#window open still stuffy :(( | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nastyzombii · 1 month ago

Text

How Often Do You Feel Lonely? (Remmick x F!Reader)

summary: you live alone in the middle of the woods, just how you like it. at least that’s what you tell yourself. your peaceful night in is interrupted by a knock at the door. a man, pleading to be let inside just to catch his breath… but of course, that’s not all he’s after.

wc: 14.5k

warnings: 18+ MDNI, explicit depictions of sexual acts! little plot mostly smut, vampire sex, p in v, oral (both giving and receiving), lots of drooling, spit drinking, face fucking, mutual masturbation, creampie(s), face down ass up, hair pulling, claws and teeth drawing blood/leaving marks, blood tasting (he’s a vampire… duh), fingering, multiple orgasms, threats of violence, manipulation, mentions of voyeurism, abandonment and death.

A/N: special thanks to @eternalstrigoii for beta reading, @spikedfearn for inspiring me to get back into writing smut, and of course everyone in the remmick discord for cheering me on and filling my head with wonderful filthy ideas <3 love u guys | translations for gaeilge provided at the end.

part 2

The sun had finally set, nestling itself amidst the spiraling, twisted trees. The sky shifted from a crisp orange to a comforting blanket of dark purple, the stars winking from a distance. Clouds hung lazily, dotting the starlit night with blots of grey. The moon, half-full, occupied the sun’s empty throne.

Although the sun drifted to its nightly embrace, the air still hangs heavy with the humid summer heat. You kept the windows open, though it wasn’t much help. Even keeping the door open a crack didn’t aid in letting air into the stuffy house.

The dark, empty house - lit only by the soft moonlight and a few candles scattered on the mantle and other various surfaces - creaked. Not unusual for the old place you call home. You live alone, but the creaks and groans didn’t bother you much. Not anymore, at least. You’ve grown used to it, the sounds kept you company, especially at night. A delightful symphony in comparison to the deafening silence that surrounded you most days.

Sometimes that’s all you need. The familiar creaking of the house, the serene night sky, a good book, a myriad of flickering candles, and some refreshing tea - iced or hot, depending on the weather and your mood. Tonight it was iced, on account of the sticky summer heat.

Despite having what you need for a peaceful night, you knew deep down in your heart that something was missing. It troubled you to ponder what exactly left you so empty inside, but you regularly stifle that feeling.

No use thinking about that. No use at all.

You grab your freshly brewed tea, take a sip and set it down on the nearby coaster. You snatch the most recent book you’ve started digging into from the shelf and sit in your typical spot by the window. It was the perfect spot. You could see the moon and stars coalescing in the clouds, their soothing light shining just bright enough through the window for you to read peacefully. Your chair was wooden, but the throw pillow on the seat made it perfectly comfortable.

You curl open the book, a classic Bram Stoker novel, right where you left off. You slide the bookmark from its place and set it down on the table in front of you. Taking another hearty sip from your glass, you begin reading to yourself:

“I pray to you, be seated and sup how you please. You will, I trust, excuse me that I do not join you; but I have dined already, and I do not sup.”

A shadow, swift and sudden, passes by the window. You barely spot it out of the corner of your eye. You twist your head to catch a better glimpse, but the presence went as fast as it came.

It was probably just an animal. A wolf or a vulture, maybe even a bear. It’s hard to say. Plenty of animals congregate around your humble abode. Living in the middle of nowhere meant that any movement outside was normally a woodland creature just drifting through on their way back to their family or catching their prey… or running from a predator. Nothing more. Except for the occasional birds flocking to your outdoor feeder, they stick around longer than most animals - longer than any guest you’ve ever had, really.

However you couldn’t shake the feeling that the passing shadow might have been something different. A stillness sets in, yet the candles continue to dance in the darkness, the blazing waltz reflecting in your eyes.

You inhale a sharp breath and try to perish the thought. The loneliness is really getting to you tonight. You shift your eyes back onto the page but a sound startles you before you can begin reading again.

Your ajar front door creaked. A different creak than you’re used to. There was no wind, not tonight, yet something caused the door to sway and moan. Something was lurking out in the woods. Or worse, someone.

An unfamiliar chill runs down your spine. An animal… that’s all it is. A hungry animal. A scared animal. Reluctantly, you leave your perch once more to shut the door, setting the book page down in your chair. You were determined to not let these noises get under your skin. Not while you’re trying to enjoy a quiet night of reading. You could do without the willies tonight.

You press one hand on the rustic wooden door frame, the other on the knob. Your eyes travel to the crack, peering out into the darkness. Nobody was there. Nothing was there. Just your overactive imagination getting the best of you. A wave of relief washes over you.

The door shuts with a groan. Finally… back to peace. You take a step to the side, primed to dive into your reading and enjoy a relaxing night without distraction. Without issue. Peace and quiet, just how you like it.

Right as you’re about to settle in your chair, you hear a loud knock.

KNOCK KNOCK

Your heart thuds in your chest - it was an unusual sound for you. Nobody comes to visit, not very often. Certainly not at this hour. Fear ripples in your throat as you take in a gulp of air. You just checked outside with no sight or feeling of a presence on your doorstep. How is that possible?

The moisture from the summer heat mingles with the nervous sweat on your forehead. Your heart thrums faster as the rapping on the door continues.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

“Hello? Hey, is-is anyone home?” The choked voice of a man breaks through the barrier of your door. A southern twang riddled the man’s gravelly inflection. It didn’t sound natural though, more like someone mimicking an accent they’d heard once before. “Hello? Please, I need some help.”

The begging stranger continues knocking at the door, his pleas growing louder. His pounding grows more urgent. You didn’t want to answer. Anxiety claws at your chest. A man? Here? At this hour? I didn’t see him when I peeked outside. I was sure there was no one there.

“Please, p-please,” The man’s voice is desperate, calling to you like a siren. Your breath trembles as he cries out. “I know you’re in there. I can see your shadow movin’ around.”

You inhale a deep, staggered breath and inch closer to the door, the heavy wood shifting with the man’s incessant knocking. Your hands shake as you slowly open the door - just a hair, to get a look at the man at your doorstep.

His eyes, a soft but wild blue, meet yours. He wasn’t as imposing as you imagined. Far from it, actually.

Dark hair sits messy on his sweat-slicked head. He sports a sleeveless, collarless white shirt that clings to his broad shoulders - drenched in what looks like perspiration and god knows what else. A golden chain drapes around his thick neck. His dirty, torn work pants are accentuated by undone suspenders that hang loosely around his sides, as well as a worn out leather belt with a metal buckle - suspenders and a belt? Strange fashion sense, you think to yourself.

A pungent odor wafted from him - you aren’t able to make out what the exact scent is. A mix of body odor, singed flesh, old blood and pure death. Unpleasant, to put it lightly.

“Oh, miss. I am terribly sorry to bother you this time of night but I-I’ve been runnin’ for what feels like hours,” he speaks, his voice a low rumble, cracking between every word. Running for hours… that would explain the copious amount of sweat beading on his forehead… and the smell. “I didn’t mean to frighten ya. I-I saw your house in the distance and thought you might be able to help me out of a pinch.”

“Why were you running?” You ask. A man running in the woods, in the dark, didn’t bode well. Something about this stranger strikes you as suspicious. His stammering and disheveled appearance didn’t help much. ”Mighty strange for a man to be running around the woods at night.”

“I was bein’ chased,” he huffs. “I-I was hopin’… well I was hopin’ I might be able to catch my breath at this quaint little house here.”

“Chased? By who?” Your curiosity piqued.

“That don’t really matter,” his voice a hushed rasp. His eyes focus on yours, their blue sheen flickers with the dancing candlelight on your mantle. “M-may I come in? Only for a moment. I just. I need a second to breathe, maybe somethin’ to drink, and I’ll be on my way. I swear it.”

“It’s not very smart to let strangers in, you know,” your eyebrows furrow, concern scribbled on your face. Not just any stranger, but a man. Not only a bad decision but potentially a dangerous one. Surely he’d understand your hesitation. “Especially at night.”

“I know, miss,” he whimpers, his eyes glistening with despair. He seems desperate to get inside. Whoever, or whatever, he was running from must have really shaken him. “I-I know. I know, and I empathize. Letting a stranger in… never a good idea, no ma’am. I know. I don’t mean to be a burden, but I just… oh, I just need a quick respite. Please, I’m beggin’ ya.”

“Why should I?” You hiss, your hand faltering on the door knob. He notices the way your body is shaking, the door trembling with you. A pout forms on his plush, pink lips. He falls to his knees with a hopeless sigh. The shredded holes of his pants force his bare legs to scrape against the hard wood of your porch. You almost feel bad for him. Almost.

“Oh… I know you don’t got a reason to let a strange man like me in, but I will do anything,” he puts his veined, calloused hands together in a weak prayer. “Anything at all.”

You didn’t respond. You watch his lips quiver as he bows his head - you could see how soaked his unkempt hair was with sweat. Little strands of his dark locks spiked out towards the back of his neck. You feel a bizarre sense of power watching a man crumble like this at your doorstep. You were used to men making you crumble.

“I-I can give you money,” he falters, scrambling his hand down into his front pocket. He pulls out two sparkling coins - from what you could tell, they didn’t look like any sort of money you were used to seeing. They looked like solid gold. Ancient. The coins shake in his palm, clinking together. ”It’s not much but it’s all I got. You can have it. I don’t want nothin’ from you other than a place to stay for just a moment… somethin’ to drink. Then I’ll get outta your hair. I swear to you that’s all I ask. Please.”

He shuffles near the crack in the door, his hand rattling the coins for you to get a closer look. They were definitely real and you weren’t the type to deny money. Not like you needed it that much beyond grocery trips and occasional house repairs. Still, you can’t help but find yourself enticed by the shining currency and the man’s choked pleas. He’s easy on the eyes too - an added bonus.

“You sure that’s all you want?” You ask, still suspicious of the strange man kneeling before you. Out of everything you’ve learned in life - men only ever want is one thing - has rang true the most.

“I promise,” he croaks. His body trembles on the floorboards of the porch, the old wood squeaking beneath his weight. He looks up at you, his gaze wet with distress and yearning. You’d never seen a man look so… pathetic. Weak. His promise feels sincere - he didn’t seem so dangerous to you anymore.

You sigh and open the door all the way, pulling the ample wood inward and fully revealing yourself to the stranger. He looks you over, darting eyes studying you up and down. A pleasant expression washes over his angular features, almost like he was amazed that you accepted his offer… and all it took was a bribe and some begging for you to fold. His smile is as soft as his eyes, with imperfect teeth lining his gums. His canines glint in the candlelight as his grin widens at the sight of you.

Something about him charms you. Maybe it was his blue-eyed gaze filled with wonder and a touch of sorrow or maybe that cute, crooked smile. The way his voice cracks desperately while he pleads. The way his body trembles and prays at your doorstep as if you were a goddess made flesh. The way the candlelight dances around his handsome face. Maybe it was the money… no, no… there was something else. Something more carnal. It’s not entirely clear to you, but whatever it is, he charmed his way inside your house.

“Alright, you can come in,” you exhale, beckoning the stranger into your home. What am I thinking? What am I DOING? Oh god, oh GOD… Your mind races as you watch the man lift himself off the porch. His heavy boots carefully take a step forward through the entryway, hesitant to fully stride in.

“Oh, oh thank you. Thank you, miss. Thank you,” he repeats his gratitude over and over again, nodding his head continuously like an overzealous puppy. His hands snap back into a prayer position to further emphasize his appreciation. He takes another step, broad shoulders pushing past the threshold of your home. His awestruck eyes never leave you. “Thank you.”

“Don’t make me regret it,” you smirk, shutting the door behind him. It’s too late to turn back now. “You have a name, stranger?“

“You can call me Remmick,” he murmurs, setting the two gold coins in your open palm as he continues his voyage into your personal space. His hand is drenched with sweat. You recoil as the moisture coating the coins kisses your skin. The coins are heavy, definitely real gold. You place them down on a nearby console table by the door and wipe your hand on your pants while his back is turned.

Definitely an unusual currency for someone to be carrying along with them. The name Remmick… also unusual. You’ve never heard a name like that before. It was different, but you like the ring of it. Remmick.

“Alright, uh. Remmick,” you nod. “Take a seat, I’ll get you somethin’ to drink. Water or iced tea?”

“Thank you, again, miss,” Remmick’s grin hadn’t faded. If anything, it grows wider as he continues to speak with you. “Water’s fine. I ain’t too picky.”

“Comin’ right up,” you smile back at him. The stranger takes a seat in your reading spot after moving your book onto the table. He gives you a friendly nod. Great. He’s gonna stank up my favorite chair. You try to shake the thought of your peace being disrupted as you stride to the kitchen. It’s only for a moment, then he’ll be on his way.

You reach into the cupboard and snatch the closest glass. Did I make the right decision letting this guy in? You can’t help but ponder the outcome of your choice as you let water fill the cup. What if he IS dangerous? What if he just tricked me by acting helpless and scared? Am I going to regret this? What am I thinking…? Why did I let him in?

Water overflowed onto your hand while you were musing. Maybe you’re just overthinking things. Not all men are bad, surely. Maybe he is just passing by. Maybe he was getting chased by something in the woods. What are the odds that a good man just randomly shows up on your doorstep…? Give him a chance. You dry your hand off and try to clear your head. A chance… Everyone deserves a chance. Even smelly weirdos carrying gold coins.

As you make your way back into the living room, you see Remmick holding your book, his eyes scanning the sentences. He hears the creak of your footsteps and turns his attention to you. He’s sitting lax in your chair, making himself right at home. His legs are crossed and propped up on the nearby table. The candlelight accentuates the veins in his hands and the furrow of his brow. A sly smirk creeps across his face.

“Dracula, huh?” He scoffs, flicking his wrist so that the cover of the book faces you. He lets out a little chuckle and cocks an eyebrow as he reads a passage out loud. “Listen to them - the children of the night. What music they make!”

“What’s the problem?” You bark, unamused by his seemingly mocking tone. He quickly reels back.

“Oh, I didn’t mean nothin’ by it,” he pauses. “I just hear it’s… a little scary, is all. You ain’t scared?”

“Hard to be scared of somethin’ that’s not real,” you sneer, inching closer to the strange man in your chair. You hand him the glass of water. Instead of taking a swig like you’d expect a parched man to do, he places it down next to your iced tea - the collected condensation dripping onto the wooden coaster. “Besides, I like a good monster story. I recently read through Frankenstein and it was a hoot!”

“Oh?” Remmick grins, tilting his head to the side. “What makes you think monsters ain’t real?”

“The only monster I know is men,” you snap back. “Vampires, werewolves, stitched together abominations - they’re just fairy tales. Fiction.”

Remmick contemplates for a moment, his fingers still curled around the book’s spine. He looks back at you, his eyes gleaming in the light. They almost looked like they were shining a different color - crimson. But it was nothing more than a trick of the light.

“Hey now, fairy tales ain’t always fiction. Always a little truth to ‘em,” he teases. He sets the book down pages first on the table, making sure you didn’t lose your place. “‘sides, if you ever met a real monster… oh, I guarantee you wouldn’t be leavin’ your door open or your windows cracked. I wager the heat is safer than the possibility of somethin’ evil creepin’ down the hall.”

Something about the way Remmick spoke of monsters troubles you. His eyelids drooped halfway, hiding his intentions under their shadow. He stares at you, his gaze never wandering from your trembling body, burning into your core and twisting your stomach in knots. Your eyes drift to his left finger - the light of the candles drawing attention to a ring. A wedding ring?

“You married?” You change the subject as quickly as possible, the less talk about monsters the better. His eyelids perk back up. He looks directly at his ring, almost as if it’s the first time he’s noticed it’s there for quite some time.

“Once,” he murmurs quietly. A somber expression plastered on his face, his eyes shying away from you. He didn’t seem to want to talk about it further. “You?”

“Once,” you reply. You lied. You were never married. You were engaged once - but the man you once considered your life. Your soul. Your very home. He has long since abandoned you. All alone in this empty house. Remmick didn’t prod.

“Do you live alone, miss?” Remmick inquires. His tongue licks his front teeth before he shuts his mouth. He still hadn’t taken a sip from his glass of water. You weren’t sure what to say. You didn’t want this stranger to know that you did, in fact, live alone. Better make something up.

“No, but… I am alone for the night,” you continue to lie. You weren’t always the best liar, and you were almost positive Remmick could tell, but you carry on. “My sister is out in town with her fiancé. They won’t be back for a few hours.”

Remmick nods, sinking into your chair with a hearty sigh. He looks over at you, studying you once again. His eyes pierced through your skin, as if he was looking directly at your soul. Even from a distance his gaze gives you goosebumps.

“But you ain’t alone right now, are ya darlin’?” his eyes soften as he speaks. The polite southern cadence sung through his charming smile. He swapped his gracious honorific for an informal term of endearment. You feel your gut clench when this stranger refers to you by a pet name, followed by a fluttering sensation in your chest. It’s been awhile since someone spoke to you like that. “How often do you feel lonely?”

What a strange question, but one you think about more than you’d care to admit. It’s like he was digging into your brain with a venom-encrusted shovel, asking just the right things to make you squirm.

“Not too often. I don’t mind being by my lonesome. I think I’m good company,” you laugh awkwardly. “Why do you ask?”

Remmick pauses for a moment. You couldn’t pinpoint the expression on his face, but you could see him turn to the window. He stared at it longingly, still silent, still thinking. You could slice the silence in the room with a knife.

He begins to sift in the chair, uncrossing his legs and setting his boots down on the floor with a heavy thud. Remmick’s head swivels back towards you.

“I ask because,” he starts, standing up. His shadow flickers on the floor with the dancing candlelight, enveloping you in shifting darkness. “Well… I sure don’t like bein’ lonely.”

Remmick’s voice falters, his words stricken with a hint of sorrow. Your brows knit together. Concern and fear pool in the pit of your stomach as he slowly approaches you.

“And I been lonely for a very, very long time,” his voice cracks slightly. A low growl rumbling deep in his throat. “It’s hard to find good company for someone like me.”

“Someone like you?” Your eyebrow cocks upward, concern simmering into curiosity. Be careful. Curiosity never fails to kill the cat.

“A monster,” Remmick exhales. He marches forward, his head bowed down to the floor. The air grew heavier the closer he lurched. You wanted to back up, but something was stopping you. An invisible force holds you in place as this stranger continues his pace forward. This stranger, that you let in, stomps closer and closer. Your entire body tenses with every step he takes. “And I ain’t good enough company for myself. Never have been.”

By the time his feet meet yours, you could feel a yelp blossoming beneath your breath. You stifle it the best you can, gulping it down with a hard swallow. Your heart hammers in your chest and your hands grow clammy. He lifts his head, ever so slightly - a droplet of sweat dribbles from his glistening forehead. His eyes flicker maniacally in the candlelight.

“I’ve seen so much death. War. Famine. Lost so many loved ones. My wife… killed right in front of me,” he rasps. “I can still hear her screams in the silence… echoin’ in my head.”

You didn’t know how to respond to that. How COULD you respond to that? This stranger who went from imposing, to pathetic, to sincere, right back to imposing - unloading his trauma on you completely indiscriminately, completely out of nowhere. What was he expecting from you? What exactly does he want?

You remain silent. Silent enough that you could hear the candle wicks crackle. This seems to agitate Remmick, the corner of his upper lip twitching.

He looks deep into your eyes, his pupils dilating like a wild animal. His eyes shift violently between blue and crimson. You weren’t so sure if it was a trick of the light anymore or if his eyes were literally changing. Either way, it was unnerving.

He reels himself back a bit, a sharp inhale filling his nose as he lifts his head up to meet your eyes. Your body shudders with anticipation for whatever comes next.

“I’m so sorry, darlin’. I’m bein’ a real wet blanket, ain’t I?” He chuckles a little, realizing his emotional outburst might have been a bit too intense. “Forgive me. I just uh. I get a little emotional when I take in the sight of a pretty thing like you. You… you remind me of her, is all.”

He gently reaches a hand out and cups your cheek. The sudden touch, chilling and coarse, makes a tingle twist down your spine. He caresses your face softly. The rough pad of his thumb traces circles on your lips. He stares deeply into your eyes again, honing in on the emptiness in your heart - something the two of you seem to share.

Your eyes twinkle in the candlelight as you gaze back at him. You could sense a deep pain buried underneath his rough and tumble exterior. You weren’t entirely sure how to feel in this moment… on one hand, you missed the touch of another human on your skin. On the other, your sneaking suspicion was starting to rear its ugly head. This guy might be dangerous, or worse - he might want something more than he let on.

Something in your mind pleaded with you to let it happen, begging for the attention you’ve denied yourself. The need for connection. The need for embrace.

You decide to welcome Remmick’s touch. You raise a hand and plant it firmly over his. A smile forms on his roguish face, those crooked teeth baring themselves. His hand was unnaturally cold, but the feel of it against your face brings you a sense of comfort you’ve long since missed.

His intense eyes burned into your very being, hypnotically enticing you to stare back. That odor you whiffed before letting him in washed away with his touch, now all you could smell was the burning wicks of the candles and the night air rolling in from the open window.

“Her eyes sparkled exactly like yours in the right light,” he speaks tenderly, musing on his lost love while delicately stroking your face. “Her lips pursed in a way I’d never forget, either.”

He leans in close, his hand never leaving your face. You could feel his hot breath on your skin, his lips nearly brushing yours.

“May I kiss you?” He whispers, polite as ever. He hovered close enough to your lips that he could lay one on you if he really wanted to. He at least had the courtesy to ask permission. You pull away briefly, contemplating whether or not allowing yourself the embrace would be worth it. But nothing was worse than the fear — what happens if I DON’T?

You nod, but before you can open your mouth to say anything, his lips crash into yours. His warm mouth covers yours with a searing sweetness. You could feel the stubble on his chin rub against you.

A flurry of emotions caught in your chest. The cold caress of his palm on your face coupled with the warmth of his lips coalesced into a strange sensation, but you weren’t complaining.

He lets out a soft purr as you purse your lips to return the same fervor, matching his passion. Your eyelids flutter closed as you lean deeper into the kiss. His other hand reaches behind you, splaying ever so gently on the curve of your back. His fingers languidly stroke your back. Without warning, you feel his tongue slither between your lips. You exclaim softly, feeling Remmick’s lips twist into a satisfied smirk as he delves his long, flat tongue deep into your mouth.

It flicks at the back of your teeth, as if he were tasting your last meal. You let out a breathy, unprovoked moan as his tongue completely wraps around yours in a wet, slimy embrace. He chuckles, thrilled that you’re enjoying this, even a little bit. His hand that cupped your face shifts up into your hair. He takes hold of you gently, pulling you even deeper into the kiss. His fingers knot into your hair as he continues his relentless exploration of your mouth.

A tight, swelling warmth pools in your stomach. This man, this stranger - kissing you with a passion you hadn’t felt in so long, if ever. You were right about one thing. Men only want one thing, but maybe… just maybe, you did too. You allow your tongue to coil with his, melding together in a glorious harmony.

“Santaíonn mé thú…” Remmick whispers into your mouth in a language you’ve never heard before. His tongue hadn’t ceased moving along yours, saliva mixing together with a furious momentum. The hand caressing your back slides further down, nearly grazing your rear.

Your senses begin to come back to you, causing you to pull away - a strand of spit still connecting your lips. He looks at you, eyelids half shut, lips still pursed together.

“My sister and her husband will be home soon,” you say with a hush. He shoots you a look, his hands still gripping you. His lips curve into a devilish sneer.

“Thought you said your sister had a fiancé?” His grasp tightens in your hair. He gives a wicked chuckle that bellows deep from the confines of his throat. “‘sides, I ain’t worried. Your sister don’t live with ya. And she ain’t comin’, not tonight.”

A chill shivers down your spine. You were right again, Remmick could tell you were lying.

He leans in close, his burning gaze paralyzing you.

“I’ve been watchin’ you for a while now, darlin’,” he growls. “You ain’t ever felt these eyes on you? Heard noises at night outside your window? That was me. Keepin’ ya company when no one else would.”

Panic swirls in your mind. You’d never felt his gaze before today. Not that you could recall. Was he just messing with you? Or was he actually watching you… waiting for the perfect moment to strike… when the loneliness of this empty house had finally caught up to you?

“Don’t you worry, sweet thing,” he coos, his gaze and his grip softening. His hand trails back up and massages small circles on your back to put you at ease. “Ain’t gonna hurt ya. Don’t wanna hurt ya. I sensed how alone you were. Could sense the hurt in your soul. Thought maybe you needed someone. Needed me.”

His lips peck your cheek, planting a soft kiss. His lips travel further, kissing down to your slender neck.

He remains there, perfectly still. You could feel him deeply inhale, breathing in your scent like a beast teasing its prey before the kill. Before you could react, his tongue juts out, licking your neck. You shudder as the slimy appendage leaves a trail of spit on your exposed neck. He sighs at the taste of your skin.

“You know, I wanna thank you,” he mutters. His hot breath weighs heavy on your throat. “I want to thank you for letting me in. Thank you for indulgin’ me. Quenchin’ me.”

“Quenching you?” Your eyes dart to his full glass of water, the condensation nearly soaking the table it sat on. “B-but you didn’t even drink the water I gave you.”

He let out a dark, foreboding laugh. He met his eyes to yours, the blue color you recognized had been completely usurped by a reflective crimson. Your heart thuds ferociously beneath your breast as his grin grows wide, damn near ear to ear - but it was different this time.

Instead of crooked, imperfect human teeth was a row of pointed, twisted canines. Fangs.

His fangs glint in the candlelight, sharp and horrific. Saliva began forming from the corners of his mouth, dribbling down to his scruffy chin. Thick and viscous like a snake’s venom.

“Aw, you sweet girl,” he takes a breath in, the clamp of his fingers in your hair and on your back growing tighter again. Constricting you and forcing you close against his body. So close you could feel something thick and warm twitching against your groin. Close enough to feel the faint, slow beat of his heart. “I don’t got a need for water, as kind as it was for you to bring it to me. My tastes are more refined. I can lie too darlin’, I am picky and I wasn’t runnin’ from anythin’… I was runnin’ to you.”

His lips meet your throat, fangs grazing delicately along your sensitive skin. You could feel his tongue slither down your neck like a mindless slug. You couldn’t move, paralyzed by fear.

“I wanna taste you. Just a taste. I ain’t gonna bite too hard… not yet,” he mumbles into your flesh. A sharp prick digs into you before you even have a chance to protest or process what was happening. It doesn’t hurt, but it definitely stings. A warm drop of blood drizzles down your neck. Remmick’s tongue is quick to lap up your essence as it trickles out of your fresh puncture wound. He moans into your throat, hands still gripping onto you as if you’d vanish the second he lets go. “Mmm, like heaven.”

His face journeys upward, his nose sniffing you deeply as he kisses you. Tiny little pecks peppered up your neck, to your cheek, and all the way back home. His lips meet yours once again, the coppery taste of your own blood bitter on his tongue.

Your mind races. Afraid, aroused - all at once.

He lied to you, he lied to get inside, betrayed your already fragile trust… and yet, the thrill is utterly insatiable. You were petrified but you didn’t want him to stop. The conflicting emotions subdue you, giving into the sweet surrender this monster, this man, was lulling you into. You couldn’t speak, could barely think straight.

“God… you taste… exquisite,” Remmick licks his lips after leaving yours. He sniffs at the air, his nose working overtime as if tracking the scent of something stronger. Something even more delicious. His hand slides from your back and slides its way to your stomach leaving goosebumps in their wake. It splays wide, the length of his fingers enveloping your womb. “Mm. I wanna taste all of ya.”

With a sudden movement, Remmick scoops you up into his arms, cradling you tight against his chest. He picked you up as if you were weightless. His chin nuzzles your head as you sink into his arms. You don’t try to fight it. It’s not like you had much choice.

This man that you let into your home was dangerous, you were right to be suspicious. Your intuition rarely fails you. You let your guard down and now you’re being whisked away, carried like a sack of potatoes in your own home.

The worst part is… you didn’t hate it. In fact, you like it.

“Which way to the bedroom, darlin’?” His voice a low, husky rasp. You knew exactly what he wanted, and if you didn’t give in, it’s likely something horrible was going to happen to you. A part of you wanted it too… desperately.

You bite your lip, your body shuddering in his strong arms as you point in the direction of your bedroom. Right down the hall. The loneliest, darkest room in the house.

He strides towards it, not skipping a beat as he kicks the door open, no longer in need of an invitation. The musty smell of old furniture fills your nostrils as he places you gently on the bed. His red eyes shine faintly in the dark. Still hungry. Starved, even.

“Stay put,” he says, exiting the room for a moment. Remmick’s brief moment of absence, this little moment of peace, left you feeling that empty pit in your stomach again. Perhaps you really were more lonely than you thought. More empty, more longing. It was a feeling you shoved deep down, in hopes that keeping to yourself and enjoying your own company was enough for you.

But in reality, it wasn’t.

You see two orbs of orange light bob down the hallway. Remmick, carrying two of the candles from the living room, makes his way back through the door. He sets one candle down on the left night stand, the other on the right.

“I want you to see me,” he croons, kneeling down onto the bed. His lean, muscular frame canvases you as you decline further into the bed. His broad shoulders cast a mountainous shadow. The light of the candles prance around his features - his soft, wicked smile a ballet across his face. The light bounces off of the gold chain dangling helplessly from his neck. “I want you to see all of me. Every emotion on my face. Every drop of ya on my lips.”

Your heart fluttered at the last sentence. He lowers his face down to you, mapping kisses along your cheeks, down to your neck where the puncture wound was still fresh. He kisses your wound delicately.

His cold hand creeps underneath your blouse, navigating up to your sensitive breastd. You let out a surprised breath as his hand caresses the supple mound. His other hand lifts your shirt upward and over your head, revealing your naked torso. He inhales sharply as he soaks you in.

“Faith and begorrah…” he mutters under his breath, his southern cadence cracking into something more foreign. Brogueish, if you had to guess. His hand is still clutching desperately at your breast, fingers kneading it gently. Drool trickles from his open mouth, his hand picking up the pace. He catches your rigid nipple between his fingers, pulling it forward.

You let out a whimper, a pleasurable little sound, as he continues to play with your breast. The heat of the summer and the heat of your pleasure started to swelter, sweat causing your hair to stick to your forehead and your breath to develop into a pant.

Remmick shoves his lips onto yours, his hand rhythmically circling the sensitive skin around your nipple. His other hand raises to your neck, gently wrapping around it to deepen the kiss. His tongue matches the beat of his hand, swirling around yours in a duet of pure bliss.

