#little grey fuzzy guys

[northernpintail]

Canada Geese with some young visible in front

[way2gosuperrstarr]

i think the dca would love my stupid ass sock collection. they would. they'd find it so charming (trust)

[zombie-vodka]

self portrait!

[residenthughes]

opera house - jack hughes

pairing: jack hughes x afab reader

word count: 2.5k

tags/warnings: +18 nsfw, so minors dni, oral sex (m on f), dirty talk (if you can call it that?), no mention of y/n, pet names (baby, princess)

summary: reading is your favourite pastime. jack makes it harder than anticipated.

notes: so...🫣 this happened. it's a small little thing that started out with me just wanting to write about how pretty jack is only to turn into the respectful pile of filth. don't write smut much so apologies if this isn't to your liking, but hopefully i'll be back with something better. also, the sentence in italics is a quote from the book mentioned in the fic. much love! <3

As the cold November climate nips at your flesh and colours the sky in hues of grey, you nestle in the cosiness of your home, warm and sheltered with your treasured fuzzy socks on as you curl up on your bed with one of the books you’ve been meaning to read. Jack says it’s a bad habit of yours: buying books that collect dust on your shelf, to which you quickly argue that he’s the one enabling your ‘bad habit’ by constantly buying them for you - your Goodreads profile bookmarked in his phone for safe keeping. An endearing act of service, all of which he is no stranger to - gifting said books in the form of a bouquet every time he leaves for a long road trip, taking out the trash because he knows it’s your least favourite chore, curling up with you now, sweetly bundled in between your legs as you two find peace in the silence you share. It’s like a warm hot chocolate on a chilly day like today, your connection smooth and comforting, wrapping you in the warmth of its embrace.

You peer beyond the top of your book, catching an eyeful of the back of Jack’s head and his loose curls, the soft clicks of his gamer control sounding as his eyes focus on the TV screen a few metres ahead. Your sugary thoughts of how endearing your long-term boyfriend can be - always is - overflow like lava, the smile on your face terribly enamoured as your fingers card through his hair, curling the soft locks around your index finger.

Like clockwork, Jack leans into your touch, slouching further into his position in between your thighs, laying a chilly cheek against the flesh of your thighs.

You squirm against the brush of his eyelashes against your skin. “That tickles.”

“Uh huh,” he absently answers, tapping away at his gamer control. “Does this?”

A delicate kiss marks you, Jack’s head going back to laying against your thigh as he directs his attention to the game set out against the TV.

“No,” you blush. “But, that was nice.”

A huff of amusement sounds from Jack and instantly, you know what position you've put yourself in by saying that. “Bet it was. Aren’t you busy with that book of yours?”

You bite back, the muscles of your thighs tightening their grip around your boyfriend. “Sometimes a distraction is necessary.”

The clicks of his gamer control halt and silence envelopes the room, your eyebrow raised as his on-screen character dies as a result of his negligence. 

Jack clears his throat, his body shuffling against yours as he readjusts his position, restarting the game. “Maybe you’re right about that, baby.”

A pout remains settled against your lips as your eyes squint at your partner, your suspicion towards his action not enough to distract you from the habitual motion of your fingers as they thread through Jack’s hair. You raise your opened book back to eye-level, not batting an eyelash.

It’s when you’ve gotten perhaps three sentences into your book that Jack breaks the silence. “What’s the story about?”

“The book I’m currently reading?” Jack hums in reply. “Oh, it’s a spinoff of a series I’ve been meaning to read. It’s basically a college romance story about a girl aspiring to be on the national ice hockey team and her getting help from this guy she met years ago, called Ryder. Unexpectedly smutty, 10/10 would recommend.”

Jack laughs with you at your nasty comment, body vibrating against yours as his chuckle courses through him. You lower your book again.

“You and your smutty books,” Jack snickers to himself, eyes trained ahead of him. There’s a pause before he speaks again. “In what ways is it unexpectedly smutty?”

Despite how long you’ve been with Jack and the comfort you've established living alongside him, the question does make you a bit flustered, crimsoning as you look away, avoiding any view of him. “Well, it’s pretty raunchy up front. Like how they’ve done some naughty things in the shower - quite tame, but I’ve also just read that Ryder did some things when they went to go see the opera.”

“What things?” Jack asks, point blank.

Now, it’s time for you to clear your throat. Cheeks tinted. “Do I even have to say, Jack?”

The pause screen displays itself against the TV, the clicks of his controller no more as Jack shifts once again within your grasp, body turning as he lays his stomach against the comfort of the mattress, pools of azure staring into yours. Your heart thuds in your chest.

“Yes, I wanna hear what things you’re reading,” he says easily as if he isn’t inciting violence in your chest right now, the corner of his pink lips curved softly as he tilts his head against your thigh. “All of it.”

