#base shoe railing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

indouloureux · 2 years

Text

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ 𝐂𝐑𝐘𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘

summary: your best-friend’s pretty. really fucking pretty. especially when he’s got his eyeliner smudged all over his eyes from crying too much, or when he’s got scratch marks over his inked skin, or when his begging moans make him hotter than hellfire

warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI. 8k filth, sub!eddie kinda, mommy kink, overstimulation, protected sex, oral (m receiving), degradation kink(slut, whore), dirty talk, dacryphilia, biting, ball sucking (hehe), praise kink, maybe mean!dom reader, rough sex, aftercare??? multiple orgasms lol MINORS GO AWAY (not proofread. rushed)

a/n: idk man, this took a long time to write for some reason but i hope you guys like this because it took a long time okay! and ball sucking. tumblr got me horny for eddie munson's ballsack so i put it in here. enjoy. also thank u for 4k mwah mwah i love u all!

— proofread by my mi amor jess <3 (@cordiformity)

MASTERLIST

The sound of the car turning on makes the both of you raise your hands in a farewell, Wayne Munson’s silhouette inside the tinted window waves back at you and Eddie, pulling out of the driveway, wheels scraping on the gravel road outside of your home.

“Bye, Uncle Wayne!” you yell, hands cupping your mouth for a better volume. Eddie waves still, arm stretched out in the hot air, rings clinking and glinting in the hot sun as he hovers you. “I’ll miss you! You’re the better Munson!”

“Asshole,” Eddie jabs your ribs. You poke your tongue at him, turning around to go back inside your home, a hand hovering behind you as he leads you through the door before he follows and shuts it behind him. “You invite me over and you’re saying I’m the worse Munson?”

“I’m basing off the truth, dungeon master,” you bump your hips with his, leading him to the stairs. His dirty sneakers thump on the creaking stairwell, hand dragging up the rail as you look back at him. “Who’s got the working car? Who’s got better morale?”

You sigh in contentment, feeling the cold air blow the sweat off your bodies in a strong surge. Eddie wipes the sticking hair off his forehead, eyes lazily watching you sit in front of him on the broken chair, legs spread.

“Alright, Eds.” You offer your hand, rings shown that matched his – the same skull on your ring finger, a snake coiled around the middle, and a daintier one connected to your bracelet through a chain. He vaguely remembers being with you when you bought it, having to be too distracted with something else he also can’t remember. “Whip it out and let’s suck.”

Almost fooled by your racy insinuation, Eddie lifts his ass up and searches for the ziplock in his pocket, tongue massaging his upper teeth as he pulls the plastic out and shows you what you’re asking for. “You’re still paying for that.”

You scoff, snatching it from him before you pull out a crumpled twenty from your pocket. “You know I always do.”

“You always do?” he sits up, forearms behind him. Eddie’s curls loose the sticky perspiration, now flowing behind him when he shakes his head at you. You slap the bill on his palm. “(y/n), you owe me like, fifty bucks. Minus ten because you beat that sicko from the band auditions.”

“It was supposed to be a gift,” you whine, throwing your head back. “I thought we were friends, Eddie?”

“We are,” he kicks his shoes off, and he half thinks he might have already lost them in the pile of clothes. “But I need money, too. No money, and we spend the rest of our life being driven back and forth by my uncle. And you know he hates it when we smoke.”

“Which is why I keep on telling you to convince him to smoke weed,” you open your drawer. “That way you can at least emancipate the stress you give him,” you jest, searching beneath used notebooks until you spot a crutch. “I- fuck I kind of forgot how to roll a joint. Can you do it?”

Eddie sniffs, side of his finger rubbing his nostrils. “You’re gonna do it now? That’s like, a half ounce. You finish it way faster than I do,” he sits up. “Just smoke a cig with me instead.”

Your hands drop to your sides, giving him a dismayed look before you’re opening the drawer once more and tossing the ziplock and clutch back inside, making sure it’s hidden beneath a notebook.

“I’d rather not,” you slump your head on the table. “I wanna get high. That’s why I invited you here in the first place.”

Eddie huffs. “That’s the third time you’ve hurt me, (y/n).”

He sits up, the veins on his forearm catching your attention. Tendrils bulging against the tattoo on his skin, blood pumping in the same beat your heart does as you stare at them with a watering mouth before they drive down to his clenching hands that reach for the boombox, toying with the antennas before Eddie looks at you.

“You still got the tapes? Or you sold them just to pay me?” he snickers, kicking your foot. You sneer at him, kicking him much harder that simulates a groan from him. “Please tell me you have at least Judas Priest in there. I’ve had enough listening to a-ha. I have the lyrics stuck in my head that I forgot the chords to Master Of Muppets.” You glare at him. “You know? Take on meeee…?”

“Yeah. I know what that song is,” While eyes impishly glare at him, you reach for the bag beneath your desk, black almost gray from the specks of dust surrounding it. Eddie watches your hand dig into the filthy bag, looking as if you’re carding through a literal trash can before you pull out three mixtapes that he gave you a couple months ago, Kate Bush and Foreigner falling to the ground as you pull them up.

“Blizzard of Ozz,” you smack the cassette in Eddie’s open palm, a stinging clap echoing around the corners of your small bedroom. “For the one and only Osbourne wannabe.”

“Kate Bush, huh?” Eddie opens the cassette player, shoving the tape carelessly inside. “Red tell ya to listen to it?” he asks, slamming the cassette holder shut and turns the volume louder, like you hadn’t received complaints from the loud ‘satanic’ music; you don’t care, anyway, it’s music nonetheless. Your friend spins in a riveting twirl, hair spinning cavalierly into the air-conditioned wind, before he stops to face you with a thespian look, mouthing the lyrics.

You yell over the music. “Max says she could change the world!”

Eddie snorts. “People look at me and say ‘is the end near, when is the final day?’” He takes a brush from your cup holder, holding it like a microphone. You guffaw at him, watching as a hand comes down to his chest before he runs around your room, stepping on the discarded clothes and crumpled papers on the ground. “What’s the future of mankind? How do I know, I got left behind.”

“Hey!” you shout at him through the zeitgestical piece of joint electrical guitars and drums, his feet taking him to your mattress sunken, exhorting him to jump up and down like a giddy child. “Get down!”

“Come on, bats,” his hand’s still up as an offer. “Ozzy wannabe wants to make the most metal concert ever inside your garbage bedroom.” Eddie air guitars like a loser, fingers mimicking the same chords of the song and imitating riffs as if he was in a metal concert. “Don’t just sit in the crowd. Be a part of the show.”

“Do you often say that to five drunks?” you quip. “I’d rather stay here than break my neck, Eddie.”

“Fine,” he jumps off, landing right on his feet where you see his left one bending the slightest at the hard impact. His inept body refuses him to sit still, and is now telling him to touch the items on your desk as you sit and watch him poke and prod like he’s shopping. “Let’s do something else that doesn’t make you so boring.”

“I’m not boring!” you exclaim, gawping at him. “I’m fun! Sorry for making sure you don’t die in my bedroom. Because if you did, I’d leave you here to rot with the rest of my clothes. Then I’ll steal your car and drive away to California.”

“You just worry too much,” Eddie pulls on your hand, indolently limp in his touch. “Sing with me, bats. Ozzy Osbourne awaits.” when you shake your head, he sighs disappointedly; almost in a way that’s so dramatic that you think he’s not actually sad about your refusal. “Alright. Then, let’s do something that you think is fun other than using me for getting high.”

You pout at him, now clasping at his forearm for forgiveness. “Aw. Eds, I don’t use you. You’re my best friend.”

Best friend.

Two words that compress his chest so tight he feels the pain ricocheting in his inked limbs. Eddie plasters this pain he doesn’t know why he feels when you call him your best friend by a short laugh, biting his bottom lip. “Yeah yeah. Think of something before I go find somewhere else fun.”

“Don’t you just wanna lay down beside me while we listen to Ozzy Osbourne? You used to do that!”

“Bats,” he bends, face leveled with yours as his lips disappear into his mouth, forming a straight line. “I’m extremely bored without my van. I need to do something before I lose my mind entirely. I mean, you wouldn’t like seeing me—” his fingers join together, both hands placing them on either side of his head before he mimics the sound of an explosion, fingers splaying apart. “—all bloody and open headed, right? I could just drop my blood down to your carpet. Or, well, what used to be a carpet.”

You kick a few items away to show your dark cerulean carpet. Eddie’s upper lip curls up in slight disgust. “The color’s always…like that.” you wave it off. “I clean it like, once a year? I dunno. I’ll clean up my shit after you leave.”

“You should,” he scratches the back of his neck. “Now find something interesting to do.”

“Fine,” you grunt. “I have something in mind. But if you don’t want to do it, then it’s your loss.”

In the last seven years of your friendship, not once have you imagined sitting on Eddie Munson’s lap.

Sure. Maybe you’ve hugged. But it’s just a hug. All friends do that. Friends snuggle when they’re stoned, they kiss each other’s cheeks as a rushed farewell. Maybe talking about masturbation was another thing but it was normal. You’ve seen each other half-naked — he helped you pick your bra before a date, and you got him a decent pair of underwear before girls would blow him. It’s a normal best friend thing.

Sitting on each other’s lap? It’s become romanticized in cheesy rom coms. And you see its point. With the minimal space between your bodies, crotches almost on top of each other, and the air so thick with unearthed tension that you’re wary and nervous at every move you do.

The liquid kohl paints his pale skin, a flawed darkness that mends conveniently into his eccentric vogue that he possesses valiantly with pride. Eddie’s eyes bore into you, scanning each pore, or the light hair above your top lip. Mostly into your eyes that don’t directly look into his — the way your pupils dilate and shrink every so often; and sometimes he’d cheekily glance down your lips, where the tip of your tongue would poke out, which gallops his blood all over his body into an intense heat. And fuck, how long is this going to take?

His hands grasp your waist tightly, keeping you in place. Your thigh on his, drawing around his vast eyes that perceive. Ozzy Osbourne sings from the mixtape Eddie changed—your mixtape that he made for you, a mechanized voice bringing you into the stage instead of the crowd — makes you feel like you’re in a show playing house with your best friend. It makes Eddie squirm gently in his seat, almost letting you muck up what you’ve done.

“Sit still,” your hand grips his cheeks, harshly forcing him into looking at you and keeping his face pliant beneath your touch, making his lips pucker a little. “You’re gonna make me mess up.”

“Sorry,” he chuckles. “It kinda tickles.”

“The brush?”

“Yeah,” his nails scratch your back slightly. “It’s like a feather touching my eyes or something. How long is this going to take?”

Eddie sees your eyebrows furrow in slight frustration at his impatience, your hand shaking in the slightest. “Almost done, Munson.” you mutter, lips parting the slightest that shows just a sliver of your pearls.

The situation is familiar, albeit it’s not him that you’re sitting on. Eddie’s mind varies through a manifold of haunting memories, until it settles on the one that bestows him a roll of undefined covetousness. It makes him grip your waist tighter as the memory of you sitting on another boy’s lap fills his mind, in this exact activity. Eddie feels this confusing jealousy run through him when he remembers you kissing that boy with his eyeliner all smudged up.

You sense his sudden rigidness, the hitching on his breath. “What’s wrong?” you murmur, brush stopping on the outer corner of his eye.

“Nothing,” he widens his eyes a bit. “Just…remembered something.”

“What is it?”

He watches you move again, feeling the cold brush on the crinkles beside his eyes, curving upward. “When- when you and Harrison Mcline were in the back of the classroom making out,” he laughs gently. “You were putting eyeliner on him too for the school play. He looked a lot like David Bowie with it, though. But I bet I look way cooler than him.”

Scoffing, you shake your head. “Harrison Mcline is a douchebag,” you claim, nail digging deep into his cheek he thinks he’ll see a crescent indent on his flesh. Eddie looks into your eyes, full of annoyance at the sudden memory, before it shifts into embarrassment. “He’s an arrogant dickhead who trusts his pulling out ‘skills’ and kept insisting he was allergic to condoms just so he could fuck me raw. And also, you do look better.”

Heat waves through his cheeks and ears as Eddie laughs out of sympathy, but mostly to make fun of your unfortunate encounter. “Told you you shouldn't have gone for him. You’re planning on fucking Mcline? Cheer squad says he’s got a dick the size of an eraser.”

“Well, it’s not like I have any options, do we?” you snicker, brushing his eyelashes with the side of your finger before you’re back to painting the inner corner of his eye, tainting his opal skin black. “What goody-two-shoes of a man would want to fuck a girl who’s part of the ‘satanic panic’?” you wave your hand to gesture to yourself. “And I did not know that.”

“Jason Carver’s been eyein’ you lately,” he teases, eyebrows wiggling the slightest. “As well as Steve Harrington when we’d rent a shitty movie. Even Gareth!”

“Jason Carver is with Chrissy Cunningham, and he keeps on insisting that this whole metal thing is just a phase. Steve Harrington only eyes me because I’m with you. And I’m older than Gareth! It’s disgusting, he’s like my little brother.” you tilt your head at him, Eddie wincing at your thoughts about your friend. “This pious town doesn’t fuck with, and I quote, cult members. I can't even find a decent one out there.”

In a drunken momentum, his eyes trace the v-shaped column of your neck that connects to your collarbone, prominent as his irises desecrate the components of every imperfection on your skin, minus the tattoos — the unorthodox stygian tattoos so unsaint, skulls and horns sinking deep into your flesh you might as well be the Devil’s little wayward angel. The hand behind you traces the waistline of your jeans, feeling your skin that’s exposed when your shirt has risen up from your back being slouched to hover over his head.

Eddie kicks a shirt out of his way — a cut tank top with the painted devil from the Hellfire Shirt to appear more punk (one he remembers you wore when you snuck into the community pool, jumping into the chlorine water with nothing but that shirt and a pair of denim shorts, gave him a goddamn boner when your bare tits poked out). “There’s some decent guys out there.”

He wants to say ‘me’, however not in an amorous way. Simply the mind that hasn't seen any cunt for the past month, and he’s desperate to the point he’d literally fuck his best friend. But maybe hidden beneath that word could mean something deeper, something he’s chosen to deny and decides to forget about. Eddie knows it’s wrong; to imagine you, his dear friend for ozzy knows how long, all bent and spread for him to fuck because he’s horny. But who wouldn't?