He inhales deeply again, his nose twitching. He smelled something on you. Something sweet. Something intoxicating. Something delicious. His lips leave yours, his hand not far behind. The strand of spit connecting your coupling breaks apart as he opens his mouth to speak.

“You smell that?” he asks, his nose huffing the air like a hungry dog. His face travels down your body before finally reaching the apex of your thighs. He takes a mighty whiff again before letting out a sharp whine. “Ohhh, darlin’ you smell divine. You smell like nectar. Warm, exquisite nectar. A sweet honey the bees could only dream of producin’.”

Remmick’s fingers curl around the hem of your pants, pulling them down in one swift succession. His hand finds your panties - a pool of warmth already seeping through the thin layer of cotton. You feel a sense of shame thinking about how much you were enjoying this. His eyes widen as he traces a finger along the lines of your folds through the sopping fabric.

“Mm. I knew I smelled somethin’ sweet,” he giggles, bringing his dampened finger to his mouth. His tongue wraps around the length of his digit, swirling around the coat of fluids. He moans, the taste of you washing a current of ecstasy over his face. “Ohhh. Wow. Even better than blood, baby. Heavens above, I need more. May I? May I taste you?”

You nod, your body quaking underneath him. Was this really happening? You could feel your cheeks burn hot with anticipation.

His veined hand tears your panties away in one hurried motion. You let out a wince of surprise as he exposes your sex to the open air. He quickly lowers himself, his face eye-level with your lower half, eager to plunge himself into you.

“I want you to look at me,” he demands. His hands possessively grip the outside of your thighs. His eyes blazing wildly in the light as he stares up at you. “Watch me, like I’ve watched you, sweet thing.”

When your eyes draw to him, his grin widens as he licks his lips. With no more hesitation, his mouth encloses around your cunt. A jolt of electricity hits your body as the warmth of his mouth encases you. His nose sat comfortably on your clit while his tongue playfully twists at your folds. You could hear him moan into you, tasting every inch of your tender entrance. His tongue pushes forward through the threshold, lapping up all of the juices that flowed from you.

You shudder. No man has ever done this for you. No man has ever tried to make you feel this way before. It wasn’t a feeling you were used to but, by god, could you get used to it. You let out a moan of your own as he pushes onward, letting yourself fully succumb to the pleasure.

Remmick’s grip on your thighs tighten, his nails digging red crescent shapes into your skin. His tongue dove as deep as possible into you, circling your walls with an intense dedication. His fangs tease the curve of your cunt, not enough to hurt but you could feel the sharpness graze you.

You look at him, as he wished. His eyes were shut, mouth working over time solely to please you. You take the reins, reaching down to grab onto his messy dark hair. The greasy strands tangle around your fingers as you pull his face deeper into your heat, anchoring yourself to him. The two of you moan in tandem as you hold on for dear life. He shifts beneath you, digging his hips into the bed as he ground his sopping face against you, licking with all of the power he could muster.

One hand slips from your thigh and onto your sensitive clit, rubbing delicate circles as he continues his feast. His tongue snaking faster into your walls, keeping up the pace of his thumb on your little bundle of nerves.

You could feel an intense, broiling heat swell deep in your groin. The pace of his thumb and his tongue rapidly increase along with the grind of his hips. The old bed creaks beneath the two of you. You could feel the warmth of his breath as he pants heavily against your entrance.

“That’s it, baby,” he groans inside you, the tips of his fangs poking at your flesh as he speaks, his voice a low growl. He could feel your release coming, the way your walls fluttered against his tongue. “Sing for me.”

As if spurred on by his words, you feel the tension of your climax overwhelm you. An explosion of pleasure unleashes from you, your body spasming from the intensity. You scream as your walls clamp and contract around Remmick’s tongue.

He lets out a triumphant grumble as his tongue wiggles furiously inside you, lapping up every drop of your essence as if it was his sustenance. The fuel for his undying fire.

As your climax ebbs out, Remmick lifts his head, fixating his sights on you. His mouth, wet with your slick, hangs open. Your juices and his saliva dribble down his chin, licking his lips to savor the flavor. He slides two of his long fingers into your dripping, sensitive cunt. He brings his face up close to yours.

“I want you to taste yourself,” he says, his fingers sliding in and out of you with a similar pace to his tongue. Your body ripples with delight, still recovering from your overwhelming climax. “Taste this delicacy.”

He crashes his slathered face into yours, his tongue finding itself back home inside the pillowy warmth of your mouth. You have trouble describing the taste, but it was uniquely yours. You’ve never felt anything quite like that, not from any of your partners. No one else has made you feel like that. Remmick was different, really different. Eager to please.

Your heart pounds in your chest - but not from fear anymore. From pure, unmitigated pleasure.

The pace of his fingers falters before he fully removes them, the sloppy sound echoing in the room. You felt something heavier grinding at your groin. Remmick, still fully clothed but baked in sweat, grinds his hips against your quivering cunt. You could feel his pants grow tight against his body, constricting his throbbing girth. His pants are swiftly soaked with you as he continues to rub on you, slowly and meticulously.

“Mm… feel that?” he moans into your mouth. “Do ya feel what you’re doing to me?”

He snatches your hand and cups it on his clothed length. You could feel it writhe in your grasp. It was big, bigger than you’re used to. You squeeze it, causing Remmick to let out a breathy groan.

“Oh… le do thoil… let me free,” he rasps, his southern drawl once again breached by a melodic lilt, the heavy brogueish accent riddling his growling voice. You like how it rang in your ears, how desperate he sounded. You oblige him, his needy and wistful eyes piercing into yours as he watches you undo his belt with a metal CLICK.

In a rush to release his throbbing arousal from its clothed prison, he unzips himself. He pulls his pants down past his ankles and onto the floor, slipping his boots off in the process. He wasn’t wearing any undergarments.

You could see it amidst the dark and unruly pubic hair - his weeping, twitching cock springing free, bobbing up and down. Thick, blue veins bulged on his thick shaft. The slit on his crown leaks, excited to meet you. Your mouth starts to salivate as you gawk at the massive girth before you.

He swiftly removes his shirt, only opting to keep the chain around his collarbone. His chest was bare, not a single hair or scar to be found other than a large cross tattoo etched into his left side. Ironic, you think to yourself. A sinning saint.

He leans into you, his body looming on top of yours. His crimson eyes, glowing with desire, lock onto you. His mouth dangles open, sharp teeth peeking out. A thick strand of pearlescent drool trickles from the corner of his mouth. The sweat on his skin glistens in the candlelight.

He maneuvers the head of his cock to your entrance. It twitches and leaks as it sits gently between your folds. He teases it against you, using your combined slick to rub it up and down, kissing your sensitive clit with every stroke. He bends his head down, his slimy drool dribbling carelessly onto your lips.

In the heat of the moment, you stick your tongue out and lick the viscous slobber pooling onto your lips. Remmick lets out a surprised gasp.

“God damn,” he mutters, a dumbstruck smile worming across his face. “Shit darlin’, you want some more?”

With your eyelids half-lidded, gazing at him seductively, you open your mouth wide. He’s taken aback by this, but more than happy to fulfill your twisted desire. He puckers his lips and allows a controlled stream of saliva to cascade from his maw. The slow, painfully slow, drip of his thick spittle eventually finds its way onto your tongue.

You swirl it around as it flows into your mouth. The taste is oddly sweet, combined with the taste of your own juices and a slight hint of coppery blood still lingering. It was warm, syrupy, and you hate to admit it, but you fucking loved it.

He lets the last drops of his drool hang from his chin before wiping it off, only for you to grab his hand and lick the excess smear from his palm. You utter a soft moan, making sure you swallow every last morsel. He smiles a wide, sinful grin. His cock twitching even more violently against you.

“Christ,” he laughs, elated by your lewd gesture. “Fuck, you’re perfect. Ohhh I knew I liked you.”

He leans in for another open-mouthed kiss, mixing more of his saliva deep down your throat. His cock still nipping at your entrance, but not pushing forward. As if an invisible barrier stopped him from penetrating you.

“Tell me I’m allowed in,” he whimpers into the kiss, sweat sprinkling onto you as the sticking heat of his forehead touches yours. “Invite me into you, baby. I need to hear you say it. You gotta let me in.”

This plea gives you the same sense of power you felt the first time he begged at your door. He wasn’t allowed to fuck you until you gave him the power to do so. He had permission to walk inside your house, permission to kiss and devour you, but fucking you was an entirely different boundary he needed access to.

You let him linger there, staring up at him with doe-like eyes as he shudders and shakes. He breathes a heavy pant as he sits there idly, cock leaking on your folds. You feel it throb and writhe. He wanted this more than anything.

You remain silent. The silence was agonizing for him. Desperation painted on his face. Just waiting for you to give the word. He balls his fists and grips onto the sheets, anchoring himself to the bed.

“Please baby, please don’t leave me hangin’ like this,” he whines, the despondent cry of his voice choked from his lips. His eyes began to water, starved by desire and longing. “You want me to beg again? You want me on my knees, prayin’ to the heavens? Prayin’ to you? ’Cause I’ll do anything, sugar. Anything you want.”

He bites himself with his fangs, a trickle of his blood beginning to flow from his lower lip. He lets out tiny whimpers as he trembles above you, his cock impatiently yearning to claim you. His brows knit and his lips shape into a pout.

“Please, please, please,” he begs, his cock driving onto your clit, nowhere else for it to go. He rocks back and forth. His engorged head smooches your little bundle of nerves over and over as he incessantly repeats his begging, sounding more desperate by the syllable. He glides on your slick folds errantly. “Please, ohhh please. Please, please please. Please. Please. Pleeeeaaaase.”

His pathetic, needy whines awakened something in you. The thought of bringing a man to this state of desperation spurred on your own desire. His whines and whimpers, pleading just for you. The thrum of his cock against your sensitive nub marching onward. His damp crimson eyes flutter open and closed, tears starting to form on his eyelashes. You could feel both of your fluids mingling together as he leaks helplessly against your folds. You love every second of it.

Finally, you say it.

“Come on in.”

Those three little words were all Remmick needed. He wipes away the desperate tears and looks down at you, smile growing wide enough that you could see the gleam of his mouthful of fangs in the warm candlelight. A fiery, emboldened glint flickers in his crimson eyes.

He got exactly what he wanted, and now? He could enter you as many times as he pleased. There was no going back. And you were more than okay with that.

With no further delay, he guides the head of his cock into your entrance. A quiet, staggered breath escapes your lips as the crown stretches you open. The gripping, wet heat welcomes him inside.

“Fuuuck,” Remmick moans, his voice a low grumble. His eyes roll back into his head as he slowly begins to drag his girth deeper. He stops for a moment once his cock is shallow in you - halfway inserted and yet the stretch of him was beyond your usual capacity. It twitches eagerly between the tight cushiony enclosure. Every vein and ripple caressing your insides. “You feel like home.”

He sheaths the rest of his arousal into your warmth with a single, powerful thrust. A hoarse cry escapes his throat once he completely buried himself to the hilt. Your soft, slick walls squeeze and flutter around him as you let out a squeal of your own. His girth fills you completely. Fills that emptiness in your core. It feels good. Real good.

He remains still, taking in the heat of you around him. Taking in every inch of your body. The curve of your hips, the shape of your breasts. The way your eyes flirt with the candlelight. The sounds of pleasure squeaking from your lips. He commits it all to memory.

“Beautiful,” he whispers. One hand taut around your thigh, the other reaching out to touch your face. His head lolls to the side, eyes closed and lips pursed. He pulls back ever so slightly only to smother his cock in you again. He splays his hand across your womb so you could see the bump of his cock buried deep inside you. “Ya see that? See how deep I am?”

The obscene sound of flesh meeting flesh echoes in the room when he begins to pick up his pace. His thrusts slamming waves of pleasure into you, the friction driving you further into a blissful abyss.

Remmick drags his cock out to get a look at the fruits of his labor, his tip still hitched in your entrance. The shine of your juices coat his shaft. He grunts, almost inhuman, before snapping his hips back into you.

A guttural noise escapes your throat. With every roll of his hips, brutal thrust after brutal thrust, you could feel the tension begin to spin deep within your body. Your steady moans in sync with his ceaseless rhythm.

He pants heavily, tongue drooping from his mouth like a ravenous mutt. Drool continues to cascade from him. He lets it fall onto his pistoning cock, lubricating it even more as it continues plowing into you. You could see the immense pleasure plastered on his face - eyelids fluttering, jaw hung open, lips curved into an expression of pure, unbridled ecstasy.

He lifts up your leg to push himself as deep as he could possibly go, this new position allowing him to plunge into that perfect hidden place inside you. The swollen head of his cock kisses your sweet spot with every swing of his hips, bringing you closer and closer to your peak.

Your chest tightens, heart rabbiting in your ribs. Your insides stretched and pulled. A burning, boiling heat brewing deep in your chest, rippling throughout your entire body. It coils in your groin, every nerve ending set alight and ready to burst.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. Remmick hears you and slams into you harder. Faster. The intensity of him hitting your sweet spot, more and more, over and over, was unbearable. Your fingers clench onto the bedsheets. The headboard of the bed rocking into the wall with each roll of his hips.

“Don’t fight it, sweet thing,” he coos, the relentless drag of his cock pushing you further and further over the edge. He circles his hips, making sure he hits every nook and cranny within you. “I wanna feel you squeezin’ ‘round me. I wanna feel you close in. Your body seizin’. Ohhh, I can feel it comin’. Come on, baby. Come on and come for me.”

In an instant, a rush of ecstasy flows through you. You let out a loud, gasping sob as your climax crashes into you like a tsunami. Your hips buck and wince. Your walls clamp around Remmick’s cock. He sits idle, his eyes watching your body seize around him, convulsing like a live wire. A devilish, satisfied sneer spreads across his face. He was loving this, but he wasn’t done with you yet. Not even a little bit.

As your climax starts to dwindle, your body still involuntarily jerking, Remmick continues to drive his hips forward. The sounds were messy. Filthy. The wet, sloppy sounds of his skin slapping against yours, indulging in the mess you made, filled the air.

His breath grows ragged, his chest heaving. He was close. You could feel it.

“So warm… so wet… tá tú chomh tais… fuck,” he moans through gritted teeth, brogue accent and foreign words slipping out of his lips. His eyes roll back into his head again, his pace otherworldly fast, growing erratic and uncontrolled. Hitting your perfect spot hard enough to spur on another mini-climax of your own. “Fuck, fuck, FUCK!”

With a final, brutal thrust - he buries himself entirely, howling louder than a wolf, as he forces himself deep enough to reach your cervix. You feel an overwhelming heat flooding deep inside you. His cock pulsates and his hips buck, filling you to the brim with the molten flood of his passion.

His body tremors, folding over you like origami. His head rests between your breasts. You could feel the wetness of his mouth as he moaned on your skin. Cock still sheathed, still pumping its thick essence into you. It leaks down your ass crack onto the sheets. It seemed endless. His cock continues pushing, instinctually prodding his seed even deeper.

A sharp pain in your thighs causes you to wince. You peer down to see Remmick’s fingernails - once human and crescent-shaped, were now sharp. Ferocious. Monstrous. Digging deep enough to make you bleed. He gripped you tight, holding you in place to make sure not a single drop of him was wasted.

“God… damn,” he murmurs, his face still planted in your chest, his breath heavy on your skin. “Holy shit, that was… god damn.”

He kisses your chest before lifting himself off of you. He noticed how deep his claws were digging into you. A look of surprise washes over his sweat-bleached face. He removes his claws - his fingers had grown long and gnarled, dripping with fresh blood. He sticks his bloody fingers in his mouth, tasting your divine essence, quietly moaning as he licks himself clean.

“I’m so sorry darlin’, didn’t realize what I was doin’ to ya. Got carried away. You’re just so… mm. Intoxicatin’,” he sighs, mouth still red with blood and moist with saliva.

You hear the wet sound of his still-erect girth slithering out of you with a squelching snap. You could feel the excess releases seep out of you, warm against your skin.

He climbs his way closer to you on all fours until he straddles your chest with his chiseled thighs. His aching, dripping cock twitching over your naked body, leaving a trail of your combined fluids in its wake.

”Open wide for me, sweet thing.” He nudges the drenched tip of his cock to your lips. The salty mess smears a thin, slimy layer on your mouth. His slender claws tangle in your hair. “Go on and clean me up now.”

Delirious, you follow his directions and open your mouth, your tongue laying flat on the tip. He bares a toothy grin, slowly pushing himself into the warmth of your mouth. He lets out a soft moan as he feels the wet embrace of your tongue wrap around him.

“I’d say watch the teeth, but… well, that’d make me a hypocrite wouldn’t it?” he chuckles, shoving himself deeper until you could feel him teasing the back end of your tongue, a drawn out rasp ripping through his throat. He holds you in place, sharp tendons clawing at your scalp.

You taste the bitter, savory flavor of your combined excretions as he ruts his cock back and forth on your tongue, slathering it deeper. His cock continues to twitch and throb with each thrust. You could feel every ripple, vein and texture of his skin on your tongue as it glided itself in and out of you effortlessly.

“Mm. Fuck. I wanna feel my cock in your throat,” he growls, his pace increasing and the grip on your hair tightening, animalistic urges overtaking him. His voice became harsh and cruel, like gravel underneath a steel-toed boot. You look up at him with watering eyes, streams of saliva dribbling down your chin. His red eyes sear back into you with a needy and insatiable glow. “I wanna feel your pretty little throat constrictin‘ me.”

With a sudden movement, he thrust himself deep down your throat. You gag the moment the crown of his cock hammers into the back of your esophagus. A surplus of spit leaks out of the corners of your stretched mouth, coating his balls with a frothy sheen. All you could do is breathe out of your nose and wait for it to end.

He stalls there briefly. Completely still besides his quivering cock. It trembles wildly against your tongue. His claws tighten in your hair, keeping you trapped close to him - your nose squashed against his pelvis. His girth damn near choking you to death.

“Ohhh, fuck, you fit me like a glove. My sweet, filthy girl,” Remmick croaks. He begins to rock his hips slowly at first, each thrust touching the very depths of your throat. “It’s like you were made for me.”

Your mind starts to blur, the intensity of his strokes making you dizzy with lust and lack of proper oxygen. The corners of your vision grow dark as you swallow him whole.

“Just like that,” he snarls, losing himself with every deep stroke of his cock. Your throat expands and massages him as he smothers himself in you. Your mouth wrapped taut around his length, breath coming in hot, quick puffs against his skin. “Juuust like that, sweetheart.”

His hips continue to rock, a little bit faster with every roll, your moans and muffled sounds reverberating along his shaft. Puddles of your saliva pool onto your skin and down to your breasts. His sounds of pure euphoria were all you could hear amidst the wet sounds of his cock slamming into you and his balls smacking your chin with every stroke.

“We taste good together, don’t we?” He moans. You feel his cock twitch and squirm on your tongue, the swollen crown leaking salty precum down your throat, ready to explode at any moment. His claws tighten their grip in your hair, keeping you steady against his gyrating groin.

With a thunderous, beastial roar, he heaves himself deep into your mouth one final time - the pulsing head of his cock spewing thick, hot waves of his desire down your throat. His body shudders as he holds you close against his hips. You feel the never-ending eruption pulsating and painting your throat a shade of white.

As if nature itself told you to, you swallow down his release, swirling your tongue around him as he continues pumping his essence into you. He lets out a squealing moan as you work your magic, cupping and massaging his balls with your hand, coaxing every last drop out of him. Frothy saliva oozing out of your mouth - snot bubbling from your nose as you struggle to breathe through it. You feel the thrashing of his cock slow down, his own breath steadying.

His grip on you finally loosens. He slowly pulls himself out of you, inch by excruciating inch, until the swollen head of his cock escapes your lips with a loud pop. You cough and gasp for air before one last weak spurt of his pearly white passion pumps onto your face. The warm, salty taste of it coats your lips.

“Oops,” he chuckles, clawed fingers pressed to his mouth, a playful smile hiding behind it. He bends down until his face is eye level with yours, one hand still clutching your hair - much more softly now.

His tongue presses flat on your lips, lapping up the light layer of his own release, moaning as it glides between them. He weasels his way back into the warmth of your mouth, pushing and swirling his remaining spillage onto your tongue and down your raw throat.

You could feel the twisted fingers of his free hand reach back down to your dripping heat, cupping it gently. One finger presses onto the swollen nub of your clit, rubbing small circles until a familiar jolt of electricity surges through your body. The claws retract so they wouldn’t scrape you too harshly.

“Mmm, darlin’,” he mumbles into your mouth, his finger still tracing sensual rings on your devil’s doorbell. He pulls his face away from you, a strand of spit still connected on your bottom lip.

His hand frees your hair from its grasp before slowly and intimately grabbing hold of your hand. He keeps it there for a moment, interlocking your fingers together. His hand is large, even larger with the gangly claws. He sighs longingly. A sweet, soothing sound after the chaos he just put you through.

“Darlin’… oh, you sweet, sweet girl,” he coos, his eyes meeting yours. The harsh red tint glowing in the candlelight, searing deep into your soul. He looked like he wanted to kiss you again. Instead, he places your hand on his still-throbbing length. It’s still hard, still aching for your touch. “I know how bad you been wantin’ this. Almost as bad as me.”

One hand wraps around yours, guiding you up and down his length. It dribbles more precum, allowing your entangled hands to slide smoothly around the throbbing shaft. The other hand continuously presses your button, two fingers slipping in and out of your slick entrance. Your body tingles from the dual sensations.

“I know how you been hurt," he whispers, his grip around your hand tightening as he jerks himself with your palm. “I know how many sleepless, lonely nights you been dreamin’ of someone there with ya. Nights where you pleasure yourself, all by your lonesome. But you weren’t alone - not really. I was there, outside, waitin’. Waitin’ for the perfect night.”

Your hips buck in tandem, waves of pleasure uniting the two of you. His cock twitches in your grip, the friction from your movements causing his breath to catch in his throat. The rubbing on your clit and fingers in your depths picking up speed. His words are a blur as your focus narrows onto the way you’re feeling in the moment. The feeling of pure, unmatched ecstasy - the heights of which you’ve never climbed before.

“Waitin’ for the perfect night where your loneliness was at its worst,” he groans, feeling his climax building with every stroke of your hand on him. “Ohhh, I been waitin’ ever so patiently for you. I’ve dreamt of ya. I could sense your achin’ heart, sweet thing. Your achin’ cunt. I know you were dreamin’ of me too.”

Drool drips from the corner of his lips as he speaks. Your mind in a haze of lust, the unbearable intensity of pleasure consuming your every thought. Maybe you have dreamt this stranger before. His glowing, red eyes lurking in the shadows of your brain. His sharp, hungry smile just itching to sink into your memories. Haunting you from the inside-out. Deadly desire that woke you up, soaking and aching. Aching for him.

Maybe he was always there in the back of your mind, and now? He’s here with you. In your bed, by your side. His cock in your hand. You always knew, deep down, that you wanted something like this, but never allowed yourself to let it in. Until now.

“Achin’ for someone like me,” Remmick continues, his breath faltering. He releases his hand from yours, allowing you to tug on him at your own pace. His tongue lolls from his mouth, the coupled pleasure at the mercy of each other’s hands bringing you both to the brink of another release. “I’m here now, darlin’. I’m here to give you the lovin’ you deserve. Make ya feel whole. Make ya feel complete. Loved.”

With one last buck of his hips, another round of hot release spills onto you. It pumps into your hand. Warm, sticky seed drenching your fingers and your breasts, splattering on them like paint on a blank canvas. He plunges his fingers deep into you, adding a third and hitting that sweet spot hard enough to make you surge upward. Your own climax sweeps over you. You writhe and convulse on his spindly digits, feeling the gush of your fluids careening onto the sheets. Both of your mouths gape open, synchronized moans flooding the room. His fingers slip out of you as both of your orgasms fizzle out.

The room reeked like sweat, sex, and the faint earthy scent of the burning candles. His hand cups your cheek, lightly petting you with his thumb. He twists your head to the side, showing him your slender neck - open, tantalizing, irresistible. Blood pumping through your veins with the thud of your heart.

“Grá mo chroí… love of my heart,” he purrs, voice low and sultry. “You ain’t my long lost love, no, but… oh, you make me feel the same way. Make me feel things I ain’t felt since I was human.”

“What… are you, exactly?” you weakly pant, your glazed-over eyes gazing desperately into his. Your body trembles a bit. You already know the answer but you want to hear him say it.

“I told ya, sweet thing,” he laughs, baring his fangs at you. The candlelight only serves to make them look sharper, even more dangerous. And yet? You weren’t scared of him. Not entirely. “I’m a fuckin’ monster, baby. A creature of the night. A creature of desire, a cold-blooded killer. Blood-hungry beast. That book you were readin’? Well, consider it research.”

In a single, swift movement, he flips you onto your hands and knees. He shoves your head down into the pillow, arching your back and presenting your ass like a freshly cooked meal. The surprise of the sudden shift startles you, causing you to stumble - but he catches you. His hands wrap around your stomach, holding you close to him.

You could feel his hips pressing up against you. His still-hard, still-weeping cock twitching against the meat of your flushed backside. The ridges of his girth rolled against you, smearing his leaking head all over your ass.

“The things you do to me, darlin’,” he whispers, sweet words pouring into your ears like honey. “Never felt a cunt so perfect in my life.”

He maneuvers the head of his cock towards your glistening folds. It nudged insistently - prodding you, begging to be welcomed back and embraced into your gripping heat. His other hand sits firmly on your ass, the claws digging into your flesh as he teases you - gliding his engorged crown across your glistening folds with ease and precision.

“I don’t need an invite anymore,” he rumbles, his voice low and coarse. You feel him pumping his cock with his hand - it brushes against your entrance with every movement of his fist. The slick head helplessly sobbing. “I can come in… anytime I want. Your home, your mind, your mouth, your perfect cunt. You’re mine now, sugar. All of ya. And I don’t think you mind one bit, do ya?”

His hips buck, plunging the head of his cock into you. You let out a gasp as he slides the rest of him as deep as possible, sheathing himself to the hilt. Your body adapted so easily to his size. It molded itself to him, gripping him like a vice that didn’t want to let go. Holding onto him like he was always meant to be there.

“Aw, look at ya,” he jeers, pulling himself all the way out of you. “Look at her. I leave her for one second and she’s already quiverin’ for more.”

Was he… talking about your pussy? Your hazy mind thought for a moment, only to be overtaken by a searing pleasure when he slams himself back into you with a wicked snap of his hips. A guttural noise escapes your throat as he continues this teasing motion.

All the way out. All the way in.

Out.

In.

The rhythmic rolling of his hips punctuated by obscene smacking sounds. His claws grip onto your ass, pulling you into him with every deep thrust. You didn’t mind the pain anymore - the pleasure was all-consuming, encompassing your entire being with electric energy.

You were under his spell.

“Mm, that's a good girl,” he coos. Drool continues to drip from his mouth, falling carelessly onto your bare cheeks. He wipes it off and smears it onto his cock for additional lubricant, not like he needed it. His praise and his drool only amplifies the pleasure he was already pumping you with. You couldn’t remember the last time someone praised you. “Takin’ me so good. Takin’ me so deep.”

One hand detaches from your reddened ass and tangles itself in your hair. He pulls your head from the pillows, arching your back even further. A choked groan escapes from your lips as his thrusts only grow more rapid, slamming deeper into you. You could feel the head of his cock kissing your cervix, nearly deep enough to break through the sensitive barrier and into your womb.

The tension in your loins begins building again. Sweat pouring from both of your pores as he relentlessly fucks into you, the smack of his balls on your clit only ramping up the heat broiling in your core. Moans and filthy sounds of coupling flesh flooded the room.

“Say my name, baby,” he leans into you, his voice a gentle whisper. He flicks his tongue out, licking the shell of your ear as he speaks. “Scream it to the heavens when you come undone. I know it’ll sound real pretty comin’ outta yer lips.”

“R-Remmick,” you whimper. He thrusts into you - HARD. The sudden, powerful motion makes you hiss out of clenched teeth.

“Pretty, but you can do better,” he demands, the grip on your hair and ass tightening. “Louder.”

“Remmick,” you moan, almost teasingly. Another brutal thrust.

“I said louder,” his voice shifting to a hoarse growl. He puts his mouth to your neck, his fangs making contact with your skin. If you don’t scream his name, he was going to rip your fucking throat out. “Louder or I’m gonna shred this pretty little neck of yours to pieces. Gonna drink my fill of you. Drain ya dry. Make ya scream my name one way or another.”

The pressure rose to unparalleled heights. He continues relentlessly pounding into you as hard as he could without completely splitting you apart. His fangs poke at your neck, raking against you as he moves. His hot, broken breath puffing onto your skin. Tongue pressing flat against you.

You could feel his mouth start to close in, sharp teeth ready to rip you open. Shivers spark down your spine. There was a chance he was bluffing, teasing you into submission, but you weren’t willing to take that risk.

Your body tenses, tingling with that familiar sensation. You feel your walls close in, squeezing his cock as it rams into you with no sign of stopping. He unclaws his hand from your ass and slides it down to your clit. His gnarled finger twirling rigorously around your swollen nub.

The pain of his claws poking at your sensitive nerves and his fangs fixed at your throat paired deliciously with the pleasure of the drawn out circles being drawn on your clit and his cock furiously driving deeper and deeper into your sweet spot. It’s unbearable. It’s searing. It’s fucking bliss.

In the heat of the moment, when the tension swells to its highest possible peak, your floodgate bursts open.

“REMMICK!”

A mischievous smile stretches across his face against your throat at the cry of his name out of your lips. Bursts of color and light flash in your eyes as your entire body convulses on him. A powerful gush of arousal rushes out of you, coating Remmick and the already soaked sheets below in a glossy, sopping wave of relief.

“Ohhhh, fuck yes, sweet thing,” he rasps, leaning back from your neck, holding himself steady inside you. He watches as your release completely unravels you, taking in the beauty of the rapture he unleashed. He absolutely loved watching you wriggle and writhe underneath him. He slowly pulls his cock out just enough to see how drenched you left him. “That’s what I’m talkin’ about. Like music to my ears, baby.”

He hilts himself back into your spasming warmth, the sloppy squelch as he reimmersed himself tears a breathless moan from his heaving chest. Both of his hands mindlessly slide back to your hips, pulling you tight against his pelvis. The swollen head of his cock twitches against your battered cervix, as if begging to push past it.

“You’re mine, now, sugar,” he rumbles, punctuating his words with every deep, passionate roll of his hips. “I ain’t ever lettin’ you go. Gonna visit you every time you’re feelin’ lonely. Every time you’re scared. Gonna keep you close to me, darlin’. Ain’t—ever—gonna—let—you—go.”

