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thefatedthoughtofyou · 1 year

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Steve's not obsessed with Eddie's hands.

He's not.

They're just... he happened to notice them, once, when Eddie was listening to Dustin talk through how he might want to make his first DM campaign play out.

Steve wasn't even really paying attention at first, just reading some comic he'd found lying in Eddie's room. But then, out of the corner of his eye, he'd seen it. Movement.

Eddie and Dustin were sitting at the small kitchen table, Dustin talking about puzzles and traps and monsters and Eddie was smiling, nodding encouragingly, looking more and more exicted. But it wasn't the movement of his head that drew Steve's attention.

It was his hands.

They were resting on the sides of his legs, tapping.

Steve could only see one hand really, but he could see Eddie's other arm jumping the same way, his hands moving faster and faster the more excited he got, until they were just hovering near his legs, flapping in the air beside him as he smiled widely at Dustin. He suggested a few things, to Dustin, Steve's pretty sure that's what he was saying anyway, his ears weren't great anymore if he wasn't focused, and right now, all of his focus was on Eddie's hands.

Dustin slapped his hand on the table, pointed at Eddie and then started scribbling as Eddie laughed, Steve always managed to hear Eddie's laugh, his hands flapping harder, slapping at his thighs.

Steve vaguely hears his name, cocks his head to the side, but doesn't respond, his eyes still locked on Eddie's flapping hands, and then they stop moving. Both of them freezing, the one Steve can see clamps down on Eddie's thigh, fingers pressing into his jeans.

Steve blinks. Tears his eyes away. Looks at Eddie.

He's staring at Steve, his cheeks tinted pink. Steve swallows, gives him a little smile before Dustin has his attention, chatting at him about what he and Eddie had just come up with.

Steve hears about half of it. Nodding when he thinks he should, trying his best to sound interested. It's enough for Dustin. The barely there commitment. And usually Steve is better at engaging with him, even though he has no clue what he's talking about.

But he's distracted. His eyes keep wandering to Eddie's hands. But they don't move again the whole time he's there, Eddie's knuckles turn white as Steve's eyes linger on his hand. His fingers still pressing into his thigh, they drum a quick beat here and there, but his hands don't move.

Steve sighs, drags his eyes away, and tries to keep them off Eddie. Somehow feeling like Eddie is embarrassed, or upset, that Steve had seen... whatever it was he'd seen.

~°~

It keeps happening.

Eddie's flapping hands.

Steve's eyes on them.

But he's careful now. He doesn't stare. Just steals glances when the movements draw his eye. And Eddie always has his hands under tables, or tucked close to his sides, when it happens. Like he's trying to hide it.

Steve doesn't understand why. He likes it. Every time he sees Eddie's hands moving excitedly it makes his chest flutter. Like he's so happy that Eddie's happy it just fills him with warmth.

But it happens other times too.

Not only when he's happy.

It happens when he's nervous.

Happens when he's scared.

The movements are more erratic when he's nervous or scared. His hands flap, shake, clench, and unclench at his sides.

Every time, Steve wants to reach out and touch. To take his hands, hold them in his and tell him he's okay. That whatever it is. Steve will help.

But he hides it. Behind distracting smiles, and under tables, and behind his back, sometimes. But Steve sees him, watches him, and he wants.

Wants to ask. Wants to touch. Wants to be touched.

Wants to feel Eddie's shaking, flapping, hands against him. Wants to be the reason they flap happily at his sides sometimes. Wants to feel them flap happily against his sides. Wonders if Eddie would do that against his back if he kissed him.

Or if he'd do it lying underneath Steve, clutching at his shirt before his hands just taptaptaptapped against his back as Steve pressed him into his matress.

Or maybe he'd hold Eddie's hands, up above his head. Feel his fingers tapping against his hands as Steve kissed him, nice and slow. Eddie would just tap faster, if he was happy, if he wanted that, with Steve.

Steve sighed, deeply, and glanced at Eddie's hands, his left one resting in his lap, thumb twisting at his ring. His right one, hanging down by his leg, shaking happily as he listened to Will and Dustin make plans for their new campaign, and wished he could reach out and touch him. Even just settle his hand against Eddie's, just to feel the joy shake out of his body.

~°~

The first time Steve reaches out and takes Eddie's shaking hand, is at the summer carnival.

