.”

It’s easily the softest thing he’s ever said to you — to anybody, for the matter — and the marshmallow sweetness of it all wraps around you like wisps of pink cotton candy.

Your apprehensiveness twists into something lighter, a pair of twinkling eyes and a bashful smile.

“Oh,” you hum again, obviously more pleased than before. “That’s nice…”

“No one’s ever said that to you before, have they?” Eddie asks you.

He tries to muster a crooked smirk as the words leave his mouth, but he’s got a feeling he already knows the answer. Hearing you affirm his suspicions will do nothing more than make him angry at all the assholes that had you before him, at everyone who taught you that you were good for sex and hardly a thing else.

It makes him wish that he’d gotten to know you sooner. Maybe then you’d understand that he’d be happy just holding you like this and never doing anything more.

You don’t answer him verbally, just shake your head with your lips pursed softly to the side. You look more innocent than anything he’s ever seen before, even with your lipstick smeared on your chin.

He’s still not quite sure how someone could be so reckless with such a fragile thing — to watch you break and not spend the rest of time grieving to know that you’ll never be quite the same again.

There’s a primal instinct that swims in him then, an urge to keep you in his arms and locked in the confines of his trailer forever and ever. He wants to keep the wolves of Hawkins, Indiana from ever getting a whiff of you again. It’d be more than they deserved, anyway.

“God, you have got to get better boyfriends, sweetheart,” Eddie tells you with a playful lilt in his voice despite the anger simmering in his belly.

“Isn’t that what you are?” you giggle.

His world stops.

“Huh?”

You tense at his tenseness. Only when he’s gaping at you does the weight of your words dawn on you. “…Huh?”

The awkward moment goes as quickly as it arrives, chased out by the fit of laughter the two of you are quickly thrown into. Your entwining chuckles rise like smoke in his tiny bedroom and then settle back over you like a fuzzy blanket.

“Are you asking me to be your boyfriend, babe?” Eddie teases.

“Of course not,” you scoff. “Babe.”

“Oh, right, of course not. That would be way too crazy considering we’ve spent, like, every day together and have made each other come… what is it now? Twice?”

“Three times for me,” you correct with you a smile. “You need to catch up, Eddie Spaghetti.”

“Another time?” he offers with a scrunched nose.

“Whenever you want.”

Eddie is grateful for your lack of urgency, even more so for the kiss you press to the tip of his nose.

You peck him on the lips after — once, twice, and then a thiiird, drawn out time — before moving on to his chin and jaw and neck. Whatever part of him you can reach (which is just about everywhere, considering the vantage point you’ve got sitting on his lap), you sprinkle a kiss to it.

It’s an innocent sort of affection, the kind that makes him wonder how it ever came to be in the first place. What evolutionary measures led to this, to you pressing your lips to his skin to show how much you care about him? Eddie doesn’t really want to know the answer, he’s just grateful that it happened in the first place.

You’re so good at it, loving on him. You’re always so kind and so gentle in your way and it makes him feel guilty. There’s a lingering feeling of undeservedness that settles something heavy at the base of his stomach. How could he ever expect you to be so open with him when he hasn’t done the same for you?

A heavy sigh rattles in his deflating chest.

“I gotta tell you something, sweetheart,” he cautions when your lips smack against the thrumming pulse below the left side of his jaw. “Something you’re not gonna like…”

A billion things run through your head all at once. When you part from him, he can see the rollercoaster of emotions each one of them puts you through.

Your first instinct is that he’s got some kind of partner he’s kept hidden from you until now. It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve gone steady with a guy who’s then told you about some other girlfriend he had — or, god forbid, a wife.

But then you realize that you surely would’ve had some sort of inkling if that were the case. There’s no way Eddie would’ve been able to spend every second of his day with you — and then another several hours on the phone when you had to leave — without someone else coming along to burst your bubble.

And so far, there haven’t been any angry wives, just the occasionally confused Uncle Wayne.

Then you start thinking he’s about to tell you he wants an open relationship. The you’re great, but I’m just not ready to settle down yet spiel that you’ve heard a thousand times before. Usually when people say that, they mean that they just don’t want to settle down with you.

You’ll become some douchebag’s fuck toy for a month or more until the girl next door comes around. He gets her knocked up in record time, his family forces him to marry her, and they begin their cushy lives together in the center of some cul-de-sac — really settle down, as it were.

You’re not sure if you could take that from Eddie. You could grin and bear if it you had to, take whatever attention he’s willing to give you because who cares if he’s giving it to someone else on the side? You’re just not sure how long you’d last like that.

And then you start to worry that he’s just going to break up with you entirely — it’s not you, it’s blah, I’ll always care about blah, please don’t tell anyone about how we blah-ed. That whole talk.

All the rest of your worries stop mattering so much because you’ve only just called him your boyfriend. And here he goes, about to end it all before it can really even start. That’d be just your luck, you figure.

“Did I do something wrong?” you caution after a few moments of heavy silence.

Eddie’s bleeding heart wrenches at your words, at how sad they sound spilling from your mouth, and how you immediately think that it’s got something to do with you.

He shakes his head feverishly in response. “No. No, it’s not you. You’re… you’re perfect.”

“Okay…” you concede quietly, voice trembling with a lingering disbelief.

“I just… I haven’t been totally honest with you, you know?” the boy admits before his glimmering chocolate eyes fly open and he corrects himself quickly. “And I haven’t lied to you or anything. Not— Not exactly. I just… I wanna be honest with you… As your boyfriend and all.”

You can tell by the sudden weight in his voice that he’s serious. But the fine coat of glowing rose that splotches Eddie’s cheeks after calling himself your boyfriend for the first time makes you melt.

You smile to yourself and start to trace the heart you’d stitched into his t-shirt with your finger.

“Yeah. I mean, we are about to spend our two minutes anniversary together and everything.”

“Exactly,” the boy huffs out a laugh. It lacks its usual jest, though, because of the ice-cold anxiety that drenches him from head to toe and makes his hands and feet go numb.

His fingers tremble where the rest on your waist, trying and failing to find a comfortable position there because, right about now, Eddie feels the most awkward he’s ever felt.

“I just want you to know that I… I’ve never done this before,” he confesses quietly and with his eyes squeezed shut. He prays that he doesn’t have to be any less vague than that.

Your face twists in confusion — your brows furrow and your nose twitches and your head tilts to the side like a puppy. And then you’re laughing, a soft little thing of a giggle that normally makes his heart sing, though now he can only feel it breaking.

“What…?” he tries to scoff out his own chuckle. “Why are you laughing?”

“Because you’ve already told me that, dummy. That you’ve never felt this way before…” you answer, reciting his own words back to him. You haven’t yet forgotten how he’d looked at you as you said them, pale skin made silk under the moonlight while he sparkled beneath the beams of it and his love for you.

“No, it’s… it’s more than that,” he corrects. “I’ve never even had a girlfriend before you. Or anything really.”

You still don’t seem to understand. You just look on at him with uncertainty.

A quiet “okay?” tumbles from your mouth entwined with a nervous giggle, because you don’t understand what’s got him so somber. He’s never dated anyone, you’ve fucked half of Hawkins — these are just facts that went unsaid before now.

And maybe it’s because you’ve never been with a virgin before, but the thought that Eddie might be one hasn’t seemed to cross your mind at all.

It’s that exact thought that scares him.

Because if it hasn’t already, maybe it’s because you’re avoiding it altogether. And why would he ever be the exception?

He opts to bite the bullet and hopes that his heart doesn’t get broken after.

“I’m a virgin. Okay? I’m a complete, total, proper adult virgin,” he blurts with a brazenness he’d previously lacked when it came to all this. “And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before now, but I didn’t, because I liked you and I was scared. So if you wanna yell at me or if you wanna break up with me before our five-minute anniversary, I totally get it, but I should probably let you know that it’ll rip my little virgin heart to shreds, so…”

Eddie ends his nervous ramble with a trembling, lopsided smile that does little to ease the leaden tension he’s just manufactured in the four walls of his bedroom.

He can’t seem to gauge your reaction after the fact, which is strange because he always knows what you’re thinking.

He knows when you’re laughing with him and not at him. You scrunch your nose and giggle when he tells you a funny joke, then tilt your head back and cackle when he trips over the punchline.

He knows the exact moment when something’s started to bother you — when you get real quiet in your bubble of reserved stillness and your eyes start to glaze over. To anyone else, it might just look like a person who’s keeping to themselves. Eddie’s starting to learn that usually means trouble when it comes to you.

He knows the difference between your gentle sort of sadness and when you’re damn near inconsolable. When you cried at the end of Stand By Me, you smiled at him with a glassy tear-filled gaze, then rolled your eyes when he tried to comfort you. The tears only spilled over when you laughed because Eddie pretended you’d hurt him when you’d shoved him away.

But when you’re really upset about something, you don’t show him at all — you fight to keep it all to yourself until you’ve squished the problem into a tiny enough ball that you can forget about all of it.

This is something different.

There’s too much crossing your mind all at once for him to get a good read of you.

You just gape at him, like you’re trying to figure out if he’s joking or not, and then fighting to understand what it means when you realize he’s being serious.

And just when you’ve started to wrap your head around it all, when your brain remembers how to make words again and you realize you haven’t said anything in several agonizing seconds, a foreign voice sounds from down the hallway.

Not foreign in that it was unfamiliar exactly, just foreign in that you and Eddie had spent so much time alone that you were starting to forget that there was an entire world outside of yourselves. A great big world, filled with a great many people, some of whom were your friends who tended to get pretty worried about you.

“Edward Wayne— why the hell is the Chief in my driveway?” his uncle curses from the living room, sounding like he’s speaking through a cigarette in his mouth.

Eddie himself is immediately freaking the fuck out because he figures he must’ve gotten tipped off again. He tries to calculate the quickest way to get you off of him and to all of his cubby holes full of miscellaneous drugs so he can flush them down the toilet before Jim Hopper busts the door down.

And even though you’re not the drug dealer who’s had cops on their ass since they were fifteen in this equation, you look a whole lot more terrified than Eddie does.

Your eyes go wide and the whites of them swim with terror as you launch yourself off of his lap. You don’t spare another glance back at him, not even when you nearly trip over yourself when you shove your sneakers on your feet and shuffle out of the room. He’s forced to follow behind you like a confused puppy as you bound through the trailer at lightning speed.

The haste of your movements startles even Wayne, who halts mid-puff of his cig when you’re in and out of the living room before he can blink. The opening squeak of the screen door and metal slamming against metal is the only thing that punctuates your exit.

“Would it kill you to answer your damn phone every once in a while?” the powerful timbre of Jim Hopper’s angry voice, of which only the man himself could pull off, is muffled until Eddie cautiously slinks onto the porch behind you.

He finds the chief standing beside the Cruiser he’s parked sideways. The door of it is still flung open. A distant beeping sounds from the ignition.

He’s still got on the pressed khakis of his uniform — complete with the golden badge pinned to his chest, darkened sunglasses on the bridge of his nose, and flat-brimmed hat on his head. Even with the majority of his face covered, it does little to hide the anger that radiates off of him like a hot stove eye.

You remain on the porch, shifting your weight on your feet at the top of the steps. “Okay, Hopper, just listen to me for a second—”

“Three days!” he shouts over you, not deterred by your composed nature. “I have been calling you… for three days! Seventy-two hours. No answer!”

Eddie decides to speak up from behind you despite his better judgment. “Yeah, uh, that was kinda my fault,” he confesses with an awkward laugh. “Wouldn’t let her hang up the phone—”

“I’ll deal with you in a second,” Jim interjects firmly and without thinking. He goes back to berating you with an admirable finesse. “Buckley wanted my head on a pike when I wouldn’t file a missing person’s report in the first twenty-four hours, but seventy-two? She was gonna kill me!”

Rather than argue with him, like every fiber of your being so desperately wants to, you make the difficult choice to concede with a heavy sigh. Because you don’t doubt that Robin was on his ass the second she realized you weren’t answering your phone or at your apartment when she and Steve dropped by.

She did tend to be on the overprotective side, after all, which obviously paired well with her melodramatic disposition.

“I’m sorry, okay? I’ve just been… busy.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard the one before,” the man answers bitterly.

“It’s different, Hopper!”

“I’ve heard the one before, too!”

Eddie can only assume that the both of you are communicating telepathically, what with the way your synchronized glares seem to say a thousand words (probably every curse imaginable, if he had to guess) without your mouths ever moving once.

He stands on the outskirts of it all, feeling a bit stuck in the thorniness of such a tense silence, like any slight movement might cut him.

Jim moves slowly, akin to a creeping snake, as his hands raise to remove the glasses from his face. Their lack reveals the ice-cold glare that was previously hiding beneath them.

“Get in the car—”

“—No,” you reject just as the direction leaves his mouth because you knew it was coming.

Jim inhales sharply and smacks his lips against his teeth, like a father whose child is most ardently testing his patience. He plants his work boot in the gravel and his hand on his hips. His steel gaze goes far off for a moment before flitting back to you again.

“…Get in the car or I put you in handcuffs.”

Your breath hitches at the threat. You squint over at him. “You wouldn’t.”

Jim smiles at you, but it’s more threatening than anything else. “We both know that I would.”

Eddie’s eyes flit between the both of you. He can tell that Hopper’s serious and that you’re trying to decide whether or not to call his bluff, with your arms crossed defensively over your chest and lips pursed in a tight line.

You ultimately decide not to. Because Hopper has, in fact, done that before. And even though the circumstances are very, very different, you wouldn’t put it past him to do it again. So you all but stomp your foot like a protesting child and spin on your heel to storm back inside the trailer.

Eddie’s nervous gaze flits between your disappearing form and the storm cloud of a police chief standing in his driveway. When their eyes lock, he realizes he should probably say something. He cocks his thumb over his shoulder and stammers, “I should— I should probably…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence. He catches the front door before it shuts and slithers through the crack of it to follow in behind you.

“Wait, was he— was he being serious about that?” Eddie wonders once you’re back in his bedroom.

It feels a lot less cozy than it did minutes before, less like the bubble of refuge that you thought nobody could pierce and more like a lonely space that feels entirely too empty. You pluck your things scattered around his room, and it starts to feel less and less like home with parts of you gone from it.

“I don’t know,” you answer within a sigh as you collect your cardigan from the back of his desk chair and shrug the thing back over your shoulders again.

“But it’s happened before?”

“Yeah. Once. When I was…” you confess quietly, then trail off. You get your bag from his nightstand and haphazardly shove your scrunchie, sunglasses, and chapstick into the bottom of it. “…When I was in a bad way— it doesn’t matter now.”

Eddie so desperately wants to pry.

He’d wanted to make a joke before, about the handcuffs — something less than tasteful about them and you and Hopper and some good ol’ freaky deaky that you'd scold him for after. But he decides not to now because you sound so strangely solemn about the whole thing, as though it was a story you buried deep with the intent of never bringing it up again.

“You don’t have to go with him if you don’t want to, you know that, right?”

“Of course, I do,” you scoff at his worries, not nearly as threatened by Jim as the rest of Hawkins. You move to stand in front of him in the center of his room and meet his furrowed brows with a soft grin. “He’s not gonna do anything, he’s just pissed. He’ll berate me on the drive back to my apartment and then it’ll be like nothing ever happened.”

That seems to please Eddie well enough, though he’s still a bit disheartened at your leaving.

“I guess we couldn’t keep spending time together like this, huh?” he teases lightly, like the realization of it doesn’t make his chest ache. “Sorta forgot about the rest of the world… whatever that is.”

“It was fun while it lasted,” you tell him with a shrug and a whimsical sigh.

“Wait for me, will ya?” he jokes, if only to make you laugh and to feel like he’s stuck in some sickly sweet ending of a romcom for a couple moments more.

You roll your eyes at his dramatics but let him wrap you in his arms anyway. His hands find purchase on your elbows, thumbs rubbing soothingly along the outsides of them. “How about a kiss, then?” he offers when the urge to feel you because too great to bear. “For our ten-minute anniversary and all?”

“You never have to ask me, Eds,” you assure with a laugh. You rise to the tips of your toes and he meets you halfway.

Home is in your mouth. It’s warm and cozy and safe there. It’s easily the most familiar place he’s ever known, with your bottom lip nestled between his own. He feels homesick when you part from him.

“You’re not mad at me?” he wonders quietly, feeling a bit like a cowering child from where he stands in front ahead of you — eased only when you shake your head almost immediately in response.

“No. I couldn’t be even if I wanted to, I think.”

“Okay. That’s… That’s good.”

“We can talk about it later, if you want. After I get lurch off my ass.”

He tries not to smile too wide, but it’s hard not to beam every time he looks at you. “Yeah. Sure. I’ll… I’ll see you around, I guess?” he stumbles over himself, having forgotten how to say goodbye to you.

It’s equally as hard for you too, it seems, because you nod at him and turn to leave and then realize once you’re halfway down the hallway that you might not survive if you don’t kiss him again.

So you turn and rush back, catching Eddie with his back turned and spinning him around so you can peck him again. You feel his cheeks heat beneath your palm and his sigh against your cupid’s bow and his lips melt against your own.

You etch each tingling sensation into the edges of your mind in the hope that you won’t drive yourself completely insane when you inevitably start to miss him like crazy.

You focus on that and on him when you find Hopper and his stupid proud dad smirk. It’s the only reason you don’t punch him in the jaw and tuck and roll out of the Cruiser when the silence becomes so slowly insufferable.

You’re starting to think Jim left the radio off on purpose. You’ve never known the guy not to drive around without the strumming of an old-school folk song to accompany him. You figure it must be some sort of intimidation tactic, to make you so uncomfortable that you break. You’re a lot closer to that than either of you realize.

You spare a glance over at the man next to you. He hasn’t looked at you once since you get in the car. He’s got one hand at three o’clock on the steering wheel and the other with its elbow propped up on the door as he scratches at the stubble on his jaw.

He’s too at ease not to be bothered. This is obviously some kind of front he’s putting on to conceal his inner irritation.

You give on the lecture you’d been trying to prepare yourself for and exhale sharply through your nose. Your fingers fidget on your thighs as you kick your restless feet up on the console.

“Get your feet off the dash,” Jim scolds without missing a beat.

You huff and obey. “Okay, this is crazy— can’t you just yell at me already?”

He barely wastes a second.

“I cannot believe you right now!” he seethes through gritted teeth, stewing in a dad-like sort of anger.

“It was three days, Hopper!”

“You know what happened the last time no one heard from you for three days?” he shouts back.

You tip your head back against the seat and groan. You should’ve known he was going to play that card.

He waves an accusatory finger between the both of you. “You and me— we had a deal, remember? You let me check in on you. You agreed to that. You visit your little high school friends, and I see you at work, so I can make sure you’re not off somewhere killing yourself.”

Hopper becomes a casualty to the tense silence he created then, when you don’t retort with some comeback of your own and force him to feel every ounce of pressure from the leaden quiet.

He sighs a great big, too loud sigh and shifts in his seat. His softening gaze flits between you and the road. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean it like that, okay? I just meant it, you know, figuratively. I wasn’t… trying to be mean.”

“When have you ever cared about being mean?” you monotone.

“I don’t,” he assures. “I’m just not trying to hurt your feelings, alright? Jeez…”

You try not to take too much pride in the man’s half-apology, though you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t a little bit rewarding.

Jim Hopper’s practically an iceberg. He only melts for his kid, Joyce Boyers, and you, apparently.

It’s why he’s always so damn protective over you. He’s developed this sort of deep-rooted urge to keep you safe after watching you make every wrong decision a human being could possibly make. And when you mess up, because you do mess up, he feels like it’s partially his fault — that, if he’d done more, he could’ve kept you safer.

It makes you feel like a burden most of the time, but you know it’s above yourself and mostly out of your control.

You’d known of each other for a while before you really met, because a troublemaker and police chief in such a small town are bound to. But somewhere down the line, he found you in a valley of mourning for someone that was still alive and you found him in a black hole of grief for someone who wasn’t. The empty and infinite voids within you both were stitched slowly together all over again.