The movement of his hips grows erratic, uncontrollably plunging into your still-fluttering depths with animalistic abandon. The sound of his rasping moans mingle with the wet, obscene sounds of his thrusts.

You’re still dizzy from the throes of your multiple climaxes. Your face flops back into the pillows, eyes glazed-over and drool all over your face. Usually, the only person who could do that to you was yourself. Your own hands, your own tools. Rarely ever has a man been gracious enough to send you into such a euphoric state of bliss - let alone more than once in a single night.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful, ya know that?” He says through ragged breaths, his own climax gearing up. His voice shifts back and forth between that southern drawl and melodic lilt. “Perfect. Perfect body. Perfect face. Perfect… so perfect. Tá tú ar foirfe. Perfect.”

He pulls out of you almost entirely before hilting his entire length into you one last time. He lets out a deep, bellowing roar of pleasure as his cock throbs violently within your core. His entire body shakes and shudders above you. His claws hook deep into your skin.

You were enraptured, captivated by the way his body tremors against you. The way his moans fill your ears like a symphony, a song meant to serenade only you. The way the scalding splatter of his release floods every ridge, every crook of your depths. His cock pumps endlessly, stirring his seed as deep as he could with every weak jerk of his hips. You feel as if your belly is swelling with how much of his thick essence spills into you.

When the aftershocks of his climax finally begin to fade, he collapses onto you. He releases his grip on your flushed ass and wraps his arms around your waist. He pulls you down onto the sheets with him, laying you down on your side. His softening cock still buried in you, plugging you up so none of his pearly white proof of passion would dare to escape.

He nuzzles into the nape of your neck. His sweat-soaked forehead rubbing gently on the back of your head. Soft purrs of satisfaction slip through his closed, smiling mouth.

He starts leaving gentle trails of kisses along your neck, stopping at the knicks he left with his fangs. He kisses them even softer, apologizing for the damage he inflicted on you.

“I could get used to this,” he sighs. His arms caressing your naked body as the two of you lie side by side, still conjoined at the groin. His hot breath brushes against your shoulders.

“Me too,” you hum. You turn your neck to face him, gazing longingly into his crimson eyes. This sets his undead heart aflutter. You feel it beat gently beneath his chest. Your own heart thuds wildly against your rib cage.

The quiet was palpable for a moment. The chaos of your coupling had finally settled. The candles continue their dance around the room, illuminating the curves of your entwined bodies.

“You mean it?” He murmurs. A soft smile melts onto his face, eyes twinkling with awe. He sounds stunned by your words. Surprised that you’d reciprocate. “You really mean it, darlin’?”

“Remmick,” you start, fully twisting your body to face him, careful not to let his softened cock slip out of you. His arms are still wrapped around you in a warm embrace, eagerly waiting to hear what you were going to say. “I can’t remember the last time I’ve had this much fun. I’ll be honest… you terrified me at first. You terrified me every time you had your fangs in my throat. But I don’t know... it… it thrilled me. I liked the danger. I’ve spent so long cooped up alone to protect my peace that I started to miss spending time with another person... thank you.”

He looks at you, a shimmer of what you could only describe as longing glistening in his eyes. His wide, crooked smile radiates a sense of comfort. Despite the danger, the fear he caused you, you feel safe in his arms.

“Oh, sugar,” he whispers, one hand freeing itself from your waist to cup your cheek. His thumb lovingly brushes over your lips as he stares deep into your eyes. “How sweet of ya. I do apologize for frightenin’ ya. It’s in my nature, y’know. But… oh, it warms my cold dead heart to hear that comin’ from you. Thank you.”

He captures your lips in a searing, passionate kiss before reluctantly sliding himself out of you. You feel his absence instantly, already missing the way his rigid girth perfectly squeezes into your walls. The remains of his essence drip down onto the drenched sheets.

“I should get goin’, the sun’ll be up in a few ticks,” Remmick sighs with a hint of uncertainty. He didn’t seem to want to leave your side, but he starts to unhook himself from your waist in an effort to get up. You grab his retreating arm before he can completely let go.

“Stay. Please,” you beg. You caress his arm, soft hands kneading small circles across his skin. He studies your face with wistful, misty eyes. He didn’t want to leave, even if he felt like some kind of invisible force was pressuring him to. As if nature itself called for him to scurry off into the night and hide from the dawning sun. “I have a cellar you can stay in. No windows, so light won’t touch you. There’s even a little cot in there for you to sleep on… big enough for two.”

Silence permeates the room between you. That emptiness you felt, the lonely feeling you tried so hard to shove deep down, vanishes with his touch. It disappears with him by your side.

You didn’t care that he was a monster. You saw past that. He brought you back from the depths of isolation, and you knew, in your heart, you did the same for him.

“Ohh, darlin’, I’d love to, I really would, b-but,” he stammers, desperately trying to fight against nature pulling him away from you. “I still gotta feed before the sun comes up, can’t go to bed on an empty stomach. I’ll be back tomorrow night, I promise. I promise you I will. Cross my heart and hope to die. No more lyin’.”

You gaze at Remmick as he slowly lifts himself from the bed. He picks his clothes up from the floor and starts to dress himself, his eyes refusing to leave you, as if he wanted to commit every ridge of your face to memory in case he’d never see you again. As if your body was a beautiful, one-of-a-kind painting that he wanted to soak in for hours.

He ties up his boots and zips his pants back up, fully prepared to head back out into the fray of the night. Before he finishes fixing his suspenders, you climb to the foot of the bed and reach for his hand.

You interlock your fingers with his. The gentle thrum of your heartbeat pulsing underneath your ribs. You slowly tilt your head, presenting your neck to him. His eyes widen with surprise and his mouth starts to salivate. He quietly descends, kneeling down to face you. He presses his lips against your supple flesh. Instead of sinking his fangs into you, he simply peppers your throat with delicate little kisses.

“No,” Remmick whispers into the crook of your neck. “Not tonight, sweet thing. When I drink from you, I wanna make it special. I don’t wanna turn ya on our first meetin’ like this, as much as I’d love to. It just don’t feel right.”

Despite saying he wouldn’t bite you, he takes your finger to his mouth and pricks it on his fangs ever so slightly. He puts your finger between his lips, suckling on the tiny droplets of blood that trickle from the small puncture. He lets out a broken moan from the flavor of your sweet scarlet nectar before releasing your finger, wet with his saliva. His eyes glow a blazing red, the fires of his feral hunger stoked from the mere taste of you.

“Exquisite, simply exquisite,” he gently strokes your face with his calloused hand. “I swear to you, darlin’, I’ll be back tomorrow. And even though I don’t need it anymore, I’ll still beg for ya to let me in. I’ll beg like it’s the first time I’ve ever laid eyes on a beauty like you.”

With that, Remmick plants one long, tender kiss on your lips. He holds your head in both of his hands, pushing his mouth closer into the intimate embrace. He pulls away slowly, his eyes burning into yours. A touch of sorrow gleams in his crimson gaze. His hand takes yours to guide you out of the room with him.

The two of you make your way down the dark hallway. The darkness starts to embrace you, knowing that once he walks out that door, its over-encompassing reach will consume you as it always does. Your heart sinks to your stomach at the thought.

Remmick stands at the door, his free hand twisting the knob. You take a good look around your living room. Your private little space, your personal sanctuary. Your tea and his untouched glass of water completely soaked your coasters with their condensation. Your book sitting idle in the same position Remmick left it. The candles had burnt nearly down to the holster, the dying flames petering out, their dance coming to an end.

The night air is still humid, but a crisp breeze wafts through the opening door. Remmick stands still for a moment. His clammy hand is still firmly, possessively gripping onto yours, afraid to let go.

He turns to you, hungry eyes gazing into yours. His hand slowly starts to release from your grasp, pulling your heart along with it. The stars twinkle dimly in the sky behind him. The crickets chirp, the nocturnal animals chitter and howl, and your old house… your old, soon-to-be-empty house creaks and groans as it always has. As it always will.

“Until tomorrow?”

“Until tomorrow.”

Remmick walks back out into the night, his body fully enveloped by the darkness. He leaves you, for now. But he left with a promise, something no man has ever followed through with. You were confident that this time, this man - this vampire - would come back. Tomorrow.

Tomorrow. You’ll see him again tomorrow.

translations provided by both google and @fuckoffbard ------------------------------- Santaíonn mé thú - I want you Faith and begorrah - by god / expression of surprise le do thoil - please / "with your will" tá tú chomh tais - you're so wet for me Grá mo chroí - love of my heart Tá tú ar foirfe - you are perfect

#remmick #remmick sinners #remmick x reader #remmick smut #remmick x you #vampire smut #sinners smut #remmick fanfic #remmick x y/n #monster x human #remmick x fem!reader #posts this and runs away #terato #gum writes

1K notes · View notes

iamasaddie · 5 days ago

Text

rumors, inches

Harry Castillo x f!Reader

summary: you should know better than to talk with your friend on the phone while you're at work. and you should know better than to discuss your handsome employer's dick. he might just come home early and hear you. warnings: PWP duh, reader is a part time cleaner so power imbalance due to Harry being the employer and reader the employee, reader is a student but her age is not specified, massive dick appreciation, handjob, not edited wc: 2,5k a/n: i was making gifs and heard that phrase so of course my mind went into the gutter. i might write a continuation at some point. i will overuse the fuck out of that gif btw. dividers by @/hyuneskkami read on ao3 | part two

The smell of lavender detergent pleasantly filled your lungs as you finished wiping down the massive marble countertops in your employer’s kitchen. This was the last thing for you to do today, your arms felt heavy after a few hours of scrubbing, mopping, and sweeping. Still, the job was a gold mine for you, paying more than you’d dream of and giving you a schedule that allowed you to study.

Life in New York was not cheap and there were too many young people willing to do anything to stay, so finding a job turned to be a challenge. That’s why when the opportunity presented itself with your friend deciding to leave the Big Apple and giving you her job, you felt sad but also deeply grateful.

Your employer being the richest, most sought-after New York bachelor also didn’t hurt. He was also hot. The fact that your friend (now bored to death in rural Wyoming) never failed to bring up.

At first, you thought the girl had a crush on him, but when you finally confronted her she laughed so genuinely that you were forced to believe.

“What is it, then?”

Your friend's voice was distorted by your phone's speaker, even though you could still hear the familiar quirks that made Rose herself. Every time she felt anxious, she started chewing on something, whether it was apple slices or a corner of her pillowcase. And now you could hear a telling, slightly muffled sound. “Ugh, I dunno, I guess it’s just because of that rumor… It just doesn’t leave my brain, and I always think about it when you say you’re working.”

“Rumor? What rumor?”

“That the man’s hung like a fucking elephant.”

The rag you were using fell from your hand with a wet sound, creating a small puddle on the counter. You rarely ever managed to hear the latest gossip; most often, they found you last, but you were still surprised that you hadn't heard anything of the sort in half a year of working for Mr. Castillo. It's not like you were hiding your place of work.

“What?” Your heart started racing, and you wanted to open up the windows. The room began to feel stuffy.

“Yeah, there was this whole rumor going around that it was the reason he couldn’t keep a relationship. Like he was perfect but too much to handle, y’know?”

Rose sounded distant, as if she was contemplating what she had just said out loud. Something unpleasant curled in your chest. Harry Castillo was one of the nicest people you've ever met. Especially for a man who owned almost all of New York. You'd always admired the fact that he managed to preserve his humanity while increasing his wealth. He was kind, courteous, and always seemed to be in a good mood. You'd rarely seen him without a smile. The idea that someone would end a relationship with a man like him based on a physical fact—whatever that fact was—triggered an inexplicable anger in your chest.

“This is dumb.”

“I dunno, girl.” You could almost see Rose shrugging her shoulders, her mind already wandering to the next topic. “I saw him in sweatpants once, and I think that shit’s true. The guy definitely got a killer whale down there. Maybe you should try and Moby-Dick that dick.”

You furrowed your brows. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know, conquer that whale? For the team?”

“Moby-Dick was the whale.” For a woman so passionate about literature, Rose was surprisingly neglectful of the classics.

“Who cares, girl, I’m dying to know.” You wiped away the puddle that had spread onto the sparkling surface. A bunch of obscenities were swarming in your head, and you were ready to cuss your friend out for opening this Pandora's box. Now you were stuck trying to remember every time you'd seen the tall, smiling man. You always looked into his eyes, occasionally letting your gaze slide over his firm buttocks when he wasn't looking. Rose's voice took you out of it. “You’re silent. Tell me, are you thinking about what‘s in them Tom Ford pants?”

“Rose, stop it!” You hissed at her, bringing the phone to your mouth. “How am I supposed to look him in the eye when I see him?”

“Don’t look him in the eye, dummy, look lower and then you can confirm or deny the rumors.”

“You’re so stupid.” You shook your head, ready to change the subject, but the thought of your employer's gossip-worthy huge dick penetrated your brain and stayed there. You thought you’d have to drink bleach to get rid of it. “Do you think it’s more than 8 inches?”

You really wished you hadn’t said that last phrase when you heard a cough behind your back and dropped the rag again. You hurried to end the phone call, your wet, gloved fingers missing the button until you turned the phone off completely.

The man you’d been shamelessly discussing was standing in the doorway, barely able to contain a smile. The phone fell out of your hand and landed on the table with a loud thud. The sound brought you out of your terrified stupor, and you hurried to fold and put the rag under the sink along with your gloves.

“Mr. Castillo, hello, sorry! You’re early! I’m already done here, I’ll be on my way out! Sorry again, bye!” You chattered rapidly, the words leaving your mouth faster than your brain could come up with excuses. Your chest burned with embarrassment, and you did your best to avoid his brown eyes glinting with merriment.

You scurried toward the exit, trying to circle around him and let the earth swallow you as soon as you close the door behind you, but his voice stopped you.

“Wait! You've left your phone, I reckon you might need it,” you nodded. Unfortunately, you needed your phone, and that's why you returned to the crime scene. You already thought that he would let you go and forget the embarrassing encounter, but you were wrong. “So, a rumor, huh?”

“Fuck,” You cussed under your breath. He'd heard even more than you thought, and if you'd been working instead of talking with your friend, you'd have noticed that he came home earlier. And then you wouldn't have to babble pathetic apologies to the man who gave you a nice place to work and a more than fair salary. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Castillo. It was so incredibly inappropriate of me to discuss this, I cannot tell you how ashamed I am -“

“It’s not the worst rumor for a man to have being spread about him.” You looked up at him and saw him shrugging his shoulders casually, as if he wasn't even thinking about being angry, and didn't feel disgusted.

“Yeah, I guess… Still.” You felt the tongue of shame caressing you from the tips of your heels to the tops of your cheekbones.

“Don't worry,” he walked further into the kitchen, closing the distance between you, “honestly? It’s flattering. I’m just surprised, I guess.”

“Why?”

“Well, a young gorgeous woman like you thinking about my dick so much she discusses it with her friend. Can’t say that happens to me every day.”

You were shocked that a man like Harry had insecurities. He was the dream of every sane woman, but here he was, baring his doubts in front of a pervert like yourself. It made you want to open up, at least a little bit, to tell him what you'd thought of him, what hundreds of other women of New York had thought of him.

“I don’t think you know how many people find you attractive and often wonder about… stuff.”

“Do you?” He tilted his head, trying to catch your gaze. And you let him, sinking into the depths of his eyes.

“What?” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

“Find me attractive and often wonder about stuff?”

“I..”

And then he asked the question that divided your life into before and after. Again, he asked it casually, as if he was inquiring about your coffee order. “You wanna know how many inches?”

And maybe the spirit of your still-living friend took over your body, but you could swear you'd seen your body from the outside. Your own soul watched your lips wrapping around a simple answer with a disturbingly exciting horror. “Yeah.”

“Then look.”

Your movements were slow, wary, as if you expected him to laugh or call you an idiot, but Harry didn't do any of that. The man waited patiently for you to come up to him. His large, broad body was leaning against the edge of the marble countertop that you were polishing moments ago. A breath stuck in your throat, and your hand trembled, touching the visibly strained bulge of his cock, hidden behind his perfectly tailored Tom Ford trousers.

It was hotter than you expected. The heat of his skin burned your palm through the material of his pants as you soaked in the courage inspired by a playful gaze and squeezed his hard flesh.

His breathing faltered, and a grunt stuck in his throat.

“Come on,” he whispered into your face, fanning your lips with his warm breath, “there's no turning back.”

It took you no more than thirty seconds to process his words. The man was right, you'd already felt his hard cock in your soft grip, it was unlikely that you could just forget it, might as well go all out.

Slowly, you ran your hand down and up, following the slight curve of his length. Your panties were stuck to your pussy, but your own discomfort didn't matter right now. On the contrary, it added the situation a special flavor. You kept your eyes on Harry's parted lips, and his tongue slid over the bottom one, lingering on the thin crack in the middle.

“Go on.”

You knew what he meant. You let go of his bulge, and both of you almost groaned in frustration, but soon enough, you were trying to push your hand under the waistband of his pants. For the first time, he stopped you by grabbing your wrist.

“Let me do this.”

You swallowed audibly and looked down at his big hands, his thick fingers surprisingly deftly handling the leather belt.

“Will you take it from here?”

You didn't return his smile, you simply forgot, instead falling to your knees in front of the man and reaching for his unbuttoned pants. You pulled them down, grabbing the soft-to-the-touch boxers along with them. When it appeared before you in all its glory, it took your breath away.

Big. Yeah, sure, he was enormously fucking big. Bigger than anything you'd seen during your somewhat active sex life. Bigger than anything you Googled with a vibrator in your hand. The most memorable cock of your life, without a doubt.

Eight inches, more or less, and a little thinner than your wrist. Damn, it was a fucking anaconda, how did that song go? If it weren't for the frightening size, you were sure you would have already pounced on the dark pink head that was already glistening with a drop of precum, making your mouth water.

His thick shaft was slightly curved to the right, and you noticed one fat vein running from the base to the tip. Your tongue twitched in your mouth, begging you to trace it, feel it pulse under your caress.

Well-groomed short dark hairs dusted around the base, and you followed his thinning happy trail from the bottom up until it disappeared right under his belly button.

Your knees were burning, but you resisted the urge to change your position. Instead, you touched his head with the tip of your index finger, smearing a drop of his stickiness and, as if hypnotized, brought it to your lips. It was salty and slightly bitter.

“Fuck,” Harry groaned, watching you suck your fingertip clean and then bringing it back to his cock. This time, you traced the pulsing vein, and his cock bobbed in front of your face, making you gasp.

“So pretty,” you whispered it more to yourself than to him, not even a compliment, just a fact.

“He likes you, too,” the man chuckled, and when you raised a smile at him, he gave you a playful wink. “So, you think the rumors are true?”

“Just the part about you being fucking hung.” You admit, and he let out that deep, throaty laugh that made his belly jiggle and his cock sway harder in front of your face. You were mesmerized, and affected by this, you licked your palm, making sure you generously lathered it in your spit.

You wrapped your hand around his shaft, the tip of your thumb and your middle finger barely touching, that’s when his laugh became a moan. “And what are you doing now, hm?” Not an ounce of concern in his voice, encouragement, rather. Hope.

“Wanna see if it can grow any bigger.” You tease him. By the feel of his hardness, you knew it was impossible. Still, you couldn’t not touch him now, it was almost painful.

Slowly, you moved your hand up and down, watching intently the way your palm slid along his shaft, making the man’s legs shake. You squeezed him experimentally, and he let out the prettiest moan that you had ever heard. With every movement up, you swiped your thumb over his leaking head, smearing more and more of his own arousal, mixing it with your spit as you pushed the man closer to the edge.

You didn't see his pearly white teeth biting the inside of his cheek until it bled in an attempt to hold back his orgasm. Harry dug his hands into the edge of the counter, his knuckles white with tension. Your little hand was jerking his cock with stunning confidence, and he thought that if he came now, then thick streams of his sperm would fall on your face in a pathetic parody of Pollock's paintings. That thought made him pull your hand away from his cock, no matter how painful it was.

“Sorry, sweetheart, ten more seconds and I’d ruin your makeup.”Harry was breathing heavily, and the surprise in your eyes was replaced by a devilish sneer. All your modesty and innocence have long since gone to hell, as if a demon pretending to be a virgin got tired of playing.

“I wouldn’t mind,” you said, and licked your lips like you wanted to taste him there already.

“But is that what you really want?” Your eyebrows shot up, your brain soaked in sexual desire, feverishly tried to figure out the intention behind his words. Harry took pity, his palm cupping your chin, forcing you to look away from his cock and into his eyes. “Or do you want to see if you can fit all that?”

Your pussy pulsed at the prospect, and you nodded, too eager, earning an affectionate chuckle from the man. You were anxious, true, but damn it if you wouldn’t work your hardest to feel all of it inside.

"Well, then, what are you waiting for?"

PLEASE REBLOG AND LEAVE A COMMENT IF YOU LIKED THE STORY, IT MEANS THE WORLD AND INSPIRES ME TO WRITE MORE

#iamasaddie fic #harry castillo x you #harry castillo x f!reader #harry castillo fic #x reader

711 notes · View notes

angelluvsrafe · 2 months ago

Text

rafe when he’s ill

warnings: none

writers notes: i feel like sick rafe is the whiniest person you’ll ever meet. also i couldn’t be bothered to proofread so i pray i am having a good spelling day 😘

you walk into his room to find him buried under his covers and pillows.

“rafe? you okay? when you were sick i didn’t think you meant on the verge of death…” you walk over to the side of the bed and push the hair out of his face, checking his temperature. he’s red hot.

“mm i have the flu…” he grumbles, nuzzling his head against your touch.

“man flu or actual flu?” you smile and kiss his head.

“actual flu… i swear im not being dramatic…” he frowns and sits up slowly.

you climb into the bed next to him and he lays against you. you rub his clammy back as he grumbles something about feeling shitty into your chest.

“you’ll feel better before you know it…” you reassure and he grumbles again.

after sitting in silence for a while, rubbing his back and playing with his hair while he coughs and sneezes over and over again, you get up to make him some soup and find some medicine.

you head downstairs and look around the kitchen, finding a medicine for the sweats and aches and another for his cough. you also make some chicken noodle soup and grab some water.

you push his bedroom door open to find him laying in bed asleep. you chuckle and walk over to the bed, setting the things down and then running your fingers through his hair.

“baby… wake up… i have food~” you whisper gently, he frowns and opens his eyes, rolling onto his back and looking up at you.

“hello…” you smile and kiss his warm forehead.

“hi…” he responds with a gravelly voice.

you help him sit up against the headboard, surrounding him with pillows so he doesn’t have to hold himself up.

“you want some soup?” you show him the soup and he scrunches his nose up.

“not really…” he replies with a disgusted look on his face fave.

“okay, at least have some medicine…” you take the lids off both of them, measure them then give it to him. he looks almost childlike when you give him the spoons of medicine, watching as you close the lids again.

“you’re so cute when you’re sick…” you kiss his head and sit down next to him.

“this is humiliating…” he mumbles and buries his face in your chest.

“there’s nothing humiliating about needing taken care of, babe… i’m happy to take care of you anyway…” you kiss his head and rub his bare back.

a little later, you eventually convince him to eat some of the soup. you’re scooping spoonfuls of it into his mouth for him and he’s complaining, something about being held against his will.

“stop using what’s left of your voice to bitch about soup you can’t even taste…” you sigh as you feed him a spoonful. he rolls his eyes and huffs.

“i’m just saying im not hungry and you’re forcing it down my throat…” he grumbles

“no… i’m offering you soup and you’re gladly eating it” you put the spoon to his mouth again and he opens it, letting you feed him. “exactly… like a little baby bird…” you chuckle and kiss his cheek, putting the bowl back down.

“i’m not a baby bird…” he grumbles and buries your face back in your chest.

you kiss his head and rub his back, you don’t really know if there’s any more you can do other than let him get over it naturally.

“you need anything, or are you okay?” you whisper and kiss his ear.

“ ‘m okay…” he nods slightly and wraps his arm tighter around you, “just want you…” you mumbles.

“i don’t know how you’re still so cute when you look and sound like a walking germ…” you sigh

he soon drifts off to sleep and you tidy his room up for him, opening a window to let some air into the stuffy room. his temperature doesn’t seem to get higher or lower…

when you’re finished cleaning you watch tv for a bit until it’s time for more medicine. you turn to face rafe, rubbing his back gently.

“baby… wake up…” you whisper softly and he opens his eyes, immediately holding his head and frowning.

“hm?”

“i know baby, im sorry. i’ve got some more medicine for you…” you smile slightly, praying he’s not grumpy.

he reluctantly sits up to take it then lays back down again.

“i’m sleeping again…” he mumbles gravelly and you pull the covers over him up to his shoulders and kiss his head.

“sweet dreams, my love…” you press a kiss to his head and rub his back until he falls asleep again.

#©rafeysangel #outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe x reader #rafe fic #rafe cameron x yn #rafe imagine #outerbanks rafe #rafe fanfiction #rafe headcanons #rafe fluff #rafe x you #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe outer banks #obx x reader #obx fanfiction

530 notes · View notes

coffeedragonart · 9 months ago

Text

🍁🍂🍁

On Leaf Drakes, from the journal of Elena Hewett, research assistant at the Stagwick Institute (drake studies):

Leaf Drake observational study, day 1 (Summer’s End)

What a strange day! The weather has been quite windy, and today some leaf drakes were blown into the Institute gardens! There are already some floral drake species living in the gardens, but this is the first time we’ve seen leaf drakes. Like most garden drakes, they aren’t built for long distance flight, so they rely on catching wind currents to migrate and take up in a new area.

This species hasn’t been widely studied yet, so I’ve got some of the other assistants on board to observe them and hopefully expand our knowledge about these creatures.

Day 2

They seem to be planning to stay, and have claimed the big tree in the west side of the gardens. I’ve managed to book the use of one of the empty offices on that side, as it has a large window with a good view of the big tree.

From initial observations, there are five individuals in the group. They are quite social, and I have yet to see one go about by itself.

Week 1 (Autumn)

It has only been a few days, but they have really settled in. While still, they can be quite hard to spot as they really blend into the leaves, but they spend a lot of the day quite active.

They share a similar diet to the floral drakes in the garden, mostly insects and fruits, as well as absorbing magic from the environment and the aether-nectar in the garden feeders. But they are far more active hunters than the floral drakes.

From the window, I’ve been able to watch them hunting insects and even using cooperative tactics to hunt birds. They are quite small, and I would have thought that even the sparrows might have been a bit much for them as they are close in size.

The gardens are a popular spot for both students and institute staff to take their lunch, or just relax a few minutes in their downtime. The floral drake residents are quite shy, and generally either hide or watch from a safe distance, but the leaf drakes are far bolder.

They have no hesitation about coming to get a closer look at folk, even trying to beg food from them. However, they are a little territorial about their tree.

Week 3

Students and staff have been advised against eating near the big tree in the west gardens. No one has been seriously harmed, but after a few instances of people being harassed for their food, it was deemed necessary to cordon off that section of the garden. Their teeth and claws are quite effective, despite their small size.

There seems to be one drake in particular who instigates these ‘attacks’, and the others follow its lead. It is a little bit larger than the others, and has a rather striking dark band across the eyes.

Due to the interest in this field, we have been able to gain the support of the Institute to make this an offical study into the habits of leafdrakes. With that, we will have access to some extra resources to put towards their care, as well as make it harder for the gardeners to remove them for being a nuisance.

Week 4

Even as Autumn sets in, we are still having a few last warm days.

Our little office was quite stuffy today, so we opened a window to try and get some cool air or a breeze in.

I was soon interrupted in my work, by a pair of drakes alighting on the windowsill. We’ve seen them resting on the sill before, but have never been quite sure if they were looking in or just admiring their reflections. Up close, they are curiously birdlike in their movements, adjusting their wings and tilting their heads this way and that.

They were almost identical, with only slight differences in colouring and wing shape, like the leaves on the tree. One was the ringleader, quite a bit larger than the other, with the dark face band. The smaller one had the same facial marking, but far less stark. They sat and watched for only a few minutes, but leapt away when a door was slammed elsewhere in the building.

It was enough for me to correct and add a few more details to the sketch I’d been working on.

Week 6

After a few weeks of observation, it seems like only the one drake is growing, the rest of the flock have maintained their same size. After a meeting with the other assistants, we think that the study would benefit from being able to more closely track the ringleader.

We know that many of the Greater Drake species can continue growing throughout their lives, reaching immense sizes, but this trait has never been seen in any Garden Drake species, who remain small.

Week 6.2

It took some planning but we were able to capture the ringleader for a closer look.

A container trap was baited with aether-nectar and laced with a light sleep spell, and it didn’t take long for the drake’s greed to get the better of it. There was always the chance of trapping the wrong one, but like in a lot of pack dynamics, the ‘leader’ usually gets at the food first.

With testing, we found the drake is female. She is a healthy weight, and measures about 30cm from nose to tail-tip, we’ve estimated the others to be around 15-20cm. A small band has been attached to her leg to more easily identify her, enchanted so it will grow with her as needed. She woke up while we were attaching it, and my thumb bears the bloody mark of her displeasure, though she didn’t seem too put out once she was able to sit for a spell without being handled. She watched from the top corner of a cabinet while we finished the paperwork, and then we were able to let her back out into the garden.

I’ve nicknamed her Gertie.

Week 9

As the weather grows cooler, they are showing no signs of slowing down, but as the insects retreat, they have been more actively chasing the birds. Gertie appeared at the window, clutching a feather in her teeth, even as I was reading a note left regarding messenger birds going missing.

I would have thought them too large for the drakes, but Gertie has grown again, almost twice as long as the others.

I’m sure she can understand at least a little of what I say, and seems to be following our conversations. She doesn’t like being handled, but has learned ‘hold still’ and will pause and stretch out to let me measure her (as long as a treat is provided and the measuring doesn’t take too long).

Week 10

It seems like Gertie has some level of influence over the mood of the rest of the colony, almost like a hive. While she’s calm, the rest are calm and happy to sit near and watch. But when she startles..

Today, poor Rolf had the misfortune of tripping over one of the garden benches while I was working with Gertie. I think he was trying to see into one of the tree hollows. The bench rocked back and thumped down with a loud THUNK, and the colony took to the air in an angry cloud of claws and teeth.

We fled the gardens in haste, and were able to retreat into a toolshed until they settled. I got out with only a few scratches, but Rolf needed taking to the medic building. I’m sure he’ll look quite fetching in an eyepatch.

It took several days before the gardens were safe to re-enter.

Later that day, I received word that Rolf has quit. Understandably, no-one expects to lose an eye from a research job.

Week 12

An official complaint has been made regarding the missing birds. There isn’t a lot to be done, but I’ve reached out to enchanting to see if they can write a ward to divert the birds away from the air above the gardens.