It's hot. And crowded. And loud. And they're waiting in line for some ride the kids want to drag them on. People laughing and screaming and crowding around, jostling them and bumping their shoulders.

And Eddie had gone quiet about five minutes ago. Steve keeps glancing down, watching his hands. It takes three more minutes. But they start to shake, flapping at his sides before he grabs at his jeans, wipes his palms, lets them shake again.

Steve leans forward, tells Dustin they'll be over by the benches, and he grabs Eddie's hand, gently slides his hand into Eddie's. Eddie looks at him, blinking rapidly.

"You wanna come with me? Get outta here?" Steve asks, jerks his head to the side. Eddie nods immediately, his fingers clamping down on Steve's hand, hard. But Steve doesn't care, because Eddie's hand shakes, just once or twice, and then it stops. And his hand is warm, and strong, inside Steve's as he leads them to the benches and sits Eddie down.

He gives him a drink of his lemon shake up, snorts when Eddie makes a face at the sour taste, and then sits next to him.

Eddie takes a few deep breaths, his eyes closed. He takes his hand out of Steve's, leaving him aching for his touch. Steve just lets him go, rests his hand in his lap instead.

"Thanks." Eddie sighs, after a long moment, his eyes finally opening, they don't land on Steve. Stay locked on his lap.

"Anytime." He says, and he means it. Deep in his chest he means it, he'd do anything for Eddie. Always. Eddie smiles, finally looking at him.

"Can't believe you tried to kill me with that though." Eddie huffs, kicks Steve's shoe with his own and nods at the cup sitting between them.

Steve laughs, watches Eddie smile, his fingers twitching in his lap, his wrist twitches once, Steve's pretty sure it counts.

~°~

The second time he touches Eddie's hands, Eddie's just made them grilled cheese, his signature dish. And he's stitting in front of Steve, his chin resting in one hand, his other hand hidden under the table. He's watching as Steve chews his first bite.

"Weeeell?" He asks, impatient, as always. Steve makes a show of chewing slower, his eyes lifting to the ceiling as he hums, thinking. Eddie kicks at his shin under the table, his socked foot not hurting at all. Steve snorts, kicks back, and says,

"It's good. Really good. Best grilled cheese I ever had." He's serious, knows he sounds like he's teasing.

"Yeah? You like it? I didn't burn it? I mean I know you said you like them crispy but I thought maybe I got it too dark. Might have burnt it." Eddie rambles, and Steve just smiles, shakes his head.

"It's perfect, actually. You're a grilled cheese wizard. Or a... grilled cheese... bard. No I don't think that's a thing. Wizard applies more here, pretty sure." Steve says, waving off his own words like they're nonsense, looking toward the ceiling again to avoid Eddie's, no doubt, exasperated look.

But that's when he sees it.

His eyes are on their way to the ceiling when he sees Eddie's hand, flapping next to his thigh. Steve looks back to him, sees him beaming, and can't help himself when he reaches out and grabs Eddie's shaking hand.

But it's a mistake. He didn't know it would be. Didn't think. Had forgotten about that first day when Eddie had caught him staring and froze.

The smile drops off Eddie's face and he tugs his hand quickly away from Steve, hiding it in his lap, scooting back in his chair, away from Steve, his eyes on the table.

"Sorry. I can't- sorry." He stammers, shaking his head, his cheeks are red, his eyes darting around the table top as he curls in on himself, arms wrapped around his stomach protectively.

"What are you sorry for? You don't have to be sorry." Steve says, his voice soft, just a breath between them really. Eddie frowns, shakes his head again.

"No. It's annoying. I know it is. It just happens. I can't help it." Eddie's voice is firm, his words sound rehearsed, like he's said them a thousand times. It makes Steve's chest ache, with pain for Eddie, and with anger for whoever told him that any part of himself was annoying. Especially this part, a part of him that Steve is sure is pure joy, made visible, made tangible and expressive.

"It's not annoying." Steve says, and he sounds... mad? A little. But not at Eddie. Eddie's eyes snap up, lock on Steve's face, he doesn't blink.

"It's not." Steve reaffirms, one shake of his head. He moves his hand, slides it across the table top slowly, towards Eddie, and then turns it, palm up, waiting.

Eddie's eyes twitch from his face to his hand and back again. Steve smiles, small, and wiggles his fingers, gives Eddie a nod.