“Easy for you to say,” you scoff. “You almost fucked that mom from the community pool back summer. And that junkie who blew you when she came to your show and thought a blowjob was enough of a payment for weed.” He feels the rough pad of your thumb rub a spot beside his eye, stinging slightly.

“She gives really good head,” he nods slightly. “ ‘m just saying, sweetheart. You just need to look hard.”

“Oh yeah?” you take your eyeliner away from his eyes, snapping the cap back in place before your hands rest on his shoulders. “Like you? Because I think that your little friend—”

Your finger drags down his chest, movement sedated and teasing, nail scraping on the printed typography before they press deep into the thick flesh of his torso, trailing down like you’re exploring uncharted territories. They come across his thighs, hard and thick, short nails scratching the denim before you tease and sink deeper, feeling up the sudden rock in his pants that presses right onto your crotch.

Eddie blames you for the hard on in, had you not been subtly grinding on it for the past minute or so when you were applying eyeliner, acting nonchalantly when he felt so constrained in his tight jeans. His bottom lip feels so raw from all the biting he’s done just to not moan out loud. And it feels sick — perverted — to have a boner when your best friend sits on your lap.

“—kind of agrees with me,” you trace his bulge, unevenly round and thick, your hand wanting to squeeze but you spare him the insanity. “He’s been poking out ever since I sat on your lap. I think he wants you to say that you need some help.”

“And I think I’m the only one who can know what my dick says,” he sneers, his hand coming out from behind you to grasp your forearm and run his thumb on the inked bats on your skin. “And he says he’s perfectly fine staying inside until he gets home and feels the love of my hand.”

You tut, pouting as you brush the hair out of his face and tuck it behind his ears, bangs unruly on his forehead that it almost pokes his pretty eyes. “Shame,” you pop the eyeliner back on your cup, chastely placing your hands on his shoulders instead. “Would have been happy to help.”

His saliva sticks to the walls of his throat, blocking the next words from coming out because holy fucking shit, you’re flirting with him. Or he thinks you’re flirting with him. Because friends don’t flirt, right? Best friends, as you so proudly say to others. Best friends don’t flirt, or offer to get rid of someone’s fucking boner; he shouldn’t feel this proverbial hunger towards you, like the words that had rolled off your tongue was a drop of water that rolls down his throat, still leaving him thirsty.

“Tsk,” he chuckles dryly, palms running up and down your bare thighs. You expected him to say something else, but it seemed like he’s at a loss for words whenever you graze his bulge when you adjust your seat to remove the numbness of your calf. You feel like the senile chair would snap it legs and drop you into this void of just him and you, left alone to be stubborn and in denial.

“I could, though,” you murmur, fingers grazing his slightly coarse hair. “I can h-help you. With your problem. I don’t mind.”

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie sighs heavily, his hot breath fanning your face. “I don’t want you to feel like you’re forced to just because I got a boner while you’re on top of me.”

“It’s not that,” you grip his shoulders tightly, trying to stop yourself from grinding again. Because god, fuck, if you had a dick of your own, you’d be as hard as him. “It’s just a friendly offer. Both of us hadn’t had fuck since last month and, well, we’re here now, are we? Might as well just…get on with it.”

It’s atrociously fun, your offer. Because even though you’d agree to forget about it in the end, both of you would certainly not forget about it. Eddie knows nothing would be the same if he agreed, if he acted like he’s wanted to fuck you for ages. You’d know with the way he’d act, with the way he speaks, that he’s always yearned for it, and he’s afraid it would cause a strain to your friendship. But fuck—you’re offering it yourself; and he’d cut his own dick off if he ever denied the chance.

Giving in into having sex with you just because he hasn’t had a decent fuck in a while? Was it selfish, maybe, even if he knows it’s going to change everything. But hey, the chance is right in front of him.

Eddie’s silence deludes you into thinking that he might have been disgusted by your offer. You don’t see the way his pupils widen and shrink ever so often, and it makes you remove your hands from his shoulders and sigh. “You know what? Forget about it. I don’t even know why I said that,”

“Hey,” he reaches out to clasp your wrist when you stand up to leave. Your right leg’s on the ground, the other still bent beside his thigh. Eddie looks up at you with unsure eyes, thumb running along your pulse point. “I was…going to say why not.”

Your lips part. “Really?”

“Yeah,” his eyebrows furrow and his nose wrinkles as he says it, urging you to sit back on his lap by the gentle pull on your hand. “I mean, you know, it’s just a one time thing, right? We can- we can act like it never happened after. Unless, you don’t want to.”

You don’t know if he’s saying all of that to spare your feelings, or if he wants the same thing you do—being fuck buddies, and whatnot, until you’d both come to terms that you actually like each other. But maybe that’s just your fantasy that he felt the same way you did, and that Eddie’s only saying yes because he’s just as deprived as you are.

“We don’t have to think about that now,” you sit gently on his thighs. The hand that he doesn’t hold tugs on the thread hanging on the bottom of your shirt, fingers twirling and pulling slightly. “We can just have sex. Then, let’s think about it after. That way we can see if- we can continue it or…not.”

Eddie’s looking directly into your eyes, right where you can see the specks of concupiscent dust glaze his brown eyes. And somehow, your faces are so close yet so far, with the way you feel the very tips of his eyelashes graze your cheeks ever so softly when he blinks.

“Great idea,” he says. And his hand hovers like he debates on cupping your face or holding your waist again.

“You can hold me,” you take his hands, placing them on your waist. “I’m not gonna bite,”

“Oh, I know you won’t,” he chuckles, sighing deeply when you bite your lip. “‘Y too soft to bite.”

You pull away, though still your faces are still close. Eddie’s bemused by the incredulity on your face, the way your parted lips etch into a feigned offended smile. “I’m too soft to bite?” you repeat, nails scraping on his exposed arms before you suddenly tangle your hand in his hair and pull harshly; lo and behold, he whimpers. “Aw, look at that. He made a sound.”

“That’s because it hurt,” he snaps, chest heaving against yours. “How would you react when I pull on your hair?”

“The same thing,” your other hand pushes his hair behind his ear, pouting at him. “I would have moaned like you did,”

Eddie’s nostrils flare, eyes darkening. “Fuck you.”

Leaning in to whisper in his ear, you tug on his hair again and fuck, he whimpers. “No, I fuck you.” Your nails scrape his scalp, Eddie digging his own at your skin. “What, you think just because I offered I’d let you use me? That’s not how it works, sweetie.”

You pull back, your hand still in his hair before you lean in to kiss him hard on his chapped lips.

It’s sultry, in that exchange of hot breaths between open mouths and teeth clashing. Eddie grunts against you when you coincide with your hip rolling each time your lips close around his. Judas Priest replaces Ozzy Osbourne’s yelling rasps, Love Bites deep thrumming like the chime of a bell cascades the ambience of the moment. You’re bold when your tongue slips past his lips to tackle his, sinking deeper that your nose bends on his cheek.

It’s new and it’s scary to kiss your best friend with the crisp trepidation of the future of your friendship. Because yeah, a simple kiss can change everything. It’s not chaste, it’s not for comfort, it’s not by accident; you’d both agreed to it, and it's unbeknownst to the both of you what the kiss truly meant to either of you. It’s driving you insane.

Your mind buzzes in delirium as you feel his shirt, wrinkles and damp from the sweat. He’s humming and he’s grunting with the wet clicks of your rapacious lips. And Eddie’s had enough, his hands coming down to grip the back of your thighs tightly, standing up from the chair and wrapping your legs around his waist. You fall heavily with him, your back landing on your crumpled sheets, his crotch immediately grinding against yours like a payback.

You moan, tugging on the hair on the nape of his neck. “Fuck,”

“What’s that, bats?” he taunts. “You fuck me? Say it again, sweetheart,” he rolls his hips deeper, bulge pressing right on you. “Say it. That you’ll fuck me. If you can, I’ll let you. If you don’t,” Eddie bites gently at your bottom lip, letting it go and watches as it pops right back. “Guess I'll have to be in control.”

Unpleased by his teasing, you push on his shoulders. Eddie falls back, body pinned to the mattress when you straddle his stomach, your hands gripping his wrists. “I fuck you,” you repeat, jaw clenching. “I’m in charge, you hear me?”

You don’t wait for his answer, because your hands are bringing themselves down to tug on his collar, pulling them apart until the weak shirt rips in half. Eddie’s eyes widen at the rip, lifting his head to press his chin on his neck as he looks at your damage. He laughs. “You’re lucky that wasn’t my favorite shirt,”

“I can get you a new one,” you say quickly, placing your palms beneath his chest to admire the tattoos on his fair skin. You lean back down to kiss him on his lips, gently this time, before you drag your lips down to his red cheeks, to his jawline where the faintest of a stubble begins to grow. Eddie exhales, the faint touch of your finger enough to send heat all over his chest. The Demon stares directly at you when you scrape your nails on the black art, punishing and guiding. “This still creeps me out, by the way,”

Eddie looks at the tattoo, frowning. “It’s still cool,”

His eyeliner smudges a little, making his eyes almost caliginous in his own wanton abyss. You press your lips right on the tattoo, coming down to teasingly nip at his nipple before your hands cup his pecs. And you grind on him again, your ass on his crotch and your covered cunt on the flat of his stomach as you let your hand drive up to splay across his chest.

“Christ, (y/n),” he groans impatiently. “Stop fucking dry humping me.”

“Yeah, well, what is it, Eddie?” you cock your head at him. “Who are you telling that to, hm? Christ or me?”

He sits up, hips jutting to yours that elicits a hushed moan from you. Eddie’s hands prop him up from behind, leaning up to kiss you feverishly again. “You,” he answers, shaking his head at you. “But I think (y/n)’s too formal. ‘Bats’ is too sentimental. I like to…spice things up. There’s a reason why I never call you by your name during DnD, sweets,” he lets one hand go, taking your cheek into his palm. “Whatcha say? Let’s try something new other than bats. Like…like mommy.”

Your rutting slows down a bit, uneven by surprise. You turn your head to him, and he almost comes undone with the way your eyes almost blacken by the dilation of your pupils—the way little glints of arousal light your eyes. Eddie bites his lip when the hand beneath his collarbone nears his neck until you're digging your fingers on either side of his neck.

“Mommy, huh?” you deride. “I like the sound of that,” you bounce lightly, and you smile when he moans lowly. “You gonna let mommy do whatever she wants? Because I think it was fucking filthy of you to get a boner when I was on your lap,” Eddie lays back down, his hands gripping your ass. “And mommy wants to punish you for a bit, is that alright?”

He nods. “Y-yes.”

You crawl down slowly. “Yes what?”

Eddie whines softly, his palm resting on the thin layer of sweat forming on his forehead. “Yes mommy.” he grunts. “Still gonna call you bats, though. Feels uncanny,”

“Commit to it,” you unbuckle his jeans, handcuffs clicking as you do so. “Don’t be shy and naughty, Eddie. You wanted it.”

He lifts up, helping you tug his jeans down. Eddie could care less if you lose his jeans in the pile of clothes on the ground, because you’re beneath him. You’re not exactly kneeling—a sight he’d kill for—but seeing your face hovering over his cock hidden by his briefs was enough to make his mouth water and suppress a loud moan. Eddie breathes heavily when you press a kiss on top of his bulge, looking so cherubic and innocent it’s driving him insane.

Now you are mine, In my control. One taste of your life, and I own your soul

You sing it against him, exhaling at each worth that your hot breath makes him jolt. Eddie whines, looking down at you to see that you’re hooking your fingers on the band of his briefs, tugging them down until his feet slip past the holes and you’re throwing it aside.

Amused by the sight of your tongue licking your lips at the sight of his hard cock slapping against his happy trail, a glob of precum leaking down to land on the coarse hair above his dick. Eddie’s hand comes down to brush your hair out of your face. “‘S not fair that I’m naked and you’re still clothed.”

“Patience,” you scoff, leaning back to shed your shirt. You shiver when your bare tits feel the air conditioned air nip at your exposed nipples, but you smirk when Eddie gawps at the sight of you being bare chested and kneeling at the end of your bed right in front of his cock.

Not once did he imagine the sound of a zipper going down could excite him this much, but fuck, your removing your shorts and tossing it at him. Eddie catches it, shamelessly bunching it up in his fist and digging his nose into the crutch point, where he whiffs at the faint scent of your arousal.

“I can imagine just how wet you are,” he throws it aside. “I can fucking smell it on your shorts.”

You’re standing up, right where the exploration of his eyes land on the black lace that covers you, shows well your bumps and the askew imperfections on your thighs. Its floral folderol craves him for the exposure, and it has him tracing the other integrants of you—the matching bat tattoos on your forearm that you’ve both gotten when you turned 18, your Cockatrice dragon to his Wyvern on your other arm; your own demon on your waistline inspired by Gene Simmons, the coiling snake beneath your right breast, and a bell right between your collarbones. It makes Eddie sit up.

“That’s new,” he points to the black bell. “When’d you get that?”

“Last week,” you drag your finger across it. “Metallica’s growing on me.”

For Whom The Bell Tolls. That’s hot.

Eddie bites his lip when you sway your hips side to side as you leisurely get rid of your black lace, your head lifting to gaze coquettishly at him. “Wanna know how wet mommy got, Eddie?” you hum. He nods his head, muttering a low fuck yeah, his lips all swollen from the lip biting that he eases the pain by licking his lips.

His cock throbs at the bare sight of your cunt, not fully exposed but he sees the small triangular bush on top. Eddie stops himself from touching his length right there and then as the lace slips past your knees and soon your feet, tossing it at his face that he clumsily catches. You gasp when he sniffs every inch of it, licking the crotch with the flat of his tongue before he’s flinging it somewhere in a corner.

“Smell good, bats,” Eddie growls. “Fucking delectable.”

You come back to kneel at the end of the bed, right between his legs before you're laying on your stomach. Eddie watches with a parted mouth as you trail kisses up his thigh. And you waste no time to spit on your hand and wrap your hand around his shaft, pumping him in an adagio manner. He lets out a moanish sigh, taking two pillows to rest his head all while he watches you tease him.

“Think you deserve my mouth?” you drawl, biting gently at the fat of his thigh. “Tell me, Eddie. Do you deserve mommy’s cock? After being so naughty? I wonder what other girls would think of you having a boner when you sit on their lap. ‘S like you’re a poor little virgin.”