One of the other assistants donned the protective gear to climb into the tree to inspect the hollows the drakes nest in. He returned, with a number of drakes clinging to his headgear, and three slightly chewed scroll cases. He noted that there are several more drakes in residence than we thought, though no evidence of eggs or breeding has been found.

The messages were quietly delivered (with apologies) and the matter dropped.

Week 13 (Autumn’s End)

The west gardens are severely overgrown. The gardeners have refused to go in at all since Gertie’s last grown spurt. She is now the size of a large cat, several times larger than the others.

Gertie still blends quite well into the trees, but has also started using the brambles and long grass to ambush rabbits and squirrels. As well as any passing ankles. I suspect it was one such ambush that drove the gardeners away.

Week 14 (Winter)

The floral drakes in the gardens have hidden themselves away to wait out the cold weather. The leaf drakes are a little hardier, but we’ve seen signs that they may be preparing to do the same, and have increased efforts to gather nesting materials. They have been spotted flying back and forth with all sorts of things in their claws, including feathers and shed fur, to small pebbles, coins, beads, even a few small aether-crystals. I didn’t get a good look, but I thought I saw one fly by with a pair of spectacles that I’m sure weren’t willingly donated.

Gertie still emerges when we go out, though a little more reluctantly. The area is too overgrown with brambles to get a good look, but I think they have dug out a space at the base of the tree to cozy up in. I doubt Gertie would fit into the tree hollow the colony were using previously, she is quite large now.

Week 15

At last measure, Gertie was just over four feet long. Her wings are a bit smaller in proportion and we don’t see her fly quite as much. However her hide is quite a bit tougher, starting to resemble pinecone scales in some spots. She still has her distinctive facial markings, though without the tag, I wouldn’t have recognised her.

There are concerns of what she will eat as she continues to grow, the gardens can only support so much, even with the feeders stocked. It has been a few days since we’ve seen her, or any of them, so I think they must be hibernating. If they sleep away the winter, that will give us time to sort out something with one of the local farms to get meat delivered.

Week 20

Our efforts have stalled over Winter, as barely a scale has been seen since the snows arrived. On one warmer day, some of the little ones were spotted, clinging to the bare branches to take in a few rays of sun, if only for a short while. There was no sign of Gertie.

If one good thing is come from a slow winter, we have been able to get a better look at the tree itself. Since the drakes have moved in, the big tree has also grown faster than it would otherwise. Its branches are thicker and healthier, and other trees nearby are showing similar flourishing. This is not unheard of, similar effects have been seen in plants occupied by floral drakes, so it tracks that trees could be similarly affected.

The ground around the base of the tree bulges, the roots that can be seen above the snow are dense and knotted. It forms quite the hill when the snows come down. I look forward to seeing the drakes emerge again come spring.

Week 24 (Winter’s End)

Not long to go, surely. No fresh snow for a week or two, so what’s there is starting to melt away. There are more sunny days, if still chilly. The tree is starting to show signs of reviving, there are hints of new growth and fresh leaves starting to bud, earlier than usual.

Week 28 (Spring)

The drakes returned with the leaves! The little ones at least, we still haven’t seen any signs of Gertie. There are quite a few of them, at least a full dozen now, but they move so fast they are hard to count. We still haven’t found any evidence of eggs, but it is possible they came from outside before the freeze.

As the trees fill out with leaves again, the west gardens are far wilder now. The branches reach overhead, almost touching in some places. The drakes flit in and out of the sunlight coming through the leaves. We have been able to clear most of the path, but the spaces between the trees are still full of brambles and shrubs.

Week 32

Something large has been spotted moving through the trees, though it is hard to get a good look. I suspect Gertie has continued to grow through her hibernation.

Through the deal made with one of the farms, we’ve been able to start leaving out chunks of meat, and they seem to be well received.

From the toothmarks in the bones left behind, we estimate that Gertie must be at least the size of a pony.

Week 33

Today, on the first properly warm day we’ve had in a while, I’ve finally been able to get a good look at Gertie since her hibernation. I was taking a break, to be out in the fresh air and away from the office for a bit. I’d stopped at one of the newly reclaimed benches, and only closed my eyes for a moment to rest. It only felt like a minute before I was woken by a huff of air on my face.

She is indeed the size of a pony, plus her tail. Tall enough to look me in the face.

Her body is thicker now, hide resembling thick tree bark. Her wings are much smaller in proportion, just ornamental now.

The little ones follow her, stopping to cling to her back and head, but she doesn’t seem bothered by them. They peered around her to chirp at me as I regained my composure.

Lately I’ve taken to keeping aether-candies in my pockets to offer the drakes on my walks, I’m glad I still had some on me as I was inspected. Gertie accepted the treat happily, rumbling deep in her chest. She rumbled and chirped back to me when I spoke to her.

It was a pleasant moment, she sat with me for a while, long enough to get a sketch of her lounging in the sun.

Week 40

Recently, we have been receiving reports of leaf drake sightings from outside the Institute, from other locations around the city. I can only speculate that something about Gertie’s growth is drawing them to the city.

Long have we pondered the origins of the Greater Forest Drakes, as they seem to just appear out of nowhere, with no documented nests or hatchlings, or even sightings of more than one in an area. But I have little doubt that this is what Gertie has grown up into. I still have questions about how the change occured, or why it was just her out of the group as at the start, there was little to differentiate her from the others.

This is still quite the discovery, and I look forward to publishing an official work with our findings. It could well be the start of further studies into the links between drake species, the garden and greater drakes, and maybe even how they relate to true dragons.

After updating the Institute heads on the progression of the study, they are overall happy with the discovery, but were asking some pointed questions on what we plan to now do with the Greater Drake that has taken up residence. She could well continue growing. I pointed out that we may have gotten off lightly, if Gertie had grown into a Greater Rock Drake or a Hooded Drake, things could have turned out very differently. They did not see the humour in that.

Gertie seems to be quite comfortable in the gardens, the other drake species do not seem bothered by her at all, and she shows no inclination to leave. She could well continue growing, but for now she seems to have slowed down at least.

She continues to develop her understanding of language and appears to follow along with a conversation, even if she lacks the ability to respond yet. A lot of the literature on Greater Drakes suggests that this may well come with time, but it might be something for my children or grandchildren to look forward to.

#dragons #digitalart #digital painting #fantasy art #garden drake #coffees art #procreate #creative writing #worldbuilding

1K notes · View notes

buckyseternaldoll · 29 days ago

Text

Fireworks and Cuddles

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You soothe Bucky through a rough Fourth of July with quiet rooftop cuddles and silly stories.

Disclaimer: emotional comfort, PTSD triggers (fireworks/gunfire sounds), veteran trauma, fluff, cuddling, hurt/comfort

Author's Note: Maybe I'm back? It's my birthday month and I want to fully enjoy myself. I'm not familiar with this specific day or how it's celebrated in the US btw.

It was the Fourth of July. Even from your apartment windows you could see the sky lighting up in early, overeager test shots—streaks of red and green that fizzled before the sun had even fully set, leaving smoky tails curling like ghosts in the warm, heavy air. Down on the street, kids darted between cars with sparklers, their shrieks high and ecstatic, dogs barking frantically at the noise. Car radios blasted clashing versions of the same anthems, tinny and off-beat, mixing into an unsteady chorus.

It felt like the whole world was in celebration.

Inside your apartment, though, it was too quiet.

You moved carefully through the living room, every creak in the floorboards echoing in the hush. The bedroom door was half shut. You could see Bucky’s boots abandoned beside the bed, one tipped onto its side like he’d kicked them off without thinking.

He was hunched forward at the edge of the mattress, elbows braced on his knees, big shoulders curved inward. His head was lowered so you couldn’t see his face. The light from the hallway spilled over him in a pale stripe, catching on the dull gleam of his vibranium fingers as they fidgeted, soft clicking like clockwork threatening to jam.

He didn’t look up even when you knocked softly and pushed the door the rest of the way open.

“Buck?” you called gently.

He exhaled slowly, but didn’t answer.

You hated this day for him.

You hated the way it twisted his expression, set deep grooves of guilt and memory around his eyes. He never really explained it in detail, but you knew enough. The fireworks reminded him of things he didn’t want to remember. The sharp cracks that echoed through the city weren’t “festive” to him. They were warning shots, mortar shells, the sound of friends yelling over explosions in the dirt and snow.

He wouldn’t admit it was that bad, but you saw it in the way he avoided the windows at dusk, how he flinched when the distant booms rattled the glass. How his jaw would lock tight, a muscle jumping at his temple.

You could see it now too—his knuckles bone-white on his knees. The metal fingers clenching and relaxing, over and over.

You tightened your grip on the old canvas bag you were holding, then lifted it a little, rattling it to get his attention.

“Hey, Buck. C’mon. I have a plan.”

He blinked slowly, turning his head just enough that you caught a glimpse of his tired eyes, dulled and heavy.

“A plan?” he repeated, voice low and scraped raw.

You nodded. “Yeah. For tonight.”

He dropped his gaze back to the floor. His shoulders rose and fell with a long, weighted breath. His flesh hand came up to scrub over his stubbled jaw, thumb dragging along his lower lip like he was trying to wipe something away.

“Don’t think I’m good company right now,” he mumbled.

Your heart cracked a little.

“Tough,” you said softly, your voice deliberately light. “You’re coming anyway.”

That earned you the tiniest huff of reluctant laughter. His eyes finally met yours, guarded but a little brighter.

“Bossy,” he muttered.

You grinned at him. “You love it.”

He sighed again, but this time it sounded more like surrender. He straightened up, rolling his neck until it cracked.

“Alright. Lead the way, sweetheart.”

—

You led him up the narrow, creaky stairs to the roof. The old bag bumped against your hip with every step. The stairwell was stuffy, smelling of sun-warmed concrete and faded paint, but you felt him trailing close behind you, his boots scuffing at the steps, his breathing slow and deliberate.

You glanced back once to make sure he was still coming. He met your eyes for a second, trying to look exasperated but not pulling it off at all.

On the rooftop, the summer air was cooler but thick with the smell of smoke drifting up from grills below. Music from half a dozen barbecues layered in the distance, muffled like memories of old block parties.

Up here, the fireworks were softer. Smaller. The big, official displays were still too far to be deafening, so the explosions bloomed silently for a few seconds before the dull, low booms caught up.

You spread the old wool blanket over the gritty rooftop and smoothed it out with a flourish.

“Welcome,” you said grandly, “to our private box seats.”

Bucky snorted, but the sound was weak. He didn’t look convinced. He sat down with stiff, mechanical care, arms crossing over his chest as if to hold himself together. His shoulders were hunched nearly to his ears with every far-off crack and thump.

You dropped next to him so close your thighs pressed together. At first you didn’t say anything. Just watched the pale bursts of color in the distance, listening to the low rumbles that rolled over the rooftops.

When he didn’t relax, you shifted even closer, letting your weight lean against his side deliberately.

Gently, you laid your hand on his arm, feeling the tense corded muscle under your fingers.

“Hey. Lie back with me.”

He didn’t look at you.

“Doll…”

“Please?” you murmured.

His eyes flickered over your face. He let out a slow breath that shuddered a little, then nodded.

“Yeah. Okay.”

He lay back carefully, as if worried he’d break the blanket or himself. You followed, pressing your body flush to his side. His arm, solid and warm, settled automatically around you, but he was still rigid under your touch.

You didn’t let him stay that way. You pressed closer, tucking your head under his chin, sliding your arm across his chest until your fingers found the edge of his dog tags through his thin t-shirt.

He smelled like soap and old leather and the faint tang of metal from his arm.

Another distant pop sounded, and you felt him flinch sharply beneath you.

You immediately began smoothing your hand over his chest, slow and steady.

“I got you,” you whispered.

He squeezed his eyes shut. You felt the way his ribs fought for a calm breath.

“It’s ridiculous,” he ground out. “I’ve heard worse. So much worse. Can’t even sit through some damn fireworks.”

“Bucky,” you said, voice soft but firm. You lifted your head just enough to press a kiss under his jaw. “You don’t have to justify it. It’s okay. You don’t have to be the tough guy tonight. Just breathe with me.”

He let out a breath that shook, the sound raw and reluctant. But he tried. You felt him match your breathing, slower, deeper, though every muscle in him fought it.

You curled your leg over his, hooking your ankle behind his knee, trying to hold every shaking bit of him in place. He resisted at first—so used to bracing himself against everything—but you didn’t let up. You dragged your fingers up into his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp, and felt the slow melt as he finally let his weight sink into you.

His head tipped forward, pressing his nose into your hair.

You could feel his heart thudding against your palm where it rested on his chest, starting to slow.

You whispered so softly it was almost lost under the sound of another muted boom.

“Listen. Let me tell you a story, okay?”

He made a low sound that was half-question, half-sigh.

“Yeah,” he rasped.

You smiled, even though he couldn’t see it.

“So,” you began, shifting so you could talk right against his ear, your voice warm and conspiratorial, “when I was little I tried to make an apple pie all by myself. Didn’t know how it worked. I just took one of those frozen crusts and shoved four whole apples in it. Like… unpeeled. Stems and everything.”

You felt his chest jerk with a breath that might have been a laugh trying to break out.

“And I just… tossed it in the oven,” you continued, your tone scandalized. “No cinnamon. No sugar. Just big dumb apples.”

He let out a low snort.

You smiled wider, pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw.

“It burned so bad. Whole kitchen smelled like a crime scene. My mom was laughing so hard she was crying. I think I permanently traumatized the oven.”

Bucky’s laugh finally bubbled out. It was quiet, but real. His arm around you tightened, vibranium fingers splaying possessively over your waist.

“Whole apples?” he repeated incredulously, voice husky but softer now.

“Whole,” you confirmed solemnly. “Stems. Seeds. I think I invented apple charcoal.”

He huffed another laugh, breath warm in your hair.

“You’re an absolute menace,” he mumbled, voice thick, but affectionate.

You grinned. “Yeah. But I’m your menace. And tonight, you’re stuck with me.”

Another distant crackle of fireworks. This time he didn’t even flinch. He just held you tighter, burying his face in your hair, breathing you in like you were the only real thing left in the world.

“Thank you,” he whispered, so quietly you almost didn’t catch it over the wind.

You tilted your head to press your lips to his.

“Always,” you breathed back.

You lay there tangled together on the old blanket, feeling the heat of him finally start to relax, tension bleeding out of his shoulders with every shared breath. The fireworks kept going, painting the sky in pale reds and greens that glowed across his cheekbones. But they felt farther away now. Or maybe he just wasn’t listening to them anymore—just your voice, your stories, the thump of your heart against his ribs.

And for the first time all night, you felt him let out a real, steady sigh. As if for once, he could let himself enjoy it.

#by elle.ᐟ #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes fluff?#mcu!bucky fic #emotional comfort #bucky fluff #mcu!bucky fluff

409 notes · View notes

lillypad910 · 10 months ago

Text

Such a Good Girl

Dom! Eddie Munson x Sub! Girly! Reader

Warnings: (not pre-read well, apologize for some errors, I wrote his half awake) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! smut, fingering, oral (f & m receiving), piv, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap), bit of fluff, reader is an "innocent" slut (I'm not sorry about it), pet names (Bunny, Baby), Kinks (breeding, sub/dom relationship, reader has a pile of stuffed animal that he literally fucks her on, have fun lol)

Summary: Eddie sneaks into your window to find you getting ready for bed. But he was other plans for your evening.

A/n: I wrote this half asleep and it is pure filth. I haven't written smut in a HOT minute and this was me kind of getting a practice run to write the smut for a later fic with a certain character reader I fear people are BEGGING from this blog. Enjoy!

If you wanna be tagged when I post ask or comment telling me so!

All Pics from Pinterest!

Eddie parks his car down the road, not wanting to alarm your parents with his van sitting outside. He walks all the way up to your house, jumping your white picket fence and making his way towards the backyard. He knows which window is yours, having snuck in a few times before. He climbs up the lattice on the side of the brick wall of your house, making his way up to your window. He places his feet firmly on the roof that sticks out, looking into your window.

There you are, his beautiful sweet girl, brushing your hair at your vanity. Your cute flowy nightgown makes you look like you stepped right out of a 1960’s magazine. Your window is open a bit, letting in the cool air of the night.

He knocks on the glass, startling you a bit and almost making your drop your hair brush. You turn and immediately smile at him. You walk over and open the window more, letting the rocker inside. “Hi, Eddie.” You giggle as he stumbles in, nearly tripping over your lace curtains. “Hi, sweetheart.” He straightens himself out before closing the window, “you look cute.” Your cheeks flush a bit at the compliment. You aren’t used to compliments yet, but Eddie is determined to make sure you know your worth.

“I’m sorry for coming so late, were you about to go to bed?” He asks, glancing over at the pink comforter with multiple stuffed animals on it. You shake your head, climbing onto the bed and grabbing one of the plushies, holding them close to your heart. It was one he got you, a little bunny with big floppy ears, Mr Flospy is what you named him.

Eddie sits on the edge of the bed, reaching over and pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I don’t wanna keep you up, Princess, you need your beauty sleep.” You look up at him, your eyes glistening a bit in the light from your bedside lamp. “But you just got here…” Eddie smiles and holds out his arms, and you immediately tackle him in a hug, Mr Flopsy still in your arms. “I don’t want you to go, please stay.” You nuzzle your nose into his neck, and he hums, enjoying the feeling. “Bunny,” the nickname earns a whimper from you, it’s your favorite, “you said you want me to stay?” He clarifies, leaning you back into your stuffies. You nod, holding Mr Flopsy to your chest.

“Bunny,” Eddie leans over you and kisses your forehead, “have you been a good girl?” You nod again, your thighs pressing together. “Use your words, sweetheart.” “Y-Yes… I’ve been a good girl…!” Eddie loves these moments, your cheeks flushed and beautiful eyes blown. “Hmm,” he leans down and kisses your soft pink lips, he can tell you have on a cherry chapstick. He kisses you a few times, earning little whimpers from you, before moving down your jaw and neck.

“E-Eddie…” you grip at his vest, legs already getting shaky and he hasn’t even done anything other than kiss you. “Bunny, relax, you’re working yourself up.” He runs his palms over your thighs, securing his hips in between them. “Such a pretty girl,” he nibbles a bit at your collarbone, earning a gasp from you, “Quiet, sweetheart, don’t want your parents hearing their little girl being a total slut, do you?” You glance away from him, the blush on your cheeks expanding out to your ears. He knows what you like, what you need.

He lifts your nightgown a little rubbing his ringed fingers over your panties. You grip his arm, not wanting him to pull away. His fingers dip under the fabric, beginning to rub circles over your clit. You swear he can do what ever he wants to you, you’d obey everything he told you to do gladly if this was the reward.

Eddie sighs into you ear, watching you twitch at the attention he’s giving your most sensitive place. His hot breath on your skin makes you shiver, along with the soft but firm circles his fingers dance over your clit. You feel your breath catch, a knot already forming in your stomach. “E-Eddie…”

“God, you’re so easy…” Eddie moves his hand a little lower into your underwear, slowly inserting two fingers in see to you. You grip his arm tighter, a soft gasp leaving your lips that makes him smirk. “What? What is it, Baby…? Fuck, are you drooling?” He places his free hand under your chin and whips away the bit of saliva that leaks from the corner of your mouth, watching you begin to pant a bit just from his fingers curling inside you.

You moan, your hand smacking against your mouth to muffle it. Eddie only smiles wider at this, removing his hand from your underwear, getting you to pout. He’s quick to remove the garment, sliding it down your legs then dropping it over the side of your bed. He places his hands on your thighs, spreading your legs so he can see all of you.

“Fuck, Bunny, you’re dripping.” He lowers himself down, leaving soft kisses down on your abdomen. “So needy,” he kisses lower and lower, before leaving one right on your clit, earning another moan from you.

You reach down and tangle your fingers in his hair as he finally places his mouth to your cunt. God the feeling…

“E-Eddie…!” One hand moves to shove two fingers back inside you as his tongue laps around. He’s learned your body, what you like, and how to work it.

He buries his head into your cunt, sucking on your clit as his fingers pump inside you. You wreath at the feeling, lifting your hips off your bed from the pleasure. He takes this as encouragement, wrapping his other arm under you and moving his fingers faster.

It doesn’t take long before you’re shaking, oozing all over his face. He pulls away and pushes your legs up as he gets closer once more, pressing his clothed crotch to your soaked cunt.

“Fuck, you feel that, Bunny?” Of course you do, his large, hard cock fighting to get out of his pants as he grinds against you. “Do you want me to fuck you?” His question is rhetorical but you still answer anyways. “Please… E-Eddie, please…”

He unbuttons his pants, yanking them down and tossing them away, then the same with his boxers. His cock springs free, earning a soft gasp from you.

God, it looks so good…

“You’re drooling again, Bunny.” But this time he doesn’t wipe away the spit, instead he pulls away from you all together. “Do you wanna suck it?”

You don’t even hesitate as you push yourself out of the pile of stuffed animals, crawling onto your stomach in front of him. You grab his cock, immediately shoving your face into his crotch. He groans as you lick up his shaft, your nose taking in the musky scent. “That’s it, Bunny.”

You take the tip of his dick in your mouth, not wanting to wait anymore. You have to open your mouth a bit wider to fit him, but you love to do so. Eddie combs his fingers into your hair before gripping a chunk, “come on, Bunny, you can do better than that.” He slowly pushes your head down, which you happily take.

Before long your nose is brushing into his hair, his cock deep in your throat as it twitches. You’re drooling so much. You moan, sucking his cock as you hollow your cheeks. You move your tongue skillfully, just like he trained you.

“You’re doing so good, Bunny. Just like that. Such a good girl.” He moved his hips back before thrusting forward, earning a throaty moan from you. You try not to gag, angling yourself just right to where he’s not agitating it.

He thrusts into your mouth again, making your thighs press together. You begin to bob your head with his thrusts, pairing it perfectly so that when he slams back in, you push your head against him too. He gets a bit rough, beginning to thrust faster and harder until you can control the angle anymore. You gag, but don’t pull away, honestly you can’t. His hand holds your head down as he uses your throat like a toy.

And then he yanks you off, your throat sore as you try to catch your breath. He shoves you back into your stuffed animals, before grabbing your legs and lifting them up to your head. You blush, embarrassed at this position. But you don’t have long to think about it before he’s climbing on top of you and rubbing his dick along you.

“Eds…” you moan out as you feel his tip press to your cunt. He wraps his arms around you, locking you in place, before thrusting his hips forward, his cock going deep inside you.

You gasp, your mind blanking as he begins to thrust hard and faster, using your cunt for his own pleasure. You moan, your bed squeaking as you take his cock. “Look at you, taking my cock so well.” He mumbles into your ear.

You pant as you feel him twitch inside you, your cunt already becoming sore from the abusive thrusts. But you don’t care, how could you? Your pussy is being used for what it was made for.

You cum hard on his cock, squeezing around him until you see stars but he doesn’t stop. If anything he’s thrusting harder, pounding you in as you become a panting, moaning mess.

He’s fucking you stupid.

“Such a good girl, taking my dick so deep.” His cock pistons in and out of you, your mind foggy as you just take it. You have to be good and just take it, or you won’t get your reward.

He groans as his thrusts get sloppy, hitting certain angles that’s has you wreathing. “Eddie!”

He’s quick to silence you, one hand quickly wrapping around your throat and giving a good solid squeeze that has you coming undone on his cock again. “I’m gonna fucking breed you.” He groans into your ear. “Gonna fill you up just how you want, fuck you full.”

You’re gasping for air as you cum on his cock again, but this time, he thrusts a few more times before he finally thrusts deep inside you one last time. You feel the warmth of his cum gush inside you, moaning at the feeling. You need him, you need him to fucking ruin you. Imagine what people would say if he got you pregnant? Your family would be furious…

You hope he did.

You both sit there for a while, basking in the post sex glow. He’s collapsed on top of you, pinning you still to your bed. You don’t mind, your arms wrapped around him as his cock is still buried inside you.

He kisses you lovingly, smothering you in them as you giggle. “You’re so pretty,” his voice is horse, but you understand him well enough.

You snuggle into his neck, still a bit dazed. “I love you.” The words slip out so effortlessly, but of course they do. It’s Eddie.

“I love you,” he smiles into your hair, nuzzling into the strands.

Then you hear a door down the hall open. The hall light flicks on. Eddie scurries off you, grabbing his clothes off the floor and hiding behind the door. You wobbly get up from the bed, but you don’t have time to put on your underwear before a knock comes from your door.

“Sweetie? You alright?” Your dad calls from the other side. You take a deep breath, straightening your 60’s nightgown so it’s just covering you. You open the door just enough to pop your head out. “Yes, Dad?” You smile at the older man, trying to put on this innocent look.

“Are you alright?” He goes to lift his hand, placing it against your forehead, “You feel warm, are you catching a fever?” “Oh, no, I…” you try to think of something quick, “I just had a nightmare. Sorry if I woke you.”

You feel Eddie’s cum starting to drip out of your used cunt, and you try to press your legs together a bit to stop it.

“Are you sure? Do you need some water?” He looks over your face once more. “No, no, really, I’m good. Go back to bed, Dad. I’ll see you in the morning.” You give him a smile and he nods before walking off again. You shut your door slowly, hearing it click into the hold.

“Well,” Eddie comes up behind you and wraps his arms around you, “You need to be more quiet next time.” You go to turn around but he stops you, holding you in place in front of him. “Oh, Bunny,” he trails his hand down your front, “you’re letting too much out, we can’t have that.”

Oh tonight’s on a be a long night.

Tag List!

If you wanna be tagged on future posts, please send me an ask or comment!

@cagethemunson

@cherrycolas-things

@spikeybatt

@r-a-d-i-0-n-0-w-h-e-r-e

#stranger things #eddie munson #x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson smut #x girly girl! reader #Eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut

1K notes · View notes

lovemni · 4 months ago

Text

𐔌 현진 .ᐟ ꒱ ── "i'm burning hot? damn right i am."ㅤ♡

HWANG HYUNJIN! ⓘ you come over to his place, only to find your boyfriend burning hot. literally and figuratively. . . ( ꩜ ᯅ ꩜;)⁭ ⁭

۫ 𖨂 𓈒 𝑏f!hyunjin ₊ ‎ ‎ 𝑓em!reader ˙ . ꒷ g. fluff , crack ! 3IOOwc. ⎯⎯ Yᗩᑎi's ᒪIᗷᖇᗩᖇY ⟢ cw. nicknames , kisses , intimacy , fever. ┆ 🐇 ⋮ an original drabble .ᐟ ֹ ₊

𝑦𝑎𝑛𝑖'𝑠 𝑚𝑎𝑖𝑙 𓈒 𓈒 ⭑ happy birthday to the squishiest dumpling! i wasn't sure if i'd be able to post on hyune day... but i did, thanks to the week i have off before my next exam! yn in this entire fic lowkey reminded me of my darling ishi, don't ask why >< also, dear fahrenheit users, please do not attack me. i'm a mere celsius huzz. happy reading <3

the sky outside was a dull slate gray, clouds hanging low and swollen with the promise of rain. city lights flickered through the haze, their reflections smudged against the apartment windows like forgotten brushstrokes. drops of water from the afternoon drizzle traced lazy paths down the glass, the rhythmic pattering mingling with the hum of distant traffic below.

inside, however, the atmosphere was far from serene.

the living room bore every sign of a day spent in restless sickness. a half-crumpled blanket, patterned with little stars, was tangled across the couch. an empty mug, rim stained with honeyed ginger tea, perched precariously on the coffee table next to an abandoned packet of cold medicine.

the air was tinged with the faint scent of eucalyptus and lemon, the lingering evidence of an essential oil diffuser doing its best to combat the stuffiness. the heater hummed low, emitting a warmth that made the space feel cocooned and sluggish.

but the most striking sight of all was hyunjin — sprawled across the bed like a fallen monarch, wrapped dramatically in a heap of ivory sheets. his buzzcut barely peeked from beneath the folds, and his cheeks were flushed a fevered pink.

the poor man had always been a little.. theatrical when sick, but this time? this time, he looked like he was moments from composing his own funeral hymn.

y/n nearly dropped her keys as she stepped inside.

“oh my god, hyunjin!” she kicked off her shoes hastily, the door slamming shut behind her. “you look like death.”

from the depths of the pillows, a low, pitiful groan emerged. “and yet, i’m still somehow the most handsome man alive.”

y/n rolled her eyes, but a smile twitched at her lips. “god,” she murmured, already shrugging off her jacket and abandoning her bag on the armchair.

the warmth of the apartment immediately clung to her, a contrast to the chilly air outside. she ran a hand through her slightly damp hair, droplets clinging to the strands from the drizzle she’d escaped.

hyunjin’s eyes fluttered open, though his movements were sluggish. they were glassy, dazed, but still sparkling with that familiar playful mischief. his lips, a little dry from the fever, curled into a weak grin.

“y/n,” he croaked, voice raspy from sleep and congestion. “you’re back.”

“of course, i’m back!” her brows knit together, as a frown graced her lips. “you didn’t answer any of my texts.” she was already approaching, hands on her hips like a mother about to scold her child. “you could’ve told me you were dying.”

“i wasn’t dying,” hyunjin sniffled dramatically, though the slight tremble in his voice betrayed him. “i was simply… wilting. like a delicate flower.”

“oh, my poor rose,” she mocked, leaning down to press the back of her hand against his forehead. the second her skin touched his burning flesh, her brows furrowed. “jesus, hyun. you’re burning hot.”

his grin grew smug. “damn right i am.”

y/n shot him a glare, though her lips twitched with amusement. “unbelievable.”

she straightened, already scanning the room with purpose. the cluttered state of the apartment made it evident he’d been too miserable to bother tidying up. the comforter had been dragged halfway to the floor, the pillowcases crumpled and damp from sweat.

on the nightstand, a little mountain of used tissues teetered precariously. the sight alone was enough to make her sigh.

“i was going to get a kiss,” hyunjin whined weakly, watching her with puppy eyes as she disappeared into the bathroom. “where’s my ‘welcome home, my beloved’ smooch?”

y/n’s voice echoed from the tiled space. “not until i make sure you’re not actually on the verge of spontaneous combustion.”

“but i miss you,” he drawled, the dramatic edge returning. “it’s been hours. days. years, probably.”

“four hours, cuh.”

“still too long, cuh.”

when she returned, a damp towel in one hand and a thermometer in the other, hyunjin barely reacted — aside from the way his lower lip jutted out in an exaggerated pout.

his buzzed hair gleamed under the soft glow of the bedside lamp, the sheen of sweat on his forehead making it shine.

y/n thought it was unfair, really, how he could still look so stupidly pretty while practically melting into the bed.