"C'mon. It's okay." He nods his head again, eyes dropping to his hand and then back to Eddie's face. Eddie swallows, sits a little straighter, unwraps his arms from his stomach. Steve sees his arms flex, knows Eddie is squeezing his thigh under the table, nervous. But then he moves, slowly brings his hand up, and places it in Steve's.

He sighs, the contact he's been waiting for finally made, Eddie's breathing is shakey as he watches Steve curl his fingers around his hand, pull it closer across the table.

"It's not annoying Eddie it's-" Steve pauses. Eddie frowns, a grimace really.

"Hey. No. I mean it. I like it." Steve says, and Eddie looks at him, his eyes moving back to their tangled hands over and over.

"You do?" He asks, and he sounds so fucking small. So unsure. So Steve does the only thing he can think of, he stands, drags Eddie to his feet as well, and then presses a kiss to Eddie's knuckles.

"I do. I really do. That's why I was staring." Steve says, breathes it against Eddie's hand, smiles when Eddie's fingers twitch against him.

"I'm sorry it made you uncomfortable. But it wasn't because I was annoyed. I promise you that. You believe me?" Steve ducks his head a little, tries to get Eddie to look at him, he's got his free hand up by his mouth, his nail worrying between his teeth. And Steve has to smile, can see Eddie thinking, trying to make sure he does, believe Steve. One moment more and Eddie nods, presses his lips together, and looks at Steve.

"I believe you." He says, teeth worrying into his lip.

"Good. So you- I mean you don't have to hide it. Around me. If you don't want. Cuz I meant what I said. I like it. A lot." Steve feels heat rush into his cheeks and closes his eyes, breathes against Eddie's knuckles for a moment before he looks back up to see Eddie smiling at him. Looking a little in awe. A little breathless.

"You like it that much?" His nose scrunches and Steve just want to fucking kiss him. He nods instead.

"Yeah. I really do. It's like you've got... I don't know... happy little bat wings. Just flapping around you when you're having a good time. I love it. I love-" Steve stops, the words caught in his throat, because that's too much. Maybe. For right now. But he feels it. Has felt it for Eddie for awhile now, the warmth of it humming beneath his skin when Eddie's near him.

Eddie's beaming at him now, tears shining in his eyes, he hides behind his hair, for just a second, before he darts forward, presses his lips to Steve's, a quick press, and then he's gone again, and the space between them is small but still too much.

"Sorry. I've never done that before." Eddie breathes. Steve watches something that could be fear, or regret, pass over Eddie's features like a shadow, and refuses to let it stay there, not even a second longer.

He drops Eddie's hand and cradles Eddie's neck, draws him closer, til their sharing breath.

"Stop apologizing. I want this. You." Steve whispers, pressing his forehead to Eddie's.

"I want you t-"

And Steve kissing him. Slow. Sweet. His hands holding Eddie close. Steve moves his tongue along Eddie's bottom lip, smiles into Eddie's mouth when he gasps, and then deepens the kiss, just so, tilting Eddie's head a little for a better angle. Eddie moans into his mouth, his hands scrambling to grab at Steve's back, clenching in his shirt and unclenching as Steve tilts his world on it's axis.

And then Steve feels it, Eddie's hands, tapping against his back, like he'd thought about since that first day, like he'd dreamed about, on several occasions. Too many to count.

Steve hums into Eddie's mouth, smiles against his lips, their teeth clicking together as Eddie smiles too, laughs into Steve's mouth, his breath filling Steve's lungs as they cling to each other.

See, Steve's not obsessed with Eddie's hands.

He just knew they'd feel perfect tapping out happy rhythms against his skin.

And for once, in his traumatic, full of bullshit life, Steve was right.

He's not obsessed with Eddie's hands.

But he does love them.

The way they move, and shake, and show all of Eddie's joys, wild, and uncontrolled.

And his to hold.

#steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie blurb #i just really needed to write something soft and sweet and this wouldn't leave my head #living vicariously through these boys #inexperienced eddie #autistic eddie munson #he's a happy flapper!!!#fates endless inkwell #fei #mine #my writing #my fic #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #this is.... so close to my heart #i just want someone to want me ya know???? to see all the weird shit i do and be like ... fuck. that one. thats the one.