Your thumb traces the slit of the bulging mushroom head, and it’s taking all of his strength not to thrust up. Your touch is burning, only on his cock but felt tactile like the blaze spreads through his veins like a wildfire. Eddie whines. “Please,” he begs. “I’ve been good, mommy. Jus’ couldn’t help it. You looked hot.” you look up at him. “So fucking sexy sitting on my lap, bats.”

Giggling, you shake your head and press a short kiss on his tip. “You’re lucky flattery works with me.”

A loud moan, louder than Rob Haldford, leaves Eddie’s valiant mouth when you sink your head down his cock, your throat opening to welcome his tip that gags you, your nose grazing the bush of curls. It was a sudden suck, the way your cheeks enclose greedily around his length that makes his legs shake. His fists curl your sheets as you begin to bob your head.

You slap his hand away when it comes down to the back of your head, pulling out and squeezing his shaft. “Keep your hands to yourself, slut. And stay still. If you so much as thrust up my face without my permission, I’m leaving you here all wet with your balls blue.”

He definitely almost came. “Fuck. I’m sorry, m-mommy.”

When you take him into your mouth again with glaring eyes, Eddie thinks of the other girls—a wrong moment to do so, but he remembers how incompetend they were at making him feel so good by the simple touch on his dick. They didn’t send shivers up his spine, they didn’t bear the same dominancy you did; didn’t make him submit indigently the way you made him to. He’s never felt this good in a long time, and it’s just your fucking mouth around him.

“Your cock’s so big, Eddie,” you press your palm on the vein beneath his shaft, kitten licking his tip. “Taste so fucking good, too.” like the way I imagined, you almost say. But you don’t want him to know that; it’s embarrassing to make him think that you’d hump a pillow and imagine fucking his face.

“Feels s-sooo fucking good—shit…bats,” he pants. You close your lips around his helmet, hand on his shaft pumping him as you bob your head around his tip but never fully taking him into your mouth. The feeling was still unexplainably stupefying, your tongue pressing flat on the throbbing flesh of his tip, hands fast and gyrating around his slick shaft that he hears wet sounds against your palm and his sensitive skin.

His grunts and loud moaning sends a hot pool between your legs that it’s starting to drip down your legs to the bed, sticky and sweet and painful from the lack of touch. You take your vacant hand down between your body and the bed, fingers reaching blindly for your clit. And when you rub the swollen nub, you moan against his head that sends vibrations.

“Shit!” his ass clenches, stopping himself from bucking up. Eddie looks down to see your arm wedged uncomfortably beneath you, and he feels his orgasm build up to the edge of the wall when your eyes close as you rub your clit and suck on his cock. “Are you- touching yourself?”

You hum around him, head bobbing in rhythm to the music. You pull away from his cock, to kiss your way down to his heavy balls. Eddie mewls, whining when you rub your clit faster as you lick his balls. Everything feels overwhelmingly good when you suck on his balls, tongue lifting his heavy sack and enclosing your lips around the dark flesh. Eddie’s eyes roll to the back of his head, throwing his head down to his pillow and covering his eyes with his forearm.

He feels the eyeliner transfer to his sweaty skin, his sweat taking the liquid kohl and dripping down his temple. But it might have been the tears that threaten to spill past his eyes that sets the makeup off down his face, because your sloppy sucking and quick pumping, it felt so good it renders him an almost sobbing mess beneath you.

“Mommy,” he heaves. “I’m close,”

“Hold it in, then,” you order. “I’m not done. You can touch my hair now, by the way.”

You capture his sack with the most pure look you could muster, as if what you're doing isn’t so fucking unholy. Like you’re at the gates of heaven proving your innocence. Your hands leave him and yourself to push on the back his thighs, letting his feet plant on the mattress, pushing them wide apart to give yourself better access. Eddie moans, almost a scream ripping out his throat and it’s when the tears slowly start, your hand coming back to pump his wet cock loudly, your muffled moaning like music that comes with the squelching of his cock.

“Such a pretty dick,” you tease. “So pretty and good. Wonder what it would feel like to have you inside me. I’m gonna fucking milk you dry until you’re crying and in pain.”

Eddie pats your head, running his fingers through the tangled mess as you look up at him, eyelashes wet and curled, mouth full of his balls that you suck greedily. His missing orgasm is painful, and he finds himself begging embarrassingly. “Bats, can I cum, please? I’ve been good. Fuck—I’ve been such a good boy for you. Please let me cum.”

Your laugh is sardonic and mean, pressing a kiss to his heavy sack before you’re licking up from his balls to his shaft and tip. “Since you asked so nicely.”

Vampishly, you sink your head down his cock again, gagging around him that a string of saliva drips down your neck and the valley of your breast. Eddie mewls, and with a couple more closed cheeks, head bobbing and sucking and licking, he’s shooting his seed at the back of your throat. His warm delicacy coating the walls of your throat.

You don’t stop until he’s milked, sinking your head deeper and deeper until his cum starts to drip out your mouth. Once you’re done, you let him go with a pop. Your finger scooping up his cum and pushing it back into your mouth.

“Mother of Ozzy,” he whispers, watching you suck on your fingers, his legs dropping down. “S-shit. Come here, bats.”

You come back to sit on his lap, his dick still hard but bends down when you grind your cunt against him. Eddie’s (and your) moans are muffled when you kiss him, taking his face in your hands as you kiss him with fervor, slowly grinding on his shaft like you did earlier. Eddie wraps his hands around your back, keeping your chest flushed against his as his tongue evades your mouth.

“You taste like my cum,” he murmurs.

“Tastes good,” you giggle. “Aw, your eyeliner. I worked hard on that.”

Eddie pouts. “You give the best fucking head, bats. Couldn’t help it.”

Tracing his jawline with your finger, you smile at his praise. “Think you can handle one more? Or you just want to lay back and watch me touch myself?”

Eddie chuckles, shaking his head. His answer dies in his mouth when he looks up at you—and Ozzy, you’re fucking beautiful. With your lips plump, eyes glazed in mutual titillation. Like you’re not just fucking, like you didn’t just suck him off just to replenish your venereal hunger. But he doesn’t know what it is, and so do you (though only because you try to ignore the real reason you can’t fathom).

“Me? I can handle more. Fuck me in the ass if you want, bats,” he presses a quick kiss. “You got any condoms?”

With a hand on his shoulder, Eddie keeps you in place as you lean across the bedside table and clumsily open the drawer. You pull out a pack, splayed out in the wooden cabinet from its box, holding it between your middle and index finger as you wiggle your eyebrows at him. “I got twenty more.”

“Easy there, mama,” his voice is low and almost growling as he looks at your lips. The mixtape whirls as you rip the package open with your teeth. Seek and Destroy by Metallica starts playing, your fingers taking the condom from the foil and placing it on your mouth, lips around the plastic ring before you bend down to wrap the condom around his cock. “Fuck.Where’d you learn that?”

You take him fully in your mouth again, cheekily sucking before you pull out and push your hair out of your face. “Steve Harrington. Junior Year,” Eddie gawps. “Right after Nancy Wheeler dumped him.”

“Holy shit,” despite the panging jealousy, he laughs in shock. “You’re something else, baby.”

Baby.

Heat brushes your cheeks, makes you laugh shyly as you take his sensitive cock in your hand. “Lay back down.”

Eddie complies with the help of your hand pushing his back to the bed. You kneel, hand grabbing his cock and straightening it until his tip’s prodding your entrance. You keenly breathe in when you sink, his thick girth splitting your wet pussy open. He lets out a moan that’s almost painful, greedy hands coming to palm your waist to help you sink.

“Shiiiiiiit,” you gasp. “God, you feel fucking amazing, Eds. So fucking big.”

“That’s it mommy. God, so tight,” Eddie’s eyes drip heavily. “You like my dick?”

His neck stretches when you choke him, his head falling back. “Fucking love your fat cock,” you mewl, throwing your head back. Eddie removes his hands from your waist to palm at your tits, feeling his mushroom bulge in your stomach once you’ve fully sat.

Barely a minute after he’s fully in, you begin moving. The wet sound of your pussy dragging up from his length makes you even wetter, dripping down his navel, his happy trail all sticky. Your hand leaves his neck to scratch on his chest, watching as slanted, red marks paint his skin and his tattoos before you drop down.

Eddie moans, his feet planting up the bed once more to rest your curved back. “You look so pretty,” he pants. “Riding my cock. Touched myself every night to the thought of this. And I know it’s wrong, bats, but I couldn’t fucking help it. I’d—I’d bend a pillow and fuck it, thinking it was your pussy. And all along I thought you’d let me have my way with you. But I was so wrong.”

You grind and bounce at an adequate pace, your walls clenching around him, your ass slapping against the skin of his thighs everytime you come back down. Eddie relishes in the blissful haze hailed upon you, your eyebrows scrunched and raised, jaw slack as you let out mewls with the same volume as his. Almost to the point that the loud music can’t even drown out your euphoric cries.

The tears began forming from the stinging overstimulation, his cock twitching immediately and he feels so raw. His vigor shredded and he submits himself to you, laying and moaning beneath your sedulous fucking.

And he knows, even with the rubber separating his flesh to yours, that everything has changed. No one else could fuck him the way you do, the way you sucked him off, the way you ruled over him and his body. Eddie’s tears choke his moans, the ebony makeup spilling down to your white sheets, your nails scratching all over his tattoos as you bounce faster.

“Jesus. You fucking whore,” Your eyes roll to the back of your head, eyes slamming shut as you bounce. You glow with the sheen layer of sweat coating your body, breathtaking in all your pulchritudinous galore. Eddie traces the stretch marks on your thigh and thinks he’s never seen anything more beautiful than the rare sight of you all pleasured and his. “God, Eddie, you feel so amazing.”

Your head ducks, a sob coming out of you. Your heart palpitates, the shattering sensation of being fucked open by your best friend gives you blindsiding revelation that you would rather be with him than anyone else. Because the touch of his hands is nothing but comforting after your cruelty.

You bounce faster on his cock. Eddie’s tears are stained with gray rivulets, coming up to sit and push your chest against him so he can hug you. Your hand tangles itself on his unkempt hair, nails scratching his back, whereas he’s muffling his growls by biting on your shoulder. Eddie kisses his way to your neck, sucking and biting a love bite in.

“I’m close, bats,” he pants against your sweaty flesh. “I’m gonna fucking cum. I can’t hold it in.”

“Okay,” you nod, pulling away to press your forehead against his. You exchange breathy moans, your bounces now with the help of Eddie as you slowly lose your energy. “F-fuck. All this time I’ve been searching for some rando to fuck. Should’ve just gone to you.” He wedges his hand between your bodies, his fingers dancing across your clit that makes you bump your forehead harder with his. “Fuck, Eddie. Cum. I wanna feel you cum.”

Eddie keens on his orgasm, and so do you. Sobbing and mewling into each other’s mouths as your grinding slows down, feeling his warm cum fill his condom, your own climax covering the rubber. He runs his hands up and down your back, before they come up to your shoulder and cup your face, pushing your hair aside so he could kiss you.

A kiss sweeter and more innocent than the first one. Eddie takes your wet lips into his, soft with his pants and his touch. And with his lips still yours, he helps you kneel up to pull his softening cock out of your gaping cunt. You hiss lightly, a tear coating your eyelashes that he wipes away as he sits you down on his thigh.

“That’s it, mama,” his voice is raw and croaky, you rest your head on his shoulder, hands leaving you momentarily to pull his condom out. You watch as Eddie tiredly ties the condom, reaching the bin beneath your bed and throws it inside before he’s hugging you again, fingers rubbing your jaw and thigh. “You did good, bats. Tired?”

You nod your head. Eddie urges you to lay on the bed, where you lay on your side and prop your head up with your hand, He wipes the eyeliner off with the side of his thumb, eyes never leaving you.

“So,” you scratch the column of your neck. “That was intense. Didn’t know the Dungeon Master had it in him to call me mommy but, I wouldn’t complain.”

“Shut up,” he pushes on your shoulder, mimicking your position. Eddie’s fingers trace the curvatures of your waist, hovering over your stretch marks. “I didn't know you had it in you. Did you suck Harrington like that too?”

You laugh, hiding your eyes. “No. No, I never blew him. He’s very eager with giving head, it's insane.” Eddie smiles. “But he’s really good at it. He’s got a bit of a breeding kink. Kept whining about condoms but.”

“At least he’s good at giving head,” his rings are cold against your skin. Scooting closer, Eddie nestles his cheek on the side of his elbow. “So I know we literally just finished having sex but…are you still up for another?”

“Jesus, give me a break. I’m not a machine y’know,” he laughs.

“That’s not what I meant,”

You bite your lip nervously, taking his hand into yours and staring at the difference of its sizes. Your fingers were more slender than his, but his hand in general was bigger. “I’m still up to play house. I really liked the whole mommy thing.”

Eddie smiles, seraphic and pretty. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” you brush the curls away from his face. “Uncle Wayne wouldn’t be here for a couple hours. My parents are still out. So we can fuck for as long as we want.”

Your offer excites him. Eddie takes your cups your face and kisses you once more, deciding to worry about what would happen after all this later.

8K notes · View notes

cecilioque · 1 year

Text

The Submas Designs are a lot more clever than you thought.

First lets look at the Submas overall design. We know that the original design was intended to make the Subway Bosses look like clowns and kind of creepy (that backfired); hence the comically large shoes and exaggerated expressions. Let’s start to break down each part of the design.

To begin, The Submas extreme expressions are a possible reference to the symbol of theatre; the mask of Tragedy and the Mask of Comedy. The mask of tragedy is commonly portrayed frowning ( not necessarily cry) on a black base mask while the mask of Comedy is portrayed smiling on a white base masks. Sometimes these masks are gold or split black and white color. The masks together represent the two extremes of the human psyche. Definitely the contrast we see between Emmet's smile and Ingo’s frown.

Next up, the coats. These are obviously designed to look like train tracks. The vertical grey lines representing the rails, the red brown the tie (the wood connecting the rails), and the buttons are the spikes that secure the track. You can see the pattern best on the back of the Submas coat. Looking at it you could laugh and say “I guess that makes the Subway boss themselves the train”, and you know what? You’re right.