Jim Hopper was the dad you never had. You were the daughter he couldn’t.

And you thought something might change after he adopted El. You figured he might forget about you because it wasn’t like it was his job to watch after you or anything. Playing pretend always felt nice, but you knew it wasn’t real.

It was to Jim, though, who’d developed a similar adoration for you as the one he had for Sara. He hasn’t been able to forget about you in the same way he hasn’t been able to forget about her.

Every night, after he’s scrubbed the day off his body and washed it all down with a lukewarm beer, he lays on his pull-out bed in the small living room of his cabin and goes through a checklist in his head.

He makes sure that he’s checked on El and reminds himself to wake up early to make her breakfast the next morning before he brings Joyce coffee at Melvald’s — Joyce. She always comes next on his list, always right after El, and then you.

He forces himself to calm down when his blood pressure inevitably spikes at the thought of not having heard from you all day. He reminds himself that he saw you at work on his lunch break and that he’ll see you again tomorrow.

Jim hums to himself as he settles more comfortably into his springy cot, deciding that he’ll try a new wine he can’t pronounce when he sees you at Enzo’s the next day and that he’ll drink it while he rambles about Joyce or El’s new boyfriend.

He drifts to sleep with thoughts of Sara.

You’re as ingrained into his mind as every other person he’s grown to love.

He stopped worrying about never getting you out a long time ago. Like a tomato sauce stain on a dress shirt, he knows he’ll never get you out of his head. He knows even more so that he doesn’t want to — no matter how much you annoy him or how angry you make him when you don’t answer his calls.

“Sorry…” you murmur and swallow down whatever mundane argument you could’ve spewed then, at the result of his sudden warmth. You turn to gaze out the window and trace the edges of the puffy white clouds with your eyes. “I wasn’t thinking about that — the… deal, or whatever… Honestly, I was a little too busy being happier than I think I’ve ever been in my life, so…”

You don’t see the dramatic eye roll he gives you in response, but you can’t miss the hearty groan that spills from his mouth.

“What?” you laugh in response. “Have you never been a kid in love before?”

It’s almost jarring how he goes from huffy to concerned in a fraction of a second. His head snaps over to you, jaw clenched and eyes suddenly stern and swimming with a lingering fear.

“Love?” he repeats like he must’ve heard you wrong. “Love— That’s— That’s what this is?”

You shrug. “I don’t know… Maybe…”

His eyes flutter shut for a moment. “Please don’t tell me you’ve said that to each other yet. This guy was just a crush four days ago.”

“No, Hopper. We haven’t. I mean, he literally just told me he was a virgin, so I don’t think we’re even close to—”

“A virgin?” Jim echoes, voice high-pitched and giddy. He beams at you from beneath his bushy mustache and slaps you a little too hard on your arm when he laughs. “Shit, teacup. Are you runnin’ out of options over there or somethin’?”

You twist your body to hit him back harder with your right hand. “It’s not funny, Hopper,” you scold. “He’s nice.”

“You said that about Hargrove once—”

“This is different,” you monotone before the words have the chance to leave his mouth.

“Yeah? How do you know?”

The question stumps you for a moment because you don’t know — you can’t.

You’d never admit it out loud, but Hopper was right; you’re still not quite sure how you ever could’ve thought that Billy Hargrove was a good guy, but you did. You felt a similar feeling of elation with him as you do now with Eddie, an otherworldly sort of happiness that makes you feel like you’re the only person it’s ever happened to.

And here you are now, sometime later and reveling in the aftermath, still gluing pieces of your shattered heart together.

You treat love like a drug. You use and use and use until it stops being a fun thing and becomes a crutch you can’t live without. That’s always when it starts to hurt you, but you’re in too deep to stop craving it.

And you know it’s bound to happen all over again, but you have to believe Eddie’s different or else you might as well fall into the deep pit of despair you’ve been trying this whole time to crawl out of.

He makes you happy, really really happy, and you’d rather gamble that he hurts you than give it all without even trying.

“I… don’t,” you conclude after a few moments.

Jim seems surprised by your admission, shooting you an incredulous look with his untamed brows raised to his hairline.

You meet his look with a wavering grin. “But he makes me really happy, Hop. Like… It feels like it should be illegal or something. He makes me feel so good my heart hurts. There’s like this—”

“Ugh,” the man grumbles in disgust, sullen all over again.

“I didn’t mean it like that, you weirdo,” you chide.

A grin twitches beneath his mustache in response. “I know you didn’t… ‘Cause Munson’s a virgin.”

“Oh my god!” you groan. “I didn’t even mean to tell you that, okay? Leave him alone— and a swear to god, Hopper, if you make fun of him—”

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with it, alright? I mean, he’s got the expert around to show him the ropes— ow!” You cut off his stupid joke and accompanying sardonic grin with a fist to his shoulder.

Steve and Robin tend to be quite the formidable duo.

They’ve barely got a brain cell to rub together between them, but there’s still something strangely intimidating about them when they’re both angry. It feels a bit like they’re your I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed parents, and you’re the scolded child taking your lashings in the form of a lecture.

It’s what you feel like now, sitting across from them in your designated booth at Benny’s Burgers — the one by the window in the corner. It’s far enough away from the bustle of the entrance but close enough still to gossip about the assholes you used to know from high school when they walk through the door.

“You scare the shit out of us when you go AWOL like that, you know?” Steve confesses, still soft even though you know there’s a more upset part of himself he keeps hidden for now.

His chocolate gaze flits between you and the pile of fries in the middle of the table that the three of you share. He finds the one covered in the most salt and pops it into his mouth.

“AWOL?” you echo with a distant laugh when you realize how much he sounds like Hopper. “It was three days.”

“Yeah, and you fell off the face of the earth,” Robin retorts, half-muffled through the hearty gulp of strawberry milkshake starting to melt in her mouth.

“You guys are acting like I went halfway across the country,” you scoff. “I was with Eddie. At his trailer.”

“Exactly!”

Steve’s face contorts mid-bite. “Wait, you were with him? The freak?”

It makes you roll your eyes. He’d been too busy hopelessly flirting with the waitress at the counter to hear the entire recounting of your absence to Robin, though it was more of you gushing about it than anything else.

“Yep,” you answer.

“You skipped out on movie night to be with… Eddie Munson?” he reiterates for himself, as though there was any correlation between watching the same three movies while gorging on greasy junk food with your best friends and falling more in love with a guy you were already head over heels for as he tried to explain away the unopened box of condoms collecting dust underneath his bed.

Both are equally fun in their own ways, but totally totally different.

“How did you survive without me, Steven?” you joke back in response.

“He didn’t,” Robin quips.

“So… what? You guys just went on some kinda bender? I don’t get it. Did you just fuck the entire time or something?”

“Well, contrary to popular belief, I can actually spend time with someone and not fuck them—”

“Okay, that’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“And to answer your question — no, we didn’t fuck,” you confess, then elaborate more slowly, a tad bit awkwardly. “Because he told me today that… he is a… virgin.”

Your words seem to settle over each of them differently. Robin stills with her lips wrapped around the candy-cane striped straw then furrows her brows, as though their meaning hits her a few seconds after the fact.

Steve, meanwhile, goes entirely agape in an amazed sort of shock. His eyes go wide, his brows fly up and hide beneath the bangs that hang down over his forehead, and his jaw falls open. And then he starts to smile, a subtle hint of a grin on the corners of his pink lips, like he finds it funny.

“I knew it,” he murmurs to himself.

“…Why are you smiling like that?”

His smirk widens. “That freak said he screwed Vicki Carmichael senior year. I knew he was lying.”

“And why do you look so proud of yourself, exactly?” Robin asks him.

“Because now I feel less bad about never fucking her,” the boy explains like it’s obvious. He set his elbows on the table and gestures wildly with his hands. “I always thought the freak one-upped me because she, like, never gave me the time of day after Hargrove came along, you know? But… It’s good to know that I’m still king.”

His delighted grin is met with confused looks from both you and Robin, who look upon him with twisted eyebrows and squinted eyes.

“Are you not aware of how strange everything that comes out of your mouth is?” you ask him, only partly joking.

“At least that settles why he wouldn’t let you give him a blow job,” the brunette girl concludes with a shrug as she slouches against the booth. “Poor guy was probably shitting bricks about it.”

You realize then that it does make sense, why he’d always been so adamant about your pleasure and never his own. Why he always touched you like you were some fragile thing he might break, and like everything was new to him. Because it was new to him. All of it.

And even though it baffles you to no end how he went his entire life without someone wanting to jump his bones (because truth be told, you’re doing a terrible job at hiding your want to do just that), the fact still remains — Eddie Munson is a virgin.

He’s a virgin with an acute infatuation for the local slut, both of you freaks in your own right.

It just adds more intricacy to a puzzle that already feels so complicated.

“I’ve never been with a virgin before,” you admit quietly, mostly to yourself, as you train your gaze on the straw wrapper you curl around your finger. “It’s different… Scary.”

“Why?” Robin wonders aloud.

“I don’t know. I just— I don’t know what to do now.”

“Just do what you always do,” Steve tells you like it’s that simple. He folds his arms on the table and leans in closer to you. “Experience is good. Okay? Experience is key.”

“No, it’s not that. I think I’m just… I’m scared I’m gonna treat him the way, you know, that I was treated. And I don’t wanna… I don’t wanna do that to him.”

You’re not sure when the shift started, when you stopped being a person to people. You only know that you were something less than that. Somewhere between junior and senior year, you become a plaything that anyone could do anything they wanted to with, and you were too starved for physical affection to tell them otherwise.

You liked the attention. You liked feeling loved, even if it was only for a minute and a half, and all you had to show for it was a pool of cooling come on your belly.

Eddie’s the fragile thing now that you were then.

He was a delicate little thing that can break so easily, something you could split in half if you wanted to.

You don’t.

You want so desperately to be kind, but you’re scared you won’t know how to, because no one’s ever been kind to you.

Steve reaches across the table for you, taking a wild stab at an attempt for affection after several months of being scared to touch you — he did enough of that, he thought, and he’d hurt you. But he can see the lingering ache hiding in your glazed-over eyes and feels an overwhelming urge to quell your worry.

Five warm fingers wrap around your wrist, not too tight or too strong, just enough to stop you from cutting circulation off to the tip of your pointer finger and to remind you that he’s still there.

“Trust me,” he tells you with a sudden soft swimming in his caramel-colored eyes and a smile playing on his lips. “You couldn’t do that to anybody. Not even if you wanted to.”

Your heart nearly stops at his words, at the sheer kindness of them, and at the way he holds you in the soft way you’re used to only Eddie holding you. Your eyes go wide when they flit up to him and then start to sting with the weight of unshed tears.

You’re quick to blink them away though, while you playfully shrug him off and joke — “stop being so nice before I get the wrong idea, Harrington” — because it’s easier than accepting his tenderness.

Robin takes one look at his fond gaze, all gooey and dripping with honey, and then at your rolling eyes and accompanying shy grin, and groans at the softness of it all. She slides out from the confines of the booth and grumbles something about getting a refill on her milkshake.

“Some fries too, while you’re up?” Steve offers with a hopeful grin.

He’s met with the girl’s signature scowl.

“Please,” you finish for him.

Robin grins. “Anything for you,” she croons, if only to make the boy pout, before skipping off to the counter.

She leans her elbows upon the red wooden laminate top and smiles that same sickly sweet smile for Benny by the grill — no doubt trying to get her refills for free.

Even though the bearded man seems unimpressed with her presence, you know that he’ll give them to her free of charge. He’s always had a soft spot for her, one of the only people in town who could rival his wit.

The door dings open, a familiar and high-pitched chime that often becomes more frequent as the evening progresses. This time it lets in a foreign, bitter breeze when the door swings open and closed again.

You can feel the chill from a distance — it resembles the crispness of autumn despite being comfortably settled in the middle of March. It nearly takes your breath away, prickles your skin and makes you grimace back a shiver.

When your eyes leave Steve, a difficult feat considering he’s doing an alarmingly good impression of a walrus by sticking fries in his upper lip, you find that it wasn’t abnormally cold air at all. It was a Peter Parker spider sense form of anxiety that had felt like a bucket of ice water had been poured over you.

Billy Hargrove used to turn heads when he walked into a room.

Now he just sucks all the air out of it.

And it’s not like you haven’t seen him since the break up; for a while, the asshole was painted on the backs of your eyelids — he all but haunted your consciousness. You’ll see him around town on occasion, in his sunglasses and jean jacket and too-tight denim pants, while he struts around Main Street with his new girlfriend (otherwise known as, his flavors of the month).

You think this is the first time you’ve been in the same room as him since your split, though. It feels like it must be with the way your throat starts to tighten and you forget how to breathe.

All at once, you’re scrambling for an exit. It’s like Billy’s a fire and his smoke is rapidly filling your lungs. Your legs start to tremble when your adrenaline spike. Your brain tells you to get out as quickly as you can before he burns you.

Steve notices the look of fear flood your features like a dark storm cloud. You were laughing just seconds before the door opened, equal parts with him and at him, but now you just looked terrified — like a child who’s just spotted a boogeyman in her closet.

He turns in the booth to find what haunted thing has just caught your eye and finds that it’s worse than any monster you could conjure up. It’s Billy fucking Hargrove, with his pretty hair and his pretty smile and his pretty girl under his arm.

His presence filled targeted, almost. Like he chose to come to this diner, on this day and at this time just to fuck with the group of you.

“Don’t even look at him,” Steve advises when he turns back to you. “Look at me, okay? He’s not even worth it. That asshole doesn’t deserve to ruin our day.”

And you try to listen to him. You try really, really hard to let him change that subject to the cold fries or Robin taking too long or a combination of the two, but you can’t focus on him. You’re already so overwhelmed at the sight of Billy that you can’t focus on anything else but him.

You settle on the fact that you might just have to drag Steve and Robin out by their wrists because you can’t sit in this booth any longer, and you definitely aren’t hungry anymore.

And that’s when he spots you.

Your eyes lock and you freeze, immediately averting your gaze but catching the sudden sparkle in his own as he grins a sly, sadistic grin.

“No way,” you hear him say with a laugh under his breath. The sound of his voice makes you tense. You hadn’t realized how at peace you’d been all this time without having to hear it. Now it feels like so many little needles piercing your skin.

“Fancy seeing you guys here,” he greets after he’s made a b-line for your booth and dragged Vicki Carmichael along with him. He smiles with all of his pearly whites while he smacks pungent wintergreen gum between them.

When he slides into the booth beside you, he does so without invitation, and forces Vicki to slink in next to Steve.

And like it wasn’t already awkward enough, you know Vicki — like, know her, know her. There was a drunken makeout at a Halloween party in ’82. Then a one night stand with her brother before he left for college in ’83. And then her Tom Selleck clone of a father at a sleepover for her eighteenth birthday in ’85.

You’re not exactly proud of it, but you’ve gotten a rather hefty taste of her family tree, and the fact that both of you know it makes it that much more uncomfortable.

“We’re kinda busy here, Hargrove,” Steve tells him when he notices how comfortable he’s making himself in your booth.

“Ooh… Is this a little date?” Billy teases with a grin.

Steve’s face falls. “…No.”

“Oh, right,” he nods, though the sardonic lilt in his voice tells you that he already knew the answer. He crosses his arms on the tabletop and turns to look at you with eyes bluer than any ocean. They flicker up and down your form. Suddenly, you feel self-conscious in your baggy jean and tank top duo.

“You’ve been seeing that guy, haven’t you? What’s his name again? The, uh— the freak?”

“His name is Eddie,” Steve answers for you, defending him because you can’t find the words to.

“That’s it,” Billy snaps his fingers, then points. He nudges you with his shoulder. The familiar feel of his jean jacket against your skin makes you wince. “God, you must be runnin’ out of steam over there, huh? I mean… the freak? Seriously? You couldn’t do any better than that?”

The jokes were tolerable coming from Jim and Steve and Robin — they weren’t funny by any means, but you could stomach them because you knew they were jokes. But this? This was just to hurt you. And it works too easily because Billy knows exactly how to break you. He knows all the wires to cut and buttons to push because the puzzle of shattering your psyche is one he memorized long ago.

“He’s actually a really nice guy,” you manage through a tight throat, still staring at your fidgeting hands.

“Well, that’s good,” he hums like you need his approval. “It’s about time, right?”

You huff and choose to entertain him despite your better judgment. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He only shrugs. “I don’t know... Just, you know, that found a guy willing to settle for you. That’s all.”

“Settle?” you repeat, trying to laugh despite how tiny your voice sounds.

“You know what I mean, c’mon,” the blonde boy chuckles. “Sluts are fun and all, but they’re not the kinda girls you wanna settle down with. Steve knows what I mean.”

“No, I don’t,” Steve monotones quickly and without thinking, gaze hardened and jaw clenched. “And you need to leave.”

“I”m hungry, Billy,” Vicki whines, feeling every ounce of the tension surrounding her — like syrup or quicksand. She slides her permed bangs from her eyes and tucks a rogue strawberry strand behind her ear in a nervous tick. “Can’t we just get something to eat?”

“Alright, alright. I know when I’m not wanted,” Billy chuckles.

You grumble bitterly under your breath. “Apparently not…”

“I’ll see you around, Harrington,” Billy singsongs with a grin that wreaks of insincerity while his girlfriend slides out from the booth. He turns to look at you and squints. “Don’t be a stranger, alright? Matter of fact, point Munson my way, and I’ll give him a few pointers.”

You’re uncowed by his offer and angered by his mention of Eddie. Your eyes are stern and unwavering as you meet his gaze for the first time since he sat down beside you.

“I think you could learn a thing or two from him, actually,” you retort, words sounding sweeter than the venom lingering behind them.

Billy’s grin only widens, impressed by your arguing. “Ooh… I forgot about the mouth you had on you, sweetheart.”

The use of the nickname makes you cringe. It doesn’t sound nearly as fulfilling as it does when it comes from Eddie. Now, it just sounds artificial — degrading.

He leans in close to you like he’s about to tell you a secret and splays his arm along the back of the booth behind you. The nicotine on his breath makes you grimace; it’s intoxicating when it comes from Eddie, disgusting from the boy sitting next to you.

His eyes are bluer so up close, darker than you remember them being, and you notice he’s trimmed his usual stubble to a patchy mustache. He looks like the grown-up version of the boy you used to know, visually more mature but still the same in his way.

“When he gets bored of you — because, let’s be serious, he will get bored of you — you know where to find me,” Billy murmurs to you, a cynical smirk on the edges of his lips. “I’ll make sure you stay nice and broken in for the next dozen guys that want a taste—”

Steve can’t hear a word from where he sits across the booth, but he’s fuming with fists clenched under the table anyway. He hates how close Billy is to you, more so how uncomfortable you look with the proximity and how his words make you flinch.

“Alright, you need to leave,” he blurts. “Now.”

Before the blonde could respond with a quip of his own, Robin all but teleports to the head of the table. She’s standing in front of the four of you suddenly, carrying a basket of fries and a strawberry milkshake and wearing a frown on her face.

“You’re in my seat, dickwad,” she monotones, even though she hadn’t been sitting next to you before. She’s not the least bit threatened by the Californian douchebag.

Billy smiles up at her anyway. “I was wondering where the third musketeer was! Still a carpet muncher, Buckley?”

“Happily.”

“What do ya say me and you head up to Lover’s Lake later?” the boy offers despite his date shifting awkwardly a few feet away. It’s a joke, for reasons that are more than obvious, and that’s what makes it so unbearably unfunny.

He slinks out from the booth. The lack of his warmth is strangely comforting and you’re able to breathe for the first time in five minutes. He stretches his back out when he stands to his full height in front of Robin, then shrugs with his hands splayed on his hips.

“Maybe you just need some good dick. I mean… we’re gonna die anyway, right?”

“I’d rather,” she quips with a rouge-tinted smile.