“come on, open up,” she instructed, holding the thermometer to his plush lips.

hyunjin obliged his lover without protest, though his eyes never left her. they followed her every move — the way her brows furrowed in worry, the soft parting of her lips as she focused.

her presence alone seemed to soothe him, like a cool breeze through a fevered haze.

after a moment, the thermometer beeped. y/n’s eyes narrowed.

“39.3 degrees,” she muttered, her heart sinking a little. “hyun, you’re literally a furnace.”

“that explains the unbearable hotness.”

“not the time.”

but even as she scolded, she couldn’t hide the tenderness in her voice. her fingers brushed over his buzzed scalp, tracing the warmth radiating from him.

the short hair suited him ridiculously well — made his sharp jawline and pretty features stand out even more. and yet, with his flushed cheeks and glassy eyes, he looked more like a grumpy child than an idol adored by millions.

“i’m staying,” she declared firmly, already kicking off her socks and climbing onto the bed.

hyunjin blinked at her, eyes wide. “you don’t have to, baby. i’m fine.”

“oh sure, because i’m totally convinced by the fact that you look like a victorian orphan on his deathbed.”

“i’m merely delicate.”

“you’re ridiculous.”

but she was already tucking the blanket up to his chin, brushing damp strands of hair away from his forehead. hyunjin melted under her touch, nuzzling into the comforter with a content hum.

he was so terribly clingy when sick — and even now, his hands sought her out, fingers curling weakly around her wrist.

“you’re the best,” he murmured, voice slurred. “my beautiful nurse. my savior.”

“i’m your babysitter,” she deadpanned.

hyunjin grinned lazily. “hot babysitter.”

y/n snorted. “sleep for a bit, patient hwang.”

“whatever you say, doc.”

and with that, his eyes fluttered shut once more, the fevered haze pulling him back under. y/n stayed close, her fingers tracing gentle patterns along his buzzed scalp, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest a comforting lull. outside, the rain had begun to fall steadily, a soothing patter against the windows.

the apartment smelled like lemon balm and warmth. and despite the fever, despite the mess, there was nowhere else she’d rather be.

the apartment was quiet now, save for the rhythmic sound of hyunjin’s breathing. it came slow and steady, the fever finally pulling him into a much-needed rest.

y/n watched him for a moment longer, making sure he was truly asleep. his lashes, dark against the flush of his cheeks, didn’t so much as twitch. his lips, parted slightly, had softened from their usual dramatic pouts into something innocent, almost boyish.

his fingers, which had been curled loosely around the sleeve of her sweater, finally slackened their grip.

she exhaled softly.

gently, she peeled herself away from his warmth, slipping out of the bed with careful precision. the room was dimly lit by the soft golden glow of the bedside lamp, casting elongated shadows across the walls.

the rain outside had settled into a gentle drizzle, droplets streaking against the windows like ink on parchment. the air smelled faintly of eucalyptus, a relic of the essential oils she had turned on earlier to help clear hyunjin’s congestion.

her socks padded silently against the wooden floor as she made her way out, glancing over the apartment with a newfound awareness. hyunjin wasn’t usually messy—if anything, he was meticulous about keeping his space tidy, an artist who treated both his canvases and his home with careful reverence. but sickness had a way of unraveling even the most put-together people. and today, the apartment was evidence of his fevered unrest.

his paint supplies were scattered across the living room table—a wooden palette still smeared with dried strokes of cobalt blue and burnt sienna, paintbrushes left to dry on a paper towel that had since crumpled at the edges. a few unfinished sketches were abandoned on the couch, their graphite lines smudged in places where hyunjin had likely rubbed his tired eyes.

an empty glass sat next to a bottle of vitamin c tablets, along with a half-eaten granola bar he had probably forgotten about.

y/n sighed, rolling up the sleeves of her sweater. alright. time to fix this.

she started with the living room, carefully gathering the paintbrushes and rinsing them in the sink. cool water rushed over her fingers, the bristles softening as the leftover pigment bled away, swirling in delicate patterns down the drain. she arranged them neatly in a cup by the window, letting them dry properly this time.

next, she picked up the sketches. a small smile tugged at her lips as she recognized his latest works—quick portraits, some unfinished, some detailed enough to look like they might spring to life.

one was of a woman sitting by a windowsill, her expression contemplative, lost in thought. another was more abstract, a flurry of delicate brushstrokes forming something that looked like wings. and then, of course, there was one of her.

hyunjin had drawn her dozens of times before, but it never failed to warm her heart. this one was a loose sketch, probably something he had done absentmindedly while resting—her face turned slightly to the side, strands of her hair tucked behind her ear, a soft expression in her eyes. dork.

shaking her head fondly, she stacked the papers neatly on the side table before moving on.

the bedroom came next. the blankets were still tangled from when he had shifted around earlier, his fever making him restless. she smoothed them out carefully, tucking the edges so he wouldn’t get cold.

the used tissues on the nightstand were disposed of, the mug from his previous tea taken back to the kitchen. she fluffed his pillow, letting her fingers briefly brush over the soft linen before stepping back.

the scent of eucalyptus lingered in the air, blending with the faint traces of his cologne that clung to the fabric of the bed. something warm settled in her chest.

with the apartment finally back in order, she turned to the kitchen.

the overhead light cast a soft glow over the space, illuminating the sleek countertops and the small collection of ingredients she pulled out. the rain had picked up again, tapping gently against the windowpane, a soothing backdrop to the quiet hum of the refrigerator as she rummaged through it.

soup. that’s what he needed. something warm, nourishing.

she set a pot on the stove, the sound of sizzling garlic and onions filling the air as she started cooking. the fragrance curled around her, mingling with the hints of citrus and eucalyptus still present in the apartment.

as the broth simmered, she added vegetables—thinly sliced carrots, soft potatoes, leafy greens that wilted beautifully into the golden liquid. she shredded some chicken, letting it soak in the flavors, steam rising in gentle swirls as she stirred.

the soft clink of a spoon against the ceramic pot, the occasional bubbling of the broth—it all felt strangely peaceful. outside, the city continued on, neon lights blinking through the misty evening. but here, in the cozy warmth of hyunjin’s kitchen, time felt slower, more intimate.

while the soup finished cooking, she rummaged through the cupboards for medicine. there it was—a box of cold relief capsules, the kind hyunjin always complained tasted like chalk. she grabbed them anyway, along with a fresh bottle of water, setting everything neatly on the counter.

finally, she ladled the soup into a bowl, the aroma filling the kitchen like a quiet promise of comfort. the steam curled in delicate tendrils, rising into the dim light. it smelled of warmth, of care. of home.

y/n leaned against the counter for a moment, exhaling softly.

hyunjin was still asleep, oblivious to the quiet effort she had poured into tidying his space, making sure he’d have something warm to eat when he woke.

but she didn’t mind. of course she didn't. taking care of him wasn’t a chore—it was second nature, something as effortless as breathing.

she glanced at the clock. 19:45.

the rain continued its steady rhythm against the window. the apartment was clean again, the soup was ready, the medicine waiting. everything was in place.

now, all that was left was to wait for the sleeping beauty to wake up.

in the bedroom, hyunjin was still cocooned beneath the blankets, his buzzed head barely peeking out. his fevered flush had deepened, cheeks tinged a stubborn pink. the dampness of sweat clung to his forehead, strands of hair curling against his skin. but despite it all, there was something disarmingly soft about him — his sharp features relaxed in sleep, long lashes resting gently against his cheeks.

y/n stood at the edge of the bed, a bowl of steaming chicken soup balanced carefully in her hands. the broth gleamed golden, the steam curling like tendrils of silk. it was the perfect remedy — warmth in a bowl, made with far too much love. she shifted her weight, gazing down at her sickly boyfriend.

god, he’s lucky he’s pretty.

“hyune,” she called softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

nothing. not even a twitch.

she lowered herself onto the mattress, the blankets dipping slightly under her weight. her free hand reached out, brushing gently over his forehead. he was still warm, though not as alarmingly so. the fever wasn’t gone, but it had relented — for now.

“hyunjin,” she tried again, this time pressing a soft kiss to his temple. his skin was dewy beneath her lips, and even in his sleep, he made the smallest noise of contentment.

still, no sign of waking.

“oh my god,” she muttered, setting the soup carefully on the nightstand. “you’re actually impossible.”

she leaned down, her nose brushing lightly against his. “if you don’t wake up, i’m taking all the blankets. and the pillows. maybe even your skincare.”

that did it.

his lashes fluttered, and with a low groan, hyunjin cracked one eye open. “you wouldn’t dare.”

y/n grinned, already cupping his face between her hands. “i would. and i’d post your bare, moisturized face on instagram. hashtag ‘fever chic.’”

“evil,” he rasped, though the corners of his lips twitched upward. his voice was hoarse, deepened further by sleep and congestion. somehow, it still managed to sound ridiculously attractive.

“you sound like you’ve been chain-smoking for a decade.”

“i sound sexy.”

“you sound like a gremlin.”

he chuckled — a low, rough sound that only made him wince. “ouch.”

“that’s what you get for being cocky while half-dead.”

hyunjin hummed dramatically, letting his eyes flutter shut again. “fine. let me die beautifully.”

y/n rolled her eyes but didn’t miss the small, teasing smile playing on his lips. “not happening. you’re getting soup. and meds. and possibly a smack if you keep up with the theatrics.”

“i thought you loved my theatrics,” he mumbled, his voice muffled as he burrowed further into the pillows.

“i tolerate them.” she carded her fingers gently through his buzzed hair, the short strands soft against her fingertips. “now come on. sit up for me, baby.”

with a dramatic groan — as though she’d asked him to scale mount everest — hyunjin finally shifted. his limbs were slow and heavy, the fever still anchoring him. y/n tucked an arm behind his back, guiding him carefully until he was propped against the pillows. the blankets pooled around his waist, the flush of his bare chest visible beneath the dim light. his skin gleamed slightly from the fever’s sheen, but the sight of him, even like this, still made her heart stumble.

“you’re staring,” he rasped, eyes half-lidded.

“i’m admiring, yes,” she corrected, fingers tracing lightly over his jawline. “you’re lucky you’re cute.”

“damn right i am.”

she swatted him lightly on the shoulder, earning a lazy grin. “stay put.”

reaching for the bowl of soup, she gave it one last stir before settling it in her lap. the steam curled up between them, the scent of garlic, ginger, and tender chicken filling the air.

“you cooked?” hyunjin asked, his eyes shining even through the fever haze.

“of course.” she blew gently on the spoonful of broth, then held it up. “i don’t trust you to eat without spilling it all over yourself.”

“i’m a grown man.”

“you’re a sick man.”

“same difference.”

but even as he whined, he parted his lips obediently, letting her feed him the first spoonful. the warmth of the broth seemed to melt into him instantly, his tense shoulders relaxing as the flavor settled. his eyes fluttered shut with a soft hum of approval.

“okay,” he mumbled. “that’s stupid good. you have god's hands.”

y/n grinned, scooping up another bite. “i know.”

and so it went. spoonful after spoonful, hyunjin accepting each bite with minimal complaint — though not without the occasional dramatic sigh, just to keep her on her toes. the warmth seeped into his bones, soothing the ache that had plagued him all day.

every so often, y/n’s fingers would brush against his skin, adjusting the blankets or tucking a stray strand of hair away from his forehead. each touch lingered, soft and reassuring.

“you’re the best,” he murmured between bites, his voice still low and gravelly.

“i know.”

“my angel.”

“mhm.”

“my goddess.”

“mhm..”

“my muse. my light. my—”

“i swear to god, if you say one more word, i’m mixing cough syrup into your soup.”

his eyes gleamed mischievously. “kinky.”

“says you.”

but she was laughing, her nose crinkling in that way that made hyunjin’s chest ache for entirely different reasons. she reached for a tissue, gently dabbing at the corner of his lips, and in that moment, the world outside ceased to exist. the rain could pour, the city could buzz — but here, wrapped in warmth and laughter, nothing else mattered.

“thank you,” he murmured, his voice softer now. “for everything.”

y/n tilted her head, her fingers brushing along his jawline. “you’d do the same for me.”

“in a heartbeat.”

and with that, he leaned forward, his lips brushing against hers. the kiss was gentle, fevered warmth meeting cool tenderness. he tasted like salt and broth and something undeniably hyunjin — familiar, grounding, home.

“ew,” she muttered playfully, pulling away. “you taste like sick.”

“still hot though.”

“debatable.”

but her laughter filled the space, mingling with his, and as hyunjin curled back into the blankets, y/n tucked him in without a word. the fever would pass, the mess would return, and the city would wake again.

but tonight?

tonight, they had soup, kisses, and the soft hum of rain. and that was more than enough.

⤿ 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝘵𝑒𝑟𝘵𝑎𝑔. @its-stayville-forever @cosmicalily @hyunjiiza @modesttiger @woozarts @katsukis1wife @bddaramjis @reignessance @peskybirdysya @honeyybbuubblleess @ellemir2404 @4ng3l-ch1ld @urlocalmultigroupfan @ashtxrie @minlixyaoi @shuuporanglinos — send in an ask, message or reply, to be added !! ✶

620 notes · View notes

jeonginsleftcheek · 6 months ago

Text

Dolly V

~ part 5 of the Dolly series

pairing: yang jeongin x afab!reader

genre: smut, fluff, sci-fi

synopsis: always used to getting everything you want and spending as much money as you can; after a little night out with your girlfriends, in your drunken state you order an expensive sex doll. he likes to dress up, just like you do. what could go wrong?

wc: 8.5k

warnings: oral (m), masturbation, self-denial, self-ruined orgasm, cum eating, slight pain kink, sub!reader, reader is a little bratty, unprotected sex, creampies, a bit of degradation, choking, light bondage, spanking, edging, slapping

~ divider by @bunnysrph

With all the alcohol in your system, the loud music booming from the speakers and the warmth of the body dancing behind you, you celebrated, swaying your hips and grinding back into the nameless man who gripped your sides harder.

It was just another regular Saturday night for you; putting on an expensive dress and jewelry, doing your makeup, spending your evenings in fine restaurants with your girlfriends and your nights in prestigious clubs with all kinds of hot men you'd lead on and then leave.

You didn't have a care in the world. Anything you wanted, you got at the snap of your fingers, your father made sure of that, spoiling you rotten since you were his only daughter. You knew he had a soft spot for you and you weren't afraid to use that to your advantage.

"You wanna go somewhere more quiet?" the man whispered in your ear and you turned around, feigning disappointment and putting your sweet voice on.

"I'm sorry darlin', but I have to go now. It's been a pleasure dancing with you, though." you gave him a quick peck on the lips, just enough for him to taste your cherry lipgloss for a split second.

Before he could even answer, you slid away, disappearing from his eyesight between all the dancing bodies as you looked for your friends.

"Are you leaving, y/n?" you found Crystal by the bar. "The night is still young."

"I already texted Benjamin. He's on his way here." you giggled, swaying a little and she chuckled, grabbing your wrist, her manicured nails grazing your skin.

"Girlie, are you drunk?" she laughed.

"Just a little." you laughed with her, usually you weren't a lightweight, in fact you were the one carrying Crystal outside and holding her hair while she throws up. "I mixed up a few different drinks."

"Want me to wait out there with you?" she asked and you shook your head, making the room spin a little.

"Benji already arrived." you said but she still insisted on walking you to the car.

A sleek black limo waited for you, your family driver Benjamin rolled the window down before stepping out with a knowing smirk.

"You okay, miss?" he asked, opening the door for you.

"Perfect." you said, even though the fresh air made you even more dizzy than the stuffy club.

He shrugged as you plopped down in the seat, waving to Crystal who decided to stay a bit more with two of your other friends. Your stomach was churning a little as the vehicle started moving but Benjamin didn't bug you about it. He knew how you were, everyone did except your father who turned a blind eye to anything 'bad' you did. You are his perfect little angel who can do no wrong, so your driver bit his tongue more often than not.

You were home in no time, escorted right to the door. It was pretty late so the house was dark and quiet as you made your way upstairs, bumping into furniture and tripping over stairs, cursing quietly. Your room was huge, a queen sized bed with a canopy above it and a spacious walk in closet, your own bathroom and balcony where you'd often lay down and tan when it's sunny.

You kicked your heels off and walked to your big mirror, checking yourself out. You didn't look drunk though the room was still spinning just a little. You realized your phone turned off so you walked over to your desk and turned your laptop on, checking out who saw your insta stories from the fun night out. You left it open as you took it to your vanity, sitting down and taking off your diamond earrings.

The stories kept rolling and an ad came on between them right as you looked at the screen.

"What? Sex dolls?" you chuckled. Feeling intrigued, you clicked on it. It took you to a site with eight human looking dolls, all of them a 10 in your eyes. "I want them all." you whined, noticing some of them were already sold.

"Not fair." you pouted as you scrolled, stopping when you got to 'Jeongin, the fashion doll'.

"Oooh, fashion huh? I like you." you giggled, clicking on the purchase button without even looking at the price. After putting your info in, a message popped up. 'Thank you for purchasing our fashion doll! We hope you have fun dressing him up!', with a little winky face emoji added at the end.

You chuckled, closing your laptop and forgetting all about it as you got ready for bed and fell face down into your soft pillows, drifting off immediately.

Exactly a week later, when you got home after your beauty day which included a trip to the spa, a manicure and pedicure and of course some shopping, you almost jumped out of your skin, tripping over a huge box in your room.

"What the fuck is this?!" you gasped, and immediately your security guard, Jack, ran in, his hand already on the holster.

"What's wrong, miss?" he looked around before noticing the huge box and another suitcase next to it.

"It had your name on it. Benjamin and I brought it up together, I-I thought you had ordered something like- like always." he said cautiously.

Something rang in your mind.

"Oh. I did. You can leave now." you said, your face heating up. The man nodded shortly before retreating back outside.

You slammed and locked the door, letting out a breath of relief. You completely forgot about ordering a literal human sized doll. And now here he was, in the box. At least you hoped he was in the box, not in the suitcase because you did not want to spend your afternoon putting doll parts together, in your head it was too morbid and too much work.

You put your bags on the floor before cautiously walking over to the box. Taking a deep breath in, you opened it up and gasped. Your doll was even more handsome than what you vaguely remembered from that night.

Hello,

my name is Jeongin (or Innie) and I am your fashion dolly.

I love to dress up and take pictures, especially with you. I like seeing new places and doing new things so I hope you'll take me out on lots of dates.

Please treat me well always, even though I seem cool I can be sensitive so don't forget to hold my hand.

Hope you'll come to love me as much as I love you.

Obviously, someone put a lot of thought into this doll, you noted after reading the letter and looking more closely at his face. His eyes seemed warm and it looked like he was smiling just a little, a shy dimple on his cheek. He looked so cute. You checked out his outfit, satisfied with what they put him in and you noticed another little paper in his jeans pocket. You took it out and read it.

My princess!

I chose this outfit for our first adventure together.

Hope you enjoy me as much as I will enjoy you.

Princess. How fitting, you thought as you giggled.

You turned your attention to the suitcase, deciding to open it up before doing anything else. When you did, a gasp left your lips. It was filled with clothes and jewelry for the doll.

"I could make myself a dress out of this." you picked up one of the shirts, inspecting it. The clothes smelled like fresh fabric softener and they felt pretty expensive. You turned to look at the doll again. How much did you even pay for him?

You didn't care. All you cared about was taking the doll out of the box but that proved to be a bigger task than you first thought. You tried picking him up but since you weren't keen on working out, it was impossible to move him.

You groaned and grunted, your heels almost sliding on the polished wood as you pulled your Jeongin dolly by the wrists. That was the last trick you had up your sleeve.

"For fucks sake! I can't even move you properly. I don't know how much money I spent on you but you better wake up and move by yourself 'cause I'm not breaking my nails!" you stomped your foot in annoyance but the dolly stayed still.

"Do you have a button somewhere?" you started rummaging on his body, it felt like he was heating up the more you touched him. You retracted your hands and studied his face for a moment.

"Ugh." you unlocked and opened your door, finding Jack in the hallway. "Can you come help me?" you batted your eyelashes sweetly.

"Sure thing, miss." Jack nodded and followed you to your room. He stopped in his tracks when he saw Jeongin, but then he sighed, probably not even surprised by the things rich people spend money on.

"Is that alive?" he asked and you barked out a laugh.

"I don't think so. Look, I need you to move him to that chair." you pointed to your gaming chair. Since it had wheels, your thought process was that it'd be easier to roll around the doll than to carry it.

"Okay." the security guard nodded and lifted Jeongin up as if he weighed nothing. He placed him where you ordered. "Anything else, miss?"

"Get that box out of my room, I hate trash." you said, completely skipping that the manual for the doll was inside the box.

After Jack left, you locked the door again.

"Now, it's just you and me, dolly." you said, taking your heels off before you stalked towards Jeongin. Your palms rested on the chair as you leaned in closer, observing the doll. He smelled so good, so intoxicating. Your nose brushed against his cheek before you leaned back.

"Well let's see what I paid for." you nodded to yourself, stripping the doll out of his jacket with a bit of a struggle.

"Motherfucker." you cursed, throwing the jacket behind you. "If I could just find a button and turn you on, you'd do this by yourself." you frowned, gripping his shirt and struggling again.

Briefly, you thought about calling Jack back in but you quickly dismissed it, thinking how weird it would be to ask your security guard to strip your sex doll naked. Suddenly, you had another thought.

Isn't there supposed to be a manual?

The box. The stupid box. You quickly ran out of your room, looking for Jack and finding him downstairs.

"Where's the box?" you asked breathlessly.

"Box?"

"Yes, the one I told you to throw out."

"Ah, it's in the trash."

Your eyes narrowed. Jack gulped. His palms got clammy.

A minute later, Jack became a victim as he dug through the dumpster to find the manual.

"Found it yet?" you yelled at his body, half submerged in trash.

"Almost there." he gagged a little and you made a disgusted face as he finally pulled it out.

"Found it." the poor security guard looked defeated, probably repeating the amount of money he'll be paid by the beginning of next month.

"Great. You're a champ." you sprayed a little bit of disinfectant before pinching the manual between your fingers and looking through it. You skimmed quickly, frowning when you found nothing about a button that makes the doll come to life.

"Well, this sucks." you sighed, tossing the manual back into the dumpster as Jack rolled his hands into fists. 'Paycheck is coming soon. Paycheck is coming soon.', Jack chanted in his mind.

You were already back to Jeongin, deciding to just strip him completely and then think of what to do next. His shoes and socks came off quicker than the previous garments, his pants gave you another struggle but you managed to take them off somehow. Your face heated up when you noticed the bulge in his boxers.

Even though you kissed a lot of men, you never went further with them. You liked to tease and feel like you were the one who has the upperhand, when in reality you just needed someone who knew how to take care of your needs. None of the men you met gave you the impression they could handle you. Your ex boyfriend thought he could but he was way in over his head so you dumped him and moved on.

Taking a deep breath in, you finally took the last piece of clothing off.

"Oh." your Innie dolly is hung. "Well, that was definitely worth paying for." you snickered.

Your face started heating up the more you stared at it, biting on your lip and debating if you should just touch him.

"Miss y/n! Lunch is ready!" you heard the housekeeper yell.

"Coming!" you yelled back, grabbing a blanket and throwing it over Jeongin's naked body. You slipped your dress off before grabbing a more comfortable shirt and shorts, all under the watchful eye of the doll. You didn't mind that he was there because he is just a thing. And things can't come to life, can they?

You shrugged and went downstairs to eat lunch with your father.

"How was your outing, sweetheart?" he asked as the two of you ate, the sounds of utensils clattering and scraping against the plates was like a cacophony disturbing the peaceful classical music in the background.

You briefly glanced at the empty chair your mother used to occupy.

"It was fun. How was work?"

"As usual." his tone was flat. "You need to come in tomorrow, at least for four or five hours."

Right. You were an intern at your father's company, more so you were learning from him so you could take over the empire one day. It bored you to death to sit in an office full of people with sullen faces and serious suits, flipping papers and typing on the computer. You hated it but you had no other choice since you're an only child, everything naturally belongs to you.

You didn't say anything, just glanced towards the empty chair again.

When you got back to your room, you almost shrieked but quickly covered your mouth so you don't alarm Jack. You definitely didn't want him to come in and see this.

You turned the key in the door, checking twice if it was locked properly as your heart started beating fast. You turned to look at your dolly in disbelief. The blanket you had carefully covered him up with was on the floor, pooling by his feet. But what captured your attention was his cock, hard and red, standing proudly and taunting you. Your mouth opened and closed a few times.

Why did the dolly get aroused all by itself? You gulped as you observed him but his chest wasn't moving, in fact he looked kind of like a statue. A beautiful, perfect greek statue.

Your legs pressed together. The sight of his leaking cock made your insides stir. But at the same time, it felt weird. You tried to rationalize it in your head, he is a doll, he's not alive and he was made to be used and maybe it just got hard on its own sometimes. Hell, you didn't really know or care about the technology behind it.

All you knew is that something pulled you to him. So you slowly made your way towards Jeongin, hesitating just for another moment before you gently placed your hand on his thigh. Fingertips brushed his soft skin and you gasped at how warm he felt. You slowly slid your hand up towards his core, wrapping your fingers around his throbbing member and dipping your thumb into his slit experimentally.

An overwhelming thought of tasting him crossed your mind. So you slipped your thumb into your mouth, licking at the pre-cum that you had gathered on it. A muffled moan escaped your lips, he tasted so sweet that you couldn't believe it.

You slid down to your knees, nails digging into his thighs a little before you adjusted his legs so you can move comfortably between them. You didn't even do this for your ex, only once and it wasn't too fun. But you were so curious, and the doll was here, yours. And you had the upperhand.

Your tongue caught a drop of pre-cum as you stuck it to the underside of his tip before you started swirling all around it. Your eyes fluttered as you lightly sucked on the head, milking the pre-cum out of it and swallowing the sweet taste, something akin to vanilla. Your senses heightened as you sucked lazily, sliding down on him just a little more, your hand wrapped around his base and the other pushing your shorts down.

You had on your lacy underwear that barely concealed anything and it was already damp with your arousal. You slid the pads of your fingertips over your clit down to your wetness before coming back up to your sensitive nub. You didn't move your underwear in favor of teasing yourself. You loved it so much, the torture of it, the denial of it as you slowly circled your clit teasingly.

A whimper left your lips as your fingertips grazed against Jeongin's balls, your mouth sliding down further while you drooled around his cock. He twitched inside you so you cupped his balls, massaging them while you kept sucking on him faster, making yourself gag when his fat tip hit the back of your throat.

Your pussy was throbbing and clenching as you ran your fingers over your clit and folds haphazardly, only making yourself more wet and keeping yourself on the edge. You needed more, your hips grinding against your hand desperately as you moaned around Jeongin's cock. You wondered how long it will take for the doll to cum, noting that you read something about his balls being extra sensitive in the manual. But you were too embarrassed to read that in front of Jack even though he wasn't even looking at the manual, in his mind he was in Hawaii with his wife, and not rummaging through a dumpster of a stuck up rich girl.

This is not the time to think about your security guard, not when you're choking on Jeongin's cock. You focused on the dark on hand, squeezing his balls more as you sucked harder, your eyes fluttering shut as you pressed on your clit.

Suddenly, he twitched when you gripped him harder, your pussy clenching almost painfully as you were close to release. Your eyes opened up and you looked at him, his beauty, and you moaned around his length before you felt spurts of hot cum hit the back of your throat.

You choked a little, almost cumming yourself but you pressed your fingers on your folds, pushing the lacy fabric inside your wetness as you swallowed Jeongin's cum. You suckled until you were sure he was empty, sliding off of his now limp cock. You slumped against his thigh, puffing and panting as you enjoyed the feeling of ruining your own orgasm, your pussy swollen and wet, begging to be touched but you ignored it, instead you left kisses on Jeongin's soft thighs.

You got up when your breathing got even, grabbing the blanket and covering him up again, your hand tucking away a few strands of his hair and squeezing his hand.

"Sleep well, my pretty doll."

It was fun, having a human sized doll in your room. The last few days, whenever you weren't at your father's office or out, you'd play with Jeongin.

Dressing him up was a tedious task but still you wanted to try out all the pretty outfits they had sent together with the doll. One of the outfits added in a crop top, his toned muscles on display for you to touch. You smirked, getting an idea and running on your tippy toes to your walk-in closet.

Earlier, you had called in Jack to put Jeongin on your bed which the security guard did, without asking any questions but you could see him rolling his eyes. You didn't care though, you were home alone (except for the staff) and you wanted to have a good time before going out later.

You had put some music on, turning the volume all the way up as Madonna's Material Girl started playing, the speakers booming loudly in the big house, making Jack sigh in annoyance. Paying off debts, he thought. Just a bit more, he nodded to himself.

Inside your room, your mood went up as you sang along, you were a pretty good singer and usually the star of karaoke night so it was enjoyable to listen to you. You started moving along to the music as you rummaged through your clothes, the led lights installed in the shelves illuminated all the pretty colors and shiny glitter of your expensive collection. Your doll's eyes lit up but you were too busy looking at yourself in the mirror, trying to pick out the perfect dress for tonight.

One of them caught your eye the most; it was a brand new dress you haven't had the chance to take out yet, black with pretty glitter patterns and slits strategically placed to show skin on your cleavage and then also on your sides. You shrugged and stepped out of your pjs to put on the dress, deciding not to wear a bra under it.

"Damn." you spun around in the mirror with a smirk. "What do you think, Innie?" you asked your dolly as you made your way towards him. He looked as if he was blushing, his cute cheeks rosy.

"I think you like it." you giggled, covering your lips.

You kept dancing and swaying your hips, singing along as Jeongin's eyes followed you, it was almost unnoticeable as they moved ever so slowly.

You sat down in front of your mirror to put some make up on and in the reflection, you thought you saw Jeongin's head move a little. Quickly, you turned to look at him with a gasp but he was quiet and still. You felt a shiver run down your spine, an unnerving feeling appearing in your stomach.

"I'm crazy." you chuckled and turned back to your mirror so you could continue getting ready, glancing at your dolly every so often.

After you were done, you decided to take a fun little picture. Smirking, you grabbed your phone and made your way to your bed. You sat down next to Jeongin, making yourself comfortable as you put one leg over him, your dress riding up and exposing your thigh. You put his arm around you, making it look like he was holding you and then put your arm around his shoulders. You took a few selfies before choosing your favorite and then you posted it on insta with the caption 'bf'.

It didn't take long for the comments to start flooding in, he looked like a real person in the picture. You laughed in delight as you sat between your dollies legs and read all the reactions. Your closest friends knew you were just messing around as you have told them about purchasing the doll but other naive acquaintances really thought Jeongin was your boyfriend, a living human being.