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plush-rabbit · 2 months

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Foggy Minds

Word Count: 4.7K A/N: I dont know his body!! So I tried to leave it ambiguous and yeah!! i also wrote this just for the ending bit

It’s a fucking joke. A cruel one. Angels- or at least Exterminators- are known for their cruelty. Raining down from above, a storm cloud that leaves red behind. Even after the destruction and death, the guts and gore that leave a lasting stench, the cruelty isn’t done. The angel Adam still has to bring torment down to Hell.

A wolf in sheep’s clothing is what he is. He can pretend he’s higher than the sinners down below, but he’s just as crude, if not more so than the worst of them here. It’s a tradition at this point for both you and him. He brings hell on hell, and a week later, he flies down once more, calling the club that you work at, demanding for you to be sent to the Heaven Embassy. However, as the next Extermination Day comes close, he’s called for your services once again. You wish you could say no, but he pays quite a lot for you, and you could always use the money..

You hate the walk there more than anything. It’s like everyone knows you’re off to go fuck the Exorcist. You look both ways before disappearing through the doors of the Embassy. Maybe they think you’re getting a meeting with- someone.

The Embassy is empty, and every step you take echoes out in the room. You’re terrified. You always are. It never stops feeling like a trap. Even in the elevator on the way to the suite, you can only stare at the golden doors in front of you, your reflection distorted and twisted.

If you’re going to be honest- you aren’t sure why it’s you who has to come up. It’s Adam- he’s bragged enough about how he can have anyone, and yet, he pays for a sinner’s cunt. You make sure to not feel special, to squash any pride down. Perhaps it’s too tedious to pay for another sinner or hellborn, and it’s best to just get what he knows will be a good fuck. You sigh and look away from your reflection and the glowing numbers. Still, you show up and do your job. You've taken better and worse clients. The angel is just someone in between.

The doors open and you pass a few doors until you reach his suite. You don’t know why the Embassy has so many rooms, and when you tried to ask Adam, he made a comment about how you could have a fuck-a-thon, doing it in each room, and you sneered at the idea.

Your suite- or rather his suite- is unlocked like always. You waste no time, stepping into the shimmering room. It’s livable. A kitchenette on one side, a bathroom with a wonderful shower tucked in the room, and a massive bed pushed to the end of the room. The room is bright, golds and blues, a deep dark wood carved into ornate decorations, and you feel out of place. It’s nice- far too nice for you to show up and defile it with what you’re going to do. The room never ceases to amaze you. There aren’t many places in Hell where the colors are bright and soft at the same time, where things look so pristine and untouched. When you once mentioned to Adam how nice the room was, he laughed and told you that there were far better rooms in Heaven. A part of you still wishes that he would have offered to show you- something, pictures, descriptions, anything.

“Took you long enough!” The angel says, leaning back on the bed. “I pay for your entire time, ya know? From the walk from your whore house to the embassy, the least ya could do is hurry it up. I’m a very important angel, ya know?”

“You ordered me like last-”

He clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “I don’t want excuses.” His hand waves in the air, and he sits on the bed. “Come on, let’s get to it.” You roll your eyes at him as you walk closer. “Oi! Don’t roll your eyes at me,” his voice is laced with disgust, and you remember that he looks down on you- in more ways than you would care to admit. “Come on, strip.” Your hands go to unzip your skirt. “And make it good!”

You bite your tongue. Your shirt is the first to go. The action is slow, tantalizing as your fingers skim over your bare skin, and your skirt follows suit, pooling on the floor. You step out the fabric, and your heels click on the floor. Adam watches you, his hands scratching the bed covers. You spread your legs over his right, and grab his hands, letting them touch your ribs and then moving towards your back.

You can feel the tips of his claws scratch at the clip of your bra. You press your cunt over his robe covered thigh, and grind over it softly. “Please, Adam,” you beg. “Take it off for me?” Your hands rest over his chest, and he watches as you grind yourself over him, your hands fisting over his robe, and you wonder for a moment if maybe you did a bad thing- if this was the wrong move. But then your bra straps fall down your shoulders, and it’s discarded somewhere in the room.

You hiss when his mouth suckles on a breast, the other breast being pinched and pulled at. He sucks so softly, letting his tongue roll over the swelling bud, teething at it so you hiss and arch yourself further into him. You can feel a wet spot grow, and you can’t help but rock yourself over your thigh. The other breast is manhandled, twisted and pinched that has you gasping and fisting holy fabric in your sinner hands.