The way it makes him laugh is startling. He finds a strange humor in being rejected — in most things, really. You still haven’t forgotten the cackles that left his bloodied mouth when Steve delivered blow after blow to the boy’s face in the middle of his living room, like it was all a fun game to him.

That was, of course, before Billy got the upper hand and nearly killed Steve that night. He laughed about it that too, until Max knocked him out with a baseball bat.

He’s got the same grin on his face now as he did then when he turns to look at you. A pink and pretty smirk, just wide enough to reveal the dimple in his left cheek. It’s nothing short of taunting, like he’s mocking you without having to say anything at all.

“Don’t be a stranger, alright?” Billy repeats. He keeps smacking his gum between his teeth and winks at you before spinning on the heel of his boot. He guides Vicki with him to the counter with a hand on the back pocket of her jeans.

Even when Robin slides in next to you and effectively pierces the bubble of tension that had already started to shrink with Billy’s leaving, you still find it hard to breathe. You have to keep reminding yourself, forcing oxygen in and out with wobbling breaths through your nose, or else you just stop altogether.

The other two move on rather quickly, having no trouble finding their voices again after he’s gone. Their words are muffled, though, like they’re underwater.

“I forgot what an asshole he was,” Robin grumbles.

“Well, I didn’t,” Steve retorts, eyes scanning the basket of fries for the most strategic pick of the bunch. “I can still barely breathe through my nose.”

“That’s because you didn’t go to a doctor, dingus.”

“Because I didn’t need a doctor, Robin.”

“Yeah, because being concussed three times in two years is so healthy—”

Your eyes act like magnets as they stay locked on Billy’s form. He leans in closer to Vicki to tell her something, then pats her once on the ass before walking towards the exit again. The door dings when he swings it open. Through the window, you catch him pulling out a red and white pack of cigarettes — the same brand of Marlboro Reds he’s been smoking since he was in middle school.

“You okay?” you hear Steve say, but it sounds too far away for you to realize he’s talking to you.

Robin nudges you with her shoulder to jog you from your stupor. You blink hard once and then turn to her with wide eyes. “What?”

“You doing alright over there?” the girl wonders.

“Yeah,” your answer is too quick and too high-pitched to be true. “Fine.”

“Like, fine as in you’re actually fine, or fine as in, if I leave you alone for too long, I’m gonna find you living under a bridge like a troll?”

You roll your eyes at her. “Fine as in, if someone bums me a cigarette, I’ll be good as new.”

Steve huffs when you hold out the palm of your hand toward him. He’s the only one of you who smokes recreationally enough to carry a lighter and pack of cigs with him. You swear he only keeps it with him because the weight of them makes him feel cool. You’re grateful for them now, though, and for the escape they unexpectedly provide you.

His fingers are warm when they brush your hand. The metal zippo he drops in the center of it is far colder and carries a comforting sort of weight to it. He thumbs a cigarette from the pack for you, and you take it with a sardonic smile and a sickly sweet “thank you, Stevie.”

Robin gets out of the booth to let you slide out of it.

The door chimes again, this time over your head when you open it.

Fresh, spring air nearly knocks you on your ass when it hits you for the first time. You realize then, that you’d forgotten to tell yourself to breathe and now your vision’s all swimmy. The cool breeze tries its hardest to quell your swelling anger, but you’re still at a simmering boil. Fists clenched over the lighter and cig duo in your palm and your sneakers slapping angrily against the cracked pavement.

That’s what signals your arrival, the raging stomps that echo in the alleyway Billy takes his smoke break in.

The boy takes a puff of his cigarette and smirks on the exhale at the sight of you. All he needs is one glance to see how angry he’s made you. It’s an innocent, childlike sort of rage that’s got you all scrunched face and red — a heartbroken girl on a war path.

“I knew you couldn’t resist me, sweetheart,” he taunts with his signature sarcastic smile. He holds his arms at his sides, like he’s waiting for some kind of embrace from you. “You used to be like that all the time — all over me, you know? Clingy.”

“You know what you used to be?” you ask him once you’ve planted yourself a few feet away from him, fists shaking at your sides in a nearly overwhelming mixture of rage and apprehension.

“What’s that?”

“Nice! You used to be nice! Or do you not remember that?” you wonder rhetorically. Your anger fades slowly, an ebbing tide, as a reminiscent sadness eclipses your fury — a flood of blue in all your red.

The sharp frown between your brows crumbles and so does your clenched jaw as your harsh features crumple like a balled-up piece of paper. You look upon the man that broke your heart with all the shattered pieces of it.

“You used to let me sleep over at your place when I was too scared to sleep alone at mine, and you’d bring me food when I told you I hadn’t eaten all day, and you’d take me on drives when you knew I hadn’t left my apartment in days,” you ramble in a single breath, gesticulating wildly with your hands — waving them at him and at you and the still air between. They fall hopelessly to your sides.

“You used to be so sweet, Billy…” you conclude with a wavering breath. Your chest trembles on the inhale as you straighten out your shoulders and lift your chin, trying your best not to look as defeated as you feel. “And you know what you are now?”

Billy grins that stupid grin at you, the one that almost looks kind. Almost. It’s still soft in all its insincerity, like a parent entertaining their kid that’s gone on some meaningless tangent.

“No, sweetheart,” he answers after a beat. “What am I?”

“Not nice.”

He scoffs out a laugh.

“You used to tell me, all the time, how scared you were about ending up like you’re dad—” he tenses at the mention of the man, of his own monster in his own closet. “—He’d beat you black and blue every night, and I’d bandage all your cuts and put makeup on you when you begged, so you could go out and pretend like everything was normal. And you know what? You’re just like him!”

Billy doesn’t cower when you walk closer to him. He’s got no reason to be afraid of you, but your words hit him in a place far deeper than a thousand bloodied fists.

“What he did to you, is exactly what you do to me… Or do you know see that?” you don’t wait for a sarcastic reply, mostly because you wouldn’t see the indicators of it through the tears that blur your vision. “You’re not punching me, but it feels like you are. You break me over and over and over and I have to pretend like everything’s just normal and that we—”

“Real mature of you. To bring out the dad-card,” he interjects, if only to stop your ramblings so that he might not have to hear the truth that comes with them.

“You used to he nice,” you repeat, you agonize, you deflate. “Or… Or did you never use to be?”

The shell of your mind answers for you, paints itself with all the memories you’ve been trying like hell to forget for the past six months. It’s easier to pretend the bad things aren’t real than unravel all the reasons why they were bad to begin with, you find.

The negative memories come together like renaissance paintings — dark and gloomy and blotted with too realistic tears and spatters of blood. The oil stains the backs of your eyelids, destined to remain there forever like paintings in museum that’ll stand the test of time if you nurse them well enough.

You hadn’t yet been able to forget the screams and the cracks of fists colliding with bone. They tend to keep you up at night, even when you squeeze your eyes shut and beg for your memory to be wiped away completely.

Billy crouches over Steve’s chest and pummels wholehearted punches to the boy’s face, never tiring in their force, even well after the boy goes limp underneath him. You beg for him to stop while trying like hell to shield Max from the sight of it all.

For a while, you’d blamed yourself for it — for Max being there in the first place and for Steve’s cuts and bruises.

You’d taken the girl and sought refuge in the Harrington home after witnessing a rather heated fight between Billy and his father. There was a sudden urge within you to take her far away from it before it ended how it always did — in weeping cuts and salty tears and insincere apologies when the cops were called.

But you made it worse anyway.

For Max, for Steve.

And you apologized profusely for it after, cried to the boy in his bathroom while you nursed his cuts like you were the one who put them there.

When he told you it wasn’t your fault, you didn’t believe him. Not until now. Not until you realized that Billy had always been angry — always raging with an ocean of fear and grief and violence.

When he fought with his sister, you thought it was normal, that that’s just what siblings did. But the way she cried to you after couldn’t have been normal. Neither could the unearthly fury that washed over Billy like a riptide when he found out you and Max had sought safety in Steve The Hair Harrington — angered that it was Steve and that he couldn’t be that for the both of you.

And then there was the fights. The yelling and screaming and crying fights that felt like the end of the world every single time. The kind of fights you shouldn’t be having when you’re eighteen. You thought that maybe there was some normalcy in the cheating and the secrecy and Billy’s accompanying assholery because that was all you’d ever known.

Or maybe because you had to tell yourself that was normal in relationships because you didn’t want your’s to end. Billy was the first guy to give a damn about you in ways that went beyond just sex. How were you supposed to just give that up?

But then there’s Eddie — Eddie The Freak Munson, who was really just sunshine wrapped up in leather jackets and wild hair and chunky rings and metal music. He makes you happy. The sort of happy that makes you suspicious because something bad has to counteract all the goodness he makes you feel.

Maybe that’s what this was.

Seeing Billy after having wrapped yourself in a blanket of Eddie’s warmth made you see somehow more clearly. He loves on you so much that it’s made a mockery of everything else.

Whatever you had with Billy wasn’t normal, it was a goddamn shit show. He loved you when it was convenient and then had you believing it was the real thing, that you wouldn’t find it anywhere else, when you tried to leave him.

It was a lie, all of it.

The realization makes you falter.

“Oh, god…” you sigh, voice fragile like cracking glass. “Maybe you never used to be…”

For the first time ever, you see Billy’s grin shake. The edges of it flitter, like he’s fighting to keep the corners quirked up. And his eyes have gone a lighter shade of blue, the way they always did when he blinked back angry tears as he talked about his father.

It isn’t rage glassing his eyes now. It’s something sadder, but still as real — something you never got from him in the two years you were together.

He tries, still, to cover it all up. He smacks his lips against his teeth, sympathetically. “Sorry it took you this long to figure that out.”

The laugh you exhale then is heavy with sadness. Your smile is far away and so is your gaze as you stumble back from him. You turn your head to the edge of the alley where mom’s with strollers and people in fancy suits bustle on the sidewalk and keep your eyes on the strangers that whiz by you’ll probably never see again.

“This is… This is pointless,” you murmur. His lean form is blurry through the burning tears you blink away. “Every time I see you, it’s just more bullshit so let’s just— let’s just leave each other alone, okay?”

Billy takes a puff from his cigarette. When he sighs, white smoke billows from his plump, pink lips. “That’s a shame… I was just thinking that you were the most interesting you’d ever been.”

The ebbing tide that had just left you rushes back in a bubbling scarlet wave. His words don’t make you sad anymore, they just make you angry all over again because you know you don’t deserve them. And you’re not entirely sure why he’s chosen you to antagonize out of all the other girls who’d made the mistake of falling for him, but you’re too far past the point of not caring to ask.

“Bother me again and I tell Chief Hopper,” you threaten even though you don’t feel very threatening just now. “I know you’re not scared of me, but you’d be stupid to be scared of him.”

“Why’s that?” he wonders before sticking the half-gone stick between his lips again.

“Because he runs Hawkins. And he fucking hates you—” for what you did to me, you almost say. You swallow the words down like bile before they have the chance to spew out. “And… And be nice to Vicki. Okay? She’s too good for you. Don’t do to her what you did to me.”

Your plea for another is the last thing you say to Billy before you turn away from him. You wouldn’t be upset if it was the last thing you ever said to him. You’re grateful for the resounding silence that follows. It’s nothing but the sound of your receding footsteps and the soles of his shoes scrapping the concrete as he snuffs out his cigarette.

There is no snarky remark or insincere plea — just two people who used to love each other that have no idea to exist together anymore.

When you step outside the brick confines of the alleyway, you feel as though a fraying string that had always connected the both of you had been finally cut.

It allows you to take a deep breath in for the first time in months. A lungful of fresh air that cleanses you, body and mind.

And when you catch Steve and Robin idling at the corner and doing a terrible job of pretending like they hadn’t just been eavesdropping, you don’t get upset or angry with them — you don’t feel much of anything, really.

You just hand the boy his lighter and unused cigarette and let them comfort you on the drive back to your apartment.

A misery sandwich. That’s what Robin calls the three of you and the heaping pile you lay in.

Your queen-sized bed is in no way meant to accomodate three moderately sized adults, but you make it work anyway, like you always do.

Steve lays on his back, legs crossed and hands tucked under his head. Robin is on her stomach on the other end of the mattress, arms wrapped around the pillow she smushes the side of her face into. You lay between the both of them — on the both of them. Sprawled out sideways, you’ve got your head on propped up on Steve’s ribcage and your legs thrown over Robin’s thighs.

The awkward position is the most comfortable you’ve ever been.

“I can’t believe that asshole had the nerve to show up to the diner on our day,” the boy rants. “And then sit in our booth, I mean— who does he think he is?”

Robin’s response is mostly muffled by the pillow. “I thought he left, like, forever ago.”

“Maybe he just couldn’t stay away. It’s Hawkins, shit attracts shit, right?” Steve answers with a shrug that jostles your head slightly. It doesn’t little to knock you from your stupor, though, where you’ve been stuck for the better part of the day. You pick at the skin around your nails with little regard for how red and raging it's gone.

He notices this and thumps you on your temple — hard enough for you to feel it, gentle enough that it doesn’t hurt you.

You turn your chin to your shoulder to look over at him. He tilts his own head to stare down at you, honey-tinted gaze somehow stern and soft at the same time. “If he bothers you again, I’ll kill him.”

You’re instantly warmed by his protective disposition. You know that he cares about you, even though you like to joke that he doesn’t. Steve hurt you once, made a promise to himself to make it up to you, and then just never left you alone.

You’re grateful for it.

You’re not sure who’d be the butt of every joke if he wasn’t around.

“Good to know,” you answer, nodding against his side and trying to hide the smile he gives you. You fail. “You think if he breaks your nose again, it’ll pop back into place?”

His face falls. “You’re real sweet, you know that?”

You open your mouth to respond, something along the lines of “I’m always sweet. You of all people should know that, Stevie,” before a knock sounds at the front door. It comes in the several rhythmic raps that Eddie is known to give when he’s got a tune stuck in his head.

Apparently now, it’s the chorus to “Why Can’t This Be Love?” The Van Halen song he said he couldn’t stand before you.

Robin huffs at the sound of the muffled taps. She frowns like a child. “Who the hell…?”

“It’s just Eddie,” you affirm through a half-hearted grunt as you rise from your comfy position.

That brightens the two of them up almost immediately. Her and Steve share a look you can’t place as they grin at one another. Then they turn back to you with identical mischievous twinkles in their eyes. “Your boyfriend is here,” the former of the two singsongs.

You roll your eyes, but make no move to correct her.

When you stand from the bed and make the short journey towards the door, you hear the patter of their feet following close behind you.

“Gonna go all the way tonight?” Steve teases and jabs you on the shoulder. “Do you want us to leave?”

“No, nothing is happening. And yes, I think you should leave,” you monotone playfully.

Robin rushes past you suddenly and grabs the brass door handle before you’re able. She swings it open without thinking twice about it. Her sudden appearance, coupled with the fact that it isn’t you, startles the man on the other side of the door.

Eddie’s umber eyes go wide, brows raising and disappearing beneath his fluffy bangs, as his head jerks back.

“Eddie Munson,” the girl full-names the stranger she’s never spoken a word to before now. She leans against the doorway and effectively blocks the boy’s view of you. Steve, who squeezes himself in beside her, doesn’t make it any easier. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“You too, Buckley…” he wavers, trying to peer past them for any sight of you.

“Perfect timing, Eds,” you call out from behind them. “They were just about to leave.”

He’s relieved at the sound of your voice — even more so at your appearance when the two in front of you step off to the side to toe on their sneakers.

You don’t look much different than when he saw you last. You’ve put on some makeup that’s started to smudge after the long day and changed your baggy sweatshirt for a more fitted tank top and boxers, but other than that you’re still the same. Still familiar and comforting in your way, a home away from home.

His smile is a tired one and it wobbles at the edges. “Oh, shit, am I— am I interrupting something?”

“No,” you’re quick to reassure him. “You’re saving me, actually.”

“Oh, give me a break,” Steve scoffs. “You love us.”

The boy pulls you into a hug before he leaves, and it’s not the rarest thing in the world, but embraces like this do tend to be few and far between. He whispers “use protection” in your ear and then a sharp “ow!” when you jab him in the ribs.

He and Robin smile kindly at Eddie when they walk by him and out the door, but waste barely a second before turning back around and grinning wildly at you. Steve flashes you a thumbs up while she mouths a cartoonish ‘good luck’ — like it’s the first time you and Eddie had ever been alone together. Like they were just on your ass about having been with him this whole time.

You usher Eddie and shut the door behind them. A quiet sort of peace settles on the apartment like a weighted blanket. The boy revels in every bit of its warmth.

Exhaustion drips from him like syrup. He’s sticky with it. His eyes have lost their usual twinkle, weighed down now with the burden of his fatigue. His face has lost most of its color, leaving a pale sheath of monotoned skin, and his hair is wilder than normal, with an unintentional sort of ruggedness to his curls.

It’s what being without you has done to him.

“You okay?” you ask him softly. It almost makes him want to cry.

“Yeah,” he answers anyway and idles in the spot where your kitchen meets your living room. “Just had a pretty shitty day. Wanted to spend time with you.”

“Me too… About the wanting to spend time with you part— and the shitty day part, too, I guess.”

Eddie smiles at your rambling, but purses it to the side to conceal it from you. “And since it is just about our…” he trails off and bends his elbow to check the watch on his wrist. “…Twelve hour anniversary, I picked us up some takeout.”

He sets the plastic bag on the counter. The red logo of Oriental Jade on the side of it makes your stomach roll with a distant hunger. You hadn’t realized how starved you were feeling after you abandoned your early dinner at Benny’s. It makes you more grateful for Eddie, who always seems to be on the same wavelength as you without even trying.

“Keep this up and we’ll be married before we hit hour twenty-four,” you joke as you rifle through the cartons — chow mein, sweet and sour chicken, dumplings, the works.

Eddie settles in next to you, propping his elbows on the countertop. “Well, I’m pretty sure the courthouse opens at nine, so… What were you thinking for the honeymoon? Hawaii? Bora Bora?”

“How about a cabin in the woods where no one can find us?”

“Hmm… Spooky. Sexy. I’m into it.”

You settle in the living room and eat on the couch while She Ra re-runs play on the television. You try to teach Eddie how to use chopsticks, though he can only work them with his non-dominant hand and all the wrong finger placements. You think it’s cute to watch him fumble with them, and you giggle about it until you’re scolding him for trying to feed Bowie some noodles. He laughs as you swat at him.

When all the containers are fully scrapped clean and tossed in the recycling bin, you migrate to the bedroom — which is perhaps too raunchy a phrase to use when the two of you only bury yourselves under the covers to talk shit.

Eddie drags out the chunky box fan you use when the air conditioner goes out in the summer — because it always goes out in the summer — and props it on the chest at the foot of your bed so the covers will billow around the both of you. “And it’s perfect because we can stay in the fort forever and not get hot,” he tells you, all giddy about it like he's a kid again.

“What if I get cold?” you retort.

Without missing a beat, he answers, “Well, lucky enough for you, I know several ways I can warm you up, sweetheart.”

He ditches his leather jacket and strips down to his boxers and settles in beside you underneath the blankets. The two of you lay shoulder to shoulder while you trace absentminded patterns on the palm of his hand and tell him about your day.

You make sure to leave out all the re-traumatizing-Billy-Hargrove bits, though. You focus mainly on the tense drive with Hopper and the small fight you’d had with Steve on the drive to the diner later that afternoon about the lyrics to Love My Way (both of you had been wrong).

Eddie tries his hardest to focus on your story and your fleeting touches, but he’s too far in his own head. You tell him all these things but he can’t stop thinking about himself — about whether or not you might’ve brought him up somewhere in between.

He wouldn’t have blamed you, if you had. Steve and Robin are your closest friends and, for whatever reason, so is Chief Hopper, you’re bound to bring him up eventually. He was just hoping it would’ve been in a better capacity. Maybe about how kind he was or what a god he was in bed — not how he could only be one of those things because he’d never been anything in bed.