This brings us to the most interesting part of their design, the color and pose. Yes, there is an explanation to the silly pose too. It’s so silly that we can just brush this whole design off as being another funny Pokemon character design; but unfortunately it’s actually thought out.

The Submas themselves are the New York Subway. Or at least they are the personified version of it. Let’s look at the colors again. Black and White. Very fitting for a game literally called Pokemon Black and White. That alone brings us to some interesting comparisons with the game themes and pokemon.

Kudari or (Emmet in the English version) wears all white. He values routine and rules and is ultimately pretty point blank. We can easily make that conclusion that Emmet represents Reshiram and truth. If we break down his name we see that in Japanese it means something along the lines of “down train” or moving away/going down hill. The different translations usually mean the same, except the name “Emmet” is a bit out of place. A lot of people say the Submas names in English are most likely to be puns of “Ingoing and Emitting”. But my crazy self did more digging and found that Emmet means “truth” specifically universal truth. This name goes back to old German, Irish, and even Hebrew. All looping back to Reshiram and themes of the game. (On a funny side note, Emmet is also the Cornish word for ant; so Emmet having a Durant is really funny. )

Next up is Nobori or Ingo who wears a black coat and appears frowning. Despite that , his is very encouraging and excited about moving forward. This makes sense since the name Nobori in Japanese more or less means to move up/forward ( specifically up a mountain). That’s why a lot of people believe that the poor man was eebie deebied for the pun because Warden Ingo works on Mt. Coronet. In English, Ingo is thought to be a shortened version of “Ingoing” which also aligns with not only the Japanese name but the character’s reoccurring theme of progress, moving forward, and ideals. In this sense Ingo very much represents Zekrom and ideals.

Truth and ideals, Reshiram and Zekrom, Tragedy and comedy, white and Black. All very good interpretations and symbolism for two funny train men. I would be satisfied with just knowing that, but no; the Submas are also a funny gijinka of the New York Subway. This is the part the has me laughing at how simple it is and yet we just easily accepted that they were just a bit strange.

Take a look at this. This is a Zebra Board.

Yep, it’s black and white. And do you know what? This MTA sign only appears in the New York subway. What does it do? These are used by conductors to indicate safety and that the train has lined up in the station. Every time the subway comes into the station, the conductor has to physically point at this board/bar to indicate that it is safe for the doors to open. The action is called "point and call" or "point and acknowledge". This practice is used in a few other train/subway stations (such as Japan), but the black and white board is New York specific. The pose of the submas suddenly makes a lot of sense.

Other Important notes observations.

The Submas face represents the front of the train. So their eyes are the lights (hence Ingos glowing eyes in PLA), their side burns are cow catchers ( see graphic), and the Medalion on the hat is round like a train number plate. Another interesting thing is that the Submas use airline Captain Pilot hats like Japanese train conductors use. The only part of their outfit that confuses me is the arm bands. This is more of a police uniform element and not a train conductor thing.

so to conclude, the Submas are basically a reference to in game themes, Reshiram/Zekrom, Trains, and literally the New York subway

I am not an expert. These are just my observations. I could be completely wrong. Take and add what you would like to. If you have more to add about the design, feel free to reblog that info. I would also like to see your interpretation.

#submas #ingo #emmet #subway boss ingo #subway boss emmet #kudari #nobori #warden ingo #pokemon submas #this took too long and I can't look at it anymore please ignore the spelling errors #ill come back and fine tune this later #but this is the basic info #I still have more to say about them though i will leave it for another day

1K notes · View notes

void-wolfie · 11 months

Text

Inhale

summary: Jenna helps you through an asthma attack. [request]

pairing: Jenna Ortega x gn!Reader

words: 1.5k

tw: asthma attack (is that something that needs a warning?), mentions of smoking, my crappy writing

a/n: hope this lives up to your expectations anon, (totally not inspired by that video of Jenna smoking)

*I don't have asthma myself so this is based on the little research I did, if it's not accurate I apologize

"Rough day at work?" You asked, watching as Jenna hurriedly put her cigarette out. Ignoring how you could already feel your lungs tightening with the smoke in the air.

"Jesus, y/n, you scared me."

You'd just gotten home, wanting nothing more than to curl up in bed and fall asleep between the warm sheets. But you couldn't help but spot Jenna on the balcony, watching the bustling city below.

"Those things will kill ya, you know," You said, referring to the cigarette still burning in the ashtray.

"They'll kill you long before they kill me," She sighed, running her fingers through her hair, "You know you shouldn't be out here when I smoke."

"Yeah, yeah..." you scuffed your shoe along the ground, avoiding eye contact with the actress.

You hated being babied over your asthma, you hated Percy for getting her addicted to those stupid cigarettes, but most of all, you hated how the past week you've been so busy you've barely been able to see your girlfriend.

"Come on, let's go inside," She nodded her head to the door, but you made no indication of moving.

"I want to stay out here a little longer with you." You gave her those big puppy dog eyes, the ones you knew she couldn't deny. "It's nice out and I miss you."

"I don't want to trigger your asthma though,"

"Just for a little while, please?"

Part of you knew it was a bad idea, sitting in the chilly air where she'd been smoking only moments ago. But you didn't want to go in just yet. It was nice out, the cool breeze felt good against your skin, even though it pierced through your lungs. It was fairly quiet for once, despite the city below and the soft hum of Jenna's music in the background.

She sighed and her shoulders dropped. How could she ever say no to those adorable eyes? "Fine, but the minute you start coughing we're going inside,"

"Deal."

You weren't going to tell her how you'd been battling your asthma all day, nor how the second you stepped outside you could feel your chest tighten, your breathing becoming just a tad more labored. All that would do is make her worry more, and she worries about you enough already.

You leaned against the railing next to Jenna, taking in the scenery below. She took the blanket that'd been wrapped around her shoulders and draped it around the both of you, cuddling into your side.

"How was work?" she asked, breaking the silence.

"Annoying." You scoffed, "My producer was in a bad mood all day, it was like trying to work with an overgrown toddler."

"And the new album?" She pushed herself into your side, wrapping herself around you. You could make out the smell of smoke on her and the blanket, which your lungs were not happy about.

"It's coming along, still has a long way to go," a small cough wracked your body and you could make out the worried look on her face from the corner of your eye.

You went to take a deep breath, to steady yourself, only it was like your lungs couldn't inflate. You'd had asthma attacks before, but this one felt different, worse. It was like breathing through a paper straw with an elephant sitting on your chest.

"y/n?"

You could barely hear her call out to you through the coughing and the dull ringing in your ears.

No, no, no... Not now...

"I- I can't-"

Jenna's whole attention was on you now. You were putting almost all your weight on the railing in front of you, not having the strength to hold yourself up at the moment. You started wheezing in-between coughing, the look on your face told her all she needed to know.

"Shit." She ran inside, racing to the bathroom to grab your spare inhaler.

When she got back, you were sitting on the floor, your back against the railing.

You weren't coughing much anymore, mostly wheezing, possibly on the verge of hyperventilating. You couldn't think straight, the lack of air and the onset of panic muddling your thoughts. All you could focus on was the rapid rise and fall of your chest, how your lungs didn't feel like they were inflating at all, or if they were even working. It was hell.

Jenna was doing her best to stay calm. Panicking right now would only make things worse for you, but she was worried. She hadn't seen you have an attack this bad in a while.

She shook the inhaler before popping the cap off. She kneeled in front of you and slid the inhaler into your hand, guiding it toward your face.

It took you a moment to figure out what was happening. There was an inhaler in your hand, inches from your face, and Jenna was kneeling in front of you looking terrified.

You did your best to take a deep breath, it was almost painful, like trying to break through your ribcage from the inside out. You pushed the inhaler to your mouth and pushed down on the top. There was a rush of cool air as you inhaled. Your lungs were burning, aching for any sort of air they could get, your chest rising and falling faster as they started bringing in more air.

It took another puff from the inhaler before you finally started to settle. Your breathing finally slowed to a semi-normal pace.

"Talk to me, love," Jenna was hovering in front of you, concern etched into her features.

"Inside, please," You managed to get out between heavy breaths.

Jenna helped you up. Slinging one of your arms around her shoulders as she helped you inside and onto the couch.

Your chest still ached from all the coughing, and your throat felt like it was on fire. You could already feel the medicine kicking in, your chest wasn't nearly as tight, and your hands were starting to shake.

"How can I help?" Jenna asked, cupping your face in her hands. You'd barely noticed the tear tracks streaming down your face, the way your vision blurred from unshed tears. But it didn't escape Jenna's attention. She wiped away the tears with her thumbs, making sure to be as gentle as possible.

"Water?"

"Of course," She had to stop herself from sprinting to the kitchen, settling instead on a fast-paced walk so she wouldn't look like a madman running off.

You gave her a weak smile, gratefully taking the water from her. It felt like magic against the back of your throat, like rain in the middle of a drought.

"Anything else?" she asked, a little less worried now that your breathing had mostly returned to normal.

"Cuddles?" You asked, making grabby hands toward your girlfriend, wanting nothing more than to forget about your shitty day and fall asleep.

She giggled, grabbing your hands and intertwining your fingers with her own, placing a gentle kiss on the back of one of your palms.

"Ok, but let me shower first." You pouted, not liking the idea of having to separate from Jenna, "I'll only be a few minutes. I just want to get the smell of smoke off me."

"Fineeee"

Normally, Jenna liked to take scalding hot showers, bask in the warm water and let the day's worries melt away. But not tonight. She took a shower as quickly as she could, not wanting to leave your side for very long, not when it wouldn't take much for you to have another episode.

When Jenna got out of the shower, she found you still in the living room, sprawled out across the couch asleep. You still had your inhaler clutched in one hand, holding it close to your chest as if you were scared to have another attack in the middle of the night.

She hated seeing you like this, and she hated not being able to help you even more. One of her greatest fears was you not being able to get to your inhaler in time, essentially dying from suffocation. The idea scared her half to death and put an ache in her heart she never wanted to feel again.

She didn't want to move you, you looked too peaceful on the couch, but she didn’t want to leave you alone either. So she settled on the idea of sleeping on the couch with you instead.

She went into your bedroom, yanking one of the blankets off the bed, and carrying it into the living room. She gently took the inhaler from your hand, making sure to set it within arm's reach on the coffee table.

You woke up to the feeling of her hands in yours. A feeling you adored, "Cuddles now?" You asked, trying to fight off the urge to fall back asleep.

"Sure," She laid down with you, letting you get comfortable between her legs as you laid your head on her chest. She covered the both of you with the blanket, making sure you were cozy.

"Love you," You mumbled, barely awake as you let the sound of her heartbeat lull you to sleep.

"I love you too," She whispered, gently brushing a few strands of hair from your eyes.

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x gn!reader #void-wolfie

985 notes · View notes

justmeinadaze · 10 months

Text

Head Filled With Demons (Steddie X You)

A/N: Ok, a few things here. First I played fast and loose with demon mythology as well as a lot of the themes from the episode of Black Mirror this is based on. There are no spoilers for that episode so don't worry. I guess you could say this is an AU Steddie as in this world they are relatively well known demons in their mythology. I pulled some stuff from the show but...you'll see. No spoilers for either show here lol

I hope this is coherent and makes sense lol I had fun with it and I still have more chapters to go :) .

Warnings: Demon Steddie X Human fem reader; SMUT and ANGST with a dash of fluff. The smut has sprinkles of Dom Steddie (spanking, scolding, dirty talk), Mentions of a sick parent and death of another parent, small scene detailing domestic abuse (may be triggering), Steddie gives the reader visions so she sees bad things people in Hawkins do including the end of the world, there is a murder (very brief; blood is mentioned), y/n and Steddie mention a lot of themes regarding feeling stuck and unhappy.

Word Count: 6842

“HELLO!?”

You jump as the customer in front of you slams her items on the counter.

“I’ve been waiting here for five minutes for service! Are you going to ring me up or not?!”

“Yes, ma’am. I apologize.”

“Don’t apologize. Just do your fucking job.”, she grumbles as you begin scanning the things in front of you.

This will be the thousandth time TODAY you got caught daydreaming about being anywhere else but this stupid department store in the Hawkins mall. After graduating high school, you thought your options would be endless but once your father got sick, you knew you had to stay home to take care of him. You thought about applying to colleges nearby but everything was too expensive especially with the added medical and regular bills around the house, you needed to find employment fast.

After the mall was built, you knew there would be a plethora of available positions and found one with a good hourly wage. The problem was it was incredibly boring. Some days you felt like running out of the store and just flipping over the railing to the second floor. At least you might finally feel something. Add in customers like this one and it was a good mix of pain and annoyance to drive you through to the end of your shift.

“Are you done or what?!”

“Yes ma’am. Here’s your receipt and, please, have a great rest of your day.”, you say with the biggest fake smile you can muster.

“You need an attitude check, missy.” She spat before turning and walking out the store.

“Wow, you sure leave an impression.” Carol comes up behind you and leans against the counter, popping her gum obnoxiously. “Mr. Cline wants you to take those boxes to the basement.”

You glance where she’s pointing at the three boxes stalked against the wall that are taller than you both.

“My last break is coming up. Why can’t you do it?”

“Because he didn’t ask me to. He asked for you.”, she sneered. “Is there a problem?”

“No,”, you grinned in a thin line. “No problem.”

***

You huffed as you threw the boxes on to the ground, not even pretending to care if there was anything delicate within them. Leaning against the wall to catch your breath, you look around the illuminated but still extremely creepy basement.

Most of the stores in the mall kept a lot of their miscellaneous stock down here, segregated to different areas. Your department store usually kept overstocked clothing items like shoes and jackets until the ones upstairs were sold out or someone asked for something specific that was no longer kept on the shelf. The area was right next to the security guard’s desk but today he didn’t seem to be there.

You walked over to it, glancing at the papers strewn all over the place.

“Boo!”

“Jesus Christ, Paul!”, you exhale as you grip your chest. “Scared the crap out of me.”

“Good.”, he chuckles. “See anything interesting?” He laughs harder when you shake your head. “I’m actually glad I saw you. I found something on the floor here the other day I thought you’d think was cool.”

Paul digs into his desk drawer and produces a necklace with a gem tied to the end.

“Beautiful, huh? The stone looks kind of like a guitar pick, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, it does. Where did you find it?”