You're pushed off and his hands claw over your hip. You get the memo, and peel off your underwear, the wetness of it noticeable, and the only mention of it is when Adam pockets your underwear. You wish you bought another pair with you. The heels are tossed aside, and strong hands push you down from your shoulders. You fall onto your knees with a hiss, and you know what you have to do.

“And- And- Oh fuck, that’s it, baby-” He hisses, his head tilted back. The hand fisted into your hair tightens, sharp stinging encouraging you to swallow more so he could let go. “I’m just saying that why would you settle for anything less than-” A moan interrupts his monologue and you look at him through glossy eyes. “Oh fuck. It’s like a fucking gift to suck me off.”

A string of spit and pre-ejaculate connects to your lips as you pull away. It’s thick and white, and you’re gasping for hair, a hand wrapped around the base of his cock and you push yourself to swallow his package, fitting the pair into your mouth as your hand pumps his length. He’s breathing heavily, and you know he's upset at the loss of contact with your mouth with the way that his hand tangles itself into your hair, but his mask is twisted, and you pop them out of your mouth. Your mouth feels dry despite the excess spit- you suppose it’s the salty taste that lingers.

You take him back in your mouth, eager, and begging for him to just spill his seed already. Your cheeks hollow, and he’s heavy on your tongue. Your tongue swirls over a vein, and you can feel him twitching.

“Fuck, I’m close,” he hisses, his hands cradling your head. You hum, and brace yourself, your hands holding at his thighs, bracing yourself for him to thrust forward. His hands tighten, and he thrusts into your mouth. You gag around him, your throat constricting around him. It’s a horrid sound, loud and hollow, and acid threatens to bubble over. As he continues to pump himself into you, spit dribbles from the corner of your lips and you’re grateful that you were ordered to remove your clothes.

“That’s right, take it. Oh fuck, fuck-” a string of curses fills the room, and he’s unrelenting, pushing deeper into your throat. A hand slips to grab at your breast, eyes squinting when you can feel the spit coat over your chest. Your other hand tightens around Adam’s thigh, your nails pinching into him.

Your fingers pinch over your nipple, rolling it over, desperate to take your mind off of the assault of your mouth. His thrusts get deeper and harsher, and he’s still in the back of your throat, holding you down. Curses mutter in the air, sharp and slurring together, and he keeps his eyes on you. The eye contact is far too much, the piercing eyes boring into your entire being, and it must be some type of power play for him. You choose to focus on the base of his cock. With your nose pressed into his pubic bone, you cough around him, and finally he pulls away, his seed laying thick on your tongue. Tears wet your face and mix with your spit and the drops of his seed.

He grabs your chin and you open your mouth, showing the mess that he’s made. Letting go, you stay still, as he taps his cock on your face. It’s tacky with your spit and leaves you feeling much filthier than you would like to admit. You hold the seed in your mouth and he gives a nod, and you make a show of swallowing, and open your mouth to show him. “Did you want me to do a blessing before you swallow?” He teases. “With my holy cum, I grant you the opportunity to fuck me.” He chuckles at his joke.

“Thank you, Adam,” you murmur, hoping that the soreness on your jaw will go away.

“You know, you could learn how to relax your throat. You’d think after doing this for a living, your gag reflex wouldn't be a thing.” You send him a dirty look, and his grin widens. “So fucking sensitive. What did you want me to tell you? That you were good?”

You aren’t sure what mood he’s in at the moment. Sometimes you can tell when he wants to fight with you- where he wants to punish you and call you a sinner as he ravages you, but then there are moments when he wants you to beg for him, to tell him how good he is, how you want his cock more than anything. But at the moment with your skull pounding and jaw sore, you spit out a simple, “Fuck you.” His grin widens, and he hoists you up onto the bed. The stickiness on your face ruins the soft comforter, and you feel too dirty to even touch something so nice.

“I was going to be nice and just fuck you, but shit, you had to talk back.”

A hand grips at your rear, and a finger teases at your hole. You hiss at the contact, and you're glad you’re face down or else you’d never hear the end of it of how flustered you must look. As if reading your mind, he flips you over, your face exposed and your hands immediately cover the lower half.

“Adam-” you squeal, instinctively trying to close your legs only to have them pried apart.