“It doesn’t make things weird between us, does it?” he wonders out of the blue.

You halt mid-sentence and turn to him with furrowed brows. “What?”

Eddie realizes then, that the first half of the conversation with you had only happened in his head. He prays that it’s too dark beneath the covers for you to see how red his cheeks get. “Just… What we talked about this morning. About me… you know…” He finds it hard to say the words. Or any of them at all.

“Why would it make things weird?”

“I don’t know. Because I wasn’t… totally honest with you, I guess? I feel a little bad about it, you know?”

“It’s okay,” you assure and turn on your side to be closer to him. Eddie stays on his back, more than happy to let you cuddle further into him. “I guess I do wish you’d said something before, though.”

His chest tightens. “I’m sorry. I just… I didn’t know how to—”

“I’m not saying it to make you feel bad!” you interject quickly when you catch the spiral of regret he was about to twist himself into. You curl tighter into his side, tossing a leg over his thigh and wrapping your hand around his bicep in an effort to melt with him. When he turns to face you, your noses nearly brush.

“That’s not how I meant it. I just meant that, if I’d known before, I wouldn’t have… I would’ve taken things slower. I wouldn’t have been so, you know, so all over you.”

He hates how apologetic you sound. Like there was ever an ounce of him that would want to take back what happened that night at his trailer or a part of him that might hate how much you love on him.

“I liked it. I do like it.”

“Maybe we can just start over,” you offer. “Pretend like none of that ever happened.”

Eddie knows there’s no way in hell he’ll be able to forget about a single damn thing — not his cum stained jeans and how you looked so pretty washing them for him, not the feel of your tits in his mouth or you wrapped around his fingers, not how you made him blow his load all over his fist just by talking to him.

He goes along with it anyway, though, just for you.

“Okay...” he nods slowly, then squints over at you. “You’re still my girlfriend, though, right?”

“Of course I am,” you giggle.

He grins proudly to himself. “Well then… Hope it’s not too early to have our first kiss then?”

It makes you roll your eyes because it’s such an Eddie Munson way of asking to kiss you. You told him earlier the day that he never had to ask you — in fact, you’d prefer it if he’d just kiss you out of the blue and take your breath away without you ever knowing it was coming. But there was something foreign and sweet in his little reassurances.

“Kiss me silly, Eddie Spaghetti,” you beam. He twists on his side to press tiny pecks to your smile.

It’s rather strange, you find, to kiss someone this way without the intention of it ever becoming something more. You kiss him just to kiss him — just to map the outline of his cupid’s bow and memorize the pattern of his tongue. Just to feel him, as much of him as your mouth will allow you to.

With one arm curled under his head and the other cradling your jaw, when his watch alarms — high-pitched beepbeepbeeps in quick succession — it’s sudden and close to your ear.

Your lips click in protest when they part. His are pink and swollen and glossy with your spit. He smiles with them. “Happy twelve hour anniversary, sweetheart.”

“How long are you gonna make that stupid joke?” you laugh like your heart isn’t swelling so much you’re scared it might burst entirely.

“Uh, I was thinking… forever. Yeah. That sounds about right,” he concludes after a moment of feigned thought. He turns his watch off again and you swear you see him set for another twelve hours from now.

“Forever?” you echo.

“Uh-huh. Forever—” he presses his lips to yours once. “—And ever—” Twice. “—And ever.”

Eddie kisses you until you’re flat on your back and surrendering to each of his tiny little pecks. You twist your hands in his hair and let him love on you a little while more. You giggle when his mouth trails from your lips to your chin to your jaw to your neck. Please don’t get bored of me, you beg silently within your laughter.

I don’t think I could even if I wanted to, he answers with each kiss his sprinkles to your starved skin. How could I, when you’re the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me?

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things #eddie munson fic #virgin!eddie munson x reader #virgin!eddie munson

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comfortless · 1 month

Note

If it's not too much trouble or boring to write, may I ask for more König taking care of sick reader? Thanks :)

(The anon that asked for the other sickfic and that is sick again 🥲)

König brings you breakfast. Tries, at least. There was an attempt made to ensure that the plate of hastily thrown together food and the big mug of lemon tea look nice together. Warm bread and your favorite jam, butchered on the plate with the butter running off to the other side of it entirely. He’s not a chef, and breakfast isn’t quite his forte; König much prefers you cooking in the mornings and the lazy way he can drape himself over you as you do so.

But… you’re ill and look so somber and adorable tucked into bed, wearing one of his shirts and hardly able to keep your eyes open when you’re presented with food. To think this poor little angel would have to suffer so… He momentarily sets everything aside, tells you in a quiet tone of voice that everything around the house has already been handled, so all you need to do is focus on taking care of yourself. No. Actually, he can help you with that too.

Despite any protests, you find yourself seated in his lap, one large hand gently caressing your cheek as a digit prods at your lips. There’s an expectation of compliance. He knows what’s best, or, has himself convinced that he does.

“You have to eat,” he chides, bringing the bread right up to your mouth. Apple butter for the first bite, some other sticky confection on the next. And as frustrating as it might be when all you would like to do is curl back into bed and nurse your aching head with the comfort of a cool pillow, König does not let up until every crumb on the plate has been cleared.

There’s a dollop of jam smattered across your bottom lip from being hand-fed like a disobedient pet. Then, a warm tongue grazing over it and a mouth leaving a trail of kisses up to the peak of your warm cheek. “Messy little thing,” he huffs against your temple. “And your tea..?”

Thankfully, he doesn’t try to scald your mouth feeding you that, too. His hands find your hair instead, then massage at the nape of your neck as you sip away at the bitter drink. There’s a rumble in his chest as he tries to soothe you, humming a song his Oma used to sing to him as a boy until your eyes shut and you relax against his chest in sleep.

If or… when you do try to leave the bedroom, you’re met with a horribly doting brute. He isn’t entirely sure what else he can do to console you. He isn’t one to sit about on his phone for hours on end, but his search history is assuredly a mess by now. You’re not given the chance to walk even a foot past the threshold of your shared room before you’re picked up and toted about like a bride on her wedding day with no warning.

Medicine is pressed into your mouth by his hand while you’re sat on the countertop, trying to assure your weary, giant nurse that you’re fine. He could stand to relax a bit. König is nothing short of a tense, anxious nightmare when he’s worried about something, especially something as important as you. It’s no surprise when you find yourself lying back on the couch with his face buried into your chest as you stroke at the top of his head, the overgrown buzzcut prickling the tips of your fingers. He smiles in his sleep, babbles something like a wish as his hands twitch to squeeze at your sides.

“Just… stay right here.”

#never a bore! i love writing silly soft fluffy Kö #anything to try and cheer up the lil wisp in my phone screen heheh #i hope that you are okay! i will send you all of the love and light in the world hand feed it to you too if i must!#until then i hope you’re resting up and drinking lots of water!

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charliedawn · 10 months

Note

Hi! Can I request how the Slashers will react to their favorite nurse having an engagement ring on her? And they actually fell in love with her. (Also, can you add Five please 🥲, he's very much my comfort character.)

Five Hargreeves :

Five was the first to know.

He knew just by looking at you. The way you almost glowed and were smiling from ear to ear all week made him suspicious. And then, the coup de grace…The ring. He was sitting at his own private bar when you joined him and his eyes were immediately drawn to the shiny ring. Suddenly, everything clicked and he stared at the drink in his hand…his hand shaking slightly.

"…So, you found someone ?"

He was happy for you, or at least he tried to convince himself he was.

He wished you would say no. He wished you would realise how much you meant to him at that exact moment…but you didn’t.

Your smile almost burnt him when you answered affirmatively. He took a big gulp of his whiskey—savouring the burn. He knew it was impossible. You were a nurse. And he was…just a kid. You would have never seen him as anything else. And it made him rage against himself for even entertaining the idea you would ever consider a future with him. Physically, he was too young. And mentally ? He was too old…You would have never worked.

So, he smiled and raised his glass to you.

"Congratulations, Y/N. You deserve it."

Once you were out of the room, that glass went flying across the room to end up shattered against a wall…shattered like Five was.

Jack Torrance :

Jack is good at hiding his emotions—even from himself. He had spent weeks wondering if he should ask you out on a date. He had spent his time thinking and planning and rehearsing what he would say and do. He thought it would be his moment to shine and leave all the bad shit behind…But then, he saw the ring.

"Hey. That’s a…That’s a nice ring you got there."

He smiled and said he was happy for you. And you believed it. Of course you did. Because, he was a good comedian. The best. He had learnt to just drown his emotions when he died, because if he was to feel anything…He’d lose himself. He had to suffer the loss of his family, his career, his life…What was one more loss to the lot ?

However, once you were out of the room ? He lowered his glass and his shoulders shook as he gripped the glass tightly in his hand to breaking point…He was too late. Again.

"Damn it…"

That was Jack’s true reaction to the news. He was disappointed for sure. He knew he should have acted before…But, what was the point ?

What would you have done with the ghost of a past long forgotten ?

He just started drinking again and chuckled bitterly at his own misery. He had wished for a better end, but that end had just slipped through his fingers like a dream…He would maybe write about it later ? But, what was the point ? He could write his feelings, but you’d never read them.

Pennywise :

You were at the dinner table and when Pennywise sat in front of you, he could feel that something was different. The other slashers were strangely quiet, so of course he’d have to ask.

"Why is everyone so quiet ?! Please. Tell me someone died !" He snickered, but nobody answered. Finally, he looked at you and tried to find the reason for the sudden silence…You then showed him your ring.

"Pennywise. I am engaged.", you announced with a smile. His own smile dropped.

He knew perfectly well what engagement meant. He understood now why all the others were so quiet. He could read their emotions. All of them were disappointed…He just didn’t know why until you had shown the ring…

"…Congrats."

"…Thanks."

That was the most awkward congratulations you had ever heard. He glanced back at your hand. Even though he had tried to sound genuine, he couldn’t bring himself to smile again. It was the first time you had seen Pennywise so serious.

He then decided to avoid you. You didn’t understand why, but he simply vanished. He didn’t even show up at meals anymore…

When something upsets Pennywise, he tends to avoid it. So, he decided to avoid you. He knew it was a childish and nonsensical reaction to the news…But, he couldn’t being himself to care. Because, he understood perfectly the feelings of the other slashers.

He never thought he would have to deal with emotions again…But, it seemed like he was wrong.

Michael Myers :

Michael stayed silent. He had nothing to say…

Well, he normally doesn’t say much, but this time you could actually feel the awkwardness in the room. He knew he didn’t have the right to dream…but, he still did. You were the only one who truly understood him and that Myers had ever spared. He wanted you to love him. But, it didn’t matter at the end…

He wrote down on his notebook:

Congratulations.

Even you could feel that he didn’t mean it, but you didn’t comment on it. However, he didn’t expect it when you removed his mask and stared at his face—studying his features. He wasn’t smiling. His teeth were clenched and his eyes were dark.

"…Michael.", you muttered softly and raised your hand to stroke his cheek…but he grabbed it before you could.

"Don’t."

He could see the pity in your eyes and it hurt more than anything. He then retrieved his mask and walked away. He couldn’t pretend to be happy about the news. And now, you knew about his feelings too.

Bo Sinclair :

Bo was working on a car when he asked you to hand him a tool. When you did, his eyes caught the ring around your finger and he suddenly forgot all about the tool. He grabbed your arm and stared at the offensive jewel in frightening silence.

"…Bo ?", you called him after a while.

When he saw you with that ring, it made him tick and realise that you had a life outside of the hospital—one he had no idea about. And it made him mad. You had never seen him so quiet before and he didn’t answer. He finally released your arm and left without a word. After that, you had trouble catching him and when you eventually did ? His reaction wasn’t the one you expected.

"…Whatya want from me, Y/N ?! A congrats and pat on the fuckin’ back ?! Alright. Congrats ! And hope you have a great life with yer fucker !"

He took out his frustration on you. Bo usually handles his emotions with his fists and his words. But, of course he wouldn’t come to hands with you. So, he’d either ignore you or be harsh with his words. Or, he’d go out to a bar and start a fight. Anything but confront you about his feelings and confess that he was jealous.

Jason Voorhees :

Jason was angry. The moment he saw the ring on your finger, he knew what it meant. His mother had carried hers for years and he had inherited it. He thought you’d be the one carrying his ring, but it seemed he had waited too long. His reaction would first be denial before he would suddenly break everything in his path and try to start a fight with anyone he’d come across. Jason doesn’t handle emotions very well and most often than not, he’d break things in order to let his frustration out.

He spent hours in the forest chopping wood and no one dared come to check on him—except you.

"Jason…?"

He didn’t answer, but he was there. You could hear him breathing and you sighed before sitting on a log. You waited for him and soon enough, he sat down next to you and you noticed how his whole body seemed tense.

"Jason…It’s not because I am engaged that I will forget about you, you know that right ?"

He still didn’t answer. He was doing his best to remain calm and when you moved to touch his shoulder—he recoiled from your touch. It was the first time Jason was reacting this way with you. And what he did next made your eyes widen in shock. He retrieved his mother’s ring from his pocket and wordless put it in your hand.

By the time you understood what he meant to say, he was already gone.

Freddy Krueger :

"~How sweet…"

He gave you the best fake smile he could muster before turning around and leaving. Truth is ? Freddy was the less angry out of all the slashers. He doesn’t believe in marriage or engagement or anything…The only problem he had with you being engaged was that he had lost his chance getting into your pants. Or, that’s the reason he’d give to anyone who would ask. Because of course you’d be faithful. You were the only person in the hospital who ever gave a shit about him.

You were kind and honest and fuckin’ perfect. So, of course Freddy didn’t stand a chance in hell. You were the complete opposite of him. You were an angel and Freddy was a demon. And that made him love you and hate you even more. It hurt…But, it didn’t matter. Because, he was already broken to begin with.

Norman Bates :

He thought he had a chance, but the moment he saw the ring…something snapped in Norman. It started with a twitch of his jaw and suddenly, his smile was gone. There was nothing left in his gaze than an intense emptiness—a void which seemed to swallow you whole. He took a step forward and for the first time…You were scared of him.

There was something murderous in his eyes—something dark.

When he leant forward, your heart hammered in your chest, but he simply smiled knowingly before kissing your cheek.

"Congratulations, my little angel."

There was not a single word in that sentence that he truly meant, and you both knew it all too well. But, you smiled and tried to hold back the tears. You left and Norman was left with his regrets.

Penny :

"Why ?"

You turned around to face Penny. He was the last one. He didn’t understand, but his expression changed to cold numbness as he repeated.

"Why, Y/N ? You know how we all feel about you…That ring. You knew what that ring would do to us…So, why ? Why hurt us like this ?"

You had always suspected Penny to be smarter than he pretended to be…but you didn’t think he would be the first one to figure it out. Your expression softened as you tried not to cry.

"I’m sorry, Penny. Turns out I wasn’t as special as you all thought I was…"

It was simpler this way…It was better than to admit that you were scared. You thought you were past the fear…but, it seemed not. There was still a fear to be conquered. You had grown too attached to the slashers. And of course you knew how they felt about you, but so did you. You felt so strongly…but, you couldn’t do anything about it.

You were human. And you still had a life outside of the hospital. They couldn’t understand…but, you hoped that with time they’d understand. You only had one life, and you couldn’t give them false hope. You couldn’t be with them forever, and that ring was a reminder. Not only for them, but for you as well.

Penny snarled and grabbed the hand where the ring was to glare at it. He hated it. He didn’t want to see you belonging to someone else than him…It affected him more than he cared to admit.

Suddenly, he wrapped his hand around your ring finger and you suddenly felt a sharp pain. He released you, but then you heard a series of metallic sounds hitting the floor. When you looked down, your eyes widened as you saw your ring—shattered in pieces.

You looked back up at him, but he was gone.

The message was clear though.

He would never accept it…

#fandoms #imagine #fanfic #pennywise 2017 #pennywise 1990 #slashers #pennywise x reader #michael myers x reader #freddy krueger x reader #jason voorhees x reader #five hargreeves x reader #jack torrance x reader #norman bates x reader #bo sinclair x reader

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gimmethatagustd · 7 months

Note

okay I’m here like two business days later with that request because my adhd brain forgot about it lmao

GHOSTFACE!! YOONGI!! I added the picture of yoongi because I had a very ~specific~ yoongi look in mind when thinking of this loll. I’m thinking Halloween party vibes?? or any other way that a costume would make sense. idk I’m making this request late at night so my brain is half turned off. I’m kind of letting you take the reins here and make it as spooky as you feel comfortable with. like I said I’d love to see your take on this because I love your mind <3

You've had your eyes set on Yoongi for as long as you can remember. What you didn't know is that he's had his eyes on you, too.

↳ pairing: yoongi x f!reader

↳ wc/date: 1.4k | October 2023

↳ warnings: dubcon, knife play, blood play, yandere vibes, mc is afraid but also turned on, mc is confused and so am i, slut shaming, humiliation, lowkey gaslighting/victim-blaming, a toxic relationship at the least, vaginal fingering, open ending, i wrote this half asleep and without editing

↳ notes: i have no idea what the fuck this is 🥲 pls forgive me. idk how this happened

↳ masterlist / taglist

↳ what was jai listening to? freak - sub urban ft. rei ami

Halloween 2023 Masterlist

Clink. Clink. Clink.

The wind kicks dry leaves across the sidewalk, swirling them around your feet. Twisting your torso around, you glance over your shoulder as you walk. One of your red stiletto heels falls in the crack between the slabs of concrete. Pain blooms in your ankle when you wobble. The sound of you sucking a breath through your clenched teeth is the only thing disrupting the still, crisp autumn air.

Until you hear it again.

Clink. Clink. Clink.

It sounds like metal on metal, perhaps the jingle of keys or buckles knocking into each other as someone walks.

Alcohol warms your cheeks and chest despite how revealing your red corset and miniskirt are. Still, you know that the sound following you ever since you left Jungkook’s Halloween party is real and not some alcohol-induced paranoia from walking home alone at two in the morning on Halloween.

Jungkook hadn’t wanted you to walk, but finding an Uber so late at night would be impossible, and everyone else at the party had been too drunk to drive you home.

Two blocks isn’t much at all.

Clink. Clink. Clink.

The sidewalk is empty when you twist around and try not to trip again. Streetlights cast shadows across the grass that could be people. Or animals. Or monsters. Creatures of the night.

Taking a deep breath, you quickly unlock the gate that opens to wooden stairs leading to the backdoor of your apartment on the second floor. You rush up the stairs as quickly as you can in the stupid heels your best friend convinced you to wear because they’re sexy, and you both thought they might help you catch the eye of a certain boy.

It wasn’t worth the trouble, though. The certain boy barely looked your way.

For a second too long, you stall, fumbling with your keys to find the one that will unlock your backdoor. Your fingers feel numb from the cold, and your reflexes are dulled by whatever was in the punch Hoseok made. Perhaps that’s why you don’t know what looms behind you until its body has yours pressed against your door.

Sticking your hands out, you try to stop yourself from hitting your face. It works, but now your arms are trapped between your body and the door. Your keys fall with a hollow thud, and for a heartbeat, the world is silent, like every creature in existence is holding its breath.

Every creature except for the one crowding you against the door. It breathes, hot and heavy, against the shell of your ear, scattering goosebumps across your skin. You’re burning up from its body heat, the creature big and firmly pressed against every inch of you.

But what makes your knees tremble isn’t the oppressive force of this thing sticking to you like a second skin. It’s the clink and then something cool and sharp pressed against your throat.

You can’t swallow down your nerves without fear of your throat bobbing against what you guess is a large knife.

“Are you scared?” a voice whispers. Soft lips brush the tip of your ear. Then a nose, buttoned and cold, drags along the side of your neck. “You’re being such a good girl, didn’t even scream.”

Fear clutches your heart, but that voice strokes a fire in your core. It’s sick how you shiver against the man’s chest because you know it isn’t only because you’re scared of him.