“Like I said, it was on the floor kind of near your stores cage. I’ve never seen you guys sell anything like that and I know you’re into that gems/crystal mumbo jumbo so… I thought I’d give it to you to take a look. At most, maybe, you could ask Richard if they got some new things in.”

“Uh, yeah, ok. Thank you, Paul. I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Of course, hon. Tell your dad I said hello!”

You couldn’t stop staring at the little stone connected to the chain as you rode the elevator back up to the main part of the mall. It did look like a guitar pick which wasn’t an abnormal design in the 80s since almost every single metalhead you passed had something like it but this one was different. Usually those necklaces were cheap, the stone on this looked expensive and old. The gorgeous red color shimmered against the light and pierced your eyes in a way that had a small moan leave your lips at its beauty. There were symbols on either side you couldn’t quiet make out.

It was so odd. As your fingers ran over the material, you got this feeling in your chest, like this thing in your hands was meant for you…

The elevator dinged, startling you back into reality as you quickly hid the item in your pocket and headed back to the store to finish your shift.

##############

“Hey, Y/N.”

“Hey, dad. What are you doing moving around? You should be in bed.”

You father walked over to give you a hug as you greeted him in the kitchen.

“I know but I just wanted to wait for you. See how your day was.”

Sighing, you reach into the fridge to grab a snack before turning towards him so he could see your playful frustrated face. “Oh, you know. The regular; angry housewives and bitchy coworkers.”

He chuckles as he takes a seat at the dining table.

“Y/N, you know you don’t have to work so hard, right?”

“I know, dad. I just want to make sure you’re taken care of.”

“Sweetheart, I’m fine. I can handle…” His cough cuts him off and you quickly run to the cabinet to hand him his medicine. “Thank you.”

“No problem.”, you smile as you lean over to hug him again. “I’m fine. Trust me. I’m going to go munch on this junk and then crash.”

As you head towards your room, you hear his shaky exhale before taking another puff of his inhaler.

***

Sitting at your desk, you examine the necklace Paul gave you further and make notes on what you see. Tomorrow, you had the day off so when you went to the library you wanted to be able to have all the information you could.

-silver chain

-Red Jasper stone

-support for stress

-brings tranquility and wholeness (balance)

One side has a baseball style bat with thorns… Nails?

-Maybe meant for protection

Other side is a guitar from a long time ago.

This is definitely beautiful. I wonder where it came fr—

“Ow! Shit.”, you wince as you place your thumb in your mouth. While looking at the gem, the bottom sliced through your skin causing you to bleed on your notes and the stone. “Shit, shit, shit.”

You run to the bathroom to grab a tissue, wrapping it around your finger before wiping it along the piece of jewelry. The feeling of wind on your back caused you to hastily turn around. It felt like someone had tried to touch your hair making a shiver run down your spine.

Shaking away the jitters, you turned around, prepared to clean the blood off the paper when you noticed it was already gone and replaced with red, inked words.

“I could have sworn…”

“Hello, sweetheart.”

“Did I write that? I don’t think—” You’re not sure what made you do it. Maybe it’s because you were so exhausted or just seeing the word sweetheart triggered a warm, safe feeling in your belly. You scooted your pen below the sentence and responded with a nice, little…

“Hi.”

“How are you tonight, pretty girl?”

“Jesus Christ!” Your chair falls to the floor as you stand and back up towards your bed. Your hand covers your mouth as you watch more words appear on the paper.

“Y/N!? Are you ok?!”

“Um…yeah! Yeah, dad, I’m fine. Just… tripped.”

Slowing inching your way forward, you read the notes in front of you.

“Nice going, Ed.”

“Shit. It’s not my fault! I would be scared to if words magically appeared in front of me.”

“Oh my god. It’s finally happened. I’ve lost my mind. I’m going crazy.”

“You are NOT going crazy. I promise you, babe. What’s your name?”

“A sentient paper is asking me my name. Uh okay… I’m Y/N.”

“Aw, I like that. It’s pretty like you.”

“Y-y-you can see me? Right now?”

“Yes.”

You yelped when you felt a breeze again move past your arms.

“Wh-what’s your name?”

“Make you a deal. You give us permission to enter your realm and we’ll tell you our names.”

“Us?”

“Two sides, honey. Two sets of markings on the stone. Two…people.”

You could swear you hear chuckling in the air.

“Don’t mean to rush you, princess, but we kind of need you to make a choice. Yes or no?”

“I, uh, I don’t—”

“Come on, Y/N. Just say yes. It’s fine. Yes, yes, yes…”

Suddenly, the word “yes” begins to crowd the page repeatedly until it spills over on to your desk. Your breathing picks up as your heartrate increases. Is this really happening? Is this in my head? What’s the downside to this?

“YES!”

Everything in the room stills as the words in front of you disappear. Two words begin to slide across the paper as you lean forward to read them.

“Good girl.”

The light above you snaps off and you hear the sound of heavy breathing coming from your bed. Your eyes widen as you fall to the floor at the sight of two horned, demon looking figures sitting on your mattress. You cower in the corner covering your eyes as you begin muttering to yourself.

“This isn’t real. This isn’t real. This isn’t—”

“Oh, uh, I forgot humans don’t have people like us running around. Um, sweetheart, what form would make you more comfortable?”

When you don’t answer, they sigh as the bed squeaks when they stand. One creature shuffles beside you towards your door where your poster of Tom Cruise in Risky Business hangs. The other moves towards your picture frame on your dresser of you during your meet and greet with Motley Crue.

The sound of two sets of snapped fingers fill the room with a glowing red light and when you dare to sneak a peek from under your arm, you no longer see monster legs but a set of sneakers. A strong but soft hand touches your skin and your head shoots up as you push yourself as far back as you can.

“How’s this? Better?”

The demon in front of you had formed into an everyday man you may see come into your store every now and then. His brown hair fluffed up perfectly and you pushed down the notion to run your fingers through it. Instead of his original rough looking skin, he now donned a soft but muscular form hidden under your typical style polo and jeans. His beautiful brown eyes scanned you over with concern as he kneeled in front of you.

Your eyes flicked to the other one across the room who was now checking himself out in your full-length mirror. His attire was much more torn and rattier than the other ones. His jeans had holes in many different places and the Dio vest was fringing near the bottom. The leather jacket and boots made your tummy flutter. He looked like the kind of man you would have dated back in high school. His long, wavy hair moved quickly as he turned around to face you both, digging into his jacket pocket and producing a cigarette.

“Um, please don’t…my dad…”

He pauses as both boys exchange a look.

“Don’t worry. He can’t see me or inhale anything I smoke.” They watch as you slowly rise to your feet. “Oh shit. Manners. We made you deal. I’m Eddie. This is Steve.” He wiggles his fingers in a waving motion.

“Why is this happening now? Please. I can’t go crazy yet. My dad still needs me. I—”

“Again, not going crazy. See, you found our thing here.”, Steve gestures towards the necklace. “You called for us so here we are.”

“No, no, no. I accidently…I didn’t mean…I…”

“Look, we don’t make the rules. We just follow them. Blood. Stone. Permission. Demons. It’s not that complicated.”

Steve rolls his eyes at his friend’s crassness.

“D-D-Demons?”

“Yeah. It’s not that big a deal really.” Eddie draws a sharp intake of breath he turns towards to you. “I mean not entirely a big deal. Um, you just have to kill a few people or else the world will end but hey! Demons.”

Your eyes turn into saucers as you stumble to the bed. “I-I-I what now?”

“Three people to be exact.”

“Eddie, stop it. You’re scaring her. Y/N, honey…”, Steve kneels in front of you and places his hands on your thighs. Jesus, his palms are huge. “You do have to kill some people I’m afraid but you will be saving so many lives.”

“Holy hell.”, Eddie sighs in frustration, snapping his fingers.

The room around you is suddenly burning as sirens wale in the distance. Running to the window, you looked outside to see all of Hawkins in flames. You sunk to your knees as you covered your ears to muffle the screams of people outside. As quickly as it appeared, the images vanished and you were back in your regular room with two demons staring down at you.

“I know. It’s not pretty, is it?”

Your world went black as your eyes closed and your head hit the floor.

##########

When you shot up the next day, you clutched your chest as you quickly looked around finding only yourself.

“It was just a dream. Oh my god.”, you exhaled as you laid back down, laughing under your breath.

After a quick change of clothes, you grabbed your notes and the necklace to head to the library. You peaked into your dad’s room to make sure he was still ok, leaving him a note on the table to tell him where you were. As you entered the library, you immediately did some quick research that led you to a mythology section of the building. You couldn’t help but chuckle at the placement. Hawkins could be so backward with a lot of things. When you started doing more digging on stones and auras when your mom got sick, this was the same section you found yourself in. This town’s definition of myth was extremely broad.

You found the book you were looking for and slide down to the carpet to lean against the wall. You flipped through, stopping when you found the symbols that matched the ones on the gem. The baseball bat did have nails and represented the demon that referred to himself as Steve.

“Steven is a known demon of protection, protecting any soul that calls for him by any means necessary. He is known as one of the more violent demons killing many beings and monsters with his signature sword. In later millennia, it is believed that he was cast out of his realm for killing one of his own kind to protect another relatively violent demon, Edward.”

“Edward is one of many demons known for music. Throughout history it was reported that Edward played for souls who were suffering. His music lulled many unsuspecting creatures towards their demise, however. It’s also been noted that not only did he use this tactic for war but for lust. He was accused of killing the King’s daughter and was hunted across the realm. Steven found him first and they both went on the run. The King banished them both, casting out Edward as well.”

“They walked from realm to realm before finding a talisman that wasn’t what it appeared to be. The gem belonged to another being who forced them into a life of servitude, trapping them within its material unless set free by a soul who summons them. Any soul that calls for them must kill three individuals or bring about the end of the soul’s world.”

“See? We weren’t lying.”

“Jesus!”, you jumped out of your skin at the sound of Eddie’s voice.

Both men were now sitting on either side of you, arms circled around their knees.

“It’s not a bad gig. I mean at least we still get to move about and watch people die. I wish we had more of a hand in it but…”, he shrugs.

You bring up the book you’re holding just enough to hide your face as you turn slightly toward him.

“You’re real?”

“Yes, we are.”

“And this…this is accurate? The world will end?”

“That is correct.”, Steve responds.

“You have the wrong person for this. I-I can’t kill people.”

“Uh, technically, we didn’t choose you. You chose us. And WE can’t kill people. You can.”

“What? I—”

“Actually, we can kill people but only if they are hurting you.”

After getting up from the floor, you place the book back before powerwalking out the door.

You let out a small squeak when they appear in front of you. “Can you stop doing that?”

“Can you stop running so we can clear the air?”

Bypassing your usual route home, you cut through a forest area so no one would see you talking out loud at what would appear to be yourself.

“Clear the air. Ok, let’s clear the air. How do I know I can trust you? How do I know what you showed me was real?”

“Besides the fact that we LITERALLY showed you the future?”

“How do I know it’s not a trick? Like…killing three people would kick start the apocalypse instead of stopping it…”

“Well, we’re trapped in this realm to so…an end of this world would be the end of us.”, Steve sighs.

“You’re trapped here?”

“Actually, it’s either here or a blank realm we fancily titled Oblivion.”, Eddie chuckles.

“Oblivion?”

“Yup. Just a whole lot of nothingness except me and Ed here.”, he grins as he pats him on the back.

“I still don’t understand exactly why you’re stuck here. Why can’t you go back home?”

“Did you read the book or not?”

You scowl at him as you cross your arms. “Did you kill the king’s daughter?”

Eddie’s eyes narrowed as his sarcastic smile fell. “No, I didn’t.”

“Then why did you run?”

“That’s none of your fucking business.”

“That book said you lured people in not just to kill them but to fuck them. Is that why? Was she like a conquest or something? Is that what I am—”

His hand suddenly wrapped around your throat as he roughly pushed you back into a tree.

“You don’t know anything, little one, so shut your fucking mouth. Do I make myself clear?”

Your eyes widen as you nod and he tosses you to the side.

Steve kneels on his heels as you cough on the ground trying to catch your breath.

“You’re not a ‘conquest’, Y/N. Trust me, we prefer doing shit like this ourselves. It just…is what it is.”

When he reaches out to take your hand, you swat it away, rising to your feet and continuing your walk back home. You hear them murmuring behind you the entire way.

***

“Hey my angel. How was your day?”, your dad grins as you step into his room.

“It was good. I went to the library so…nothing too exciting.” He laughs along with you pausing to cough and gather more air. “I’m going to make dinner now, ok?”

You smile when he nods, gradually leaving the room completely ignoring both demons who are silently waiting for you. As you turn on the faucet to wash your hands, you feel warmth by your side and the sound of snapped fingers before the room around you turns completely dark. You’re no longer in the kitchen but a bedroom from a house when you were much younger. A voice you hadn’t heard in so long echoes through the hallway and you turn to see your mother grinning as she enters.

“Sweetheart, let her sleep.”

“She is sleeping, honey.”, your dad smiles tenderly as he cradles baby you in his arms. “I just can’t believe she’s finally here; you know? She’s going to have the best life. I don’t care what I have to do.”

“Ok, tiger. Calm down.” Your mother pats his back as he carefully lays you back down in your crib. “I understand what you mean though. She deserves the world.”

As she reaches down to caress your cheek, you hear another snap and your current reality comes back into view. You turn to Eddie as a tear falls from your eye.

“I’m sorry…for…snapping at you.”, he struggles as he tries to apologize. “I thought MAYBE this could be my way of making it up to you.”

“You can see the past and the future?”

His tongue presses into the inside of his cheek as he nods.

“May I have a moment alone please?”

With that they were gone and you allowed yourself to cry as you began making your dad’s meal.

#############

After checking in on everything, you grabbed your jacket and headed out the door.

“Where are you going?” You rolled your eyes at Steve’s question. “It’s not safe to walk around at night, ya know.”

“Well thankfully I have two demons looking out for me.”, you respond sarcastically.

They follow you as you walk around the town, trying to ignore them as they continue to verbally push you.

“Hawkins is just rife with people who need to leave this plane of existence. I mean that one there…”, Steve snaps his fingers and images fill your mind. “…he steals from his grandmother to buy drugs for himself.”