“Don’t worry,” he says casually. “I just wanna look at how wet you got just from sucking on me.” A finger traces against your slick and you watch as he tastes the finger. “Damn, I should have let you keep your panties on if I knew you were going to get this wet.” A finger enters and you squirm, suckling the intrusion further into your softness. “You’re soaked. And all you had to do was suck me off. You know, if I could keep you, I would.” He enters another finger, pushing the two inside until he’s at the knuckles. “I’d give you a nice collar, a nice bed, and all you would have to do is be my little cocksleeve.” He pulls out, and thick strings of slick connect his fingers back to your cunt. He returns his fingers to your cunt, now with the addition of a third. It’s a wide stretch, a sharp pain being overridden with pleasure. “I bet you’d like that. You’d live a pampered life, and all you have to do is keep your pussy spread open for me.”

With a yank, you’re pulled further into the bed. The comforters make a soft noise, but the bed itself doesn’t creak. You watch with half-lidded eyes, focused as he rests on his knees beside you, his cock growing, the scent of it enough to make you go dizzy. You brush your cheek against it, licking at the side of it when he thrusts his fingers into you.

You sit on the bed, his cock pressed against your face, and with a mind too delirious to think of anything else, you pull him into your mind, lazily bobbing his head, as his fingers scissor inside of you.

You breathe heavily, your mind growing fuzzy with the stimulation. He’s slow and lazy, massaging the inside of your gummy walls as he looks down at you taking his cock once more. A hand brushes your hair away from your face, and you pull away, pecking at his cockhead, nuzzling the glistening head against your lips. It isn’t enough for you, and you swallow him once more, humping into his hand when he gives a smart smack to your cunt.

“Turn around,” he orders, and you scamper to do so. You don’t get a moment to prepare yourself, until he’s bullying himself inside of you. Your hands claw at the comforter, and with watery eyes, you see the fabric tear apart underneath your claws. “You’re clamping down hard around me,” he breathes out, and you buck your hips, trying to feel him deeper into you.

Above you, he's heavy, and selfish, pumping into you relentlessly. The sound of skin slapping against skin is harmonized by your moans. He grunts above you, whispering strings of obscenities and few words of praise linger in the air.

“Oh fuck,” he grunts out, “so fucking good.” His breath is hot against you, fanning out into feathered tickles that touch at your body. He’s never been one for intimacy before reaching his peak, always preferring to be lustful, so you never expect him to actually kiss you, but in moments where he rights just at the right spot, you’d wish he do a little more to make it feel something other that whatever this all is.

His body is pressed against your back, hands squirming underneath to grab at your breasts. His hands are rough and unforgiving, pulling and pinching his nails into your soft skin, You can feel the warmth of his breath against your neck, puffing and huffing, murmurs about how you feel wrapped around him, and you bury your face into the comforter. Your mouth is slacked open, spit pooling down, as your moan helplessly around him, body taut and nerves feeling as if they’re on fire.

“No fucking wonder you’re a sinner,” he seethes out, his thrusts harsh and deep, enough to have you see stars and think about how as selfish as he can, he feels so good. “With a pussy this good, I bet you had everyone lined up for just a taste.” You let out a low whine. “Yeah, I bet you did. No wonder you were hired at that sex joint. Did you have to fuck the owner to get in? Ha?” His tone is wicked, and you’re unsure if it’s his words or the fact that you’re so close as to what is making you tear up. His weight above you shifts, and by your hair, you’re yanked back. You yelp and tighten around him, tears slipping down. “I asked you a question.”

“I didn’t-” you yelp as he continues to bully himself inside of you- “I didn’t hear it, ’m sorry,” you mumble, your scalp stinging with pain.

“Too fucked up on my dick to even think,” he hisses, pushing you down onto the bed. He pulls himself out, and you whimper, shaking your head and pushing yourself closer to him, your cunt weeping for more of him. “A cock hungry slut is all you are, huh?” His cock is pulled out, and he watches you whine, your cunt gaping and leaking slick that makes your thighs glisten.

“Adam, please,” you moan, turning your head to look over your shoulder. You can feel the drool stick to the side of your lips.

“Please what?” he spits out, his eyes flickering to yours, before returning to your ruined sex.