“You’re not funny, Yoongi,” you say with a shaky breath and do your best not to move too much when you talk.

Yoongi chuckles into your shoulder, where he’s nuzzled his face. “I wasn’t trying to be funny.”

The knife glides down your throat at the point with not enough pressure to break the skin but just enough for it to feel uncomfortable.

“Are you gonna let me in?”

It’s not a real knife. Yoongi is your friend; he wouldn’t threaten you. Or, at least, you think he’s your friend. He’d ignored you all night, though.

“Did you seriously follow me all the way here at two in the morning just to scare me?” You elbow him out of the way so you can bend down to retrieve your keys.

“Yeah,” Yoongi admits with a gummy smile.

Inside your apartment, you can get a better look at him. His costume is just his regular clothes with a Ghostface mask, though he isn’t wearing the mask anymore. It’s tied to one of his belt loops. The side bumps against the metal of his belt when he walks.

Clink. Clink. Clink.

“You’re ridiculous.”

Yoongi’s grin grows. “Jungkook didn’t want you walking by yourself.”

“Then why didn’t you walk with me instead of following me around like a creep?”

You kick off your heels and take ginger steps toward the kitchen, the balls of your feet throbbing. Out of the corner of your eye, Yoongi shrugs. His pretty black hair falls against his shoulders and curls into his eyelashes when he tilts his head to watch you.

“You knew I was there,” he doesn’t ask, just smiles when you roll your eyes.

Catching your wrist, Yoongi stops you from crossing the living room to the kitchen. His grip on you is bruising when he yanks you into his chest. It’s claustrophobic and makes your stomach churn when you twist your wrist, and Yoongi doesn’t let go.

“I’m thirsty.” Your voice comes out as a whisper, can’t manage to get any louder. “Let me go.”

“Interesting,” Yoongi murmurs. “I’m thirsty, too.”

You follow his eyes when he drops his chin to peer between your bodies. At the same time, you feel the cool edge of the knife drag up your thigh. The tip eventually catches on the edge of your miniskirt. In one swift motion, Yoongi flicks the knife up and cuts through the thin, stretchy fabric. A thin line of blood sprouts from the shallow cut his knife makes up the inside of your thigh.

“Oh my god,” you whimper, watching little dribbles of blood trickle down your leg. Heat spreads from the cut across your thigh and unfurls in your stomach.

The dim lighting of your living room reflects in warm tones within Yoongi’s dark irises. Squeezing your wrist even tighter, he walks you backward until your legs hit the edge of your couch.

“You liked it,” Yoongi points out with a tut of his tongue, his tone condescending and judgemental. The shame it stirs in your chest makes it hard for you to breathe. “Let me press you up against the door. Mark you up with this,” he twirls the knife around, making a show of how loosely he grasps it.

“Yoongi.”

Yoongi brings the knife to your lips to silence you. The tip glistens with your blood.

“Keep quiet like a good girl for me, okay, sweetheart?” Yoongi kneels on the couch in between your spread legs. The position forces your ruined skirt higher up your thighs, exposing your sheer red thong.

You watch in amazement as Yoongi drags the tip of his knife up your inner thigh until he reaches the edge of your thong. Lightly, he drags the tip along your clothed pussy. It doesn’t cut you, but you can’t stop shaking because it could, and you don't know what that would mean for you if you admitted that you kind of want it to.

“Why are you–”

“Shhh, don’t play so innocent,” Yoongi murmurs. He leans forward to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “You dressed up so pretty for me. Look so good in red; I wanted to see more of it on you.”

The knife presses against the crease of your inner thigh and slices upward, giving you another shallow cut while cutting you loose from your thong.

You moan when Yoongi drags his cold fingers along your folds, dig your nails into his forearm when he plunges two fingers into your pussy and makes your muscles flutter.

“So wet for me, fuck, you’re such a slut,” Yoongi moans as your pussy greedily sucks in his fingers despite the press of the bloodied blade against your throat.

"Yoongi, please," you buck into his hand, urging him to fuck you faster. Your thighs sting from the cuts, and your legs are wet with little streams of blood, but you've never felt so close to an orgasm so quickly in your life.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll take good care of you.”

Halloween 2023 Masterlist

do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my work

#jai asks #souryoong #yoongi x reader #bts fanfic #yoongi fanfic #yoongi angst #yoongi smut #bts angst #bts smut #jai writes #gimmethatagustd #ash!#halloween 2023 #ghostface killers

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the-moon-lullaby · 1 year

Note

Could you do headcanons of how the boys spend their morning after their first time with candy in episode 40

How the HSL Boys spend their morning/day with Candy after episode 40

𝙽𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚎𝚕 :

He probably already considered the option of Candy staying the next day after spending the night

Which is why he did some groceries the day before and that there’s some sweet snacks in his kitchen

(and he didn’t buy them for himself as you could've assumed)

He’d bring her breakfast in bed

He’s a bit awkward and wouldn’t really know what to talk about because it’s the first time he finds himself in a situation like this

But the feeling would quickly fades since that he feels even closer and comfortable around Candy than before (I mean it make sense after the night they spent)

So they’d just enjoy a little breakfast together

Nothing too fancy but the vibe is chill and nice

Afterwards he’ll probably would want to take a shower

and if Candy wants to, she’s free to join (after all it saves water)

He’d probably do a little checkup on Candy while they’re showering and ask her if she feels sore or anything (and if that’s the case, he’d be happy to offer a little massage under the steaming water)

Then he’d ask whether she wants to go outside or if she wants to stay inside

If they’re staying home, they’d probably spend the afternoon in Nath’s bed while he reads her one of his favourite book

I can see them writing little notes in it while they do that and now each time Nathaniel picks up this book there’s a little reminder of this moment (so cute)

When Candy has to leave, he’ll walk her home and while they’re heading there, they’d already be planning their next date (since that they’re free of school now, Nathaniel clearly intend to use these holidays to spend even more quality time with Candy)

Honestly, there is kind of a domestic vibe here and I live for it

𝙲𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚕 :

Okay so we know that my boy was up for a second round but he’s no fool

He knows that Candy might be a little sore after the night they spent together so he was probably joking around (at least for now)

Yet he wouldn’t let her get out of the bed so soon and would hold her close, wanting to make this peaceful feeling last as much as he can

I think he’d finally allow himself to be more vulnerable (it’s about damn time) by letting Candy play with his hair and he wouldn’t bother trying to hide his loving stare or blushing face that matches his hair

He’s not the best with love confessions and all(which is why he wrote her a song instead of directly telling her about how he felt, as we already know) so he tries to show how much the moment they shared last night means to him through his attitude

At some point they’d have to get up to take Demon on his little morning walk. So they would go together

They’d probably stop by on the way back to get a little something to eat (because Castiel spend his whole day before cleaning the apartment for Candy’s visit and ended up forgetting to buy something for breakfast 🥲)

Afterwards they’d either go back to bed if Candy is still a bit tired or they’ll go shower (no matter what, that’s probably when the second round really begins)

Then, they’d spent the rest of the day hanging out in Castiel’s apartment

If it’s a sunny day, they’d go on his little terrasse enjoying the warmth and each other’s company while taking turn to throw a ball to Demon

Or if the weather isn’t that good or if they just feel like staying inside, Castiel would probably play some guitar for Candy

(she’d probably ask him to sing the song he wrote for her once again and he’d pretended to be annoyed but he’ll gladly do it)

𝙻𝚢𝚜𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 :

I believe he’s an early bird so he was probably the first one awake (I know that’s not how it happens in the episode but idc)

Wouldn’t get out of bed though because he doesn’t want to wake Candy (she needs to rest after all because well, the night was short)

As he feels that she’s waking up he’ll just caress her hair and kiss her forehead

Not much would be said but his caresses and kisses here and there as they’re laying next to each other speak a thousand word

He’d make Candy feel so loved and special

The kind of feeling that makes you ask yourself if you’re still dreaming (this man, I am melting)

They’d probably have to get up and get ready after a while because I assume that Leigh would like to come home at some point

I have this headcanon that Lysander, when not at school, prepares his and his brother’s lunch so when Leigh comes home for his lunch break, everything is already ready and Lysander can spend a little time with his brother since he’s often very busy (protect this man at all cost, he’s such an angel)

So he’d do that this time as well, only that he’s cooking for Candy as well

She might try to help him but as we saw in the game, she’s not really a skilled cook so he’d just end up be like « I’ll take care of it dear. Just sit back and enjoy »

For once, Lysander would probably go back to his room with Candy to eat their meal instead of eating with Leigh since he wants to spend a little more time with her

When Candy has to go, he’ll walk her home and would kiss multiple times feeling it hard to leave her lips as it’s like he already misses her presence (such a romantic boy)

Armin :

He go raid the kitchen to find some snacks (sorry for his parents who did a refill the day before but now everything’s gone)

Took the snacks that were Alexy’s too because for once he has a good excuse to do so (“it was for Candy !”)

But right after, he’d lay back in bed, preferably on Candy, and he’d love feeling her nail softly scratching his back while he’s resting on her chest

He’d probably fall back asleep that way

Nothing on earth could make Armin get out of bed before 12 AM on a weekend (also expect Candy to fell asleep with him)

Even though, they probably spend the rest of day in Armin’s (bed) room

Armin would pick up some comics and show them to Candy or they’d start to watch this anime he kept telling her about

The curtains would remain drawn because sunlight is not allowed in this room (I have to stop with this whole Armin-avoiding-the-sun thing it’s so cliché, sorry lol)

He would hardly manage to keep his hands of Candy but she wouldn’t mind (she’d actually do the same)

This could lead another fun time, who knows ? (I mean guys, he finally found a sport he enjoy doing)

He ended up ordering food for them, maybe pizza or burgers because despite all the snacks he ate, he’s still hungry (he is a bottomless pit)

Kentin :

probably woke up first (I don’t remember if it was the case in the game but I rest my case anyway)

I just know he struggled to sleep the whole night

He was processing what had happened lol

He’d be terrified to wake Candy because he thinks she look so sweet sleeping like this, in arms

But at some point his arm would feel a little numb as she’s laying on it

So she’d be woke by him trying to move and then apologising for it

He’d totally make a fancy breakfast (eggs, fruit salad, pancakes even ? that's a slay)

He knows what he’s doing since he loves breakfast and he never skips it

So he’d be so happy to share a breakfast he made with her (and he’d hope she’d be impressed lol) and he would bring it in bed for her

Cookie would need to take a walk too (we’re not forgetting the doggies here) so he’d asked Candy if she wants to come along (and of course she wants to)

So they’d get ready together, taking more time than expected because they keep interrupting each other with stolen kisses (aww)

They’d spend the whole morning enjoy the sun as well as the beginning of the holidays

Since, they’d probably agree to go eat outside, they’d take back Cookie home and then go do their little lunch date

Then they’d just wander around the city, holdings hands and window shopping (they're this kind of couple you spot in the streets)

There you go Anon, I hope you like it ! (it's more about the whole day rather than the morning but as it's said in all the route, they clearly intended to spend the day together)

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heartsforvin · 16 days

Text

BROTHERLY LOVE

needed something fluffy but angsty , cus i feel like all ive been writing is smut recently 🥲 hope you guys enjoy !!

pairing: vinnie hacker x fem!sister!reader

warnings: cussing, bit of angst, mentions of anxiety / separation anxiety, use of nicknames (bubba, bug, etc), use of y/n, mentions of medication use, overall mainly fluffy sibling love

summary: the bond between you and your older brother is unmatched, attached at the hip, how will you react when he tells you he’s moving out?

the bond between you and your older brother was unlike most brother/sister relationships. most siblings bicker and fight, but you and vinnie always got along.

sure you had your moments, but at the end of the day, you don’t know what you’d do without him.

vinnie, you, and reggie were inseparable, always hanging out together. your and reggie’s relationship was very different from you and vinnie’s.

maybe it was because the two of you were close in age, only being eighteen months apart. you didn’t know why it was so different, you loved your younger brother endlessly.

the age gap between you and vinnie was two years, so you weren’t sure why you and your older brother didn’t but heads like you and your younger brother did.

◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡

you woke up to the noise of your brothers shouting across the hallway, right next to your bedroom door. groaning, you kicked off your blankets and opened up the door.

neither of them noticed you were standing in the doorway, the loud argument continued to unfold in front of you.

you didn’t care what they were fighting about, it was probably some video game anyways. it was way too early to be up on a saturday.

“can you two please take your argument somewhere else?” you asked, pressing your palms into your eyes at the feeling of a headache already sprouting.

both boys rolled their eyes and just walked away from your room. sighing, you walked back into your room to try and get at least a few more hours of sleep.

a few hours later the sun casting its way into your room had woken you up. checking your phone you saw it was a much reasonable hour to be awake other than earlier.

getting up, you had gotten dressed for the day before making your way downstairs to where you saw vinnie in the kitchen.

running up behind him, you jumped up onto his back and hugged him tightly.

“whatcha doin’, bug.” vinnie laughs as he feels the added weight on his body.

stopping what he’s doing, he cranes his head over his shoulder and looks at you as you smile at him.

“what are you doing today?” you ask, completely forgetting about his previous question.

vinnie thinks for a moment before responding. “nothin’ really, why what’s up?”

you untangle yourself from your older brother and land back on your feet, now being inches shorter than him.

“wanna do something with you is all.” you reply with a shrug to your shoulders.

vinnie chuckles as he nods his head, he turns around to finish up what he’s doing before turning his body around and facing you once more.

“how ‘bout this,” he starts, completely forgetting his manners and chewing his food while talking. “lemme finish this, shower and then we’ll get some ice cream and i’ll take you out to the skatepark, yeah?”

smiling wide, you hug your brother tightly before going up to your room to dress more comfortably for skateboarding.

vinnie took you to the skatepark every now and then, mainly when you weren’t busy with college classes.

since it was summer, classes were out and you were able to everything and anything you wanted.

you promised your parents you’d find a job during the summertime. you’ve had no luck yet but knew one would come eventually.

for now, you just hang out with your older brother. being in his streams, hanging out with him and his friends, and going to the skatepark together.

vinnie’s been teaching you how to skate since before you even learned how to ride a bike.

besides joining his streams with him from time to time, skating is your favorite thing to do with him.

you wished you bonded the way you do with vinnie towards reggie, but the two of you could never seem to get along for more than twenty minutes.

you hated how you bonded more with vinnie. you felt like a shitty sister for it. you’ve tried so many times to mend the bridge between you and your younger brother, but nothing seemed to work.

you stopped trying months ago, figuring this is how your relationship is going to be from now on.

◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡

“one strawberry cone and one chocolate, please.” vinnie ordered as you stood next to him, subtly laughing as he ordered his ice cream.

the cashier took the money and gave change back before telling you both they’d be ready soon.

you and vinnie sat at a picnic table a few feet away, waiting for your ice cream.

“chocolate, really?” you laugh at your brother as he just playfully rolls his eyes at you.

“nothing wrong with chocolate,” he tells you. “what about you? who likes strawberry?” he asks.

you laugh and give him a sarcastic smile while flipping him off. moments later you hear your order being called out and you go to grab both ice cream cones.

once back at the table, you hand vinnie his ice cream. as the two of you start to eat the sweet treat, the topic of schooling comes up.

“how’s college goin’?” your older brother asks you.

you still lived at home while going to college, the whole dorm thing seemed interesting and fun, but you decided not to do it this year.

“good,” you reply before licking the side of the ice cream cone before it got all over your hand. “glad it’s over for now though, needed a break.”

vinnie smiles at you as the two of you continue to eat the ice cream. he’s so proud at how far you’ve come in life.

he remembers the anxious little girl who always clung to his side whenever the two of you went out together.

he was so happy and excited for you when you told him you were planning on going to college in the fall after your highschool graduation. he couldn’t have been more proud.

once the two of you are finished, vinnie grabs some napkins for the both of you to wipe your hands off with.

the two of you start heading back to the car in silence. as you glance at vinnie, you can obviously tell he’s got something on his mind but you don’t push the matter, not knowing if he wants to talk about it or not.

◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡

“you’re doing a lot better than last time.” vinnie says as he ruffles your hair.

he took you to the skatepark and you couldn’t have been more happy, even if he had said hours ago he’d take you.

it’s been awhile since he had been able to take you, and you were glad you finally got this time together.

the thought of what vinnie is thinking of still hung in the back of your mind, but you tried to push past it and enjoy this time with him.

after awhile the two of you took a break and sat at the top of one of the ramps.

your head was on vinnie’s shoulder as he had his arm wrapped around your back.

“can i tell you somethin’?” the voice of your older brother broke the comfortable silence.

you lifted your head to look at him. “anything.” you said with a smile.

it took him a minute to reply. he wondered how you’d take this news he was about to share.

he knew for sure that you’d be so happy for him, but that it would also break you.

with a deep inhale, he quickly calmed his nerves and just said it out there in the open.

“i’m moving to LA.”

you looked at him wide eyed, not knowing if what he had just said was real. a million things started processing through your head.

vinnie saw your blank expression and pulled you back into him, your head on his shoulder as he rubbed your back.

it was silly, almost like you were overreacting. you couldn’t help it though.

“why.” is all you could say, too focused on trying not to cry over this.

vinnie sighed. “remember how i got into modeling but it never really got anywhere?” he asks.

you glance up at him and nod with a smile. “well,” he starts. “a modeling agency called me and said they’d love to hire me on, i’d just have to live out there.”

the world stopped for you. you’re happy for him, ecstatic even, but you don’t know what you’re gonna do without him.

you felt dumb for letting his life effect you like this. vinnie was his own person with his own life and responsibilities, of course he wasn’t going to be living with you forever.

maybe the fact he’s moving to a different state is what’s hitting you so hard. you didn’t know what for sure, all you knew was you’ll be okay again eventually.

“don’t cry bubba,” vinnie wipes your tear stained cheeks, kissing your forehead softly. “this is good, then you can visit me, and it’ll only be a few hours time difference.”

you smiled at how he was seeing the situation. you’re happy for him, but the separation anxiety you have towards him is what’s keeping you from wanting to say go for it.

“what am i gonna do without you?” you ask.

vinnie sighs, he knows he’s your number one supporter and he’d do anything for you. you just don’t know what you’d do when he’s not here.

“you have your college friends, right?” the blonde asks, you nod. “see, there you go. just found out what you’ll do while i’m gone.” he smiles.

you give him a small smile and his heart breaks. he hates seeing you so upset. he didn’t mean to upset you with this news, he thought you’d be happy for him.

“i’m happy for you, vinnie,” you say after moments of silence. “i’m just so worried how my anxiety will be, you’ve helped me through it the most.”

he nods. “i know, bug,” he hugs you tightly. “you’ve been doin’ good though. that doctor you see prescribed you meds right? you takin’ them?” he asks you.

you nod. “yeah they help. you help better though.” you reply.

vinnie smiles at you before hugging you again. he and you both knew this would be an adjustment for the both of you, but you’ll get through it.

as the sun starts to set, the two of you decide to pack up for the night and go home.

“hey you know what you can do now if someone in the house starts to piss you off?” vinnie asks as the two of you walk to his car.

you smile, already knowing what he’s about to say. “what’s that?” you ask.

“i’ll buy you a ticket out there so you can get away for awhile.” he says with a laugh.

you laugh with him and give him a hug. “i love you vin, thank you for everything you’ve done to help me.”

he smiles at you, expressing so much love for you. he knows you’ll be okay in the end, and he’s always one call away if you need anything.