“This one…”, Eddie snaps. “She bullied a girl so hard she ended up having a break down and was hospitalized for a year.”

“STOP! Stop it.”, you seethe. “It hurts.”

“It hurts you? Imagine how their victims feel!”

“You don’t think you can kill people. Fine. Why not kill people who are causing harm?”

You sprint till you end up in the woods near your house, skidding to a stop when they appear in front of you again.

“I can’t ok!?”

“Look, we understand—”

“No, you don’t! You don’t understand! I’m a good person. I—”

“Miss? Are you okay?” Abruptly turning you find a man, standing a few feet from you with worried eyes. “Do you need help?”

“N-n-no. I’m alright.”

“What about him?”, Eddie gestures. “He’s definitely not a good guy.”

“No!”, you whisper.

“No? Are you sure, miss? My home isn’t too far. I can call a doctor or something.”

Fingers snap and images cloud your brain again.

“He hurts his wife any chance he gets.”, Steve’s voice fills your ears. “Last week she came home from work two minutes too late according to him and he beat her within an inch of her life.”

Something heavy filled your palm as Eddie continued on your other side. “Didn’t even take her to the hospital. She laid there crying for hours till she was finally able to crawl off the floor onto the couch. The next day he took care of her, apologizing.”

“Why do you make me act this way, honey? You know how bad my temper can be.”

“I…I know. I’m sorry. I’ll do better.”

“I know, baby.”

Anger filled your heart as you swung your arm, trying to get him away from her. The visions left your eyes and as you looked down you saw the man now bleeding on the ground. Your hand holding the now red stained rock shook as you dropped it and ran.

***

As soon as you got back home, you headed straight to your bedroom, slamming the door behind you as you began to pace.

“Way to go, pretty girl!”, Eddie clapped from his sudden spot on your bed.

“One down, two to go.”, Steve followed.

You continued to move as they spoke, not hearing a word they said.

“Hey, hey. Come on now. You did amazing.” The metalhead looking boy reached to touch your hand but as soon as his fingers made contact with your skin, your hand flew out to smack him across the face.

“This is your fault. I didn’t want to do this! I just hurt someone.”

Eddie growled as he rose to his feet and slowly began stepping forward. “No. You didn’t hurt someone. You killed someone. Let’s get that distinction right. Congratulations, sweetheart, you’re one of us.” His chest bumped into yours knocking you back towards the wall, his hand pressing up against it near your head as he glared down at you.

“The only difference is we’ve killed way more people than you can even imagine in so many different ways. In our realm people were afraid of us. Remember that the next time you think about hitting me.” His face leans in so close that his breath hits your lips making you shiver. “I can hurt you and not even think twice.”

Your sudden giggle surprises him as he leans back to look at your face.

“No, no. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to laugh but… you can’t hurt me. He won’t let you.”, you gesture towards Steve who sighs as he folds his arms. “He said he’s supposed to protect me from ANYONE who tries to hurt me, even you.” You tilted your head to the side as you continued. “And people from your realm must not have been that frightened by you if the banished you. Hell, you didn’t even fight back! You ran!”

“I like her.”, Steve smirks as the other man’s own eyes scan you from head to toe. “She kind of reminds me of—”

Eddie raises his palm to silence his friend. “Hit me again.”

“What? You just said…”

“I know what I said. Listen to what I’m saying now. Hit. Me. Again.”

“No.”

“Oh, come on, little one. I know you want to. Just like I know you want to fuck me. Well us.”

You laugh at him again but this time it comes out more shaky than earnest. “Pfft, someone has a big ego.”

“That’s not all we have that’s big.”

Pushing him away, you start to head for the door but it’s still being blocked by Steve.

“We are yours for the next 3 weeks. Unless you kill two other people pretty quickly…which, let’s face it, probably won’t happen.” He kicks off the wood with his foot stepping forward as you slowly back away from him. “How long has it been, honey, since anyone has made YOU feel good?”

Abruptly, you run into something hard thinking it’s the adjacent wall before Eddie’s arms wrap around your stomach. You should tell him to stop, tell him to leave you alone and not touch you but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel comfortable in his embrace.

“You took care of your mother when she was sick and now your father. You missed out on opportunities like school and leaving this fucking dreadful town. You work at a job you hate where people degrade you and make you feel worthless. Your last relationship ended because he cheated on you with your coworker yet you still pretend to not know and let her boss you around. Every night you come home and lay in that bed…feeling empty and alone…yet you don’t complain.”

Your head hangs as you try to control the tears from escaping. Fingers snap and you lean back against the other demon’s shoulder as you see the wife of the man you killed grinning as she sits on the floor of her new home cooing at a baby beside her. A man walks in with a wide smile and descends to the woman’s level kissing her lips as she giggles against them.

“You saved her life, Y/N. If she had stayed with her current husband, he would have killed her within 2 years. He’d go to trial but be out of jail within a year due to a good lawyer and an appeal.”, Steve whispers in a soothing voice. “Now, in three years, she meets this new person who makes her feel loved and respected. He never once lays a hand on her and she finally feels safe. She has two kids with him and dies at 80 a few months after he does.”

He snaps his fingers again and your mind clears for a moment before becoming foggy for a different reason as Steve leans down to kiss your forehead. Your entire body lights up at the feeling of his lips against your skin. Is that normal for demons or is it just him?

Soft kisses trail down your jaw till they attach to your neck making you hum in approval. The hands that had been resting on your tummy glide to your jeans and carefully unbutton them before sliding his fingers through the waistband of your panties. The cold metal of his rings startle you slightly as you push your lower half against his.

“It’s ok, sweetheart. I got you.”, Eddie whispers. Your arm loops around to cling to his neck as your fingers tangle in his hair. A tiny moan leaves your throat when his thick digits run through your folds. “You are so wet, pretty girl. Let us take care of you. Let us…” You head tilts against his shoulder again as two of his fingers plunge into your core. “…relieve some of this stress you’ve been carrying.”

Steve descended to his knees, tugging your pants and underwear with him, biting his lip at the sight of how his friend’s hand was glistening with your slick. You whined when Eddie removed his fingers only to whimper when it was replaced with the other demon’s exceptionally large tongue.

“Oh my God…”

“No, baby. Don’t say his name. Say ours.”

Your eyes roll back as his lips connect to your throat, sucking on your flesh as your fingers reach down to run through Steve’s hair. The world became hazy around you as his mouth wrapped around your clit while pressing and flicking his tongue in just the right way. Eddie carefully lifted off your shirt and removed your bra, throwing them to the side.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N. Do you know that?”, he asked as he rest his chin on your shoulder, looking down at your body as his palms roamed purposely avoiding your tits.

“Mmm—how-how many people have you said—fuck—said that to?”

“Steven, she’s still able to form sentences. I think you might be a little rusty, my friend.”, he chuckled.

“Oh…oh God…”, you mewled as he began to lick faster, sliding his fingers into your cunt as he pumped them into you matching his pace.

Eddie grabbed your chin roughly, turning you to face him. “What did I say? You moan our fucking names.”, he snarled through gritted teeth.

“Eddie, stop.”, Steve warned, replacing his tongue with his thumb. They glared at each other but something in his stare scared even you. “Not tonight.”

“I’m…I’m…” Your knees buckled and the demon behind you quickly gripped your body to keep you from hitting the floor as you came harder than you ever had before.

“There you go. Good girl. Good fucking girl.”

As you gradually came down from your high the demon in front you stood up and lightly kissed your lips. A fire ignited in you, through your soul, and straight to your core. Your arms needily wrapped around his neck as you pulled him closer, walking with him backwards to the bed till you both fell on to it.

You squeaked when your palm ran down his chest and you realized he was suddenly naked. Steve couldn’t help but laugh at your shock.

“Remember, honey, all of this…”, he gestures at his body. “…is for you. To make you more comfortable. Not that I hate it. I’m kind of growing attached to the hair.” Your eyes closed as he started grinding his cock through your dripping folds. “This part is still me though. Do you want to feel it? Do you want to feel what a demon’s dick can do?”

Nodding, you prepared yourself as you reached around to cling to his shoulders.

“Can you open your eyes for me? I want to watch those beautiful eyes as I stretch you open.”

As soon as you do as he asks, he grins, gripping the base of his cock and guiding it into your entrance. Just the tip of him had your eyebrows furrowing together. He was much bigger than anyone you had ever had and your walls were resisting his size. When he pushed in another inch, your eyes promptly closed again and his angry grumble immediately hit your ears.

“Y/N, what did I say?”

“I’m…I’m sorry. You’re just…you’re so…”

“Look at me.”, he growled and your eyes snap open. “Fuck, you feel so good. I’ve never had a being as tight as you before.” This time he pushes in a little more forcefully making you groan. “We’re going to fucking ruin you for anyone else. Fuck me.”

Your pussy fluttered at his statement and a sinister laugh echoed from them both.

“You like that, baby girl?” Steve’s forehead falls on yours as he finally bottoms out. “You like the sound of us ruining this little pussy? Say it.”, he commands in a firm tone as you nod.

“I want…want you…to…” He nods encouragingly, his nose grazing yours. “To…ruin my—mmm—my pussy.”

His hips roughly roll into yours and your jaw goes slack at the intense pleasure that courses through body.

“Yeah? Ok, pretty girl. We can do that for you.” Steve leans up on to his knees, lifting your left leg up to chest as his palm holds your other open wide against the mattress. His eyes watch his cock as he begins thrusting into you.

Another set of hands suddenly appear and you quickly turn to see Eddie laying by your side as his fingers lightly play with your erect nipples.

“You never answered my question. DO you know how beautiful you are?” He leans to trail kisses along your neck till his lips find your breast and you moan while he flicks against the bud as he closes his mouth around it. “I actually don’t say that to many beings. Personally, I think your kind is terrible.”

Your fingers thread through his hair as his teeth graze the sensitive area causing your hips to buck up as you moaned loudly.

“You have to be quiet, sweetheart. You may be the only one that can see us but everyone can hear you.” Eddie leaned over you like you weren’t even there, picking your panties up off the floor, and shoving them into your mouth.

Smirking, he placed his fingers against his lips in a shushing motion before sliding his palm between your legs and rubbing them against your clit. Steve slammed his hips into yours and the world melted away around you. You felt like you were floating in space and the only thing keeping you grounded was their hands on your body. White light blinded your vision as you screamed which was rapidly muffled more by Eddie’s hand.

“Atta girl, baby. Let go and just feel it.”

Your climax felt like it lasted hours as Steve slowed his pace, thrusting his cock as deep as he could while you came back down to earth. Suddenly, he grunted as you felt warmth coat your insides.

“That’s it, honey. Fuck…your pussy is just begging for more of my cum. You’re clinging to my dick so fucking tight.” He hovered over your twitching frame, pulling the gag out of your mouth as he continued to slowly pump his hips, allowing your quivering hole to milk him. “Such a good girl. A good, beautiful girl. I know, baby. I know. It feels so good, you want more. It’s Eddie’s turn next. He’ll take good care of you just like I did.”

You whimper when he pulls out, sad at the empty feeling before your roughly turned onto your stomach and aggressive hands lift your ass in the air. In your state of bliss, you can’t make out the words entirely but you hear both demons exchange a few words.

“Don’t hurt her…isn’t…like us…”

“Calm…not going to…”

Pushing up on your hands, you feel Eddie press his cock to your entrance before easily pushing himself in, your mouth falling open in a silent moan. He was thicker than his friend and even with you and Steve’s most recent orgasm leaking out of you, there was still resistance within your cunt.

“Y/N, fuck, sweetheart. Steven, how—mmm—how did you control yourself from not just fucking pounding her into the mattress?” Your pussy fluttered at the thought and he groaned as he leaned his chest down against your back. “Yeah? You like the sound of that? Steve thinks—mmm—we need to be gentle with you.” As his breath warmed your ear, he thrust his hips, pushing himself as far into you as your bodies would allow.

“Naw… you’ve been careful your whole life, haven’t you? You just want to…to let go and be fucked so hard—damn—you forget how unhappy you really are.”

When your only response was your moans, he pushed off your chest and held your hips as he thrust into you. Eddie’s fingers harshly kneaded the flesh of your ass before occasionally slapping it making you mewl. Once again, it was like time and matter evaporated except for you and them. With each slap and thrust, you felt like you could see into another world; a better one.

Your hair was abruptly tugged, yanking you to your knees as his ringed hand held you tightly. As your head tilted to the side, you noticed his eyes were closed as his face scrunched in pleasure. For a second, you forgot who they were and what they were here for. He seemed like any normal man just trying to make you feel good. Your lips moved towards him, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek causing his eyes to fly open and look your way.

Eddie’s movements slowed as he scanned your face, trying to get a read on you. He wasn’t lying when he said he didn’t like humans. He struggled to find any real good within them and quite frankly they reminded him of some of the lower level demons he fought back home. You seemed different than everyone else, you reminded him of her.

He shook the images from his head, pushing your upper half back down against the mattress where you found yourself face to face with Steve. His fingers delicately pushed your hair out of your face before he softly slid them down your skin, reaching under your body and between your legs to rub your clit.

“Cum again, Y/N. You can do it.” He grabs your panties and places it in your mouth again. “There you go, honey. Go ahead and scream. It’s ok.”

His palm firmly covers your mouth as you see that light once more, blinding you as you shriek and moan into your gag as your orgasm shutters through you.

“Fuck, baby. Yes.”, Eddie grunts as he holds your hips tighter, pumping his hips faster.

“Good girl. I know. I know, sweetie. You did so well. You deserved this. Can you say that for me?”, he asks as he tosses your underwear back to the floor.

“I…I deserve…this.”, you pant.

Your body jerks forward as Eddie gives you a few more rough thrusts and you feel his seed spill into you. Like his friend, he continues small pumps to make sure he fully empties into your pussy. Whimpering, he pulls out of your now aching core and collapses beside you. He twirls his fingers and a cigarette appears between them as he quickly lights it, blowing smoke towards the ceiling.

“Y/N, are you okay?”, Steve asks as he rolls you onto your back and caresses your cheek. You mumble something he can’t hear as your heavy eye lids close. Rolling over to face Eddie, you intertwine your fingers with the free hand that’s between you as you push your back into the other demon’s chest behind you. It startles them both as they exchange a glance.