You let a whimper, high-pitched and desperate. You fall back to the bed, your eyes looking forward, and your hand slips underneath you, fingers peeking towards your cunt, feeling the warmth drip onto your fingertips. “I want more,” you tell him, your words muffled by the comforter. “I want you,” you tell him, hoping that he’d take pity on you for a moment.

The tip of his cock brushes itself against your opening, and you clench around it, your body aching for more. “Nah, you have to do better than that.” Your cries are shushed, brows furrowed and you’re turned over onto your back, “Come on, I’ve heard you beg before.” Two of his fingers enter you, thrusting in painfully slow. “You know what to say already.” Your chest rises and falls rapidly, your fingers twisting the bed sheets into spirals. You shake your head, humping pathetically into his hand. “I promise to make ya feel real good.”

“Adam,” you croak. He pulls his fingers out, and tears gluten over your lashes. “Please, I wanna be fucked.” Your legs tense when you feel the tip of his cock nestle itself inside of you. “I’m just a filthy sinner who needs-” you yelp when he thrusts himself inside of you, the entire lengths filling you nicely- “needs to be fucked by your holy dick.” His hands curve over your hips, scratching softy over your skin.

“A little more, honey, and I’ll ruin that demon pussy for you.” His hands curve over your hips, scratching softly over your skin, his voice low and sweet for you.

“Adam,” you plead, your hands curving over your breasts, “I need you,” you whisper in a haze. “I need your cock in me, I wanna cum real bad. I need you. I need you to fuck my sinner pussy.”

He gives you a lazy smile, and gives a nonchalant shrug. “Good enough.” He pushes himself inside of you. Your stomach coils into a heat, and you suck in a harsh breath when his fingers slip to rub at the bundle of nerves between your legs. “You have a fucking grip on my dick. What is it? Are you close?” You let out a broken moan. Your legs kick up, and wrap around him. “If I cum in you, you’re dealing with it.” His grin is sharp and predatory, and it only makes you drag your hands down his arms.

Your hands reach up, and you hold the sides of his neck, your hands curving behind, and you just feel tufts of hair peek from underneath the mask. A hand reaches to grab your wrist, holding it tightly, and you’re sure you’re going to have a bruise afterward. “You fuckin’ slut,” he spits out. “You think just because you got my mask off last time, I’ll let you look at me again?”

“Adam,” you whimper out, scratching at the back of his neck with your free hand, “please. I just wanna look,” you slur out. You know you’ll regret saying those things when you’ve sobered from him, but sex always did make you softer, needier. You think that must be why he decided to continue to hire you- to see you pant for him and stroke his ego. “You’re so pretty, I wanna see,” you lament. “I wanna- I just- I wanna look at you when I cum,” you stumble over your words, your fingertips tapping against the bottom of the mask. The golden eyes narrow at you, and you can only look for so long until you turn your attention elsewhere.

His mask is tossed to the side, and his irises glow. The hand that holds your wrist loosens, and you cup over his cheek, the stubble on his chin scratching at your palm. “Fuck- Oh fuck,” you hiss out, your heart beating against your chest rapidly. “I’m gonna- Oh my- Adam! Fuck,” you hiss, the knot in your stomach tightening, a pressure building more and more until you’re sure that you’ll burst.

Even as your body shakes, he doesn’t stop. He continues moving his hips, pushing all of himself inside of you, his breath coming out in pants above you, his smile sharp and face flushed. A hand wraps around your neck, and you arch yourself into it, whining and mumbling at how your cunt is still too sensitive, how he has to slow down, but he coos at you, and he tells you how good you’re benign for him, and you hold onto his wrist with your hands.

Adam places his face close to yours, his lips and breath fanning above yours, and you’re stuck staring at his eyes, unable to look away from the gold in front of you. You lick your lips, and you brush against his. He stares at you, and your face burns.

He gives shallow thrusts, and is still inside of you, and you can feel him. You can feel the heat, and the stickiness leaks out of you. He keeps himself there, and hides himself into the crook of your neck. After a moment, he slips out, and you can feel the heaviness of his seed weep out of you in slow and heavy drools.

You lay in the afterglow, chest heaving and sweat and more sticking to your skin. Your body is on pins and needles, and laying on top of the soft bedding, you could fall asleep right then and there. Nestled into a pile of feathers and gold, you could die- again- and be happy with it.