“i love you more bubba. my number one supporter forever, right?”

you smile widely and nod, he ruffles your hair before the two of you get into the car.

you knew deep down you’d be okay, it just might take some time to get to that point.

hi hi hi !! i’m sorry i’ve been so inactive, i was super busy this past weekend and im just so mentally exhausted i think LMAO

but i hope you all liked this !! its a bit different from what i usually write but i had this idea and decided to try it out !!

tags: @anqeliclust , @cosmicanakin , @forevergirlposts , @bernelflo , @visualbutterflysworld , @slvthrs , @venusblakes , @leqonsluv3r , @louloulemons-blog , @lovingsturniolo , @pepsicolapussy333 , @hallecarey1 , @0strawberrysorbet0 , @laylasbunbunny , @kriissy4gov , @kayleighh , @defnotayonna , @violet0182 , @st4rswrld

#vhackerr #vincent hacker #vinniehacker #vvhacker #vinnie hacker smut #vinniehackerfanfic #vinnie hacker blurb #vinnie hacker fluff #vinnie hacker imagines #vinnie hacker headcanon #vinnie x y/n #vinnie x reader

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sheisjoeschateau · 2 months

Text

“Oh, so we DO love Steve…” • IX (first blurb)

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ SERIES MASTERLIST ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Steve Harrington x Bauman!fem!reader enemies to lovers, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, upside down mayhem, S2-S4, post S4 universe hot-take, end-of-the-world / dystopian setting, ugly fights turned smut (...but with hella plot). 18+

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Here it is ~ the first blurb before we dive into the full 9th chapter from this brainchild series of mine. 🖤 Can’t thank you all enough for the crazy support you’ve all given this Steve Harrington fanfic series of mine. He & Bauman have honestly become my religion of a Roman Empire. Idk what to even do with the love I have for them, and writing this has become my favorite escape. And so much of that is because of you guys. :,,,,)

Chapter IX (written in full) will drop next week. Maybe sooner. My word doc for this thing is exploding with endless storyline and plot twists…so don’t go anywhere pls, because it’s all underway. 🥲🥲

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Steve Harrington was no stranger to nightmares.

He’d learned how to endure them. Over the years, he made friends with his demons. So much so, it got to a point where he got too used to having them around. He just nodded at them as they lurked in the darkest corners of his sunshine mind, letting them exist as lonely, miserable wallflowers who were never noticed in the daylight when he was awake…waiting for their fleeting moment of popularity after dark, when his eyes were shut. He didn’t address them when he was awake. Because if he addressed them, that would mean they were real. But if he let them have their way at night, forgetting them the next day and acting like they did not exist, that meant they had no power over him. They didn’t mean anything. They were nothing.

They meant nothing.

At least, that’s what Steve told himself.

Every night before shutting his eyes, he steels himself for whatever hell he was going to face. From the ripe age of four, he learned to simply expect the unexpected when it came to sleeping. Sleep was never going to be his friend — whether he was sleeping alone, or with a friend, or holding naked girl in his arms. Steve was made to suffer in his sleep. His subconscious was a world that was built upon a foundation ruled by the reality of absent parents, being an only child, high school flings that left him longing and the endless search for love. It consisted of repeated dialogues — sometimes the incessant arguing between his parents, or the jabbering of Tommy H. and Carol, or hearing Nancy chanting bullshit, along with all the other voices of people who filtered in and out of his life. Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit.

Sometimes, Steve was running away from his own voice in his head. There were nights when, within his own nightmares, he himself was the nightmare. That really came into effect during his last year of high school and the summer after he lost Nancy. Adding the entire element of the upside down into his life only fed his nightmares. They were bad before, they were bad then, and they were worse now.

Trauma after trauma, loss after loss, fight after fight, bloodshed upon bloodshed.

Every punch to his eye. Every word slapped across his face. Every other worldly creature he was made to battle. Every moment he was paralyzed with fear of losing one of his kids.

Nightmares loved Steve. And they knew exactly where to find him, every single night.

But right now, sleeping next to you, it wasn’t nighttime. It was still day. Daylight shown through the windows of your assigned guest room in the Harrington house — curtains drawn, and the gloomy afternoon sky filtering the space around you both.

And here he was, fast asleep with his cheek resting on top of your chest, as your heartbeat thumped against his ear. One of his toned arms was looped around your waist, having closed his eyes and letting the steady rise and fall of your chest lull him to sleep. Steve had been fighting sleep for the last two nights. Especially the night after you died in his arms. He had just barely brought you back to life, and he knew that as bad as his nightmares had been before…all of them amounted to nothing compared to the nightmares that would undoubtedly follow him after that. Steve wanted nothing to do with sleep. He was damned for all eternity when it came to sleep, and it was sure to bring him a life of insomnia after the real life nightmare that he was made to face when wide awake.

That’s the beauty of being asleep: you have to wake up.

Steve told himself that every night before he went to bed. He told himself that no matter how bad it got, he would still wake up. And once he woke up, it would be over.

He learned to do that after he went to the county fair one year with his friends, back in middle school. He’d gotten on a ride, peer pressured by Tommy H. and not wanting to look like a chicken.

Every second of the ride, Steve was petrified.

He wanted off, he wanted off, goddammit let me off he shouted.

Then he remembered having been told by the county fair worked, that the ride lasted four minutes. Steve took a deep breath, realizing he’d likely been on it for already half that time. So he counted to himself. Counting down the last half of the ride, he told himself over and over: eventually, this ride has an end.

Sure enough, when it did finally come to an end — and when everyone was let off the hellish escapade — Steve realized that he had found the glitch in the matrix. The warp in time. The secret superpower to conquering fear. Suddenly, he wasn’t so afraid anymore. Which is why now, whatever nightmare he was made to face, he would endure it — knowing that the sweet relief of waking up was just right around the corner.

And after all: stranger things had been proven real in Steve’s real life, far more than in his wildest dreams.

Loving you had turned out to be the strangest thing of all.

Even more so, the lack of nightmares that came with that was also strange…

Because right now, as Steve finally succumbed to sleep instead of fighting it, lying next to you…he was not trapped in a nightmare. His subconscious did not have him roaming the unpredictable pathways that led to the darkest corners of his mind. His demons had ceased their dance. Vecna, and all his other worldly monsters, were not the stars of this particular show. Steve was not trapped in the midst of jabbering chants coming from the voices of all the people that he loved, all the people who had betrayed him, or even the voice belonging to himself.

For the first time in years, Steve Harrington was dreaming.

It wasn’t anything drastic. Nothing that could exhaust him, to where any hours of sleep hadn’t felt like any sort of sleep at all. In fact, his subconscious state was…serene. Quiet, peaceful. It was almost unsettling in a way.

Little bursts of yellow — pastel and sunshine and lemon — colored the dark walls inside his mind. A light breeze gently wooshed in the distance, coming seemingly from nowhere but still fanning his face and the flop of his perfect hair. Somewhere, someone was humming. Almost like a bird, or the sound of a foghorn super far off in the distance. Maybe even the distant drums of a far away land. The rhythm came and went, but it kept him company. As if it were some little song made up in his head as he went along, saying, “Hey, I’m right here. We are in this together.”

On the other side of Steve’s closed eyelids, you laid beneath him in his yellow crewneck. The air you breathed softly, in and out of your nose, fanned across his forehead and his perfect hair. And while your heartbeat was not even, it was there — beneath his ear, drumming in a makeshift pattern, inventing its own rhythm as it went.

In the real world, your uneven heartbeat reminded you both that you yourself were not in the clear. Not yet.

But currently, in this new world that Steve’s subconscious had just discovered, it reminded him that he was no longer alone. Not with you.

In the real world, Hawkins is in trouble. Cursed.

And while none of you had figured out how to break that curse just yet, along with Vecna’s…one curse had been broken.

You’d broken the curse to Steve’s endless nightmares.

But would this world even allow for you both to explore a future together, in which you had broken this dark spell cast over Steve Harrington’s life…?

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TAG LIST: (ilysm)

@aloneinthehellfire@xprloki @erastourvip @get0ut0fmyr00m @eddiemuns0nl0ver @marrowfrog00 @poppet05 @wiltedflowersundertowers Originalthingparadise Pleuviors pumpkinonice Ihaveproblemsihaveproblems Brinleighsstuff Definitelynotherr sucker-4-angst bookkeeperlove notlilyyyy @xblueriddlex

(IF I MISSED YOU PLS LMK. Tumblr has been giving me hell lately with tagging you angels ugh.)

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington angst #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington smut #steve harrington stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #mishas masterlists #murray bauman #stranger things 4 #stranger things au

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peachyloveswriting · 1 year

Note

I saw the need for König requests and came RUNNING omg

Idk why but I really would love to see König (or Soap or...any of them tbh) jealous. Ik it's cliche but....I am starving....just a crumb of content ;-; just a little bit of König watching the main character get attention from someone who isn't him and him going feral. I beg 🙏🧎‍♀️🥲

ATTENTION SEEKER --- König

SUMMARY: During a night out on the bar with the boys, König watches Soap get what he feels like is too "touchy". Not feeling very happy he decides to corner you outside, his plan didn't come to fruition however...

CONTENT: Suggestive, panic attack, hurt/comfort, fluff.

NOTES: This went a completely different route than I expected but I'm not changing the cringy ending because I'm lazy

⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝

You're not part of 141 however you are close friends with Soap, being friends with the Scotsman you often find yourself drinking with him on nights off. It's always a good night when you spend it with him and his team. Drinking with him isn't an issue either, he's respectful, he doesn't make nasty comments, and he takes care of you when you're drunk.

Thankfully you're only buzzed at the moment, you've only had about two or three drinks. Soap's laughing beside you while you babble up a story. His hand rests on your shoulder while he clutches his stomach with the other. You came up to the bar a few hours ago with Soap, his team, and könig, your boyfriend. He hasn't said a word since you got here, he usually doesn't but he would at least have ordered a drink by now yet he hasn't. Pausing your story for a moment you look beside you to see the chair empty. Sad to not see the man there you frown, he must've stepped out for air while you weren't paying attention.

Continuing with your story you begin to feel eyes burning holes in the back of your skull, it's hard to ignore the itch that rolls up your spine while you squirm in your seat. Red hot heat collects at the back of your neck while you drift off into silence. Soap's brow furrows in worry as he looks at you. Putting a hand on your knee and shaking it he pulls you back to the present moment. "You alright? Drinks got you already?" He asks. You shake your head. It's not clear in the moment but you can't shake this feeling. "Need to step outside?" He moves his hand to your fore arm, his body turning to step down from the stool.

"Yeah. I'll be right back just stay in here." Turning to slide down his hold on your arm tightens. He looks at you with worry swimming in his eyes, secretly pleading for you to not go alone. "I'll be fine, Soap." You reassure, brushing his hand from your arm. Giving you a curt nod he turns back to the bar. Able to slip away you press your feet into the floor and begins to make your way outside. Your stomach burn with the weight of a full grown adult, the heat bubbles up your throat in a small burp and you push into the cold air of the night. Your breath leaves you in white puffs as you shiver under the sky. Thankfully this bar isn't too heavily populated, standing alive outside shouldn't be an issue. With no creepy guys around at least, König was usually by your side so people would stay away. His usual body heat at your side freezes your back while you sink into the realization that he's not around. Not common for him to be away from you for so long, especially in public.

Brows furrow with worry and arms crossed over your chest, you look around the edge of the building to see if he stepped off to the side for a breather. "König?" You call into the shadows. The response of cold dripping water answers your call as you settle back into clearing your mind. It's hard to think straight when thoughts of König's whereabouts cloud your mind. Being buzzed apparently doesn't help with that, it only blinds you further as you smother yourself deeper in thought. He could be anywhere, and sure he can handle himself perfectly fine but who can blame you for being worried?

The bell on the entrance to the bar echoes through the night, glancing back for a brief moment you can see a figure begin to step from the threshold. Stepping away from the door and looking away you swallow harshly, your stomach churning with the idea that you probably left him alone inside. He would be worried when he came back from where ever he was. Going back in would mean that feeling crawling back up your spine while trying to have a nice conversation, but staying out meant you could breathe and relax. Torn between the two, it's hard to make you're decision, König shouldn't have to worry about you and wonder where you are but he's not around. Taking in a deep breath warm spreads in your gut, it's fizzles like a shook soda while you bite your lip.

König was too important. Biting the bullet you turn on your heel to move back inside. As you turn, a large figure sends electricity through your chest. Calling out in surprise you step backwards to peer up at the person. His tall stature and body scream familiar to you but your back is shoved against the brick wall before you can meet his eyes. Fear settles in your stomach as he presses against you, it's then that the smell of König's cologne hits you.

"König what are you doing?" You ask as you crane your neck up to look at him towering above you. The light casts shadows on his eyes making them look icy and cold as they stare down at you. "He should learn you are mine." His voice is damn near a growl as he rests his hands on your hips and pulls you to the side of the building. Dazed, you press your palms to his chest pushing his body away from yours. Suddenly the air is no longer cold around you, it's smothering, the heat taking you whole. "What are you talking about?" The fizz in your gut has exploded, turning your mind into a jumbled mess. "Soap having his hands all over you." His hands are slipping up your shirt while your press the back of your head against the wall. Clenching your eyes shut and shaking your head you push him away.

"Stop, I can't breathe..." A tight phantom grip holds your neck, involuntary tears form in the corners of your eyes and you lift a hand to fan them off. The quickening breaths in your chest become increasingly hard to take the more you gasp for air. Your heart clenching and unclenching in your chest brings with it small jolts of pain making you seize. "Oh god..." You choke out as you rub your neck.

Two hands grab your shoulders to pull you away from the wall, the cold replaces their warmth momentarily before a coat is draped over you. "Breathe." König says. You nod feverishly, your hands gripping the edge of the coat with an incredulous force. "Breathe in, hold" Swallowing thickly you suck in a slow steady breath and let the air swim around your lungs. "Okay now breathe out..." Tightness firms and loosens as you release your breath, your hands go blindly searching for a hand to grasp desperate for something to hold onto.

Your cold searching hands find purchase in König's hands, a light reassuring squeeze letting you know he's there. Looking at you, he can feel his stomach churns unevenly. If he hadn't of pounced on you like that you wouldn't be like this right now, at least that's what he thought. He's not exactly wrong, if he'd been softer, the situation would be different. Watching you blink up at him with teary eyes makes his heart throb in pain, his biggest fear has just come to life: hurting you.

"I'm so sorry." He states. His hands gently squeeze and loosen against yours while he looks down at you, eyes soft with worry and brows furrowed with concern. "I did not mean to cause this." He's almost whispering at this point. You rock forward on the balls of your feet. "I'm just buzzed baby, you scared me is all." Even though you actively admit to his aggression not being the issue he still looks away nervously. His handa pull from yours to pull the coat around you tighter. "I was already freaked out before you did that." You state.

His head cocks to the side. "Why?" Giving a gentle smile and slipping your arms into the sleeves, you wipe your eyes. "I didn't know where you were, got worried." You explain. "But now I'm confused, why does Soap need to know I'm your's?"

A red shade tints his face while he shifts his weight, his hand fiddles with the belt buckle of his belt. "He was getting all handsy with you..." His voice trails off before that cold look glazes over his eyes and they meet your gaze. "...I did not like that." Hearing his voice drop to an octave you didn't know it could makes a you shudder. "Baby you know he's just a friend." Your hands rub up and down his forearms to console him, he seems unaffected by this and huffs in frustration.

"I did not like it." There's emphasis on every word, venom bleeding through his lips. "But I did not mean to make you cry in the process of showing you." His gaze stays cold, locking you beneath him. König's emotions are out of left field and it feels like he's walking on thin ice. It's clear the alcohol has had an effect of him, but you didn't expect it to be this. *It's okay-" he interrupts you. "Not him touching you like that." Frustration lingers in his throat, burning like the alcohol swimming in his stomach. This feeling of jealousy latches onto his chest like a stack of weights keeping him in place, he can't breathe without it consuming his racing thoughts.

"I really, really, want to show you how much better than him I can be," - subconsciously stepping closer to you, he starts pushing back against the wall - "I just want to make sure he knows...what belongs to me."

"König, I am completely yours and no one else's. You don't have to show anyone that and I can swear by it." In his state of mind it feels like your words are hitting a brick wall, you know what's coming and you're excited but mentally, you're unprepared. "I get that you love me, and you're jealous because of him but I want to do this at a more personal time. I hope you understand."

He pauses just inches away from you, his hand slipping into his pocket. "That is okay. I just want you to do this one thing for me." His eyes plead for you to let him have this one thing, to allow him at least some peace of mind and you can't ignore it. The way they bore into your soul with burning love and guilt. "Yes baby, anything." You weren't really thinking when you said it and you weren't ready for what came next.

When that velvet box came out of his pocket, your heart dropped. Looking down at it and up at you, he opened it to present a small silver ring with the word promise written on the outside of it's width. "I was planning to do this some other time but I want to secure it now. I want you to promise me that one day we will get married and that you'll stay mine until that moment comes. I want this to be how others know, because I don't want to do anything sexual for the reason of jealousy. If I can't show them that way then I'd rather make it as official as possible." He says. His hands tremble and his heart beats rapidly in his chest. For a moment you thought the question was going to be popped. You're thankful this wasn't it but that it was a guarantee of what's to come. His hearts in the right place, even though his mind isn't.

Smiling, you grab his shaking hands and steady them. "Thank you for respecting my wishes and not doing what I'm uncomfortable with...but this, I didn't even think that this was- I- yes. I promise." Swallowing the urge to cry you pull him into a hug, your arms pulling him flush against you while you hide away in his chest. Happy, König wraps his arms around you a smile plastered on his drunken face while he rocks you back and forth. "I am sorry for getting like that." Pulling away and grabbing your hand he slips the ring onto your finger and pulls it to his lips. "I truely am." Pressing a kiss into the ring he softly lets your hand go.

"I know Baby." Cupping his face in your hands you smile up at him. "Are you ready to go?" You ask. He nods, bringing a smile to your face. "This was irrational of me, save me the embarrassment."

You chuckle before pulling his face down to press a small kiss on his cheek. "It's okay. We're drunk, let's just forget that ever happened."

#könig x reader #konig x you #konig x reader #konig imagine

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the-mad-starker · 5 months

Text

Starker Smut: Dubconned Into True Love

For @khalixascorner ! This was supposed to be a bday present and it ended up being a belated bday, Xmas, reward thing 😂🥲 Hope you enjoy it!

Summary: Villain Omega Tony capturing alpha Peter and deciding to keep him. Aka Reversed Wife stealing plot where the omega steals the alpha

Notes: some version of SIM!Tony, omega Tony Stark, Bottom Tony Stark, alpha Peter Parker, intersex omegas, non/dub con of the heat/rut variety, heat sex, breeding, knotting, biting, vaginal sex

WC: 8431

Note 2: Inspo for Tony's outfit is in Ao3 cause Tumblr doesn't like it 😤

💗💗💗

"Um… Mr. Superior…?"

Tony ignores the tied up alpha. As far as he's concerned, the kid has been neutralized and Tony's gotten what he wanted so there's no need to interact.

Except… the alpha pup is stubborn. He continues to try to get the Superior's attention and he's doing it so politely that Tony actually feels something (not bad, there's no way he feels bad about anything).

He crosses out the emotions based on the process of elimination.

Annoyance? Not really. He's too amused at the situation to be annoyed.

"Excuse me, Mr. Stark? …Sir…?"

With a huff, Tony turns away from the interface, brilliant blue eyes calculating.

"Yes, dear?" he croons, his voice coming out sarcastic and cool.

Tony immediately feels like a jerk when the alpha pup perks up at the attention, a hesitant smile pulling his lips up into an easy smile.

They have a deal where Tony would keep the muzzle off as long as the kid doesn't yell or scream or do any of those other annoying things hostages tend to do. And well, he isn't yelling or screaming or even pleading to be let go. Instead, he's trying to play nice with his captor while Tony’s watching the frantic little bugs called Shield scurry around on the video feeds.

It's interrupting Tony's fun but he figures the kid's owed at least some attention.

The Superior has kidnapped him after all.

"You know I'm an alpha, right?" the kidnapped superhero asks curiously.

Usually, a stupid question like that would have Tony rolling his eyes and immediately snapping the muzzle back in place. For some reason though, something about the pup's tone sounds genuine as though he's actually confused why someone like Tony would grab him.