Usually, the beings that summoned them wanted to get things over with as quickly as possible. When they were sexual with them, the summoner was a willing participant but was never intimate. They were demons who were going to leave them after they completed the task anyway so what was the point?

Your lips moved again and Eddie tossed his cigarette into a void before turning to face you, placing his palm on your side.

“Can you hear what she’s saying?”, Steve asked.

The other demon nods as he heavily sighs, pulling your blankets up over your waist.

“She said ‘thank you’.”

562 notes · View notes

glassdiy · 6 months

Text

Frameless Glass Pool Fencing with TAG

Setting up a pool in the property allows people to relax, have fun, and add an element of beauty. But when it comes to enclosing the pool surroundings, it becomes crucial to secure the pool with appropriate fencing using high-quality glass hardware products. Using quality glass and glass hardware for pool fencing not only upgrades the pool appearance but also adds value and safety. A frameless glass pool fence enfolds several advantages:

Transparency is the latest trend: Frameless glass gives a sleek, and elegant appearance for contemporary design. While installing traditional pool fence fittings creates a coop-like enclosure, the glass one allows for natural light and a brighter view.

Better Return on investment: Installing frameless glass pool fencing instead of traditional aluminum and wooden grants a better return on investment in terms of resistance, safety, and durability. It’s easy to maintain and clean.

Glass pool fencing adds safety for your loved ones: A transparent glass fence offers an uninterrupted view, it’s easier to keep an eye on when kids are playing in the pool. The glass pool fence may also save people from sudden slips and falls while walking around the wet area.

Tag Hardware offers various options of quality glass fittings to install a pool fence in different ways:

Frameless Glass Pool Fencing with Spigots

Recommended Product: Gate Hardware

Gates are essential requirement for most pool fencing projects, pool needs to be safety enclosed without detracting from the design. Gate Hardware options from Tag Hardware are available for variety of configurations like, glass to glass or wall to glass latches. The range of Hydraulic hinges comes with self- closing mechanism and child-safe features.

If you’re planning to get a frameless glass pool fence in your swimming pool area or to upgrade the old pool fence, then we advise you to have the best. Tag Hardware is here to assist you with everything you need for your pool fencing project. Tag Hardware is a one-stop-shop delivering custom and standard glass and glass hardware with technical support and 3D drawings. Contact us today for your next pool project.

DID YOU KNOW? Tag Hardware’s Technical Team is available for assistance for your Pool Fencing Projects. Contact [email protected]

Also follow us on https://www.facebook.com/taghardware.ca

0 notes

taghardwareca · 11 days

Text

In the world of architectural design and building construction, each detail matters. Handrail is significant in your project completion as an architect, interior designer, building constructor, or home DIY enthusiast. Boost handrail design with TAG Hardware's Cap Rails and Accessories. Cap rails provide aesthetic appeal and functional benefits to handrails by offering a finishing touch while protecting the railings and providing a comfortable grip for users. Buy a range of stylish and functional options to enhance your railing system's aesthetic appeal and functionality. Visit to shop now: https://taghardware.ca/categories/architectural-railings/cap-rails-accessories.html

#glass #hardware #canada #tag #glass hardware #taghardware #vaughan #tag hardware #cap rails #railing accessories #Frameless Glass Railing Systems #Architectural Railing #Handrail #handrails #Hardware for Glass Railing #base shoe glass railing systems #Toronto Glass Railings #door hardware #ontario

0 notes

sil-te-plait-tue-moi · 2 months

Text

Lovers' fevers.

Quick summary: Rust tries to overcome the night you spent together.

Word count: 655 words

Warnings: Mentions of smut; don't chain-smoke???

A/N: Last drabble before I actually commit to a longer story. Read context for this (and eventually that) here!

***

To remove himself from his tendency to think and think and think, Rust smoked, slumped over the wiry railing of the upper balcony outside his place. His first instinct had been to drink, of course—but, once he had opened the fridge, he was consumed by the image of your fingers curled pretty over the neck of the Corona he really shouldn’t have given you.

So far, he had made his way through half a pack, sucking down smoke as if he’d be nearly as lucky enough to be granted his silent death wish. At least, then, his skin would stop buzzing like a halogen bulb, give way to true silence.

It was evil, really: if there existed a God, He sure loved violence. Rust would’ve loved to blame it on external possession: it had not been him reduced to an animal, really, but something other, and that something had touched and been touched and had indulged in that pointless hunger. Selfish.

He shuddered quietly at the memory, which pulsed thickly, rhythmically, just behind his eyes, an all-consuming vibration. Half-convinced that there was something supernatural about your touch, Rust hastily lit another cigarette, crushing the previous beneath his matted work shoes, counting on the habit to numb this inconvenient distraction. His skin was thick. So thick, in fact, that there were times where Rust felt it was really a suit, some aspect he could step out of and inspect for maintenance. No sensation, no pain, could ever compare to the fact-based knowledge that everything happens in the head. Manage the mind; manage the self. The mind outlasted the self. Nostrils burning, eyes blown wide, Rust would tell that to Crash before receding, so that his brain would not leak from his ears. It usually worked. Here, he felt acutely aware of every temperature shift, every varying texture upon his skin, writhing secretly with near overstimulation.

Still, you remained, like a ghost. He dragged a hand across his face, like he might manually remove the anguish there.

He should’ve liked to blame you. Temptress, Eve in the garden. Only, in what world would that ever be fair? Rust only existed to deliver what was fair, what was just. He refused to align with the supposed blameless. Marty considered himself blameless, and some unmanaged part of Rust loathed him for it, itched to apprehend him.

Rust was not blameless – far from it. Every bad thing that happened to him, he knew he deserved. Call it karma. Nature carried out its dues – why shouldn’t he?

You had smelled so fresh.

You were trying to quit – he had almost felt guilty, smoking so openly in front of you. Then too, it had been a last-line defence against the craving that only grew every time he allowed himself to look at you, that gnawed and tore at his gut when your tired voice had quietened to a low drawl. You: threat to his realm, soft, wanting. When you had opened yourself to him, took him in deep, you were close and warm and wet – Rust would have liked to have blamed it on his programming, the way he responded. He knew, though, that it was just him.

He would not sleep tonight, he understood. He would not even approach his bed. The whole place still smelled like you, even though the linens had been to the laundromat’s, even though he had had the windows cracked open to Louisiana’s summer heat every night since.

Maybe Rust would drive to a bar. Maybe he would stop at a gas station, stock up on Camel Blues. Then, he would shower. In the morning, he would shower again, knowing that, in any proximity at work, he could risk weakening your resilience to quit with the cigarette smoke that seemed infused into his very being. Or perhaps he would let you be tempted by this – perhaps you would then understand what was happening to him.

#rust cohle x reader #rust cohle x reader smut #true detective season 1 #rust cohle #he is such crazy pussy #he makes me SO

143 notes · View notes

7-wonders · 1 year

Text

Give Me Everything You've Got

Dream of the Endless/Morpheus x GN!Reader

Summary: After a fight, you learn that Morpheus does not have the best coping skills. Like, at all.

Word Count: 4.7k

Author's note: This is based off of a scene in Brief Lives where Morpheus dramatically stands on his balcony in the rain. Not going to say more, or else that will spoil the comics completely.

No relationship is perfect; it’s a fact as immutable as which direction the sun rises from. The first fight, though, is always a stark reminder of this. That the person you care so deeply for and have shared so much with over the past days, weeks, months isn’t perfect and has faults. The first fight, though nobody wants it to happen, will, inevitably, happen.

And your first fight with Morpheus is a bad one.

It had been three months since you and Morpheus had shared a heated first kiss in a crowded bar, three months since the man of your dreams turned out to be both real and still the man of your dreams. Those three months had been bliss, to put it simply. You looked forward to falling asleep every night, for that meant you could spend uninterrupted time with your love in his realm. He’s insanely busy, of course, being the anthropomorphic personification of dreams and nightmares. Even just being in his presence, sitting on the Shores of Creation and watching as he creates new dreams and nightmares or reading in the library in your own chair and listening to him and Lucienne discuss matters related to the realm, was a gift that you don’t think you’ll ever take for granted.

But then, of course, the other shoe had to drop. The beautiful bubble of a honeymoon phase that you were living in was bound to pop, suddenly and harshly. Foolishly, you had hoped that things between you and Morpheus would always be like this, with both of you on the same page. That, of course, was nothing more than a mere pipe dream, because two people (or, one person and one eldritch being) will never be completely on the same page for every single thing.

The first time you had seen the raven, perched on the overhang of the cafe you were currently waiting for your friends outside of, you had thought nothing more than “oh, it looks like Matthew,” before going back on your merry way. After all, ravens are pretty common birds, and Matthew seemed like a pretty important raven. Surely it wasn’t him; surely he had better things to do than to trail you. It was simply just a coincidence.

Over the next week, however, you kept seeing a raven everywhere you went. When you left the store carrying bags of groceries, one was circling overhead. When you took your lunch break outside on a particularly nice afternoon, there it was, staring at you from another picnic table. When you were finally getting around to loading the dishwasher, it was sitting on your windowsill.

It was like that mental exercise when someone tells you not to think about a yellow car and then you see yellow cars everywhere. Only, you were certain that this was the same raven, and that this raven was Matthew, due to the fact that this raven tried a little too hard to act like a normal raven. As long as you weren’t directly looking at the raven, then it would just stare at you in a way that gave you the creeps. The moment that you turned to look, then it would suddenly start pecking at the ground or preening itself. Convenient. Too convenient, in your opinion.

Finally, you decide that you’re going to confront him. You go out onto your porch to water the little garden that you’re trying to cultivate, and there he is, sitting on the railing and staring right at you. As you go about your watering, he continues to just stare. Once you’ve finished, you whip your head up, fast enough that he doesn’t have time to pretend like he wasn’t watching you.

“Matthew, I know it’s you,” you say to save him the embarrassment of having to keep up the act.

Though the raven tries not to look at you, eventually he knows that the jig is up. He hops closer to you and still doesn’t look at you, but now due to the guilt he’s obviously feeling. “Uh, hi.”

“Hi. You've been following me around.” It’s not a question, because you know that he’s been doing exactly that.

Matthew looks about as sheepish as a raven can possibly look. “You caught me.”

“Are you gonna tell me why you’re stalking me?”

“Do I have to?” You glare at him to tell him that yes, he very much has to. Realizing that he has no choice, he acquiesces. “Orders from the boss man, y’know? It’s kinda what I do.”

You can feel your blood beginning to run hot in your veins from the sudden surge of anger, and you have to breathe to keep yourself from yelling. “Morpheus is making you spy on me?”

“I wouldn’t call it spying.” Matthew can sense the beginnings of a storm brewing, and quickly goes to work at trying to mitigate the impending disaster. “Just…making sure that you’re safe, that’s all! He really cares about you, and it’s tough for him to not be able to be with you whenever he wants.”

“Okay, well, you need to stop following me.”

“I—I don’t know if I can. I’m really not supposed to disobey direct orders. I already got in enough trouble for the whole business with Hell!”

Though you’re mad about the whole situation and, by extension, Matthew himself, you don’t want your feathered friend to get in trouble when he’s not the one that’s at fault. If he’s going to get in trouble for abandoning his post, then you’ll just give him a task instead that happens to take him back to the Dreaming. After all, Morpheus had told you that you could use Matthew to reach him if the need arose.

“Fine, then,” you say. “Will you go back to the Dreaming and tell Morpheus to meet me when he gets the chance? I’d really appreciate it.”

“Yeah, I can do that!”

Matthew prepares to take off, but before he does, you stop him. “And, Matthew?”

“Mm?”

“Don’t come back.”

By the time the first month of dating had passed, you had both already exchanged declarations of love. It felt entirely natural, and you were both thrilled at the next step. Now, the true next step, that of disagreeing with your partner on a fundamental level, is here. You’re far less thrilled about this step.

When Morpheus appears in your living room, you’re already prepared to say what you’ve been practicing in your head since Matthew left. Morpheus has a way of making you forget words, and you’re not about to let that happen this time. Instead of giving him the chance, you jump to your feet and glare at him.

“What the fuck!” you spit. “How dare you!”

Morpheus simply watches you, as cool and collected as always, which only serves to piss you off even more.

“Matthew told me that you are…upset,” he says, “about my having him watch over you.”

You look at him in disbelief. “‘Upset’? I’m furious right now.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re stalking me, without my permission, through your raven!”

“It is not stalking,” he retorts.

“Really? What would you call it, then?”

Rather than answer what it is (because it is stalking), Morpheus defers to his reasoning behind his actions. “I just want to make sure that you are safe when I cannot be with you.”

In his mind, this likely makes complete sense. Of course he wants you safe, and naturally that means sending his raven to watch you at all hours of the day. Perhaps, in his eyes, this was even seen as a romantic gesture. Who this would charm, though, you’re not sure.

“I don’t need a babysitter, Morpheus. I’m an adult.”

“Yes, I am aware of that. Regardless of the immature way that you are currently acting in.”

Oh, you could hit him right now. You have to dig your nails into the palm of your hand to keep the urge at bay. “Then why did you think that you could invade my privacy in such a major way?”

“Because you are human, beloved. If something were to happen to you, if one of my enemies were to take advantage of my absence, I would never forgive myself. I cannot allow that to happen, hence, Matthew watching out for you.”

“I’m more than able to take care of myself. Especially in my own home,” you stress.

“It is for my own peace of mind.”

“Then you have him drop in every once in a while to say hi! You don’t have him playing James Bond and spying on me every minute of every day!”

It’s obvious that Morpheus doesn’t understand your anger towards him right now, and that’s probably the most frustrating thing about this whole mess. You have to close your eyes and gather your thoughts, lest you lose your cool and say something that you really regret.

When you feel just a smidge calmer, you look at Morpheus again. “I can’t deal with this right now. We physically can’t have this conversation until you can actually see why I’m so mad about this.”

His face grows stormy, and his eyes go straight from blue to black, starless pools. “You want me to leave?”

“Have you figured out why I’m mad?” He remains still, challenging you. “Then yes.”

This is just a way to call his bluff. He’s not going to leave, not in the middle of an argument. You just want him to think for a moment about his actions and their effect on you, and then you can talk like civilized adults about a little something called boundaries before making up.

His jaw clenches, as do his fists, and you realize that you may have overestimated his rationality. “Then I suppose I shall take my leave of you.”