But then the man- the first man- groans and you remember that this isn't the time to play house. You have a job. Or rather, you had one, and now you have to return. You lift yourself up into a sitting position, and you stare at the bathroom. A part of you wants to take a shower, but you fear that if you even just tasted what luxury is, you’d have to be pried out of the embassy.

With a sigh, you lift yourself off of the body and gather your clothes. The lack of underwear is something that you frown upon, but when you look back to the angel, with the demand for its return, you can’t bring yourself to ask for it. You’ve walked around without it before when customers got handsy, this is nothing. Your skirt is tight, and long enough that only a pervert would tell.

“So,” he trails off, lying on his back, “do you wanna cuddle or something?”

Your eyes widen, and as you flatten your skirt, you thin your lips. “Uh, no. No thanks, Adam. I’m uh- I’m good.” You straighten your top, and tap your heels against the floor, the sharp click echoes in the chambers.

“Whatever,” he huffs, “I was just gonna psych you out anyways.” He waves his hand, and cool air rushes around you.

You let out a sigh, looking at the mirror where you stared at yourself just a bit ago. Your hands play with your hair, making sure that when you leave, it won’t look like you just slept with someone. You hum, and tilt your head from side to side, trying to find some sort of mark that would have to be hidden. However, the cool air- his own magic or blessing- has fixed any evidence of indecency on you.

“The extermination is next month,” Adam sighs. Your eyes flick up, and you catch him staring at you- golden eyes piercing into your own, unblinking and unbothered.

“I’m aware,” you tell him, returning to look at yourself in the mirror. You stand straight and let out a sharp sigh. “I think some of the residents are already panicking.”

“Are you?”

Your stomach knots itself, and you remember when you were first bought by Adam- the nervousness, the disgust, the bile burning your throat. It’s all too familiar at this moment. You shrug. “I don’t think it’s set in yet,” you mumble.

“I’ll come by the night before.” You look at the white tiles- the grout filled with shimmering gold, and the tiles patterned with silver and gold lines. “I’ll leave the back door unlocked like last time.” He doesn’t say the words nicely, it’s more like an afterthought, as if telling you this is a bother, but still, he tells you this, and one thing you've learned about Adam is that he hasn't lied to you yet. You fist the hem of your skirt in your hands, and nod. It’s silent, and then he starts again, annoyance laced into his words. “What do we say?”

“Thank you, Adam,” you tell him in a beat.

“Yeah, well, I can't have my favorite whore die.” His wings unfurl and stretch across the bed. The tips of the feathers reach just beyond the mattress, and you shrug. The words hang heavy in the air, and you feel small compared to him. In the mirror, you can see his reflection, his mouth thinning, and his eyes narrowing. “I- uh- I still have you for ten more minutes.” You make eye contact with him in the mirror. “Get back here. I wanna suck on your tits.”

You stick your tongue out, and your hips sway as you walk towards him, your heels falling carelessly to the floor as you rest beside him. His hands are cold as they peel off your shirt and without a care, he tosses it to the foot of the grand bed. A hand cups at your breast, and you can feel his breath fan over your chest, and you wait to feel his teeth bite at you, but you never do. The wetness of his lips trace over the swell of your breast, a peck pressed against the bud, but never swallowing it. Your chest is heavy with his weight on top of you, and the hand on your breast unfurls and curves over your ribs. His wings expand, and they partially cover you, the softness of them akin to the finest blanket in what only money can buy.

Realization as what he’s doing has your body heating, and you worry that he can tell with the way that he’s laid bare on your chest, and yet, he makes no snide comments. This is far more intimate than anything you’ve ever done before. With a harsh swallow, your arm wraps around him, your hand reaching upwards to scratch at the back of his head. Your hands knot into his hair, your nails dully scratching along his scalp. He lets out a low hum in response, nuzzling his cheek over your bare skin in approval.

With a shaky breath, you break the silence. “You know, I was thinking, that maybe I’d uh, give that Hazbin Hotel a shot.” You feel his hands scratch over your ribs, straight, and piercing, and they cling to you as his breath hitches. “I’m not sure I believe in the whole redemption thing, but free housing is nice.” You feel him nod slowly, and you twirl a piece of his hair around your finger. He gives you a short answer, one that is mumbled into your skin and doesn't make its way to you, and his wings inch further up covering more of your body as he brushes his lips against the swell of your breast. You don’t look at the time even when you feel that he’s grown heavier on your body.

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