Oh. Right. Spider-Man is a kid. Well, barely. He’s eighteen, according to the files, but in terms of superhero and villain business, he's still so green. So green that it makes the Superior feel a twinge of not-so-villainy guilt.

"Peter Parker," Tony states as he swirls around in his chair.

One nimble leg crosses over the other. His white suit pants are form-fitting but not enough to be indecently tight. He has nanotech woven into an actual suit, all white of course. He’s comfy and sexy, comfort being a priority. The open white blazer is styled specifically for male omegas, broad around the shoulders but narrow around the hips. Underneath that, he isn't wearing anything which leaves the lean muscles of his chest exposed but not bare.

He has gleaming jewelry that drips in languid chains from the delicate collar around his neck. More nanotech, this time fashioned into something like precious diamonds. They sparkle brilliantly in the light but they're so much more than just pretty rocks.

What he’s wearing right now isn't even the most risque thing he’s ever worn but it's meant to catch the eye and it definitely catches Peter's.

Tony likes to wear his armor best like this. It's so easy to masquerade one of his deadliest weapons as elegant pieces of art that bring attention to his best assets. And because alphas are such knotheads, that's all they care to see.

No matter what Tony wears, there are eyes always being drawn to him. It amuses him when the supposedly good guys can't take their eyes away from him. Then again, Tony's always enjoyed being the center of attention, whether it's as the most eligible omega in the world or the cold-hearted Merchant of Death. It's something his instincts purr at, the attention being directed at him.

Even when he has no intention to entice or seduce, Tony uses the natural allure of being an omega because it's just too easy to.

The Superior lifts a perfectly manicured hand to his chest, fingertips casually trailing down the sparkles of nanotech diamonds. They're linked piece by piece with delicate chains, also meticulously crafted to add to the deception of a beautiful pampered but weak omega.

No one has been fooled by his facade in years but some alphas still fall hard for Tony’s handsome face and his unique mouthwatering scent.

Seeing the way Peter Parker's gaze follows the movement of his fingers, his eyes drinking in the sight of exposed tan skin instead of the shine of the tech…

Tony smirks, ego rightfully stroked.

He snaps the fingers on his other hand, breaking his own spell over the cute alpha pup.

Immediately, Peter's wide eyes shoot up. When he meets Tony’s knowing gaze and his face flushes an endearing pink because he knows he's been caught looking. Caught lusting over one of the bad guys.

"Alpha," Tony coos and whether the kid takes it as Tony confirming the knowledge he has or is calling for him… Ah, yes, the latter. The pup's eyes go a little hazy, as though being called alpha is actually making his dick hard.

Peter quickly looks away but like a shark scenting blood, Tony’s already caught it.

There's a high possibility that something as simple as getting called alpha by an attractive omega would do it for him. The kid is green, after all, and Tony remembers being 18. All those hormones…

Even with the mandatory suppressants that alphas and omegas are subjected to, the instincts are still there, quietly simmering just under the skin, always so easy to mess with. Having an omega's attention makes alphas so weak to influence. Having Tony's attention pretty much guaranteed their ruin back in those days

Hmm. Tony wonders if this kid's ever even experienced an unsuppressed rut.

He clicks his tongue at the thought and uncrossing his legs, he stands. The jewelry makes a soft tinkling sound, like bells, as he walks towards the bound alpha. He places a finger under the pup's chin and tilts his face up so their eyes meet.

"I know everything about you," Tony tells him sweetly.

He's read the reports and he admits to himself that the information there has been enough to interest him. Intrigue him, if he wants to be truly honest.

The Superior looks at the kid and he's intrigued. How unfortunate for him that he’s been caught in Tony’s crosshairs. He hadn't planned to do anything about it just yet, but with the opportunity presenting itself, why not?

Peter doesn't seem surprised by his words and yet, he's still perplexed.

"Then… Why did you kidnap me?" he asks. His eyebrows scrunch down as he mutters thoughtfully, "I'm an alpha and alphas don't get stolen… Especially by an omega, it's…"

Unorthodox. Radical. Untraditional.

Words that are often used to describe the kind of omega that Tony is.

Here, Tony does roll his eyes and he steps back. The retreat has the alpha cautiously looking at him again. Tony smiles and catches the jump in Peter’s heartbeat.

"Look, just cause I'm a 'mega doesn't mean I can't do alpha things," Tony tells him, "Or well, I can definitely act like one. If I want to steal myself a pretty wife, I definitely can."

"You're not making much sense," the kid says. He completely ignores the wife comment that references him in this scenario. "Shouldn't you have stolen the omega so that I can, uhm, rescue them…?”

Tony laughs, actually laughs. It's bright and free. He's entertained and he's always in a good mood when he's being entertained.

“We’re not in some cliche superhero story, kid,” Tony grins at him, omega fangs peeking out. “I'm not some… typical villain and you… Nah, kid, you're not saving some damsel in distress here… If anything, you're the one in distress.”

Peter only looks more puzzled. “I'm not though.”

“Oh?” Tony encourages him to answer.

“I mean, besides being tied up to a chair– which, by the way, is a very cliche supervillain thing to do–” Peter gives him a look that only amuses Tony even more. “You've been pretty decent to me, Mr. Stark.”

Tony rolls his eyes.

“Interrogation when I don't need anything is tedious,” the Superior says distastefully. “Besides, I got what I wanted so anything else is just a tasty bonus.”

Peter hums indulgently and Tony is suddenly feeling a little vindictive. He already has Shield scrambling to find them so as he said, everything else is just a bonus.

Tony is in a good mood. He wants to keep being in a good mood and therefore, he wants to have fun. He wants to poke and prod at this intriguing alpha and see if it’s worth keeping the muzzle off. He wants to see if the alpha could be… something worth keeping.

"If I stole the omega," the Superior returns to the previous topic, "they'd just find you another omega."

He shrugs, a smooth roll of his shoulder, and lets his gaze take in his prize. All joking aside, he has an alpha in his hands that, scientifically speaking, is a good match for him.

His prospects for a mate that won't break under his attention are rather limited. He doesn't need a mate, but one look, one interaction with this alpha makes him think of all those possibilities that he's pushed away in the past.

And if it turns out that this kid isn't what the Superior wants, well. He at least knows what fun he wants to have with him.

Peter is cute, a cute alpha pup just growing into his body. Tony can see very clearly that he’ll be a handsome man with a sharp jawline and lips perfect for begging. He’d probably make some omega very happy, with his heart of gold and his alpha cock. If the kid hadn't gotten involved with Shield, the Superior thinks he could've flown under his radar and possibly lived a perfectly boring normal life.

Or maybe not.

The kid’s brains and whatever projects he’d end up in would have certainly made waves in the world. Logically, the Superior would have found him, sooner or later.

Is that fate or just Tony’s luck?

The Superior’s lips stretch into a kind of smile that's had the Winter Soldier twitching for his guns.

The mood shifts and Peter, the smart pup that he is, senses it immediately. There's a stillness to him that reminds Tony of prey sensing a predator’s presence. The alpha becomes uneasy, uncertain of where a volatile omega like Tony Stark is going to take this.

Tony smiles again, sweetly. Peter doesn't buy it but Tony pounces anyway.

The omega presses his palm right above Peter's heart. He can feel it beating harshly right there beneath the firm muscle and hard bone.

Ta-dump. Ta-dump. Tadumptadump…

“Are you nervous, pup?” Tony drawls, “Have you finally realized that I’m not interested in some Shield lackey… That I’m interested in you, alpha. Shield was practically begging me to crash the party. Who am I to disappoint?”

Peter’s mouth opens, maybe a little shocked at Tony’s forwardness. Maybe such a cute pup can't imagine someone like Tony outright declaring their interest but the blush on his face… He wants Tony's attention just like Tony wants his. It's already shaping up to be a good match.

He likes this. He wants it. Tony can smell it on him, his interest and a hint of fresh arousal that's distinct from the usual musk that teenage alphas like him carry. He can see the physical effect he has on Peter too but the omega doesn't bring attention to that little detail just yet.

Peter just doesn't think he's allowed to have it because…? Who knows. No matter the reason, he’s restraining himself, hovering between what his instincts want and what his mind is saying.

Tony doesn't care for the reason, he’ll pick it apart with either words or his body. He's good at using both.

Another shudder, another minute shake of Peter’s head in denial but the Superior knows. He now has Spider-Man intrigued.

Tony strikes while the iron’s hot and gracefully sprawls himself on the top of the alpha. The pup squeaks in surprise and jerks when Tony’s ass settles on top of his lap. There's a bulge there that nudges up almost perfectly where Tony’s nanotech suit covers his pussy.

It feels hot, the shape of it– Oh… it's getting bigger. Tony’s eyelashes flutter as heat ignites in his belly, making his empty insides clench in anticipation.

He's going to have this alpha and he's going to enjoy it. Immensely.

The Superior grinds down on the pup's swelling cock, assessing without looking. The kid’s essentially wearing a spandex onesie and the material is stretching tight over the alpha pup’s hard cock. He feels hot and big– Tony pauses, feeling the delicious heat emanating from beneath him and hmm… the girth of his cock… Very nice. Tony can tell that it's thick, maybe thicker than his favorite dildo.

Oh, what a stretch Tony’s in for…

“S-Sir…!” the pup splutters, drawing Tony’s attention. He pets the boy’s cheek, soothing and distressing the alpha at the same time.

"I can see potential and oh, Peter… what a waste, what a sad sad waste," Tony purrs and wraps an arm around the kid's flushed neck which he presses his lips to. "You know, Shield basically neuters their underlings. Not physically, of course, but they go on and on about control and not falling prey to instincts… It's such bullshit.”

There’s a look that crosses Peter’s face, disgruntled, but Tony knows he's right. In this moment of vulnerability, Peter’s instincts are going wild under Tony’s influence and the omega can see the fight going on inside his pretty little head. Maybe the kid wouldn't have been able to show such an emotion if he was in the right mind.

Tony feels a sense of satisfaction that even without kn, he can still predict this in an alpha he’s interested in. His instincts, after all, are rarely ever wrong.

“You must've thrown them for a loop… Did you have to pretend, kid?” the Superior doesn't have to pretend to sympathize. At one point in his life, he, too, was forced to adhere to others and their control.

The kid’s breathing has escalated and his wide honey-brown eyes are staring straight ahead. See no evil, hear no evil, huh?

Peter's clinging tight to denial, Tony knows. Mouth parted, fast shallow breaths… Poor kid. Tony is too much to handle for an organization like Shield on a good day and here he is, pitting himself against someone as green, as innocent, as this baby hero.

“You don't have to answer that. I know.” Tony licks his lips. He can taste the alpha pup’s scent on his tongue. “If Shield tries to tie you down to some loyal lackey so that those feral instincts of yours calm down… I wonder what’ll happen…”

He leaves it suggestive but they both know.

It won't work.

It hadn't worked on Tony’s instincts even before extremis. It won't work on an alpha of Peter’s caliber.

“That's not what happened…” Peter says weakly, finally breaking his silence.

It's to defend Shield but Tony still considers it a win to have the kid responding to him. He presses closer, his scent rich and distracting.

“Isn't it? Did meeting that sweet natured omega calm your instincts? You don't feel calm,” Tony says rather seriously while grinding on the alpha pup’s lap.

Tony had snatched him just as Peter met Shield’s potential mate for him. The Superior had heard just enough that he couldn't bear watching the awkward encounter for a second later.

Peter hadn't gone willingly and a short-lived scuffle had occurred. Spider-Man had prioritized shielding the omega Shield agent without realizing that he was the true target until it was too late.

The Superior had a good time carrying the alpha in his arms like a bride being brought home.

Tony had planned this just for shits and giggles, another flippant middle finger to Shield for thinking they can keep this kid hidden away from Tony. He’d snatched the alpha right from under Shield’s nose and now, he’s making his own claim because he wants.

With the rocking of his hips and the scent he’s breathing in… With what Tony knows about the kid from Shield’s files though none of them mentioned the nice surprise the alpha’s packing between his legs.

Tony wants to keep him. Just a minute ago, it was just a possibility. Keep the kid if he can satisfy Tony but now, even if Peter’s performance leaves him unsatisfied, Tony won't let him go. He can just train the alpha into what he wants.

From Shield’s files, Peter’s been noted to be very eager to please. Tony purrs as he recalls this information and he leans forward, placing his lips on the alpha’s pulse and sucking hard.

Yes. Even if Peter performs well, Tony can train him regardless. Refine that potential of his into something truly… Superior.

Peter’s hips jerk up, grinding against Tony's receptive body even as the alpha throws his head back to groan.

In this position, Tony’s pants are stretched tight over his ass. The heat between their bodies is building and it's only going to get messy. Sex between an alpha and omega is always deliciously messy.

The omega pulls himself away from the nice hickey he’d made on Peter's neck. In front of his very eyes, he sees the molted skin heal itself, the bruise going from dark to red to yellow then fading away like someone hit a fast-forward button on just that patch of skin. It's fascinating like everything else about the pup.

It makes him think even as the baby alpha’s scent floods out of him and reaches for Tony. Tony breathes it in, knowing it could make him lose his mind if he lets it.

“Do their suppressants even work on someone like you?” Tony wonders out loud in a contented sigh.

Even if the pup’s scent isn't affecting him, it still smells so good… Like rolling around in freshly laundered blankets, so warm and inviting.

He runs his hands over the trembling muscles of the alpha’s shoulders. The way Peter’s reacting to him tells Tony that whatever suppressants Shield has been giving him isn't working.

He rubs his cheek against the alpha's and tilts his face up while shifting his body up so that he's no longer warming up Peter's straining cock.

It puts his neck in a dangerous position, right where the alpha’s fangs are. Technically, Peter could stop all this now by shoving him off. It's another simple test to see how hard Peter’s alpha instincts are riding him. How much more Tony will have to push.

He doesn't disappoint.

Peter turns his face towards Tony’s neck. The alpha sucks in a deep breath of Tony’s scent as though he’s ravenous for it. The pup’s scent may not be affecting Tony but his is definitely influencing Peter’s.

He growls at the protection that Tony’s nanotech collar provides but he doesn't let it stop him. Right above the omega's protected mating gland, the flat of a tongue licks at the soft skin there. That spot– even if it's not the gland directly– it’s still sensitive and vulnerable. It should be setting off alarm bells in the omega's mind and yet, it has the Superior sighing in pleasure.

“Hmm…” Tony moans in approval.

The alpha drags his tongue lower, licking desperately at gaps between the chains just to get a taste of him.

There are teeth involved now! Sharp alpha fangs try to close down around Tony’s nanotech collar to get to that soft vulnerable skin. He can hear the gnashing and grinding of teeth against the metal and the omega laughs breathlessly, not at all worried that his tech will fail him.

“Oh… Bad alpha,” Tony groans and presses closer. “Were you going to try to bite me without permission? What a brute.”

He pulls back, the collar seamlessly melting away where it's caught on the alpha’s teeth. The nanotech forms back into its proper shape around his neck without a single scratch.

When Tony looks into the pup's eyes, he coos at what he finds. Just a little bit of sniffing and the pup is now drunk off the Superior’s scent.

“S-Sorry– I don't…” Peter squeezes his eyes shut, mortified. “I don’t understand w-what's happening… Why–”

Poor baby alpha’s trying to regain control but Tony won't give him the chance to. He likes this alpha all scent drunk and horny for him.

“Oh, you poor thing,” Tony purrs at the pup, caressing his flushed cheeks. He comes to a realization watching the pup’s eyes glaze over even as his mouth pants open.

He had been wrong. It isn't that Shield’s suprassants aren't working. It's just that whatever drugs they have Peter on is nothing compared to the Superior.

Their compatibility is too strong. Perhaps Shield hadn't thought that Tony would ever take a mate. He’s killed and maimed enough alphas that have tried. Then again, none of them has ever been Peter Parker.

“I'll take care of you, sweetheart,” the omega promises with a sweet purr in his throat.

The kid‘s scent is going into overdrive, growing in strength. He has a desirable compatible omega on his lap, probably the only omega that can take everything his enhanced body can dish out. It’s trying to pull Tony under too so they end up in a mess of sweaty bodies and irreversible bonds.

Tony aches to respond in kind. It makes his mouth water but it doesn't quite trigger his instincts the way a normal omega’s would.

He wants to let loose. He wants the nanotech regulating his body to retreat and leave him to his instincts, a wildfire raging and leaving destruction in its path.

Tony would be a very very dangerous omega to handle during a heat. He strokes the alpha's cheek again, cooing at the glazed look in Peter’s eyes.

Soon. Soon… But first… He has a mate to claim.

With a single command, the nanotech suit melts away in a rush of silver. It leaves only the omega jewelry and the silver stilettos he’d been wearing. The cool air on his exposed flesh does nothing to ease the heat being roused in his belly.

At another thought, his tech forms into sharp tipped claws at his fingertips and he quickly shreds the pup’s pants. The upside of using his tech is that he has complete control. Once they meet flesh, they blunt themselves to leave his pet unharmed.

The fabric is so easy to destroy though. Tony would have to fix that later once he has the alpha bonded to him.

“Look at you…” Tony purrs when he gets his hands on the alpha’s cock.

It's perfect. Long and thick with a pretty flushed tip that's perfect for sinking onto.

Tony can't wait.

And yet, once the alpha pup realizes what's happened, his head jerks down and looks in horror at his exposed erection. His cheeks turn such a ruddy red that Tony wonders how it's possible when all the blood is certainly flowing southwards.

“W-Wait…!” A bit of clarity seeps into those glazed over eyes and then the alpha confesses, “I’ve never done this before!”

“Good,” Tony tells him before he gets his hands on that eager cock. “Even if you have, I’ll be the last.”

Peter’s mouth drops open, just a little. He stares at the Superior with disbelief and then struggles in his bonds. In a last ditch effort, he desperately says, “Can’t we talk about this first?”

The Superior ignores it.

“Don't come,” is the only reply Tony gives him when he begins to stroke, getting a feel for Peter's dick. It twitches in his hand, so eager for his touch. Tony firms his grip and makes sure to catalog the alpha's response, honing in to what feels best for him.

He wonders how much experience the kid’s had, if any. Not much, Tony determines, when Peter’s hips give a harsh aborted jerk.

“We s-shouldnt…” Peter whines, his eyes squeezing shut.

Another stroke and Tony’s hand closes around the fat head, squeezing out a drop of precum.

“Oh? You can still think?” Tony teases when he drags his hand down the hot length, spreading the wetness around. It makes it easier to jerk him off. The alpha gasps, his eyes only squeezing shut harder.

“I… I’m…” his speech fails and Tony chuckles in amusement.

The alpha breathes in but then chokes on his breath when Tony starts again. Just a little more… Tony observes with bright blue eyes, his glance switching between the kid’s facial expressions to the cock he’s stroking. Both are fascinating to him.

Peter lasts longer than he expects and he's surprised to find his own patience running thin instead.

“We don't even… know each other…” Peter pants out, scrabbling for control and failing. “I haven't even courted you and you're… you’re… Oh God, sir, you're gonna make me– mm…!”

Courting? The thought takes Tony by surprise but he finds that he's charmed by the alpha’s priorities. He clamps down on the base, letting the kid have a breather because he's not done yet.

Poor kid pants out a breath or two before Tony rises on his knees. There’s slick wetting his trembling thighs as he positions the alpha pup’s cockhead right where he wants it. Just feeling the tip there, rubbing against his pussy, makes the Superior so eager to swallow the alpha up.

“You can court me after,” Tony promises him with a curl of his lips. “‘Till then, behave.”

“After…?” Peter questions, eyes peering through slits before flying wide open when he sees what Tony’s about to do.

“Mhmm… After,” Tony declares just as he sinks down on the alpha’s cock.

“W-Wait…!” Peter cries out but it's too late.

Tony groans as the thick head pops in, the slick making it easy for the engorged glans to slip in. It feels as good as he thought it would. The flared tip really makes him feel it.