You finally got up after some time and when you looked at your pretty dolly, you noticed a prominent bulge in his pants.

"You like my dress so much?" you giggled, shaking your head. You still had some time before your friends arrived to pick you up.

"Now, what do I do with you?" you sighed, wishing he was alive so he could take care of you properly, do all the things you fantasize about and touch yourself to. You wished he'd take control over you, treat you like you were the doll and not him.

You had no choice though so you decided to make the best of it and slowly slid his pants down. You didn't bother putting any underwear on him earlier so his cock sprung out, slapping against his abs deliciously. With a quiet giggle, you pushed your panties aside and hovered over him. He was already oozing pre-cum and you gathered it on your fingers, bringing them to your clit.

A moan left your lips as you smeared the liquid on your pussy, getting yourself wet and even more turned on. Your other hand roamed on his abs, down to his cock as you played with it. Wrapping your fingers around him, you scooted closer and ran his tip on your throbbing core.

"Mm. You're so big." you whimpered as you pushed his tip between your slick folds slowly, your tight pussy barely taking him in. You closed your eyes, fantasizing about Jeongin tying you up and pushing it in all in one go to make you take it, use you just for his pleasure and you whimpered, spreading your pussy with your hands and forcing yourself down on his length. You gasped, struggling and tearing up as you took all of him in, taking a moment to adjust.

You gripped at his shoulders and slowly started fucking on him. Your quiet whimpers filled up the space along with the slick sounds of your wet pussy as you clenched around him. Jeongin's cock twitched and throbbed inside you and you dug your nails into him, moving faster. The pain you felt melted into pleasure the more you took him in and the harder you slapped your hips on his.

You felt so close, your orgasm building up and right before you reached that high you slid off of him, stopping yourself and plopping down into his chest as you breathed hard. Clutching at his arms, you buried your face in Jeongin's neck and started kissing his soft skin.

"Come to life, please." you whined as you dragged your sensitive pussy over his hard length. His tip slipped in and you pushed down, taking him in again and moving on top of him. You angled your hips right on accident, a moan ripping out of you as his tip pressed right into your sweet spot. You whined loudly as you fucked on him desperately, chasing that feeling again and again.

On the brink of your high, you had stopped again, clenching around him.

"Fuck." you gasped as you phone started ringing.

You reached for it blindly as you held onto Jeongin.

"Hello?"

"Girl, we're here." it was Crystal and you groaned on accident.

"Having fun with your boyfriend?" she snickered, and you could hear your friends chuckling along in the background.

"Always." you smirked, still a little breathless. "I'll be down in a sec." you added and hung up before she could answer.

You weren't gonna be down in a second and they knew it. You didn't care though, you wanted Jeongin to cum. So you slid off of him and grabbed his cock with one hand and put the other on his sensitive balls. You jerked him off skilfully, twisting your hand at the top and massaging his balls, pulling on them just a little. When you felt him twitch you quickly buried his tip into your pussy, feeling him cum inside you and against your warmth as it slipped out, making a mess.

"Ugh, sorry." you whispered to no one in particular as you brought your fingers down and pushed his cum back inside, pulling your panties over your core. You licked the rest off your fingers before quickly cleaning Jeongin up and covering his lower region with your blanket.

"I'll be back, pretty dolly." you squeezed and kissed his hand with a smirk.

Though you were tipsy and there was a hot man grinding on you, you couldn't stop thinking about your dolly. God, were you horny.

You imagined that the guy behind you was Jeongin so you let him grope your ass. You didn't mind as he held you against him possessively, you just wished it was your dolly. Your beautiful dolly.

You leaned your head back on the man's shoulder as you closed your eyes and bit on your lip. He took that as an invitation, his lips brushing against your neck before he left kisses on your heated skin. In the darkness, no one saw or cared when he put his hand under your dress and touched your wet cunt. You never went so far with a random man but something about imagining it being your doll made you relax when he pushed his fingers inside you. You felt so dirty, letting a stranger finger you in a club, when you had no idea what his name was or even looked at his face long enough to remember what he looked like. But in your mind he was Jeongin and that was enough.

As always, before you could cum, a kind of clarity washed over you and you tore away from the man abruptly, startling him a little.

"You okay? Did I hurt you?" he seemed concerned and sweet.

"Fine. I just have to go. Sorry, love." you gave him a smile and a peck before running off.

You felt diabolical.

And it felt so good.

It became a routine. Dressing Jeongin up, stripping him down and playing with him. It's been one month since your dolly arrived, observing your daily movements as you went out often, coming back either tipsy or with a new manicure and shopping bags.

Saturdays were reserved for parties as always but lately they excited you less and less. Even the new clothes you bought felt somewhat disappointing. You couldn't pinpoint what exactly was making you feel so disgruntled, until you realized you were thinking about Jeongin all the time.

You wondered how his voice would sound, his laugh. How it would feel when he hugged you. How his lips would move against yours. How he'd make love to you. Were you falling in love with a doll?

You wished he was human. It angered you that he wasn't so one day, you picked him up, accidentally knocking his arm against your nightstand.

"Sorry." you muttered as your eyes teared up. He was too heavy. You dropped him on the floor on accident, a loud thud echoing off of the walls.

"Sorry, I'm sorry!" you panicked. Why are you apologizing, it's a thing - you thought to yourself.

You had no other choice but to grip his wrists and pull him towards your closet where you left him in a corner, like any other toy you got sick of playing with.

It's time to find a real man.

Darkness. Jeongin took a desperate breath as he clawed at his throat. No matter how many times he blinked, all he saw was darkness. In a state of panic he crawled on the floor, his hands touching the soft carpet underneath him, searching for any kind of switch, any source of light.

"Ow." Jeongin muttered when his head collided with something sturdy.

He touched around it and realized it was a shelf with clothes, the fabrics expensive and soft as he ran his fingertips on them. They all smelled like you.

Why have you left him? Why don't you want to play with him anymore? He thought you liked him. At least it seemed so ever since the day you got him. Finally his hand found a switch and when it turned on, he was almost blinded by all the shine and colors.

You left him in your closet. Jeongin stood up on wobbly legs and opened the door that lead to your room. He saw a water bottle on your vanity and quickly grabbed it, chugging all of it down. He knew where you kept a stash of snacks, next to your bed in a shelf, so he sat on the mattress and ate everything you had. His stomach still growled, he was starving.

When are you coming back?, Jeongin thought.

Two weeks had passed since you left Jeongin in your closet, and even though he wasn't even real, no other man excited you like he did. You wondered how that was possible since he was just a doll, an object.

Maybe you were crazy, who knows?

Shaking your thoughts off, you walked into your room, darkness enveloping all your favorite things. But before you could reach for the switch an arm wrapped around your middle, a hand pressed against your lips as you tried to scream.

You kicked your legs as your eyes widened in fear.

"It's me, Jeongin. Your dolly. It's okay, don't be afraid." you heard a sweet voice in your ear and you frowned, repeating his name but it was muffled behind his hand.

"Please don't scream or hit me." he said and you nodded as he let you go and flipped the switch on at the same time. You turned around and backed away, a gasp escaping your lips as he stood in front of you.

"W-what? Am I- Is this a hallucination?" you blinked.

"No, I'm here."

"How is that possible?" your lips trembled.

"I - I could hear you, see you and feel you the entire time. I answered in my head and willed myself to talk but I couldn't, not without breaking out of my state." he explained and you stared at him for a moment.

Tears of frustration built up in your eyes and you slapped your hand on his chest.

"Why did it take you so long? Why? Why?" you cried as you kept hitting him and Jeongin grabbed your wrists, pulling you closer.

You went quiet immediately as he looked at you.

"I'm here now."

"You're real." you smiled after a moment.

"I'm real." he whispered with a smile, his dimple making an appearance and making you melt against him.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked and you nodded slowly.

Jeongin leaned in and pressed his lips sweetly on yours.

He tasted so good. Jeongin. Your Jeongin. Your dolly was alive.

You threw your arms around him, holding him tightly and he returned the hug, gripping you and pushing you up against his warm body.

You stayed like that for a moment, Jeongin reveling in the fact that he can finally hold you, touch you, feel you like he wanted to. And you were estatic that your wish came true.

"You remember everything I said or did?" you gulped as you face burned.

"Yeah." he smirked and you whined, burying your face in his neck. "It's okay, princess. I'll take care of you." he whispered with a kiss to your head.

"You will?" you looked up at him and he nodded.

"But first, I really need to eat a proper meal. I - um ate all your snacks." he grimaced and you gasped, smacking his arm.

"My stash is gone! Ugh, fine, I'll ask Donna to cook something for us." you grabbed his wrist, dragging him towards the door.

"Wait! What about your dad?" Jeongin asked.

"He's on a business trip anyways. I don't have to explain anything to him." you shrugged and led him downstairs.

Jack's eyes widened when he saw the doll that came in a box alive and he was alarmed instantly but you were quick to dismiss him. Donna didn't ask any questions, just prepared a tasty meal for the two of you.

"So, do you remember anything from before you got here?" you asked.

Jeongin pursed his lips and furrowed his brows, staring into the bowl of rice before him.

"I can't... I can't remember." his frown deepened.

"Nothing?"

"Not a thing." he shook his head.

"You don't remember the other dolls?"

"No." Jeongin shook his head again.

You grabbed your phone and pulled up the site, showing him the rest of the collection.

"I have no recollection of them." he said in a frustrated tone, a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead. "I've never seen them in my life."

"That's strange." you shrugged. "Are you sure you don't remember anything?"

"No and honestly," he paused. "I don't know if I want to remember. All I want is to be with you."

You smiled, putting your phone aside and cradling his cheek in your palm.

"Me too."

After the delicious dinner, you led Jeongin back up to your room. It was him who locked the door this time as you approached your vanity to take your jewelry off.

"I have one question, princess." Jeongin stood behind you, and your eyes shifted to look at his.

"Yeah?" you gulped at his intense gaze.

"Why did you leave me in the closet?" he asked.

Your necklace almost slipped out of your hands before you turned to look at him.

"I was sad that you weren't coming to life." you said.

"So, you abandoned me?" he said, his eyes darkened but a little smirk started playing on his lips.

"I didn't- I didn't mean to. I swear I would've-"

"Shh, princess. I get it. I know exactly what you need." Jeongin stepped closer to you, his body hovering over yours as you backed up into the vanity, making it clatter.

"Y-you do?" your eyes fluttered.

"Remember I heard and saw everything. The fantasies you described to your friends. What you did to me. To yourself." his smirk grew wider. "Do I have your permission, doll?"

Your knees almost buckled right then and there. Your dolly came to life and called you his doll.

How ironically sexy.

"Yes." you said quietly and he let out a breathless chuckle as he leaned in closer to you. His strong arm encircled your waist, his free hand sliding up on your body to your neck as he wrapped his fingers around you. Your breath got stuck in your throat as he held you in place like that.

Jeongin pushed his thigh between your legs roughly, pulling them apart and pressing against your heated core, making your dress ride up. You whimpered, eyes wide in surprise and he squeezed your neck a little.

"You always act like a desperate little slut. Don't be shy now." he said lowly and you gasped, your hips moving almost automatically as you started grinding against Jeongin's thigh. He flexed the muscle as he squeezed your neck harder, cutting off you air supply while looking you right in the eyes. You gripped at the vanity, your pussy gushing with arousal as Jeongin manhandled you.

He released your neck at just the right time and you gasped, taking a deep breath as he removed his leg.

"W-why?" you whimpered, looking at his thigh and he chuckled darkly.

"I thought you liked being edged and denied." he smirked.

"I- I do." you licked your lips. You were finally getting exactly what you always wanted.

"I think you deserve to be punished for leaving me in the closet." Jeongin stated, his large hands sliding your dress up just a little.

"Mhm, I think so too." you said, your heart beating fast and pussy clenching in excitement.

Swiftly, Jeongin turned you around and pushed your upper body on top of the vanity. You gasped, wiggling a little as he looked at your barely covered ass in the dress. The first slap came unexpectedly over the fabric, only the tips of his fingers making contact with your soft skin. You whimpered, shutting your eyes tightly.

"I think that's not enough." Jeongin shook his head before pushing your dress up, leaving you exposed in your little thongs.

"Tsk. Walking around dressed like a whore." he smirked, landing a strong smack on your ass.

"Ah!" you whimpered and jolted, your nails digging into the wood underneath you.

"Bad girl." Jeongin whispered before landing a series of smacks to your flesh.

"Fuck." you whimpered, wiggling your ass a little.

"You're enjoying this aren't you?" Jeongin asked, smacking your ass again and you moaned, opening your eyes and looking at his reflection in the mirror.

"Well, are you?" he gave you a few more hard smacks.

"I am! I am!" you whined as Jeongin massaged your already sore asscheeks.

"Then it's not really punishment, is it?" he smirked, his palm colliding with your heated skin again.

"Mm. Do it harder." you groaned.

"Harder? Are you sure?" he asked, pinching your flesh a little and making you moan as your arousal soaked your little panties.

"Yes, I'm sure, please punish me Innie." you whimpered and he started smacking you harder, without even stopping for a moment to give you time to breathe. You moaned and gasped, grabbing desperately at your vanity as your legs trembled, tears slowly rolling down your cheeks. Jeongin held you down, his hand splayed on your upper back.

"M-more." you cried.

Jeongin smirked and stopped, making you whine loudly.

"Shut up." he said before giving your pussy a hard slap.

"Ah!" your eyes widened as you almost came. "S-stop."

"Hm? What's wrong?" he leaned over you with a little smirk.

"I don't - don't wanna cum yet."

"Oh you won't, don't worry." he chuckled lowly before lifting you up. Your knees buckled a little, the throbbing pain on your abused backside made you so horny that you wanted to cry.

"Get on your knees, doll." Jeongin ordered, his fingers tangling in your hair and you obeyed without questions. He thought you looked so adorable with your innocent eyes and pouty lips, so ready to do what he says, to please him.

He took his pants off, grabbing his hard cock and stepping closer to you. A wave of excitement ran through your body, your mouth watering.

"Open up." he smirked at your already fucked out state.

You decided to be a little bad. So you pressed your lips together and shook your head 'no'.

"No?" Jeongin raised an eyebrow.

You shook your head again, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

"Are you being disobedient?" he asked and you giggled before shutting your mouth again.

Jeongin wasn't having it, his hand came up to grip your hair as he brought your face closer, slapping your cheek with his hard cock.

"Do as I say." he growled and you whimpered quietly but still disobeyed.

"You made me do this." he said, pinching your nose and you tried to take it but you had to open your mouth to breathe at some point. He took that chance to push his cock inside you, releasing your nose at the same time so you could breathe.

You choked a little but still took it, your hands curled behind your back as Jeongin gripped your hair and started fucking into you. You moaned and gagged around him as he snapped his hips into you mercilessly, pushing deeper in with every thrust.

"You love having your dirty mouth used like this, don't you princess?" he smirked at you as you cried and drooled around him.

"I asked you a question." he slapped your cheek lightly with his fingers and you moaned around him, gagging as he pushed in deeply.

"I know you do." Jeongin whispered and pulled out abruptly, making you gasp for air.

Before you could come to your senses, your vision still blurred from the tears, you shrieked as you realized you were being lifted up. Jeongin threw you on the bed, stripping you out of your dress.

You were in a daze, never this turned on in your life as he took off your panties and stuffed them into your mouth, making you whimper.

"It's your turn to be my doll." Jeongin snickered, grabbing his belt and tying your hands up to the headboard. You arched your body as you spread your legs, begging to be touched.

"You want me to use you for my pleasure?" Jeongin asked and you nodded frantically, your whimpers muffled by your panties as you tasted yourself.

"I'll use you like the toy you are." he said, pressing his cock against your folds and gathering the wetness before he pushed it into your tight pussy, making your eyes roll back as you cried. It hurt so good as he bottomed out, your pussy clenching around his length and sucking him in.

Your cries were muffled by the lacy fabric in your mouth as Jeongin started pounding his hips into yours.

"No cumming unless I say so." he hovered over you, his cock splitting you apart deliciously as his hands squeezed your breasts. You lost yourself in the pleasure of being fucked so fervently by him that you almost came. Your eyes shut tightly as you willed yourself to hold it in but it was so hard as Jeongin pressed right into your sweet spot every single thrust. Tears of frustration spilled out of your eyes as you clenched.

"Look at me while I fuck you." he said, slapping you lightly. Your eyes snapped open and you looked into his darkened ones.

"Good girl." he praised you, making your insides spin. "Now, take my cum." he added as he squeezed your hips and fucked into you with even more vigor.

You moaned pathetically around your gag, your hands squeezed into fists as you held your orgasm back. You felt like your insides would burst with how much you needed to cum.

You felt Jeongin's hot cum fill you up and your eyes rolled back, having no more control over it, you came with him as he moaned loudly, fucking his seed deep into you.

Your body trembled as you cried and he quickly pulled the makeshift gag out of your mouth.

"You okay?" he asked breathlessly.

"Water, please." you whimpered and Jeongin untied your hands before grabbing a bottle of water as you sat up.

"So, was that exactly how you wanted it?" he asked.

"Mhm. But you shouldn't have let me cum at the end." you smirked and he chuckled.

"I'll punish you for that next time." he smirked before leaning in to kiss you as you reached for his hand.

"I really am sorry I put you in the closet." you whispered against his lips and then kissed his dimples when he smiled at you.

"It's okay, I forgive you." Jeongin kissed your forehead.

"Just so you know. You're my boyfriend now." you giggled and Jeongin laughed, giving you another kiss.

You had to come up with a cover up for your father. You had bribed Jack to stay quiet as your first move and then you and Jeongin made up some story about him being your boyfriend who came to visit you from another city so that's why he had to stay with you. Your father eyed Jeongin suspiciously, asking him a few questions about his parents and what college he went to, and after some lies that you both practiced before, he gave Jeongin a pat on the shoulder.

"Treat her well, son." your father's eyes narrowed. It was not just a statement, it was a threat.

Jeongin gulped and nodded. "Of course, sir."

Your father nodded curtly before leaving to his office.

"Phew, that was close." you giggled, throwing your arms around his shoulders.

"I'm sweating bullets." Jeongin shivered and you laughed, throwing your head back. You were finally happy.

Your days were filled with Jeongin. Your shopping mall visits became visits to the cinema, your fancy restaurants became the places where you'd take him out on dates, your nights out in clubs were replaced with nights in, dancing in your room with your precious dolly.

You took him out to play golf with your father and Jack, to your country club, even to a little trip to one of your favorite resorts.

Your days were beautiful. Your nights, however, were something completely different.

A long white corridor. Distant muffled voices. A ringing in Jeongin's ear. Gloved hands grabbing at him and wheeling him off into a huge room with tall ceilings. The sound of whirring and the sight of the shiny androids working on top of him. He couldn't move or speak.

"Try the left side again." a painful prod at his side.

"He's unresponsive."

"Type this in." sounds of a keyboard clacking.

"It's like his vitals are lighting up but there's a bug somewhere."

"I know there's a bug! Let's get the other one. He seemed to respond to him better than us."

Jeongin couldn't see who the voices belonged to. Silence. The door clicked open. Then footsteps.

His angel appeared by his bedside.

"Hey, can you hear me?" he spoke in a deep, warm voice, a sunny smile gracing his freckled face.

"Look! It's happening now. He can hear him. Keep talking to him, number six."

"Just listen to my voice." the angel spoke again. "I'm here. I'll always be here." it echoed.

The room started spinning and turned into a cozy office. Gone was the angel and the androids. Jeongin was sitting in a nice leather chair, his body free of pain. He looked up, almost blinded by the sunlight coming from the window, when she appeared, her soft features comforting.

"Don't worry, Innie." the older woman said, coughing a little. "I won't let them hurt you." she said, but her voice was weak and her hands trembled.

"Mother?"

Jeongin sat up with a gasp, his body drenched in sweat, tears sliding down his cheeks.

"Innie?" you whispered, alarmed as you sat up too, your hand grabbing his. "Another nightmare?"

"I think these things happened to me." he said, breathing hard as he panicked.

"Oh?" you urged him on and he told you the entire dream.

"Wait. What did you say this 'angel' looked like?"

"Blonde. Freckles. Plump lips."

"Is this him?" you quickly picked your phone up, showing him the dolls he couldn't recognize before.

"That... yes, but he looks a little different there."

"Different how?" you asked.

"Like... More finished?"

You shivered. What the hell were they? And who made them? Most importantly, why?

"That's Felix. He's another doll like you."

"They called him number six. They called me number eight. But the woman at the end of the dream, she called me Innie." he gulped.

"I wish I could buy Felix so we could ask him what he remembers. But he is already sold out." you sighed. "Do you remember any of the other dolls? Did you dream about them?"

"No... I can't... I can't remember them." Jeongin shook his head. He was getting visibly upset.

"Hey, hey, Innie it's okay. Drink some water, yeah?" After he gulped down on the cool liquid, you pulled him into your arms.

"Let's sleep. We'll get to the bottom of this. Me and you." you pecked his lips as he searched your face.

But the next day, as you opened your eyes, your dolly was gone. You searched frantically for him, asking everyone in the house if they saw him leave but nobody did.

With tears blurring your vision, you found a note stuck next to your pillow.

'I'm sorry, I had to find out.'

Jeongin stood in front of the familiar building that loomed above him threateningly. How did he remember where to go? He had no idea. But he got there somehow, his eyes roaming all over the concrete walls and the bars on the windows. A shiver ran down his spine, an uncomfortable itch clawing inside his stomach. His eyes moved up and he stopped in his tracks.

There in one of the reflections in the glass he saw his angel, tears running down his freckled cheeks as he stared out the window.

He had to get in.

taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @porangporangmeong @laylasbunbunny @laughatdanger @jeonginslefthand @sapphirewaves @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @painterhyunjin @moon-ttokki-x @saintcosette @ooshyana @frehyun @scarlet789 @skzdust @schniti-is-in-the-house @eastjonowhere @sona1800 @channiesrightasscheek @justwonder113 @yvettemint @inaribu00 @httpdwaekki @possum-playground @ria-april @yn-x-them @mariahxrrera @0omillo0 @halfwinterhalfuniverse @cooldeermagazine @delulkpopstan143 @todorokiskitten @compersian @azxulskz @stayp1eceposts @juskz @quokkacidal @chuuyaobsessed @whatdoyouwanttocallmefor @lixies-favorite-cookie @thelostprincessofasgard @linocvp1d @stayjinnie @portgasdbru @lilgothhishhh @selinia86 @felixsbabe @staytinyluva @sadroses98 @katexstay @gnabnahcsworld @hazelbazil @iwannahugchangbin @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @skzfelixlove @skzjen @syedazarintasnim @geektacularmommom-blog @cookiesnmilfx @kayleefriedchicken @stxt-bby @strykdsstanot8 @hyunjinhwang2018 @binniesbabygirl @hyunjiniretti @linavc @julciaqwerty @salemluvsmusic @diipsy

2K notes · View notes

cashmoneyyysstuff · 10 months ago

Text

half return.

synopsis : katsuki’s decides to go home for the weekend, he invites you to come with him.

an. I'M BACK ! yall it’s been a while since ive written a full lil fic and this has been itw for a lil bit so i hope yall enjoy ! requests are still otw ! but i figured I’d write a little something to celebrate mha ending :(( tysm mha you will forever be my most beloved animanga in the whole world..BUT ANYWAY SAD STUFF ASIDE yall know i had to bring back my childhood friends to lovers on em,,cmon NOWW ITS JUST MY FAV TROPE YALL 🤧🤧🤧🤧 Anyways, i hope yall enjoy, much luv xxx

cw. SUPER childhood friends to lovers (MY BIG ONE), MHA MANGA SPOILERS (post war and katsuki in rehab !), kissing and being in lubbb bleurghh, soft suki, sleeping in the same bed, mitsuki and katsuki lol, masaru being a sweetie, cooking, lemme know if i missed sum else <33 !!

“i’m goin’ back home for the weekend.”

these are the first words spoken in a couple of minutes. you were content with sitting in katsuki’s dorm room back at the height alliance, simply sitting in the same space doing your own thing. things slowly taking back their normal course despite you all still having a lot of work to do.

you look up from your phone to look at katsuki who’s eyes have not drifted from his. “oh yeah ? that sounds nice.” you smile, you’re sure his parents must want nothing more than to spend time with their son who saved the world. and you think secretly, he wants to go home too.

he grunts in response, continuing to scroll through his feed. and after a pause he adds “hag asked if you wanted to come with.”

you blink at him, it has been a while since you’ve properly spent time with katsuki’s parents. the last times you did it was when they came to visit you in the hospital to wish you well and offer you some sweets, not exactly the most joyous of occasions, but you loved seeing them either way.

you blink up at him, “are you sure that’d be okay ? i mean, it’s a family thing, no ?”

katsuki shrugs in response “‘s not up to me, she wants to see you so bad.” he glances at you “you gonna say no to her ?” you snicker at his teasing. mitsuki was a sweetheart, but she still intimidated you a little bit since she was a rather..intense woman.

“well i’d hate to disappoint her.” you jest, katsuki snorts, soft smirk pulling at his face as he rolls his eyes. he finally turns to look at you “you don’t have to, i could just tell her you’re busy.” your heart shakes at his subtle reassurance, but you shake your head.

“that’s fine, it’s been a while since i’ve been to your house anyway.” you scooch closer to your boyfriend, laying your head against his chest as he wraps his arm around you immediately. you want to get as close to his heart as possible, wanting to hear even the faintest of sound. to make sure he’s really there with you at times.

katsuki’s hand is warm as he softly rubs up and down your arm, “yeah it has, hasn’t it..” he sighs, and you think he was talking for both of you.

katsuki's house feels no different from when you were a kid.

the house still smells the same, mitsuki always told you that she liked the soft fresh scent she sprayed through the house. she always liked to leave at least one window open because she said it felt too stuffy, a habit that you recognised in your boyfriend, but that was also probably because he ran hotter than most people.

it calmed her, she said, and with how rowdy katsuki was lord knew she needed it. katsuki always complained when his mother would try out new air fresheners, and you remember his distain for a particular strong lavender one. (although you didn't like it much, either.)

the couches are still the same, all the pictures hanging around the house are unchanged as well. pictures of mitsuki and masaru at their wedding, of katsuki getting a big all might figure for christmas, and of you both at your elementary school entrance ceremony. you giggle every time you see it because katsuki's face hasn't changed much aside from it's pudginess. his expression fierce and you could even see how tight he was gripping your hand in the picture. (katsuki doesn't find it as funny as you do.)

katsuki's mom has always been very youthful, her face hasn't changed much from the years you've known her aside from some wrinkles appearing with age, she still looked as gorgeous as ever. you've always thought she was stunning. she greets you just as excitedly as she did when you were six and came over to play. although she can't scoop you up in her arms anymore she still embraces you so tightly, she stills comments on how big you've gotten and how you manage to look prettier every time she sees you, you feel just as warm.

as usual, katsuki is quick to try and drag you to his room as soon as he gets the chance, not before getting an earful from his mother for not responding to her texts and not telling him how he was doing. they quickly get to arguing, like usual. and masaru quickly comes to your aid so you don't have to sit in the middle of the two loud blondes.

his voice is as gentle as you've always known it to be as he asks you if you're okay, if you're starting up school well. his soft tone and the care he has for you makes you feel warm too.

katsuki manages to swiftly get you two out of the living room, stomping up the stairs and mumbling to himself about his damn old hag. you giggle and he turns to glare at you, squeezing your hand hard and scoffing.

you see katsuki visibly slow down the closer you get to his room, his expression visibly more calm than a few moments ago. serene, like he's taking it all in. you squeeze his hand tighter and he squeezes back, you don't think he realises it.

it takes you back too, the sound of your footsteps in your ears reminds you of your socked feet running around the hallway chasing each other, padding softly against the floor when you would try to sneak a cookie late at night 'cus katsuki told you you were too chicken to go. you can almost hear your loud laughter and soft giggles in your ears. you're griping katsuki's hand.

katsuki sighs before opening the door to his room, the window is already open, his mom most definitely did this to greet him back in her own way, he stays quiet about it. you see how he scans around his room like he hadn't been there in years, a lot of stuff he had in here before was sitting in his dorm room now, but it's still his room. black sheets replace his previous one's, the one's that were used to replace his even older all might themed one's. you'd really seen it all, it makes you even more nostalgic.

"hasn't changed much." you hear him mumble, he looks around at the posters on his wall. the look in his eyes is a foreign one, it's a sort of peace you don't see often in him.

"did you expect it to ?" you tease, taking slow steps like you're exploring a museum. his room is no different, it shouldn't be. but you think maybe it's because you're both a bit more different than the last time you've been in here, maybe you've both grown up a bit more. katsuki plops down onto the floor, leaning against his bed, you follow suit.

"guess not," he scoffs, running a hand through his hair. you both sit in silence, your eyes fixed on a poster on his door. it's crinkly and it's a bit torn up around the edges. you lean your head onto katsuki shoulders and inhale, breathing the room in and close your eyes. you feel him wrap his arm around you after a moment. after the experiences you've both had, being able to relax like this with him is more than you could ever ask for. he squeezes your shoulder and you snuggle against him more when he presses his nose to your hairline, pressing a kiss to it shortly after. you feel warm all over again.

you've sat on this floor more times than you could count. laying on you're back as you laughed with your best friend, on your stomach as you read comics together. you'd eat snacks too, but katsuki never liked eating on his bed because he'd get bothered by crumbs, so you were on the floor most often. laying on it too much made your stomach hurt, and you knew your butt would be sore. but you'd go through any pain to be with katsuki, and with everything you'd been through a sore butt was absolutely nothing.

you sit there for longer than you should in a room that hasn't changed, that wasn't left untouched for long. you have memories with every thing inside this room, katsuki still the all might bobble head you'd gotten him as a joke in your room. you see the fake golden first place medal he'd gotten when your elementary school had track races. so much that you've shared with him, so much more you want to share.

right now in his room frozen in time, you feel like you have all the time in the world. it's foolish, but it's nostalgic, and it fills you with hope that everything will be like usual again.

"you're peeling those all wrong."

the sound of slicing stills as you look over at your boyfriend. you tilt your head "i'm not."

"you are, unless you actually want to cut your fingers off." he fights, rolling his eyes. you turn your nose up at him, frowning down at the potato in your hands. it looked good, you knew you were doing good.