Suddenly, the temperature in the room escalates from toasty warm to scorching hot, a familiar flame in the pits of your stomach igniting as you’ve somehow found yourself in such a predicament - backed into a corner and at a loss for words.

“He,” you stammer, averting your eyes because all Jack’s eyes do is look at you, his burning gaze elevating the heat that dances against the surface of your cheeks. “He fingers her in the opera.”

You whisper that last part but Jack hears you judging by the faint chuckle coming from him. “He fingers who at the opera?”

He accents his point with a kiss against your thigh, this time the gesture conjuring a polar opposite sensation as goosebumps riddle your skin. You let out a shaky breath you hadn’t known you were holding, looking again at your partner to still find him looking right back at you, eyelids heavy and eyes dark. You have to look away.

You gulp. “Gigi - her name is Gigi.”

You finally muster some sort of courage you’ve had to find within your situation when you hear Jack shift again, eyes capturing your boyfriend’s arms coming up to circle around your thighs, eyes never leaving yours as his hands find purchase against your skin, thumbs absently caressing the surface much like you did earlier with his hair. 

“Is that short for something?” Jack accents his question with another kiss, his touch searing. 

“No,” you gulp, voice foolishly unsteady as your eyes study Jack’s movements with caution. “I mean, Ryder jokes that her name is Gisele, but that’s-”

“Guys like to tease,” he kisses a little higher against your thigh as if to prove his point. “Especially with girls they like.”

“I don’t think that’s appreciated, Jack.” 

You’re talking about a completely different thing now - a conversation within a conversation. 

“I don’t know about that, baby,” whilst still staring at you, his teeth manage to nip at a small sliver of your skin, numbness plaguing your limbs. “Read it to me.”

Your brows knit together, puzzled as ever. “What?”

“You heard me,” declares Jack, his kisses abundantly littering the expanse of your thigh as your mind begins to spiral. “Read it to me.”

Your mind is frazzled, brain working overtime to comprehend the sudden turn of events, all the while Jack takes it upon himself to sit pretty in between your legs and touch you as if made from porcelain - delicate and tender, a sharp contrast to the emotions bathing you in lust. Jack glances up at you one more time, button nose nuzzling against your inner thigh as he gives you a knowing look, his lips preoccupied. You obey wordlessly, uneasy eyes still on him as you bring your book back upwards, its previous position altered so you can manage to steal a look at Jack out of your peripheral.

Out loud, you begin to read to him the aftermath of the opera scene, a more tame development following as you manage to get through the next page unscathed. Jack’s kisses at first, are a bit distracting and have your voice betray you, but they’re sporadic and by the time you’ve turned the page, you’re already used to the sensation. You even achieve some comfort in his touch, but that doesn’t last long because when you’re in the midst of your storytelling, you feel Jack’s fingers hook around your shorts’ waistband.

Immediately, you lower your book, a chill running down your spine. “What are you doing?”

He bats his long eyelashes, almost mockingly. “Listening to you.”

“Jack.” For once, your tone is firm, watching aimlessly as he inches the material past your hip bones.

“Lift your hips a little or I won’t be able to get these off you,” he insists, a convincing smile settled amongst his charming features that express his pleasure in this all. “Unless you wanna keep them on?”

It’s a rhetorical question, a trap set up to see if you’ll bite and despite it all, the excitement of what’s to come leads you right where Jack wants you. Lifting your hips with an embarrassing ache in between your legs as you lie in anticipation, continuing on with your reading as Jack goes back to teasing you endlessly.

“Gettin’ pretty worked up over this story, huh?” echoes Jack. “I can tell.”

To demonstrate the meaning of his words, he blows a cool breeze against you that makes you mewl and draw your thighs closer at the sensation. Heart thudding against your chest, your bewildered gaze gravitates back to Jack who kisses you through the fabric of your underwear and has you fumbling for words.

“I didn’t say you could stop reading,” Jack removes his lips, peering up at you with a look that melts you into a pathetic pool of yourself. “You stop, I stop. Sound fair?”

That sounds anything but fair, but who are you to say so? He clearly holds all the power in this situation, you dancing right in the palm of his hand. This has escalated beyond a point of no return and you’re not backing out now so you oblige, opening your mouth to read but uttering out nothing more than a moan as Jack pulls your underwear to the side, his fingers gliding through your wet folds. 

“So satisfying to tease you when your reactions are this good,” he rasps, followed by a low chuckle as his calloused fingertip circles around your clit, eliciting the buck of your hips and the waiver in your voice. “Anyways, you were saying?”

You’re grasping for straws here, trying to tie yourself down to the little sanity (and patience) you have as your frantic eyes try and find where you last left off, straying away every couple of words as Jack does nothing more than use his fingers to distract you. 