“Wait, what?” You take a step towards him and go to grab his arm in an attempt to stop him. “Morpheus!”

He’s gone before you can even feel his coat under your hand, and you’re left staring in shock at the empty space where Morpheus just stood.

You’re distraught about just how wrong your argument with Morpheus went, enough so that you don’t visit the Dreaming that night. It's not on purpose, though. Rather, you’re so upset about the whole situation that you barely sleep, and the sleep that you do get is fitful.

You’re exhausted when your alarm goes off the next morning, and find that all of the anger of last night has dissipated. Now, you’re just sad. Sad that Morpheus couldn’t understand why you were upset, sad that he didn’t stay to finish the conversation, sad that you couldn’t go after him to try and make things right between you.

You slog through your day, so noticeably sad that multiple people ask you what’s wrong. Though saying that you had a fight with your boyfriend doesn’t really begin to encapsulate everything that Morpheus is, it’s a common enough occurrence in the world that those who you share this with immediately nod in understanding and leave you to your misery.

Sleep tries to elude you for a second night, but you refuse to go any longer without seeing Morpheus. Instead, you scrounge around in your medicine cabinet for the bottle of melatonin that you know is back there. When you find it, you down as many of the artificial berry-tasting tablets that’s safe before crawling into bed and hoping that it works.

When you do finally fall asleep and open your eyes in the Dreaming, you’re immediately thrown off by the rain. No, calling it a simple rainstorm would be underselling it. A veritable hurricane has descended on the Dreaming, and you have to brace yourself against the wind somehow blowing through the palace to keep from being blown away. Rain lashes against the windows, which are rattling heavily, in rough sheets, and lightning crackles through the sky.

Growing up around storms has you instinctually looking for a basement or cellar to get to before you remember that nothing can actually harm you in your dreams. The thought doesn’t do much to settle your nerves (you’ve never been too fond of storms), but you keep repeating to yourself that it can’t harm you in some sort of frightened mantra as you make your way to the library.

The library, unfortunately, is in worse shape than the entryway, and you immediately feel a pang of sympathy for Lucienne. All of the bookshelves have been raised on individual islands via dream-magic in an attempt to save the books from the flooding that’s beginning to encroach from the doors and windows. Even so, sandbags are being piled up at the base of each island by a variety of dreams as a failsafe.

Knowing Lucienne, she probably has a backup failsafe for the failsafe.

Dressed in a rainbow parka with the hood up over his little raven head, Matthew stands atop one of the bookshelves and directs the dreams who have been tasked with helping to protect one of the Dreaming’s most precious assets. When he notices you standing awkwardly just inside the main doors, he lets out a squawk and flies to the bookshelf closest to you.

“Oh thank God you’re here,” Matthew exclaims. “This place is gonna get washed away if he keeps up at it!”

“What’s going on?” you ask, both of you flinching at a particularly loud clap of thunder.

Lucienne appears from around a corner, stomping through puddles as she steadily marches towards you in a way that makes you worry that you’re in trouble with her. She’s wearing bright yellow rain gear, and water streams off of the plastic hat in steady rivulets.

“Has Lord Morpheus explained to you that the Dreaming’s weather is tied to his emotions?” Lucienne demands to know.

Morpheus had briefly mentioned this to you once. It was a month or so into your relationship, and you remarked on how beautiful the weather always was in his realm. In the midst of a brutal winter, the reprieve was especially appreciated.

“I am glad that you think so. After all, I am the Dreaming, and the Dreaming is me.” Morpheus replied from behind you.

You were standing on the highest balcony in the palace so that you could properly take in all of the Dreaming, and Morpheus had his arms wrapped snugly around your middle so that he could pull you into his firm chest.

“So you control the weather?” you asked.

“Yes, but I do not do so consciously. It is…like how your own heart continually beats without you needing to think about it.”

At the time, you were satisfied with the explanation. Now, you’re wondering what the hell kind of autonomic nervous system Morpheus has.

“He did,” you say. “But why is the weather so bad?”

She stares at you like you’re an idiot, and you shift uncomfortably under her pointed glare. “Because you had a fight.”

You’re going to ask how she knows such a thing, but you assume it was pretty obvious to Matthew what was going to happen when you told him to have Morpheus visit you.

“It was an argument, not a fight.” Great, now you sound like your parents when you were a kid and would catch them fighting. “Is he that upset about what happened?”

You know that Morpheus is able to hold a grudge better than most. Even though you haven’t seen him, and the storm is fierce, you can tell that this isn’t caused by some petty anger; this is genuine distress, and you’re starting to think that he’s never had to deal with his emotions in a healthy way.

Lucienne nods and says, “You have only ever seen our Lord Morpheus at his best. He—well, I will not divulge that which is not mine to share, but there is a precedent behind what has led him to react in such a way.”

Good lord, what had happened in Morpheus’s past for this to be a normal reaction for him? While you’re also still a little upset over the ‘disagreement’, your hurt comes more from the fact that he left and that you were unable to finish what you had started. Furthermore, if this is normal for him, you hate to see what an abnormal reaction from him is.

Something needs to be done, and you’re going to have to be the one to do it.

“Alright, then. Do you have any idea where he is?” you ask.

Lucienne doesn’t even need to think. “In his chambers, most likely.”

You don’t believe you’ve ever had to find your way to Morpheus’s chambers without him. The hesitation must show on your face, because Matthew flies down from the bookshelf to perch on the back of a chair.

“Just think about him while you’re walking, and the Dreaming should do the rest,” he advises.

“I’m on it.” You give your friends a mock-salute before turning and heading out the door that you came through, mind focused on Morpheus the entire time.

The way that the Dreaming works is interesting. Sometimes, you need to walk a good distance to get from one place to the next. This is often true of when you trek down the Shores to visit Morpheus, or when he takes you to Fiddler’s Green. Other times, you need only blink and take a step before reaching your destination.

This is one of those times, thankfully, because the anxiety coursing through you as you worry about Morpheus and if he’s okay is making every step that you take a shaky one. You’re standing outside of the library one second, and the next, you’re staring at the large, carved wood doors that conceal Morpheus’s chambers from you.

Will the doors be bolted, like how you would lock your own when you were an angsty teenager and wanted the world to know that absolutely nobody was privy to your misery? Will he be mad when he sees you? Mad that you sought him out, that you consulted his own subjects about how best to approach this crisis?

Though you don’t mean to lean against the door as you lose yourself in your thoughts, you do, and it swings open easily. You hope that this is Morpheus’s way of letting you know that you’re welcome here, with him.

He’s not in the large sitting room that first greets you when you enter his chambers, nor is he in the bedroom that he does not sleep in. That means that there’s only one other place that he could be, so you backtrack into the sitting room and go the opposite direction from his bedroom and towards the balcony that you stood on, with him, what feels like so long ago.

There he is, leaning steadfastly against the balcony railing like some sort of Byronic hero as the rain lashes against him and the thunder and lightning create a show for the ages above him. No matter how harshly the wind blows, he refuses to move, instead taking the full brunt of the storm as he stares out into it.

It’s his own version of self-harm, you realize, and you won’t allow him this vice any longer.

You walk out onto the balcony to stand next to Morpheus and try not to get blown away by the gale force winds. Immediately, you’re assaulted by the rain, and it quickly begins to soak through your clothes; you end up turning your back on the brunt of it and directly facing Morpheus so that you can actually see him.

“I suppose Lucienne sent you my way?” In an entirely un-Morpheus move, Morpheus scoffs.

“She told me where to find you, but only because I asked.” You have to raise your voice just to be heard over the storm. “So? Why are you standing out here?”

He laughs dryly. “As if you do not know? Before today, I did not know you to be so needlessly, brutally cruel.”

Is he on drugs? You’d check his pupils, but in the Dreaming, he doesn’t have any. “What are you talking about?”

“You no longer love me!” His voice booms around you as loud as the thunder.

This is news to you, and you’re about to tell him so, but he continues before you can.

“I have transgressed against you, terribly so, and you rightfully sent me away as a result. Now, you have come to tell me that you wish never to see me again.”

To say that you’re completely thrown for a loop would be a gross understatement. “No! What gave you that idea?”

All of the fight, all of the righteous indignity, suddenly deflates out of him, and he looks at you with a defeated look reminiscent of that of a guilty puppy. “Prior experience, I suppose.”

“Oh, Morpheus.”

This is one of the saddest things that you’ve ever heard. His prior relationships involved his lovers spurning him after one little fight? Since he obviously doesn’t know how wrong this is, your heart hurts on his behalf as you reach a hand up to cup his cheek.

“I’m not going to break up with you, and I’m sorry that you’ve been in relationships where that was something that happened.”

The relief on his face is immediate. “You still love me?”

“Yes, you silly, silly anthropomorphic personification. I still love you.”

“You still love me,” he says again in disbelief.

“It was a little fight. Just because fights happen sometimes, doesn’t mean that it’s the end of our relationship.”

“I am…sorry, for invading your privacy in such a way, and further for not understanding why you were upset with me.” It’s obvious that he’s not used to apologizing for anything, but he’s trying, and that’s what matters.

“You understand why I feel the way that I do about that?” You try not to get your hopes up, but utterly fail at it.

He nods. “You feel as though I’m attempting to exert control over you, that I don’t trust you.”

He does get it! You could cheer right now. “Exactly.”

“I do,” he says earnestly, “trust you. To make you feel otherwise was never my intention. You are just so precious to me that if something were to happen to you and I was not there to help you or come to your aid, it would kill me. That fear led me to become possessive, in a way that is healthy for neither of us. For that, I sincerely apologize.”

“Thank you, Morpheus. And I’m sorry for not properly conveying my feelings before I told you to leave.” You shrug. “You’ll have to forgive me for not really understanding; this is my first supernatural relationship.”

“Your last, too, if I have it my way.”

You smile at him and push the wet strands of hair out of your eyes, which seems to alert him to the fact that it’s still storming at a cool “wrath of God” level. He immediately lifts his hand to stop the rain from coming down around you, and an invisible umbrella forms over your heads. It’s obvious that he’s not done there, and he tries to school his face into an expression cooler and more passive than that which he’s currently sporting.

“If you will give me a moment to rein in my emotions…”

“No,” you cut Morpheus off. “Don’t. I like the rain.”

Maybe not this much rain, but you won’t tell him that right now. Because right now, you can already see him trying to slip back into the role of Dream of the Endless, who takes care of everyone and everything and lets nothing affect him. He can pretend that’s the real him all that he wants, but you’re seeing firsthand how detrimental it is to Morpheus. Not Dream, but Morpheus.

And Morpheus deserves to feel emotions, regardless of if it upsets or inconveniences the citizens of the Dreaming. Morpheus deserves to have somebody take care of him for once, instead of taking care of everyone and everything around him. Morpheus deserves a hell of a lot more than he’s previously gotten, and you’re going to be the one to give it to him.

“You do?” he asks.

“Yeah, I do. And if people don’t…then, fuck ‘em!”

His lips twitch. “I’d rather not.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” He thinks that joke is so funny every time he uses it, and you’re determined to not let him know that it is kind of funny.

The wind begins to slow down, and the thunder starts to grow fainter. Still, the rain continues, but it’s more tolerable now that it’s falling straight down instead of directly pelting you.

“C’mon.” You grab his hand and start to lead him back inside. “Let’s go lay down for a bit.”

Morpheus immediately begins to protest. “But–”

“Shh. Tomorrow, you can ensure that everything’s back to business as usual. Today, though, I think you’ve earned the right to feel a little sad and upset.”

Though Morpheus doesn’t seem too happy about you telling him what to do, by the time you’re sitting him down on his bed, you’re both completely dry. He watches silently as you take his starry coat off for him, followed by his heavy boots. You take your own shoes off before climbing onto the bed and settling against the pillows. When you hold your arms out to him, he simply raises an eyebrow to challenge you. In response, you wiggle your fingers and try to beckon him over to you.

He begrudgingly allows you to hold him, and kiss the top of his head and try to stifle a laugh in his soft hair. Morpheus’s body begins to relax against yours, and you smile triumphantly as you run a hand up and down his spine. After a few minutes of sitting in silence and listening to the rain against the windows (now less brutal than it was when you first arrived in the Dreaming), you realize that Morpheus is matching his breaths–that he doesn’t need–to yours. Your insides go all warm and fuzzy as a result.

When Morpheus finally feels ready to talk, he picks his head up from your chest to look at you. You smile at the sight of the stars having finally returned to his beautiful eyes, and he asks, “Is this truly how humans cope with their emotions?”

“Mhm. Cry and feel sad a bit, then pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and keep going.” He hums when you begin to gently card your fingers through your hair, and you file this away as a form of care that you’re definitely going to use for him in the future. “If you’re lucky, you’ve got somebody right there with you to take care of you and help you weather that storm.”

“Sage advice.”

It really is. You just won’t tell him that it’s advice from a children’s show.

Morpheus nods and chooses to relax in your embrace for longer than you would have thought. Honestly, you were expecting more of a fight from him as he tried to plead his case to return to being Dream. Eventually, he does say what’s truly on his mind; he’s been getting better at that, the whole communication thing.

“I am not. Used to being taken care of.” Stating the obvious here, but what matters is that he said it.

“I know,” you say. “Which is why, in addition to the normal care that one gives their romantic partner that you’ll be receiving from me, I’m going to make up for all of what you should have been receiving for so long now.”

“Are you?” Morpheus smirks, amused at your determination.

“Yep. Why don’t we take a nap? That’s always helpful.”

Morpheus doesn’t sleep, per se; rather, he drifts, following you through your various dreamscapes and allowing himself to just be. As he’s described it to you, it’s rather relaxing to him, the same as napping is relaxing to you.

“That sounds…” Morpheus thinks for a moment. “Nice.”

“Good. Then after that, perhaps a warm bath?”

“You are just doing all of the things that make you feel better.” Though he says this, you can tell that he finds the concept intriguing.

You smile. “We’re starting from scratch with you, my love. Everything’s on the table at this point.”

“Very well. Nap first, then bath.”

With you by his side, Morpheus quickly learns how useful the human lesson of “cry and feel sad a bit, then pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and keep going” actually is.

#dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless imagine #dream of the endless #morpheus x reader #morpheus imagine #morpheus #the sandman #the sandman imagine

1K notes · View notes