"asshole." you grunt, you hear katsuki grunt next to you, the clattering of his own knife cutting carrots (you’re surprised he’s still that good at it despite only having one arm) catches your attention before you feel him press behind you. you stiffen, you try not to let him see the effect he has on you because you know he gets annoying about it.

when you were kids, katsuki always thought it was funny to say you needed him, joking that he was your knight in shining armor because you kept clinging to him, his words not yours. despite it seeming like he was clingier than you.

he places his hand over yours, it’s warm as it cover yours and guides you. you feel your heart pick up when he speaks closer to your ear. "you shouldn't cut towards yourself. and you slice too damn fast," he leans into your shoulder "ease up a bit."

you swallow, your heart beats in your ears "okay. thanks, mr. know it all." you mutter bitterly. katsuki continues to move your hand for you, you don't stop him.

"you should be glad i am, otherwise i would’a let you keep hacking at shit like a maniac." he chuckles.

your throw your head back and groan "ugh, you're so annoying."

you've known it for years. katsuki has been your best friend since you were in diapers and despite how much you love him, you will be the first one to complain about how fucking annoying he is.

even when you were babies. your mom told you that katsuki would take your pacifier and shove it in his own mouth while you wailed helplessly. he'd tug at your hair and poke you in class. you're sure you've called him every name in the book ; a meanie, a big bully, annoying, a jerk, an asshole, a dick head, every mean word you'd learned over the years. it makes you a bit nostalgic, but he's just so irritating.

he huffs, shoving his head into your shoulder. his hand still over yours, and he slowly lowers it into the counter. you drop the knife to turn to blink at him with wide eyes. he keeps his eyes on yours and returns to his earlier position so you don't see this embarrassment covering his cheeks. he wraps his arm around your waist tightly, pressing against you harder making up for the one that can’t. you snort at his antics.

you're sure katsuki will be an irritating know it all for the rest of his life, he's been for as long as you've known him after all. but one thing he always hated was making you upset. he always claimed it irritated him when he went too far and you'd ignore him, but in the few times he made you cry, you always saw how apologetic he looked. how his eyes were just a bit a glossy when he'd tuck his head into your shoulder in shame. he never said sorry often unless his mom forced him too when she caught you two arguing, but you always knew he was with the way he insisted on sharing his snacks with you, how he let you play with the better controller, how if he was feeling really sweet he'd kiss your cheek and look away with a bright red face.

as irritating as he is, you do hope he never changes.

you wish you could stay here for longer, just a bit longer, but you worry one of his parents (most likely his mom) would walk in and see you both. you pat at his arm squeezing it softly "i think i got the hang of it, katsu." you utter softly. he grunts, staying against you for a moment longer before moving away, squeezing your side, to which you squeal in surprise, you see him smirk and he goes back to his own cutting board.

so irritating, you think. yet you bite your lip to hide the smile growing on your face.

“hey, bathroom’s free if you want it.”

katsuki’s still drying his hair with his towel when he pads into the room, his room.

you tear your eyes away from one of his many all might figures, running your fingers across it’s details “oh okay, thanks.” you stretch, arms and all might rising along with you. you hear katsuki scoff and he stomps over, ripping the figure out of your hand.

“be careful with that.” he growls, you giggle apologetically “sorry, sorry..” he rolls his eyes, placing it back neatly on his shelf, posing the arms exactly as he likes them.

what a nerd, you think. you giggle to yourself.

katsuki’s bathroom reminds you of sleepovers. of being sent up to brush your teeth before bed and racing to see which one of you could do it the fastest and get their teeth the cleanest, you both could never agree on it. it reminds you of how much katsuki hated the flavor of the toothpaste and would make such an ugly face when he’d taste it you’d fall over laughing. it reminds you of gargling mouthwash and competing on who could do it the loudest.

katsuki was always the one who started those ridiculous contests and was always the sorest of losers, but you never backed down from his challenges. it made things more fun, he made things more fun.

you’d known this bathroom for your entire life, if the picture book filled with pictures of you and katsuki in the bath together didn’t prove that fact. (though katsuki likes to pretend they don’t exist.)

the kid’s scented shampoo is gone now, the one you’re using doesn’t make as many bubbles as the other one did, and it doesn’t smell as fruity sweet. things change, just like you.

you feel cozy in your pyjama’s. katsuki had insisted you sleep in his room, looking at you like you grew another head when you told him you’d sleep in the guest bedroom. “don’t piss me off, you’re sleeping here.” is all he’d offered you.

and sure, you always have. katsuki hated being separated from you and you from him, so you sleeping in his room was mandatory. but besides on a few occasions, you still haven’t slept with him alone since you were a kid. it’s stupid, but it makes you a bit nervous. it’s stupid, but you hope you don’t look weird while you sleep and you hope to every god you don’t drool.

katsuki looks up at you when you walk through the bedroom door. you smile at him and he jerks his neck to signal you to come in, scooting over to make more space for you. you close the door softly behind you, not wanting to disturb katsuki’s parents you’d already wished goodnight to, you softly pad over to him and he snorts.

“why’re you creepin’ like that ?” he smirks, clearly amused.

“i don’t want to disturb others by stomping around like a behemoth, unlike you.” you sass. katsuki scoffs, glaring at you.

“fuck off,” he snarls “you look stupid. lookin’ like you’re about to steal christmas.”

you gasp, walking over to his bed, and smacking his arm, he barks out a loud laugh and you shove him, he shoves you back with his good arm and you continue to scuffle and poke at the other’s stomach and sides until you push his arms away and scoot back. he huffs proudly, always the arrogant bastard. the sorest of losers.

you make your way to lay down next to him, there’s a bit of a distance though. because you feel petty, but also because it’s strange thinking you’ll fall asleep with him like this willingly. it won’t be accidentally like it happened a few times in his dorm room and you’d begrudgingly go back to your own room. you nervously rub at your legs.

“the fuck’re are you doin’ ?”

“what ?” you huff, trying to mask your embarrassment with annoyance. katsuki only raises a brow.

“yer actin’ fucking weird.” he scowls, you scowl back.

“am not !”

“are too.”

“i’m not doing this with you.” you sigh petulantly, crossing your arms. “i’m just fine.” you hear katsuki scoff next to you.

“sure, weirdo.” your side eye makes him laugh, he leans his shoulder against his headboard “come over here.”

you roll your eyes, but you’re shuffling to his side embarrassingly fast. katsuki leans his head into your neck, pressing a peck there and two to your cheek. which he proceeds to bite once, then leans even more in your space to bite your nose to make you laugh. he grunts at something blocking him from pulling you closer, which ends up being his own arm.

“move that for me, yeah ?” he grumbles, looking down towards his arm. you blink at him before slowly reaching for it. you can tell it wants to flinch with the way the muscles between his thumb and pointer finger tighten and how his breath hitches. he doesn’t stop you when you grab a hold of it. it hangs limply as you draw shapes across it.

“how are you doing here ?” you whisper, he’s close enough to hear you like this. his eyes don’t look away from yours fixed on his hand.

“‘m startin’ to feel it better..an' i can move my arm some, can't move my hand at all though.” he mutters lowly, lidded eyes on you “doc says it’s good progress.”

“that’s good.” you smile, relieved. you’d been a bit worried about katsuki denying a prosthetic but you immediately hated yourself for doubting him. he had his own reasons for refusing it and if he thought he could handle therapy, then that meant he could.

"that's really good."

you trust him, you always have. you trust him with your life, and you’ll trust him when he tells you he’ll always come back to you, even if he scares the shit out of you. you trusted him for trust fall when he promised he would catch you and he did, even if he did scare you. you trusted him on your first day of school when he said he’d keep holding your hand the whole day and when he said he would be your best friend forever.

you’ll trust he’ll be okay, as usual.

“yeah, sure.” he spits, glaring at his arm.

“katsuki..” you sigh, you place a hand against his cheek to get him to look at you. he huffs, face turning to you but his eyes won’t. “it is great progress. especially with what you went through. shit, the doctors thought they’d have to cut it off at first !”

“it still sucks.” he utters bitterly, closing his eyes he inhales, eyes darting towards the end of the room. “it’s—i don’t know—weird, i guess. feels weird as shit knowing you just can’t use your arm anymore when you could your entire life.” the fist he manages to squeeze shut clenches and so does your heart.

you know he’s probably most angry at himself for putting himself in that situation, in his eyes. but he’s a hero in yours. you can’t help but feel for him. his hand that gripped your tightly to ground you, that squeezed your nose for saying dumb shit, even the one that’d pull at your clothes to drag you away.

you’d been with it your whole life, so you can’t even start to imagine how he felt.

“i know,” you start sweetly, he sighs against your hand, eyes still downcast “i mean—i don’t think i’ll ever understand how you feel. but i want you to understand that this is just all part of the process..” his eyes flit up to you as you speak.

“you’re a hero, katsuki.” and you don’t say it like it’s the job he wants. not like it was written on his provisional hero license. you say it like when you were both 5 years old watching tv and katsuki proclaimed loud and proud he wanted to be just like all might, and at ten when he said he’d be even better than him. like when izuku would come over to play and you’d all sing the theme song together.

you say it like it is, his dream.

“and nobody can ever take that away from you, but now your body needs rest. a lot of it.” you continue, nodding to yourself. katsuki softly huffs in amusement in your hand. it’s soft but it’s there and it makes you smile. he looks up at you now.

“and it’s frustrating right now, i’m sure. but you’ll get it. you’ll get there, just give it—give yourself time.” you let go of his hand and press both of your hands against his cheeks now, because you need him to listen. he’s always had this horrible habit of going to the extreme for what he stands for. and though you looked up to him for it, sometimes it was extremely self destructive, and you want him to know he has the time. that he has to give himself time.

he heaves a long sigh, nodding against your skin. he grunts, pressing his mouth to your hand. “mhm,” he responds, and that’s more than enough for you. he grabs your wrist with his good hand, leans in, and kisses you. you meet him halfway like you did when he first kissed you goodnight on your front porch when you were 15. back then, he’d gone beet red and swiftly walked away, hands in his pockets muttering a quick ‘see you’ but he’s gotten more comfortable throughout, way more comfortable. he kisses you easily now, and his cheek still shine pink, but he doesn’t look away, rubbing his thumb against your cheek.

“thanks,” he utters softly. it comes out easily when he used to have a harder time forcing it out before. “i, uh—i’ll get better, wanna hold you properly.” he mumbles, a small pout on his face. you giggle, sure he’s more comfortable now, but he still gets just as easily embarrassed when he has to speak his mind. and that was okay, you’d wait for him, you’ll give him the time he has yet to give himself fully.

“then do your best, yeah ?” you encourage. you kiss his nose and he scrunches it up, but a smile twitches onto his face. “dummy,” he mutters affectionately, leaning in to bite your nose. you laugh, pushing at his chest, and he silences you with a flurry of kisses to your mouth.

he uses his good arm to press you to him and pull you down onto his bed, he grunts when you squeal in surprise, he makes himself comfortable and pulls the covers over you both.

“so damn loud, thought you said you didn’t wanna bother my parents.” he teases, you roll your eyes. your smile is still so ultimately fond of him as years ago, despite how irritating he was, he was still your best friend.

“shush.” is all you offer him, getting more comfortable against him, getting more comfortable with the idea of falling asleep with him like this.

katsuki remains quiet for a few minutes. “hey,” you look up at him and you can see how hard he wills himself not to look away from you.

“love you.”

your eyes widen, you blink. and it’s quiet. katsuki looks around the room “c’mon. say it back, will ya ?” he utters grumpily, tucking his head into your shoulder and his voice bordering on whiny.

“right sorry,” you chuckle “not used to it yet.” you say sweetly.

this was something new, something he told you just recently. that he loved you, that he was too pussy to tell you before because he’d loved you all these years, is what he told you. the thought makes your heart feel warm all over. everything he’s ever done over the years had i love you poured all over it all along, it makes you unbearably giddy.

you love him so much.

so you tell him, “i love you, too. so much.” he shoves his nose harder into your shoulder at your last words and you giggle.

“i’ll keep sayin’ it ‘till you get to used to it. do it forever if i have to.” he mumbles out and you’re giddy, impossibly so, because you can’t wait for forever.

“okay..” you hum.

you think maybe things will never truly go back to how they usually were. the world has changed and so have you, so have you both. and there’s still so much to do, but you want this new normal to come with katsuki, you want your forever with him. you want him to stay your best friend forever like he’d pinky promised you, even though he thought those were girly and stupid, he still promised and katsuki was somebody who never went back on his word.

so you’ll trust him, you’ll trust that he’ll always be yours and that you’ll be together forever. that he’ll tell you he loves you forever, and that you’ll get used to it.

1K notes · View notes

sigh-tofm · 3 months ago

Text

when you’re sick…

… price

half-humourusly tells you to walk it off. when you don’t laugh, he calls in sick too and stays home to take care of you. he can do paperwork from anywhere and lord knows there’s always some paperwork to do. honestly, you did him a favour. now he has an excuse to get ahead on all those reports and forms he hasn’t had the time for yet. carries you, blanket and all, to the couch in the living room. makes you your favourite tea and puts on the tv for you. sits himself down in an armchair next to you with his laptop, one hand on the keyboard and the other one stroking your hair while you doze.

… kyle

takes care of you like nursing was his second job. knows exactly what is in your medicine cabinet and what is an effective ailment for whatever you happen to have. if you have a cold, he insists on opening all the windows in the house to let in clean, fresh air (he did a stint on a german base where he learned this trick) an dabs a menthol salve on edges of your nostrils to relieve your stuffy nose. if your head is killing you, he makes sure you have water and a healthy snack nearby and keeps the house dark and quiet. if you’re having a depressive episode and simply can’t take care of yourself, he undresses you gently and showers with you, giving you all the love he has.

… johnny

insists on making out with you so you can be miserable together. nothing sounds better to him than an excuse which enables him to laze about all day in bed with you. even when you tell him no sex in the middle of a coughing fit, he doesn’t let up. you don’t allow him to kiss you but him getting sick was inevitable when you live in the same house (and he refused to let you sleep alone on the couch, even though you insisted. the crook of your neck is his happy place.). so when you’re past the worst of it and on the mend again and, he’s just getting started with his round. come to think of it, you could still use a couple more days of rest, so you join him in bed, even though all you can do is hold his hand while he moans and groans from the man flu.

… simon

tries his best even though he has no idea what he’s doing because nobody has ever done it for him. but really, he does step up. his first instinct when something is wrong is always to make tea, so in the period you’re under the weather there’s always a perfectly warm mug of tea on the nightstand. while you’re functionally passed out with fever he calls price for advice and frantically googles proper protocols for how to best help you. in the end he’s put two pairs of socks on your feet and covered you with an additional blanket to keep you warm and opened the windows to keep you cool. he sits in a chair next to your bed and nervously watches your chest rise and fall. usually he has the patience of a saint (and a sniper) but without you to guide him, he doesn’t quite know how to handle domestic life.

887 notes · View notes

pyronovas · 4 months ago

Text

𝐃𝐎 𝐈𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐄 | Eddie Munson x reader

summary | Eddie had taken on the responsibility of watching over you when you were younger. But, now back home after dropping out of college, watching over you seems to mean something entirely different. Alternatively, seducing your dad's best friend who just so happens to also be a virgin.

author's note | this is as close to writing eddie as i think i can get anymore hdsjfk. thanks to my wives (@gracieheartspedro, @amanitacowboy & @chaotic-mystery) for the beta & support!

content warning | 18+ MDNI, set in the early 2000s, older!eddie, virgin!eddie, the double whammy everyone needs in their life, age gap (20s & mid 30s), DBF!EDDIE!!!!, eddie knew reader as a kid but nothing nefarious, internal conflict, money issues, dropping out of college, flirting, eddie catching you half-naked, confident!reader, screwing and screwdrivers amirite, fingers, couch sex, eddie comes in a millisecond, pull out method

word count — 9.5k

The email comes through Friday night.

The college name and yours bolded at the top and a sigh slipping from your lips as you’re already anticipating the inevitable.

This email is to inform you that your enrollment is being terminated due to outstanding financial obligations on your student account, payments must be continued in a timely manner for the issue to be resolved. — Warm regards

You’re packed up by Saturday afternoon and back home by midnight, settling back into the small and cozy childhood bedroom you were so desperate to leave, begging to escape the stuffy trailer park the moment you turned eighteen.

But, here you were, stuffing your feet into your fuzzy slippers as you took out the kitchen trash to the dumpster at the end of the short driveway, the frigid wind biting at your skin as you tugged the blanket tighter around your shoulders.

It was the time of year where mornings were unbearably cold and by noon, you were sweating.

The problem was that you had tried.

You sacrificed a few assignments picking up extra shifts at the diner near the edge of campus, barely minimum wage with the few and far between tips. It felt like life or death sometimes, deciding between studying, paying for a few items to enjoy a decent dinner, or paying on your tuition.

Eventually, it all became uncontrollable. It was like a giant, looming monster hovering over your shoulder at every turn, threatening you with the power it held. What came now was relief, but still the slightest hint of worry.

You had to find a job, pick up the slack—the trailer was, to no surprise, a mess.

Your father worked grueling shifts at the factory in Hawkins, twelve hours days that wore him out, enough time to grab a quick meal and shower before he was turning in for the night on the worn-out recliner in the living room despite his perfectly good bed.

He wasn’t working today, but he was having breakfast with a friend.

You got an invite but decided against, determined to make the place spotless by the time he returned and you do as much, picking up the mountains of growing trash, starting laundry, vacuuming, every possible task until the place smelt somewhat pleasant and livable, propping the windows open as the air started to warm, hearing the faint laughs coming up the drive as we’re spraying down the deck with a hose, washing away the caked up dirt between the slats of wood.

“She lives,” His voice is easily recognizable, married with the shake of metal from his litany of jewelry and trademark jacket, jingling like a cat with a bell on their collar, you’re smiling before you turn around, though it quickly fades as he continues, “how’s college been treatin’ you?”

Your dad isn’t slick, but he makes an attempt, his hand mimicking a slice over his neck as a warning for Eddie to cut the conversation dead, though he’s more focused on your face and the way it falls.

“Er, or not?” he guessed, “Or not, yeah—you doing alright?”

“I’m surprised dad didn’t spill the beans,” you admit, “an hour together and he didn’t mention his college dropout daughter and how she’s unfortunately back home, wasting away her genius,”

“Honey, you know I’m happy to have you here—if I could pay to put you through, I would,”

“I know, I know,” you soothe his worry, “so much for scholarships when schooling still costs a fucking fortune, I should’ve tried selling shit on the black market like everyone else, I can live without a kidney,”

Eddie chuckles at your efforts to lighten the mood, “Tough break, squirt,”

“Hey,” you retort quickly, “I’m not five anymore, quit it,”

“She’s all stuck up now,” your dad jokes, your mouth dropping in offense,

“Am not,” you quickly snap, “is this fucking open season on bullying me?”

“Sorry, princess,” Eddie offers a half-smirk as he shoves his hands into the pocket of his jacket before nodding a goodbye to your father, then you, softening you with a wink that has the same effect as it did on fifteen year old you, swallowing hard behind the unusual swell of nervousness in your throat.

“Language,” your father warns as he approaches, kissing the top of your head as he walks by, “and thank you, kiddo, for being’ here—cleaning up the place,”

You nod quietly, offering a smile as your eyes drag back toward Eddie’s trailer, the same one you’ve wandered toward many times before, his uncle Wayne sitting on the steps offering out a pre-packaged lollipop or candy that he never told your father about, so easily becoming a second family to you and your father, him raising you by himself from such a young age.

Unfortunately, Wayne had passed a while back.

You were nineteen now, a couple years older than your father was when you were born, kidless, and relationships nowhere near your radar for the time being, it felt odd. But, you were settled and secure with yourself in that regard, praying that things would fall into place in due time.

But, more urgently, you needed a fucking job.

–

As much as you don’t physically see Eddie the first few weeks you’re settling back in Hawkins, he’s everywhere; posters plastered on brick walls or taped up on the glass windows of stores in town, shoutouts on the local radio as you drove down the backroads to town, he’s a small celebrity around town no doubt, but to you, he was annoying Eddie Munson.

He’s the guy who liked to scare you as a child when you were giving your father a hard time about falling asleep, making up convoluted stories about monsters that came after bad kids that still had you checking over your shoulder some nights. He’s the guy who liked to tease you for being tone deaf but still insisted on teaching you how to play guitar despite you not retaining any of it.

You admired him more than you could admit—he’s never cared what people thought of him. Eddie made a habit of standing out and being confident in his choices, going against the fray of students fighting tooth and nail for college admissions.

It didn’t matter that Eddie was a super senior by the time he graduated, he’s made a name for himself now, kept to his roots, and was still the same person you knew before you could even reach his kneecaps.

It was the rare nights as you grew older, just on the cusp of seventeen and listening to your father and he relive the times before you—how wild and carefree Eddie had encouraged him to be.

It wasn’t that he’d lost his life when you arrived, he just had different reasons to be happy.

Their mouths worked in tandem as they talked through their food, enjoying a shared dinner on the couch watching an old comedy from the 70s that you couldn’t remember the name of, the men finding great humor and joy in a movie you could care less about.

You remember the moment it happens, the skip in your heart as the smell of Eddie’s cologne wafts to your nostrils, admiring the straight edge of his defined jaw as he ate, the dimple that deepened as he smiled.

It was the same feeling you had when you found out you had a crush on sixth grade on a boy who was just as nervous to talk to you as you were to him, but this—it was in a league of its own, making you seek asylum in your room as you escape from dinner with a lazy excuse.

Eddie goes touring for the next few months after you arrive back, in and out of town, but you’re lucky enough to miss him by minutes, seconds, occasionally. Because as much as you had hoped that schoolyard crush would go away, it hadn’t.

The same sinking feeling in your gut returns with every appearance of his face, even the presence of his empty trailer, his voice echoing in the back of your head like he’s there.

You spent the most of his absence applying for jobs and praying for anything at this point, even if the pay was absolutely shit. You end up at the grocery store in town as a stocker, nothing crazy: the hours were flexible, the job was distracting, and you could keep to yourself.

The last thing you wanted was a familiar face from high school wondering how girl genius had dropped out of college, not that it was anyone’s business, but the judgement was the last thing you needed.

When you arrive home after a longer shift, feet scraping tiredly against the pavements as your keys jingled in your hand, trying to move quietly because you knew your father was sleeping after an equally long day, you hear the whistle from a few feet away.

You could mistake it for a bird, but given the time of day, you knew it was Eddie, the melodic hum to the whistle that has a smile tugging at your face.

“Finally pullin’ your weight I see,” he remarks with a grin, arms resting over his hood as he stares, you with no response other than your lips pulling into a tight line as you slump your shoulders, “tough crowd—‘lright, fair enough.”

“Gotta start somewhere,” you respond, gravitating toward the arm of the stairs that led to the porch of the trailer, “not all of us are gifted with the ability to perform, remember?”

Eddie chuckles at the thought, watching you fumble with his guitar, “Yeah…yeah,” he nods, fiddling with his keys and the chipped guitar pick on the key ring, “but—seriously, you’re doing okay? Your dad didn’t tell me much about what happened, so…”

“There wasn’t much to tell him,” you admit, “I’m broke, stressed, and life isn’t very forgiving to some of us,”

Eddie’s eyes squint in thought, averting awkwardly.

To you it seems as if he’s trying to think of how to comfort you, campaigning his next words on his head.

But internally, he’s fighting the thoughts that this wasn’t how he pictured you ending up; not because he thought you were above it, but because he'd always imagined you running far from this place—admittedly, you tried; away from the faded street signs and rusted trailer roofs. He stops himself from saying something stupid, knows that even if the words feel gentle or caring, they'd sting.

He can’t help but admire you either, despite that nagging feeling in his chest.

You’ve changed, grown into the permanent scowl on your face that matched your feisty personality, aware of how you carried yourself with a confidence that mimics his own, fake it ‘til you make it.

“Hey,” he says finally, voice softening. “If you need anything…well, you know I’m like—down the street.” He motions vaguely toward his own trailer, and you nod knowingly, “well, across…the grass, I guess. You get the idea, dollface,”

That was a new one.

You chew at the inside of your lip to hide the grin brought on by amusement and delirium from your long shift, wondering how you were still on two feet and listening to Eddie ramble, somehow you manage the energy to be teasing, easing back into the familiar playfulness you both threw at each other when you were younger and more naive.

“And what do I owe the great Eddie Munson for his generosity?”

He gives a dramatic sigh, flicking his wrist like he's dismissing the idea, “I’m all for charity, helpin’ out the needy.. Why? You feeling needy?”

It’s your turn to squint now, the skepticism easing into a smile. There’s a comfort in this banter and it lifts the weight off your chest in a way you can’t describe, rolling your eyes at his growing smirk.

“Careful,” you warn him, a glint in his eyes, “I’ll take advantage of you if you’re offering, just like old times,”

You wrap your grin up in a perfect bow of innocence, palms meeting at your chin to frame your face up with a picture perfect smile before you’re leaving him, yearning for your bed.

Eddie recognizes you, he thinks.

It was you, personality and mannerisms to match.

But, you’re different now.

He couldn’t admit it out loud though or even begin to linger on the thought out of fear and a sudden guilt that pinged in his gut, chastising himself over it.

–

A weekend and privacy came with a much needed bath, lounging in the comfort of the tub until your muscles stopped aching, eventually wrapping yourself in a towel after a quick shower as you walked through the living room, spending most of Saturday and Sunday alone as your father had escaped for his own getaway—the only difference this time was that you didn’t need a sitter.

It was a designated job of Eddie’s for many years, always offering to keep an eye on you.

But, you are an adult now. Fully grown, filled out. The towel is shit and thin but you hold it tight to your body anyways, readjusting it over your bare chest as the front door squeaks open on the rusty hinges and—

"Jesus!" you gasped, clutching the towel tighter.

“Oh, shit!" Eddie practically jumped back, hands up as if he were surrendering. "I thought you'd be gone. Sorry, sorry!"

You’re standing wet and unsteady, staring at him with a mix of embarrassment and amusement while he’s caught red-handed, looking increasingly guilty as he covers his eyes with his hands.

“Sorry,” he repeats, “Your dad wanted me to check in on the place, figured you’d be gone,”

You force an awkward laugh, the tension dipping into something easy and familiar despite the situation, “Well, I’m not..”

He turned to look away now, the tips of his ears burning red. “Seriously, I didn’t mean to, uh—”

He uncovered his eyes slightly, peeking at you with a crooked grin as you responded with a teasing, “Obviously, Eddie.”

You swore he was blushing—you’ve never seen it before. Not like this. You raised an eyebrow, shifting your weight to one hip, watching him squirm as the towel parts slightly, revealing a risqué sliver of skin by your inner thigh.

Eddie clears his throat suddenly, looking up at the ceiling with a finger pointing randomly, like he’s doing an inspection of the place before he’s stumbling over his words, “I’m—gonna…go? Place is good, you’re good—I mean,”

“I know what you mean,” you interject, walking toward him as your fingers press against his chest on his backwards trek outside, pointing lazily toward his trailer as he fumbles for the doorknob, “now, if you don’t mind?”

Eddie knows he deserves a special spot in the worst parts of hell now, finding himself curious of how you’ve grown, something that has never plagued him until recently, seeing you back in town and nothing like the young girl he used to know.

Of course, you’re still you, but then again—not at all.

He can’t quite place it, but he knows this is bad.

Not good.

And he returns home to take a shower of his own, longer than necessary for a number of reasons.

–

Later that night, you perch yourself in the old, plastic chair on the side of the trailer and light the rolled joint, savoring the soft hum of nature as you wrapped the blanket tighter around your body, curled up barefoot and closing your eyes as you inhale the smoke until it burns, blowing it out through your nostrils.

"Didn't know you smoked," Eddie chirps, cigarette in his mouth as he approaches quietly, startling you slightly. He’s dressed for bed—a loose, tattered old band shirt and sweats hung low on his hips, black socks with a growing rip on the side of his left foot.

He’s always been broad, but the defined muscles of his biceps were new. Thicker, a little tanned, tendrils of muscle stretching underneath the skin as he crossed one arm over his chest.

As your heart settles, you smirk and add darkly but joking, "College changes people."

"Yeah?" He exhaled a slow cloud of smoke. "Guess I never really changed, have I?"

"You still play with the band?"

You already knew the answer, making conversation.

"Yeah," he grinned. "Not famous yet, though. Maybe next year. We’re just doing shows around Indiana—pays the bills and then some."

Eddie was well enough off, you knew that. There wasn’t a single person in Hawkins who didn’t know his name, negative connotation or not—you would have to be living under a rock to not know who Eddie Munson or Corroded Coffin was.

The conversation eventually drifted into quieter places, dragging the equally dilapidated empty chair beside you, closer, knees knocking.

He asked about school; you asked about life on the road. He admitted, too easily it seemed—that he never really caught up with most of the kids he graduated with. "Most of 'em settled down," he said. "Married. Kids. Guess I just... never did."

He'd never been shy, but something in the way he said it felt more vulnerable than usual.

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” you shrug, puffing quietly as his eyes track the movement, his cigarette long forgotten before you’re offering him the joint, the corners of his mouth turning upwards quickly as he snatches it from your fingers eagerly.

“Right,” he doesn’t entirely believe you, haunted by the idea of never being able to move on—stuck in this revolving circle of trying to make it big but just coming up short.

It’s been almost twenty years, something had to give way.

"You're much better company than the guys, by the way," Eddie smirked as he took a long drag, his eyes finding yours through the haze of smoke, “you should come out to a show, too—I’ll comp your tickets.”

“I’ll make an effort,” you tell him honestly, “but—with work and trying to make sure my dad isn’t running himself into the ground…I’ll—I’ll try, I promise,”

“Do you have plans to go back?” Eddie asks, passing the joint back to you, “Like, to college?”

You shrug, “I want to, but money is tight. I’d need a fucking miracle to happen before—”

“I can pay what you owe,” he responds like it was the easiest thing in the world to offer, “if—I mean, if you want. Or, at least a chunk to help you out. It helps, living in Wayne’s old trailer. Everything is paid, I just keep the lights on and the water running.”

You stare at him, momentarily speechless.

“Eddie,” you’re unsure how to continue as his name falls out like a breath that’s been held too long, “that’s not fair to you,” you tell him, unable to ignore the weird, twisting feeling in your chest that makes your heart flutter nervously, “I can’t let you do that.”

You knew Eddie wasn’t the type to expect anything in return, but the idea—just the thought of him helping in such a way, it was tempestuous. But, you’re stubborn.

“I think I need to give myself time,” you decide, “find out if going back is something I want to do—if it’s even worth it.”

Eddie never even attempted college, so he figures his opinion is null and void.

Instead, he pokes you with a finger to your ribs as you squirm, giggling softly.

"You should come on the road with us then. Be our groupie, for all intents and purposes."

You laugh, not sure if he's joking or serious or somewhere in between. "You’re asking me—the daughter of one of your oldest friends, to be your groupie?"