Beneath him, the alpha moans, his eyes wide in disbelief before they cloud over in pleasure. His mouth is trembling, the shock evident even as pleasure makes his jaw go slack.

Tony allows him to focus on his pleasure, specifically the point where their bodies are joined. He hasn't even fingered himself open so he knows his pussy is especially tight for the alpha pup. He, himself, likes to feel the ache of a good stretch, and the pup’s thick cock had promised him that and it delivers.

He sinks down with some effort, taking Peter’s cock in several thrusts, his body rising up and down to take it inch by inch. He's wet, so wet… The slick helps, and the sheer abundance of it makes the slide easier but his pussy is too tight. He has to work himself open.

Peter’s lost in it. There's a look of wonder in those honey brown eyes compared to before and Tony coos at the alpha, leaning in close and letting his scent steal his senses once more. The poor baby alpha gets the heavy brunt of it, drowning in it. Even then, Peter’s mouth pants open like he's trying to drink it all down.

The alpha shudders but there's no fight in him, only a growing desperation that Tony understands so well.

“You feel it too, don't you, pup?” Tony asks, keeping his own instincts in check even while it's fighting against his control.

This thing between them can't be stopped now and they both know it.

He digs his fingers in the boy’s too cute curls, wrenching Peter’s face closer so he's staring directly into Tony’s brilliant blue eyes.

The alpha beneath him struggles against his bonds but the scent Tony breathes in is so sweet. The kid is still scent-drunk, probably desperate to get his hands on Tony.

“Are you wishing your hands were free?” Tony nibbles on his ear. “Wishing you could push me down, fuck me as hard as you want instead of this…?”

“This” is the slow rise and drop of Tony's hips, the carefully controlled rhythm that the omega knows isn't enough for an alpha. It isn't enough for him either but he likes this, likes making the alpha ache for him.

His pussy is aching too, hungry for something only this alpha can give him. His knot.

For now, he settles for the way Peter's cock opens him up, making space inside his tight little body that even breathing feels a little difficult. It… feels good… The way Peter's cock fills him up, the fat length of it is a struggle to take. Tony’s legs tremble and he sits down on the alpha’s cock, dragging in a breath even as sweat drips from his temple.

“I’ll let you have it…” Tony promises him as he nuzzles the alpha’s neck, his nose brushing against Peter’s mating gland. The alpha freezes, holding stock still even as his cock throbs inside Tony’s pussy.

Just like how omegas don't steal their mates, omegas also don't bite their mates. Only omegas get bitten.

Unorthodox. Radical. Untraditional.

Those are the words that Tony’s been described as and he doesn't regret it, not one bit. It lets him act without second guessing so when he sinks his sharp omega fangs into his chosen mate, he has no regrets.

Mine.

Peter jerks underneath him, his hips pushing that last stubborn inch of his cock into Tony’s already stuffed pussy. It presses in so deep…! And yet, the omega doesn't release, only bites down harder even when his eyes threaten to roll to the back of his head. The alpha’s cockhead is nestled against something that's never been touched before and it gives Tony a kind of deep aching pleasure he's never felt until now.

The taste of blood fills his mouth. Tangy metallic blood. It barely registers, his entire body squeezing around the alpha’s cock.

If Tony was in heat, it would be a deep mating bite. Without his heat, it's just a bite but one that rouses Peter’s instincts into a frenzy. Even the promise of a mating bite has the alpha you g wild beneath him.

“Ah…!” Tony finally releases his mouthful, gasping when something else catches his attention. He feels the growing presence inside him. Peter’s knot– “Oh… fuck… fuck…!”

The knot pops, expanding quickly and stretching Tony’s insides until he's gasping at the sheer presence of it inside him. The Superior trembles in ecstasy, feeling as though his body is working to accommodate the alpha, and for once, he wonders if it's too much.

The knot grows and grows, leaving no space untouched, every bit of it claimed by the alpha. The omega's clawed fingertips press into Peter’s shoulders and leave little pinpricks of pain as he breathes through the knotting.

Not that Peter feels it. In the high of his orgasm, the alpha is trying his best to give Tony those short desperate thrusts even while he's restrained. Tony feels it when the pup comes. Unrestrained, nothing between them… It's like a torrent of heat flooding an already tightly filled space. Tony feels every pulse, every desperate twitch of the alpha's cock as he pumps him full.

Tony should be pissed. He told the alpha not to come and yet, he ends up chuckling against the bite.

His hips start a slow grind, feeling the shift of the knot in the clutch of his body. It's gotten so big that it's rubbing right against a sweet spot… His cocklet is also getting some sweet friction against the alpha’s toned stomach.

The combined sensations are too much and he's being filled up. His stomach feels like it's bloating with the loads being pumped into him.

Tony’s breath goes ragged. He feels that heavy anticipation in the pit of his stomach, condensing– growing tighter and tighter, that pinnacle of pleasure just within reach… so close… His toes curl and his claws dig into the meat of Peter’s shoulder, deepening the scent of metallic tanginess in the heavy mix of alpha and omega.

Tony bites again as he tips over, clinging to the alpha pup that's brought him so much pleasure. He clamps down on the swollen knot and Peter cries out again, tugging at his bonds.

Wetness spurts between them as Tony comes.

There’s an audible snap, even amongst the pleasured moans and ragged breaths, but it doesn't register what's happened until they go tumbling to the ground. Tony, himself, feels the back of his head knock against the floor but it barely phases him.

The alpha’s newly freed hands grasp Tony’s hips tight in his grip. He covers Tony’s sprawled fucked out body with his own, instincts wild with the urge to mate and breed.

Tony’s physically trapped, caged in by Peter’s body. Some other omega may have panicked but not Tony.

No, the older omega laughs and then he lets go.

He’s never suppressed his scent, not since he became Superior. No one's ever been able to take him down, to mate him, to own him.

This baby alpha though… Tony is going to own him instead.

His scent deepens, the notes in it becoming sharper and wilder. There are hints of metal now emerging, blending so well with his already sweet omega scent. Blending in with Peter’s, it's an entirely new mix and it's intoxicating because it's them.

Just as Tony's claimed the alpha, he's allowing himself to be claimed by his instincts.

This alpha… He’s going to be the Superior's in every sense of the word. And the only way for the bonding to take place is if the Superior goes into heat. The only way he would go into heat is by letting this baby alpha trigger it.

A thrill of the excitement blazes through him and the Superior lets Peter’s rich enticing scent curl into his lungs. It reaches even further inside him and strokes to life a need that Tony hasn't felt in so… so… long…

The Superior begins to ache and oh, what an exciting feeling it is… His instincts heighten even more so, becoming razor sharp even as his body starts to go all buttery soft and warm inside. His thighs tighten around the alpha’s hips.

He’s becoming too hot.

Being fucked, being knotted… Their bodies are joined so intimately, Tony’s omega body eagerly accepting the loads of cum being fucked into him. The regulations his nanotech provides are put to sleep, overwritten, and Tony finally responds in the way his instincts want him to.

It feels like the heat brings his very blood to a simmer then a quick boil. He feels hot all over and his legs come to wrap around the alpha’s waist as he arches his back.

The jewelry stays, the collar being the only safeguard against the alpha mating him. He hasn't earned it yet.

It's the last restraint he leaves but everything else…

They've given themselves over to their instincts.

Tony’s heat, given free rein by the omega himself. Peter’s rut, triggered by the omega’s scent.

There is no fight except the clashing of their bodies, desperate and wild. Sweat and slick, and cum. Peter grinds into him as though his knot isn't being tightly squeezed already, as though he hadn't just fucked the Superior full.

When the knot softens, Tony flips the alpha onto his back. He rocks against the alpha, back arching so that the light catches his jewelry, drawing the alpha's attention once more.

Peter’s fangs flash before the omega leans down and placates him with a kiss.

Their first kiss and it's just as wild as their first fuck.

Peter chases after the Superior's lips when he pulls away, bringing their mouths together in another hungry kiss.

“Mm… mmm!” Peter is inexperienced, that much is clear when one of his alpha fangs cut into Tony’s bottom lip. It gives their kiss a hint of iron to it which only has Tony pressing forward.

Tony licks the drop of blood from the corner of his lips, blue eyes flashing in excitement. The hint of pain quickly passed, his body healing instantly. The memory of it, though, has ignited even more heat in Tony’s body and he starts rolling his hips, the pup’s soft cock growing hard inside him.

He takes control of the kiss, claw tipped fingers digging into the alpha’s hair and pressing into his scalp. Peter rightfully becomes submissive beneath him, giving control to the experienced omega.

A purr rumbles out of Tony before it cuts off. His tongue enters between Peter’s lips and he finds the kid eager.

It takes only a little bit of encouragement before Peter's leaning into him, his tongue stroking Tony’s. The Superior is glad that Shield’s notes were correct. Peter is a fast learner.

His hands wander over the alpha’s shoulders, caressing down his bound arms before slipping between their bodies. When his hand squeezes Peter’s balls, the alpha shudders and whines, hips once more bucking.

So eager.

Tony pulls away and is satisfied with the kissed bruised plumpness of Peter’s lips. His own kissed swollen mouth curved up into a smirk.

He presses his hands down on the alpha’s chest in a silent command but it isn't needed. The rise and fall of his hips has the alpha mesmerized and Peter groans when he catches flashes of his wet cock between Tony's slick thighs.

The Superior strikes once more, just as Peter gasps out a stuttered “C-coming…!”

This time, when Tony’s bite sinks into Peter’s mating gland, it takes and forever bonds the alpha to the omega as Peter breeds him full.

Once more, they're lost in lust and need, their minds ravaged by their instincts.

As Tony’s being fucked–

As he rides the alpha’s cock–

As he’s bent over the table, the hacked video feeds of SHIELD still looking for Peter–

Peter’s teeth bite down on the collar multiple times. He wants to sink his teeth into his omega but Tony distracts him with kisses, with his clever hands pumping his aching cock, with his sweet lips as he mouths the pup’s soft knot…

It all passes in a blur of sex, their bodies well matched. Peter’s youthful stamina is bested by the Superior's experience and enhancements.

Their last mating is in Tony’s bed with the entire building on lockdown. An alert has shown that Shield has finally caught onto Tony but the pair are locked away in a secured nest of their own.

Peter holds him tight, the thumping of his heart a resounding beat against Tony’s back. One of the alpha's hands is fondling his cocklet while the other holds the omega’s leg up in the crook of his elbow, his hips slapping against Tony’s ass in a harsh desperate rhythm.

The mess of cum and slick leaking out of his pussy and ass is ignored as Peter pants heated breaths against his ear. The Superior, too, has his head thrown back, claws digging into the meat of Peter's thighs as he urges him to finish.

“Alpha…” Tony sighs, exhausted but heavily satisfied.

The pup nuzzles against his neck, long used to the fact that the jewelry is there. It's enough… Tony’s wet pussy clamped on him, his sweet mouth calling him alpha… It’s enough…

His cock sinks in with a sloppy squelch and it's wet and hot inside Tony’s pussy… He's been fucked loose, but with the omega’s orgasm, the flutter of his insides along the alpha's cock has the pup whimpering as he gets close once more.

“Gonna come…” Peter gasps out. His cock throbs in its tight little home and his balls pull up taut, ready to deliver.

The omega moans, his body tightening down in further encouragement.

“Give it to me… Give me all of it…” Tony‘s voice is rough but still commanding.

Peter buries his face against Tony's shoulder and with a low groan, he gives in.

Tony closes his eyes and savors the now familiar feeling of being bred. Compared to their first mating, this one won't last as long. He feels the twitching of Peter’s cock inside him as it unloads, the nice stretch of his knot as it fills him again… One load, two… three… then a weaker pulse.

It's still a lot for an alpha but not as much as before. Their heat and rut are winding down but the bond will still be there.

“You’re mine, alpha,” Tony murmurs when they finally settle in.

Unwillingly or not. Everything that is Peter’s is now his. His kisses. His attention. His cock.

He turns in the alpha's arms and Peter nuzzles into his embrace, still in the grips of a mating afterglow.

He's not sure what the morning will bring. How Peter will react, but he knows for certain that he won't let the pup go now or ever.

“Mine,” the omega murmurs and Peter rumbles in contentment.

A soft purr joins him as the night finally ends.

---

Peter wakes up in increments.

He’s warm and comfortable and the most relaxed he's ever been. His limbs feel like they're weighted down, heavy with relaxation. He hasn't felt this content since before the bite, since before Uncle Ben’s passing.

It's unusual but he clings hard to this weightless sense of contentment. His arms tighten around his pillow, bringing it closer, and it's only then that his brain comes online.

He's not hugging a pillow.

His eyes snap open and he comes face to face with New York’s most dangerous omega. He expects adrenaline to kick in hard and for shock/surprise/horror to crash into him, but instead, he's calm.

Calm and something else… His face grows hot while something else beneath the warm blanket grows thick and hard.

He should… should…

The Superior smells so good… And even though most of their activities last night are blurred, Peter remembers. He remembers heat and passion, the tight silky clutch of the older omega’s pussy as it locked on his knot, squeezing down so exquisitely that Peter had to sink his teeth into something to withstand the sheer pleasure he had felt.

Peter’s breath catches in his throat at the memory. He swallows down the influx of saliva that had flooded his mouth and tries to calm down enough that he's not sporting a hard on but it's… It's impossible.

Wait. He had bitten Tony in his lust induced rut. Had he hurt him?!

Peter pulls back, withdrawing his arms as carefully as he can to avoid waking the omega.

The covers get pulled back and Tony– the Superior, the CEO of Stark Industries, the most eligible and most dangerous omega in the country… He curls up like a sleepy kitten, mouth pouting as the warmth from their shared body heat leaves him cold.

Peter’s hit with the instinct to care for him and raise the covers so he's tucked in, nice and warm.

He stops himself because it's only then he can see the damage he’s done to the omega.

Bite marks litter his previously flawless skin. The only thing that had survived was the jewelry the omega had been wearing. So he didn't bite Tony…

He raises his hand to his own mating gland and his fingers come away with flakes of dried blood.

The bite throbs too but it's already healed a lot.

For some reason, the alpha doesn't find himself conflicted about being bonded against his will, even if it's a one-sided mating. He wonders if it's the post mating emotions talking or if the bond linking him to Tony is influencing him.

He’ll never know and he finds that… he's okay with it. At least at this moment.

Looking at the sleeping omega, at his sleeping mate, Peter tries to recall more of what happened.

Peter doesn't remember what happened to his clothing but he can imagine tearing them off in his desperation.

The bite marks, of course, are from him. He remembers, in not so vivid detail, how he'd scraped his fangs over the omega's neck. How he’d settled his mouth over his chest, tongue laving at the omega's nipple and the other hand pinching and twisting the other nipple.

He remembers sinking in deep, slick heat enveloping his cock, a growl in his throat. He remembers using all his strength to fuck the omega senseless, hands leaving bruises on the Superior’s hips, bone hard under the pad of his thumb.

He remembers… the Superior moaning and egging him on, his lips curved in a delighted smile, his lips panting open… He remembers fucking that mouth and spurting a thick load over that sinful mouth.

He sees all the signs of everything they’d done and his cock throbs.

Peter’s eyes gravitate to the Superior’s long tanned legs and it's like something takes control. His hands reach forward, gently settling on top of the omega's knees and then he's pulling them apart.

The Superior’s cocklet is soft against his thigh. His pussy is still puffy and reddened from the hours of mating… Peter had been insatiable, he recalls with a heavy blush. Long hours of slow fucking, his cock plowing through cum and slick… And short quickies that added up to an equal amount of time, Peter humping and grinding, his knot barely softening before he was stuffing the omega full again.

Peter had been truly an alpha lost in rut… he feels an echo of that desperation and wonders if he's still in rut now… He can't take his eyes away from the sight in front of him and his cock is already hard…

Peter’s heart is pounding and he's so excited. Is this what it feels like to be with an omega? There are butterflies in his stomach, he feels lightheaded just looking at Tony… Is he… in love...? He can't be, they don't even know each other! But his heart is in his throat and he wants it so badly… Wants Tony…

A shaking hand reaches out and he pulls those puffy lips apart.

He pushes a finger inside, cock twitching when the sleeping omega moans. Inside, it's hot and wet, just as he remembered it.

What breaks the fragile hold he has on his control is that when he pulls his finger out, creamy white covers it.

He can't take it. He can't–

Before he realizes it, the tip of his cock is pushing its way past the omega’s entrance. He doesn't wait– can't wait– and then he's thrusting into the slick, cum filled pussy of the most dangerous omega he's ever met.

He’s fucking the Superior raw. Does it even matter though? When there's evidence of Peter having already came inside him?

His mind doesn't care even though there's a tiny voice somewhere screaming about what he's doing. Not even about yesterday but what he's doing now. Tony isn't even awake…

It's too good– he can't stop. He doesn't want to stop. He’s had a taste of what it feels like, of what being with the Superior is like. His silly boyish dream of finding a nice gentle mate is nothing compared to the fire the Superior's ignited inside him.

He braces himself over the omega, his snapping with determination and making such obscene wet sounds as his cock moves through cum and slick.

Breedbreedbreed… mate…

The pleasure builds and he can't stop himself. He wants to come inside again… His lips pull up, bearing teeth and sharp alpha fangs. Why can't he control himself…?

He's right at the precipice, his knot growing from soft to hard when Tony wakes up.

He knows because he’s shoved hard enough that he’s knocked into the ceiling to floor windows in front of the bed. They don't shatter, only rattle at the impact.

He slumps to the floor, naked and dazed.

The Superior rises from the bed, brilliant blue eyes aglow as he walks to him, equally naked. Cum trails down his thighs which momentarily distracts Peter until his eyes snap up back to the omega approaching him.

“I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…” Peter stutters, his mind finally clear.

“Fucked me while I was sleeping?” The Superior finishes his sentence.

He looks at Peter with that cold gaze, mouth twitching when he finds Peter’s erection still hard.

Peter doesn't even dare to move when the Superior lifts a delicate foot. He steps down on the alpha’s cock and all Peter does is shudder, feeling humiliated but still so, so turned on. After fucking the omega, his cock is wet with Tony’s slick… and he’d been close to coming that even the pain of being knocked into the wall hadn't phased him. The friction of Tony stepping down on such a sensitive part of his body… Shame makes his face burn even when his cock twitches.

The omega can clearly feel it but he only presses down harder, adding more weight which only makes Peter tremble harder.

“I don't mind that so much, but you were going to come,” the omega says with hooded eyes. “It looks like you’ll need a lot more training.”

He finally steps back but instead of leaving Peter in a humiliated slump on the ground, he slides himself into the alpha’s lap in a single graceful movement. He straddles Peter’s lap and the alpha’s breath catches in his throat when Tony positions his cock at the entrance of his pussy.

He shudders, hands clenching at his sides when Tony sinks down, throwing his head back as the alpha’s cock stretches his insides with its wide girth.

“Hmm… Already learning… Good boy…” the Superior praises him.

Peter doesn't know what he did right but all he does is stare in stupefied wonder as the omega fucks himself on Peter’s cock.

“Don't make me do all the work,” the omega commands and takes Peter's hands and places them on his hips. “Fuck me. And don't come until I say you can.”

“Yes, sir…”

Now that he's given permission and he knows the omega won't eviscerate him, Peter eagerly joins in. His hands grip the omega's hips, finding a familiar hold and fucking the omega just as he ordered. He mouths at the bruises he'd left on Tony’s collarbones, adding even more and appeasing his instinct to mark and claim.

“Maybe if you're good… I’ll let you bite me where it counts…” the words are whispered in his ear.

Bite…? Peter almost comes on the spot.

To mate the Superior…

Peter’s eyes go hazy as lust takes over. When Tony tilts his chin up, he eagerly offers his mouth, moaning when the omega kisses him breathless.

#starker #madstarker writes #omegaverse #alpha peter parker #omega tony stark #superior iron man

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