Eddie considers how it sounds, pausing as he tries to work it out in his head before he laughs, shaking his head with amusement, “Fine—bad way to describe it. You could just…come and help, or not. We don’t really have a manager, either. We’re wingin’ it. Weren’t you going to college for something in that field?”

“A minor in music management, yeah, but—”

Eddie’s eyebrows raise in intrigue and you look away with a flurry of emotions.

Amusement, forthright. You laugh, the sound bubbling around the joint between your lips, but his eyes fall so easily on you, wide and glazed over and it makes you nervous in a way you’ve never felt.

“Your dad asked me to keep an eye on you, take care of you when I could—” Eddie begins, legs spreading out as he leans back in the chair, memorizing the subtle curl pattern to his hair and his bangs that begged for a trim.

“I’m not a kid anymore,” You remind him, tilting your head to meet his eyes as he lazily pivots his head to look at you, a distant but genuine smile on his face.

“I know,” Eddie responds, his hand rubbing gently over your knee, the cold press of his rings into your skin as his knuckles curled around the bone, “doesn’t mean I don’t care or worry about you.”

It was such an innocent touch, reassurance wrapped in a perfect bow.

But, his hand doesn’t move immediately, slowed, almost as if hindered by the weed in his system. He watches the way your legs part, his hand slipping further to curl around the bend of your knee and around the inside of your thigh, fingers tucked between the space.

Your reaction is delayed too, eyes locked on the movement of his hand before you’re forcing yourself to kill the tension, wrapping your fingers around his own and returning the gesture with a gentle squeeze.

“I appreciate it, Ed,” it bleeds sincerity, “thank you—but, that is something I’d really have to think about.”

“No rush, dollface,” he grins, slipping his hand away casually.

He moves to stand, but you stop him, hand pressed against his chest.

“Don’t—don’t tell my dad,” even if you were an adult, your father still had his ideals, “that I—that we, you know…”

Your finger circles the general area before you pick up the small remnants of your impromptu smoke session with Eddie and his tongue pokes at the inside of his cheek as he nods.

“Seems hypocritical considering how much weed we used to smoke in high school.” Eddie reminisces and you only persist, hand still pressed against his chest until he gives you the answer you were looking for, “Oh, come on—I can keep a secret. Don’t worry.”

You nod slowly, unsure. Eddie grins again, a half smirk as his fingers wrap around your wrist and gently push your hand away, “You seem a little…agitated,” Eddie ponders, “are you sure you’re alright?”

His look is smarmy and cocky, a mixture that gets under your skin like nothing else can.

You shake your head dismissively, stumbling slightly on your feet as you stand with him.

“Sick of me, aren’t you?” he teases.

“I mean, we’ve seen more than enough of each other today.”

“That shit wasn’t intentional and you know it,” Eddie defends, not an ounce of bite in his tone. It’s rather playful, feels like a mirage as his eyes crease at the corner and he smiles again, a trademark look for him but you since the admiration in his gaze, beyond what it should be for his best friend’s daughter.

And you catch yourself thinking about it, too. Looking, considering any other possibility that could have happened—a slip of your towel, if Eddie had gotten worried and progressed further into the trailer, if you had forgotten the towel entirely.

This wasn’t innocent and it wasn’t a crush.

“Watch yourself, Munson,” you warn, flicking a finger at the necklace hanging over the soft cotton of his shirt.

Eddie can’t describe how it feels like quicksand at his feet, unable to move as you corner him where he stands, intimidated but enticed by every single aspect of you.

He’s in such deep shit.

–

Eddie disappears for a few weeks—not without warning, though.

It was a short stint of shows around Indianapolis and he had asked you to watch over his place while he was gone despite there never really being any worry around this side of town—it was quiet anymore, eerily.

Still, it integrates into your daily schedule. A quick glance inside before work and another check after your shift, taking a couple days to throw out any moldy food in the fridge or water his dying plants, surprised by the fact that he even had any—though, the cactus seemed to thrive amongst the death and decay, centered at his kitchen table with a small figurine buried in the dirt resembling a mystical dragon.

It always makes your smile so big that your nose crinkles.

Eddie hadn’t changed at all, really.

A few days before Eddie’s due to arrive back, you hear a concerning sound coming from his fridge and immediately enlist the help of your father who had the magic touch for everything. There wasn’t anything that he couldn’t fix, really. And this was no different.

You tried calling, but Eddie never answers.

He was busy—understandably. You leave him a note on the fridge indicating that your father had fixed the condenser fan and you could thank him another time.

When he does arrive back in town, he does so quietly and in the middle of the night.

You hear the roar of his engine around midnight but don’t stir, followed by the crack of metal as the driver’s side door closes, some rustling of keys, and then you’re succumbing to sleep again.

“Sweetheart, I think I left my screwdriver at Ed’s,” your dad tells you from across the trailer.

“Got it,” you answer swiftly, “I’ll bother him later.”

Later that night, you do.

Eddie looks tired upon first glance, hair tied up loosely but it is a welcomed change to his usually untamed mane.

He invited you in, beer in hand as he returned to the couch and laid his guitar across his lap, an unspoken and hefty amount of empty bottles lining the table.

“I’m fine,” he reassures your silent thought, catching his glance as you stand, arms tucked behind you back loosely, “gotta unwind somehow, right?”

You shrug, indifferent. You weren’t going to judge him.

“Uh, my dad said he left a tool here,” you finally say, “did you see a Phillips laying around anywhere?”

“Drawer at the end of the counter,” Eddie instructs, not looking up as he fiddled with the strings on his guitar, “gonna have to give it a good tug, it likes to stick,”

You nod, moving toward the draw and giving it a sharp pull, watching as the screwdriver rolled toward the front.

Perfect.

“Did you want a beer?” Eddie ask offhand, “I’ve got a few left in the fridge,”

It was a silent invitation—but for what, you weren’t sure.

Eddie often seemed lonely back home, no real purpose when he wasn’t on the road and performing, attempting to fill his days with anything that wasn’t band practice or sound checks.

“I’m not twenty-one,” you respond, laying the Phillips screwdriver on the counter.

Eddie shrugs, hands held up in defense.

“I’m not the police, dollface,” he jokes, “I won’t snitch.”

It wasn’t like you hadn’t drank in college.

Fuck it.

The fridge cracks open as the seal separates and you reach for the bottle, finding that Eddie has approached in the flurry of motion to reach for the beer.

You watch as he brings it to his belt buckle, using it as a makeshift bottle opener before passing it back into your waiting hand.

“Show off,” you tease with faux disdain, taking a small sip from the beer as Eddie leans against the counter, one hand curling around the edge while the other nurses a bottle.

You both drank, talking about nothing in particular, until his words slurred a little and his smile turned softer, a faint flush to his cheeks.

“No plans?” he asks curiously

“It’s Friday,” you shrug, “I should make some, but I haven’t reconnected with anyone since I’ve been back.”

Except for Eddie, obviously.

“You’re all dolled up,” he notes, though there isn’t much to be considered notable aside from the dress shifting mid-thigh and your bare shoulders on display, bare-faced.

“I showered,” you laugh, brows knitting together in confusion, “but—thank you, I guess?”

He’s terrible at this, isn’t he?

Eddie clears his throat, chin tilting down as he his shoulders square and you feel the undeniable urge to tease him, though your eyes are stuck on the way the muscle moves underneath his shirt.

“You should wear your hair like that more often,” you suggest, nodding toward his messy up-do as you sip at the beer, “it’s…cute.”

“Cute?” Eddie throws his head back and laughs, watching a few strands slip from the bun as he shakes his head.

You reach forward, invading his space, brushing a hair away from his cheek as he tenses slightly, reveling in the subtle effect it had on him.

“Undeniably…adorable,” you reiterate, patting his cheek gently, his eyes trained on the way your eyes linger over his face before you smile, stepping away.

“So, you tease me and ask me to keep your secrets,” Eddie says, counting on his fingers.

You feign innocence, looking him up and down in a way that Eddie could easily misconstrue, part of you prays that he will.

"You know," he said, gaze sliding lazily over you in a similar manner, "I always knew you'd grow up to be trouble."

"Trouble?" you laughed, but something tightened in your chest.

"Yeah." He drained the rest of his beer and set the bottle down with a thunk.

It was like a silent challenge, begging him to elaborate.

But Eddie just smiled, lopsided and knowing.

He leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms, nodding a subtle invitation for you to follow him to the couch, your task forgotten as Eddie shoved his guitar aside to make room for you beside him.

“How were the shows?” you ask curiously, one foot pressing to the couch as the other crossed behind your heel, separating your dress and exposing your skin, barely attempting to cover the slip of your panties underneath as the fabric fits between your thighs, your hand pressing against the cushion of the couch to keep it in place.

Eddie watches it happen, how easily you’ve slipped out of your shoes and made home on his couch, like you were always meant to be here, like this had always been your home, too.

He sinks into the couch beside you with a deep sigh, the furniture shifting with the weight.

Tipping his head back, he shrugs.

“Same old,” he replies easily, fiddling quietly with the thick skull ring on his middle finger, flexing them, your eyes watching the insistence of his movement, “things are weird though, lately—like we’re all feeling stuck but no one wants to bring it up.”

“Complacent?” you inquire and Eddie nods with a smirk.

“Complacent,” he tries the word out on his tongue as he looks over at you, an immense amount of appreciation on his face, “that’s the word—smart ass.”

“I think the words you’re looking for there are—thank you.”

Eddie shakes his head nonchalantly and the corners of his mouth turn down, “No…no, I think you enjoy being a smart ass.”

Your fist digs into your cheek as you lean against, “Okay, well—go and run to my dad and tell him how you’re being bullied by his daughter,” you reach a finger forward and poke at the dimple in his cheek, “that you’re feeling oh so threatened by me.”

Eddie has a limit—a bullshit meter if you will.

Before, it would end with him sending you on your way back home, a smug but annoyed expression on your face. But, as you sit here now, he doesn’t feel the urge.

He reaches forward, dexterous fingers attacking the sweet spot underneath your ribs before he’s tickling you into submission, jumping forward to latch onto his right shoulder, attempting to wiggle away from his grip.

He’s relentless, though.

One hand turns into two and soon enough you’re leaning over his lap with your hands on the empty cushion beside him and panting, begging for mercy.

“Stop—stopstop,” you plead, “Eddie—fuck, please,”

Something there lingers, trying desperately to shove his hands away but finding yourself slipping backwards in the process. A soft yelp rips from your throat as you slip back, but Eddie’s already got a hand on your thigh, tight and harsh as it digs into your skin to keep you upright.

Your face morphs from momentary fear to frustration, a harmless scowl forming on your face as you shove at his chest.

“Sorry,” Eddie responds playfully, trying desperately to ignore how warm your skin feels against his palm, maneuvering you back into your spot beside him, “shut you up though, didn’t it?”

“I think if you wanted me bent over your lap you could have just asked,” you retort with a fire in your chest as you readjust your dress, fixing the straps on your shoulders.

Eddie looks surprised at your outburst, eyes wide.

You shoot him a look that tears right through his ignorance, “What? It’s not like you’re some sexless virgin, we’re both adults, aren’t we?”

The silence is especially deafening on his behalf.

You quickly come to the conclusion on your own, “You’re the lead singer of a metal band and you’ve never had sex?”

Eddie avoid answering outright and instead attacks, “Okay, now you’re just being a little shit and judgy.”

He won’t meet your eyes as you stare at him, the faintest hint of a smile on your face, finding his innate shyness over the topic immensely endearing.

“Sorry, I’m sorry, it’s just—seriously? There’s no one just throwing themselves at you?” you ask curiously, “All this time and you’ve never once got caught up with a groupie?”

You sit back on your legs, having never been more interested in a conversation in your life, helplessly curious.

“Not ones that I want,“ Eddie admits, “besides, one thing or another happens and it just…doesn’t work out.”

Huh.

You’re quiet, processing the information.

You’re not sure why it shocks you, but it does.

Any idea or assumption you’ve ever had about Eddie was completely shattered, like you were staring at him for the first time, eyes averted. The chain on his wrist jingled as his knee shook anxiously.

You curl your fingers around his kneecap, similar to how he had weeks before, calming him.

“I’m sorry…for assuming,” you apologize, “it’s just…you’re—“

“Old,” he says deadpan and you can’t help but laugh.

“You’re not old,” you reply in defense, “what do you consider old?”

“I’m the same age as your dad, dollface.”

“My dad hasn’t worn an Iron Maiden shirt since ‘95, so I think you’re still safe,” you tease, squeezing his knee.

Eddie smirks, but there’s a touch of vulnerability in his eyes that makes your chest feel strange and soft. He’s silent for a moment, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

He should cut the conversation short, but then you’re opening your mouth again.

Another question, another step further.

“So, I mean,” you pause, adjusting yourself to sit criss-cross to face him, hands resting in your lap, “what qualifies?”

“I’m not having this conversation with you,” Eddie replies like an empty threat, wincing at how eager you look to receive the information, a split second away from a sticky situation.

“No sex,” you start to recite to yourself, thumb jutting out as you count on your hands like he had earlier, “oral is a no-go, I’m assuming,” pointer finger out as Eddie watches you work through the list in your brain and he’s nothing short of mortified as his lips part and he stares at you with a wild gaze, “fingering? What about fingering? Have you ever kissed anyone?”

You look up eventually to find him speechless, his cheeks reddening as you continue and you shrug so nonchalant he can’t believe this is reality, “What? I’m curious.”

“Well, get un-curious,” Eddie retorts with a lazy chuff of laughter.

“You were the one who asked me to be your groupie, remember?”

Eddie scoffs, slapping your hand down gently where it was lingering near him, fingers still laid out in count, “Bad choice of words, remember? This is—”

“What? Am I not your type?”

And, there it was.

Eddie gulps, his hand curling into a fist as his knuckles dressed into his thigh, the fabric creasing under the pressure and he doesn’t answer outright.

You hold your hands up in surrender, “Okay, fair—I’m not offended if I’m not—”

“No,” Eddie quickly interjects, “it’s not that.”

He flattens his hand against his leg, tension slowly loosening as he huffs out a breath.

So, you were his type?

“Is this a morality thing?” you cut through the tension, “Because if we want to go down the list of things that make us adults I think I might have you beat, you know—graduating, college, relationships, a steady job,”

Two of those were a shaky defense at best, but you were trying to prove a point.

Any qualms Eddie had were built solely around his hesitancy to defile his best friend’s daughter or even suggest the implication that he might want to—that he might even find your the slightest bit attractive now, grown up and incredibly sure of yourself, oozing a raw confidence that Eddie has learned to fake.

With you, it was genuine.

You knew exactly what you wanted.

“Is it?” you repeat.

“No,” Eddie breathes out, “I mean, yes—kind of. I just don’t want to take advantage of you.”

“Oh god, Eddie,” you say, exasperated. “I’m not a fucking kid.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he says desperately.

“Then what?”

Eddie’s mouth opens and closes twice before giving up altogether and just staring at you.

You stare back, unyielding.

He sighs again and shakes his head, “You really don’t get it.”

“I think I do,” you insist and then you hear yourself say, the words just tumbling out, “I’m into you too.”

Eddie’s eyes widen comically. “Shit,” he mumbles.

You can see the shift in his features, the way he’s chewing at his lip like he does when he’s working out a new song or trying to find the right chord.

Eddie always had this way about him—passionate, intense.

Your lips curl into a teasing grin, but there’s understanding behind it.

He’s struggling, caught in the moment, unsure whether to take you seriously or play off your relentlessness with humor and break the growing tension.

“Can I try something?” you ask curiously.

“Try what?” His voice is wary, but there’s a glimmer of intrigue underneath.

You pause for the briefest of moments and then decide to seize it.

You lean forward, resting your hands casually on his knees where he’s angled his body toward you. It’s enough to make him freeze, his eyes locked onto yours with a flicker of panic, like he’s suspended mid air and unsure if he’s going to survive the drop.

“Don’t freak out, okay?” you murmur and Eddie nods as you grin every so slightly on your approach.

His breath catches when you close the space and press your lips to his.

It’s tentative at first, slow and steady like testing the heat of running water, but sooner than later you feel his resolve slip. His hand ghosts upward almost involuntarily, right where it should be, finding its place at the back of your neck and pulling you closer.

He inhales sharply and parts his lips to meet your tongue with his own.

Alright, he’s not clueless.

You sigh softly into his mouth as your fingers dig into his thighs, an eager pace growing as you lick into his mouth, the faintest hint of beer on his tongue and thick layer of lust invading your collective brains before Eddie was pulling you fully into his lap from where you’re already halfway leaned over him, taking his silent guidance in stride as your thighs spread out over his and your arms fall over his shoulders, taking his face between your hands as you slow the pace of the kiss.

You pull back eventually, just slightly to gauge his reaction.

His eyes are still shut tight, as if he’s afraid that opening them will make you run for the hills.

Instead, when he finds that you’re not returning, he does.

It was tentative, a peek through one eyelid before he decided to open both.

You’re not smiling, rather observing, a curious wonder on your face.

“Your dad,” Eddie gulps, “he’s waiting for you, isn’t it?”

You nod quietly, his face still cradled in your hand.

A man you’ve admired for years suddenly feels small in your hands, delicate.

“You’re gonna go home,” Eddie instructs softly, “we’re not gonna talk about this, alright?”

Your shoulders slump in defeat but you understand—there were too many cons, too many worries.

“Say it,” Eddie encourages.

“I’m gonna home,” you appease him, “we’re not gonna talk about this.”

“Go on, dollface,” Eddie nods toward the door, helping you off of his lap like a gentleman despite the rejection he’s throwing your way, unknowing of the immense amount of self-restraint he’s using to end this before it starts.

He watches you leave, but not before pressing a kiss into your hair.

He’s done it before, a gentle gesture.

The door locks behind you and the blinds are quick to shift closed, the lights to Eddie’s trailer turning off soon after—from your point of view, he’s resigned to bed, kicking you out for the night.

But, for Eddie, it was an attempt to control himself.

To not let things ramp up so far he couldn’t find a reason to come down.

Usually, he’ll relieve himself in the shower but his cock was straining hard under the confine of his dark-washed jeans, belt jingling loudly as he struggled to rid himself of the fabric until it pooled at his ankles, sinking back into his couch with his shirt pushed halfway up his stomach, letting out a sharp curse as he wraps his hand around his cock.

He can’t deny the fact that he’s thought about you before like this, almost a constant paint imagine of you in his head after he’d caught you at home, a few quick flashes before then that he couldn’t even bring himself to admit—ever since you had showed up in town again, you were everywhere.

He felt you in the similar sense that you did with him, but the problem for Eddie was that he didn’t have a reason for any of this—and it was a suffocation of guilt trailing his immediate need for release before he blew his load in his jeans like he was a goddamn teenager.

It was long, hurried strokes with an iron grip; Eddie knows your hands would be softer, gentler. But, he doesn’t allow himself that thought for longer than a moment, white knuckling his cock until his head looks bruised, red and pulsing. It’s embarrassing, the melody of skin against skin matched with his pathetic grunts, chest heaving with hurried breaths until his cock twitched violently, pearly white strips of cum spurting over his stomach in mindless pleasure, eyes slipping shut.

“Gah—fuck,” Eddie says in a guttural groan, “fuck!”

He’s not sure how long he lays there in the dark, breathing heavily with a slick mess coating his front and jeans still pooling around his ankles. But, he knows one thing—he couldn��t let you near him again.

–

You don’t hear from him for weeks and that’s fine.

Sort of.

Not really.

He’s been aorund the entire time, coming and going, but he’s been home.

He sees you when you’re coming back from work or when he’s leaning against the railing of his porch as he smokes his morning cigarette without anything more than a nod of acknowledgement.

Maybe you had pushed things too far, been too forward, overstepped some boundaries.

But, you know Eddie—he would have told you.

It was the weekend of your twentieth birthday when his silent treatment festers to a head, invited over by your father for a small cookout—it was only ever the three of you anymore, aside from a few lingering friendly neighbors that your father was more than happy to pass a plate or two of food too.

When you weren’t looking at him, he was always looking at you.

You feel it.

It was a heat that prickled the back of your neck and every time you turned to catch him in the act, Eddie was already haphazardly engaged in conversation with your father—talking about work or music or whatever.

An intentional silent standoff that lingered into the night, the summer bugs buzzing in the grassy courtyard as the two men and a small group of neighbors laugh amidst their supposedly riveting conversation.

You didn’t like the cake or big celebrations, so by the end of the night you were curled up on the stairs and staring down at the trail of ants that traveled through a crack in the pavement, bare feet against the grass and not hearing the voice that calls for you until the fifth try.

Your father tossed Eddie’s keys into your hand as you looked up, barely registering what was happening but able to snatch them before they hit you square in the face.

“He’s on a call,” your dad mouthed to you, “beers?”

Uninterested but compliant, you stand and make your way across the yard.

The kitchen is still close enough with the chattering of your father’s friends that you don’t hear Eddie trailing behind you until you’re stopped at the fridge, fingers curled around a handful of cold bottles.

“I got it,” he interjects and you pull a face out of habit, annoyance overtaking your features as you pull the beer away from him.

“So now you decide to talk to me?”

“I’ve been busy,” he replies defensively, scratching at his jaw. “I didn’t think—”

“You know, if you’re scared of me you could just say that—”

“Scared?” Eddie chuckles, “Of you?”

You drop the bottles on the counter, one nearly toppling over but Eddie catches it before it hits the floor. He sets it back upright and just stands there, contemplating. Eventually, he holds up a finger.

“Don’t leave, alright,” he tells you, scooping the beers into his arm, “I’ll take these to your dad and come up with some excuse—just, stay, alright?”

He’s standing there, waiting for an audible response before you eventually throw your hands up in frustration, urging him to move.

Eddie scrambles then, gone and back in under a minute, slightly out of breath as he closes the door to his trailer behind him and locks it, “I told him you needed some quiet,” Eddie explains.

“Are we…okay?” you ask impulsively, hand twisting anxiously around the edge of the counter.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t we be?” Eddie asks, taking a seat on his couch and placing his guitar carefully against the adjacent wall.

“You haven’t spoken more than a word to me in almost a months,” you confront his facade, “I kissed you and suddenly you wanted nothing to do with me, sorry if that gave me the wrong impression but—”

“It…wasn’t that,” Eddie explains, “things have been picking up for the band lately...kinda, out of nowhere. These big record companies in LA are interested in signing us but we’re all…older and they’re hesitant. I’ve been busting my ass trying to prove our worth, but,” he throws his hands up, “seems kinda pointless.”

“That’s good though, right?” You ask, seating yourself on the arm of the couch near him, whatever frustration you had toward him dissipates quickly, “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Eddie leans his head back, eyes tracing the ceiling. “Yeah. Just didn’t think I’d have to sell my soul for it.”

“That’s a little dramatic, besides—s’kinda your brand,” You try to catch his gaze, but he’s staring to the side, lost in thought, “so you’ve just been busy?”

“Yeah,” Eddie insists, “busy.”

You study his face, trying to decide if he’s lying to you or himself.

And when he turns to you his eyes are sincere, pleading almost.

“And the kiss?” you press, unable to stop yourself. “You didn’t freak out because of that?”

Eddie sighs, his foot tapping anxiously against the leg of the coffee table. “I didn’t freak out,” he says. “I just—didn’t want to ruin things for you. I mean—your dad, and sweetheart, I’m twice your age.”

You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest, looking down at him, “Well—if you make it out in Hollywood you might finally find the right one,” you tease him, “they can snatch that illustrious title from you.”

Eddie chuckles softly, “I don’t care about that,” he admits, “I never have. I don’t think about it…or talk about it. I’m not ignorant about it, you do understand that, right?”

“The way you kiss, I would fucking hope not,” you admit in a crass manner.

“Frankly, I think you’re only interested in defiling me,” Eddie jokes, your brows perking up at the mention before a laugh bubbles from your chest, “I feel like you’ve had it out for me since you got back.”

His eyes are focused on the bare skin of your thighs under your dress now, exposed by the way you were sitting, the back of your calf resting over his knee as you leg bounces idly, his hand grazing over your shin to stop that insistent movement.

“You know, I used to think it was because of what you were,” you explain openly, “I thought you were cool—cute, out of my league obviously and off limits. I dated and every time I thought I found the right one—I couldn’t help but think…well, they’re not as cool as Eddie. I had a huge crush on you but I almost admired you.”

“So, s’just because you think I’m cool?”

“I think you’re sort of an asshole now, actually,” you admit, “But, I know you think about me, too—I know you kept staring at me tonight. You always are…and the way you touch me,” your eyes linger on his hand now, his fingers molding against your skin.

“What about it?” Eddie asks.

“You’ve always taken care of me,” you remind him, ”let me take care of you.”

His thumb press gently into the sinew below your knee, his hand curling around the back of it.

Eddie slowly guides your legs apart, revealing the thin fabric covering your cunt.

His hand lingers on the inside of your thigh as if he was weighing his options.

You know that he is.

Too considerate and focused on all the other things surrounding you both to actually be present in what’s happening now. Always worried about the right thing to do, always considering everything.

His eyes flick up to look at you briefly, your hand pressing into the back of the couch as you lean back, balancing on the arm of the couch as you take a small breath.

“I’m just saying…this is a terrible idea,” Eddie sighs out, his voice low as he feels like a rabid animal, watching your skin tense under his touch, “we shouldn’t.”

“Suit yourself,” you tell him lazily, aware of how he hasn’t bothered to stop touching you, “but I think you’ll regret it.”

Quietly, you reach for his hand and cup your hand around the back of it, pressing his palm flat against your cunt, the heel of it adding a delicious pressure against your clit under the fabric.

Your mouth parts in anticipation, watching him repeat the action on his own a few times before he’s pushing the fabric aside on his own volition, fingers drifting through the short, but coarse patch of curls as his middle finger drags down the seam of your folds, the digit glistening with a sticky slick.

“You’ve done this before haven’t you?” you ask curiously.

“Specifically, this?” he asks, “A couple times...I’ve been told my fingers are like magic if that helps.”

You pull your lips together and let out a soft pfft as you laugh quietly, gasping when his finger breaches your hole, pressing inside with gentle pressure, wrist angled so his thumb can catch over your clit in the same, sinful motion.

“I…like more,” you direct him with a soft voice, “like, uh—”

“Like what?” he asks, genuinely curious.

“Just…more,” you explain, “I like the pressure, the stretch…it—”

“Feels good?” he finishes for you and you don’t have to look to know he’s smiling.

You nod jerkily and feel his pace quick, your head dropped back and eyes closed as his unoccupied hand holds your thigh open, the fingers digging into your flesh occasionally when you squeeze around his fingers.

“I like..the feeling,” you gulp quietly, “of being filled, you know?”

“Uh huh,” Eddie answers idly, focused intently on your pleasure alone as he pumps his finger, then two, eventually three, until your fingers are tight around his wrist and he has no other option than to focus on your clit, rubbing over it in tight, quick circles until your letting out a sharp gasp, his hand pulling away in an instant as you cunt spasms around nothing, thighs shaking as your orgasm washed over, completely unsatisfied but overwhelmed with momentary euphoria.

When you finally resurface, there isn’t a moment lost.

Eddie moves with you, just as eager.

You quickly unbuckle the belt to his jeans, bunching your dress up and lifting it over your head as Eddie shifts his pants down, cock bobbing free against his stomach as you pause, noticing the flush in his cheeks as a smile grows on your face, his eyes locked on you.

“This is probably a bad time to mention I don’t have condoms,” Eddie jokes, your hand reaching forward to wrap around his cock, thick and uncut, pulling the skin back as your thumb swipes over the slit of his head, rubbing the precum over the top.

“You’ll pull out,” you assure him with a smile, “don’t worry.”

Eddie nods obediently, suddenly aware of how fast his heart was racing, watching you position yourself over his lap, his hands raising up to squeeze at your hips nervously, chin tilted down in awe.

“Waitwaitwait,” Eddie interjects, eagerly waving you forward with a hasty motion of his hand, “c’mere.”

You’ll bite, leaning forward obediently, he latches his lips onto your neck, gentle kisses that trail slow until he’s reached the valley of your breasts, tongue curling around your nipple before he captures it between his teeth, squeezing dutifully at the other, squealing quietly at the sharp sting of his teeth.

Slowly, his cock presses inside with your guidance.

He chokes out a gasp into your skin, wet and hot against your breasts.

“Shit,” he curses, turning his head to lean against your chest, his hands returning to your hips as you begin a slow, gentle, and manageable pace for him to adjust, but also to allow yourself to adjust to the stretch of him.

Eddie was trying so desperately to not blow his load right there, focusing intently on the steady beat of your heart, fingers tangling into his hair as you kept him tight against your chest and moving your hips in slow circles, occasionally raising your hips for the inevitable descent that made Eddie’s chest tighten.

His moans are broken, soft gasps as you bounce on his cock with an eventual quickened pace, his hands roaming insistently for anything to anchor him, met with your softer gasps and the gentle murmur of his name, “Oh, Ed,” you whine, “you’re doin’ good, I promise.”

He nods dumbly, barely acknowledging your praise as he felt you squeeze down, a cry ripping from his chest as he squeezed tight at your hips, turning his head to look up at you, cradling his face in your hands as he stared you with glazed over eyes, lips flush and parted.

“Baby, I—” He breathes, eyes squeezing shut as your heart clenches at the sight and sound of his voice, “I’m not gonna last, m’sorry—I can’t—you’re so fucking…god,” he groans, his head falling back as he relaxed in your grip and let you take control, controlling the pace until it was nearly unbearable for him, the small hint of tears forming in his eyes as he desperately, but gently shoved you back.

He’s been in this position before, not so long ago, hand gripped tight around his cock and wish you were there—but this is reality even if it seemed like a fucking dream, jerking himself until the pressure at the base of his cock swelled and pushed to the head, coming in long, thick spurts over your stomach, his head rubbing against the skin as he squeezed from base to tip with a fucked-out expression, groaning through the high of his orgasm.

“That was fucking close,” Eddie says after a long pause, watching as you grabbed his hand—specifically a finger and dragging it through one line of his cum and gathered it on his finger, bringing it to your mouth with your tongue presented out, licking the digit clean, “oh, fuck—”

He laughs so hard it makes him cough.

“Fuck, I’m sorry—I didn’t even get to…while we…” Eddie begins, but is quickly silenced by your palm over his mouth, shaking your head insistently.

“I’ll survive,” you tell him, “seriously.”

Eddie laughs again, mostly out of disbelief.

“And here I was, thinking I’d be taking advantage of you.”

You smirked, leaning until you were a hair's breadth away from Eddie’s face, taunting, “Not a chance.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things #joseph quinn #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x y/n #my writing

690 notes · View notes