“Words, baby. Use your words,” he instructs, and it’s the sexist thing you’ve ever heard in your entire life. “We follow...”

“We follow..the people,” you falter, voice wobbly. “We follow the people in…”

Somewhere in that sentence, a hefty exhale blows past your mouth as Jack moves two fingers into you, the curl of them accentuating the end of your sentence with a moan. 

“Always sound so pretty with my fingers in you,” muses Jack, tone low and memorised as he works said fingers in and out of you, your slick building all around his fingers. “Can’t get enough of it.”

You do a subpar job of reading the next few lines as Jack’s fingers pick up the pace, moving deeper in you to milk every reaction you give him mixed in with your slurred words. Your attempt at remaining coherent diminishes completely when Jack’s lips find their way to your swollen clit, a light press of the lips against the hood of your clit before he’s sucking on the bud.

Your words come out in stutters, voice trembling pathetically as he wraps you around his fingers, making a mess of you in the form of kitten licks against your clit and nibble fingers coaxing your building orgasm out of you. His motions stop every time you get lost in the feeling of him sucking your clit, fingers tangled in his locks of hair. And with a whine, you compel with his previous instructions, reading along with the world’s prettiest distraction in between your legs. 

Somehow, you make it to the next page without much delay, Jack’s mouth trained on you as he laps up every bit of you, tongue drawing all kinds of figures against or around your clit. You’re clenching around his fingers more than you can forgive yourself for, body running hot as the sounds of your slick echo throughout the room, the pit in your stomach only growing.

“Just like that, princess,” he hums against your clit, the sensation drawing a tight-lipped whimper from you as your hips follow the vibration. “How many more pages until the chapter’s finished? I don’t think you’re gonna last long.”

And, it’s all true. Body twitching, toes curling and cunt spasming around his fingers that curl in you. Your brain can barely keep up at this point. “So many.”

Jack tsks, his thumb replacing his lips against your clit as he moves it in slow circles. “You think you can hold on till then?”

You answer truthfully, however embarrassing it may be. “No.” 

He laughs briefly when he hits that spongy part inside of you, your back bowing off the stacked pillows behind you as Jack continues to hit the exact spot that has you seeing stars. 

“How ‘bout a compromise?” Jack starts, your hips lifting to meet the insistent thrust of his fingers. “You tell me how badly you wanna come, and you get to ditch the book whilst I make you come. Sounds good?”

An awfully generous offer considering how your brain has turned to mush and can barely keep up with any of the inked words on the page right now. So, you agree. Enthusiastically.

“Please,” you mewl with a puckered forehead, gazing down at your beautiful boyfriend with his tousled hair and glossy lips. A sight for sore eyes. “Please, J. I wanna come.”

“How bad?” He doesn’t miss a beat, eyes challenge yours.

“So bad,” you keen when his other hand lays over your stomach, applying pressure to the spongy spot that teethers you on the very edge. “Fuck, it’s only you. Only you can…make me feel good. Please, J.” 

The begging works. It always works and with that, you drop your book, long discarded amidst the mess of the sheets as your fingers tangle in Jack’s hair as he sucks roughly on your clit again. Rocking up against his mouth, the angle of his fingers renders you completely at his mercy, uttering stuttery breaths as he brings you over the edge, applying pressure in all the right places because he knows your body better than you do, gushing slick flowing from you as you ride out your high, brain reduced to syrup. 

He doesn’t even wait before you’ve caught your breath that he sends you a flirtatious wink in between your quivering thighs. “So, opera date next week?”

[mrsjellymunson]

KNOCK AT THE CABIN | Part Two

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Written for @bettyfrommars, @allthingsjoeq and @somnambulic-thing ’s excellent Stranger Prompts challenge - thank you for this, friends!

Series Summary: After the events of the previous months, everyone is shocked by the unexpected return of an old friend. But how much has he changed?

Chapter summary: Some answers, more questions 😉

WC: ~8.5k

C/W: 18+, MDNI, NSFW, series CW for eventual Eddie Munson x fem!reader smut, post-S4, Upside Down exists, dark/supernatural themes, emotional scenes, eventual friends-to-lovers, descriptions of minor injuries, food/eating, mentions of canon-typical torture/experiments.

A/N: This series contains a lot of themes and scenarios that I haven’t written for before, I’d love to know what you think! Please comment and reblog, it means the world to writers, and reblogs mean work gets seen. Abundant thanks to @the-unforgivenn for beta-ing and playing The Thesaurus Game 😛 This series has a taglist so if you’d like to be on either it or my general one just lemme know in a comment, ask or message, I’d love to have you on board 🙏💙

Prev: Prologue Part One

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You wake earlier than they do, shards of sunlight peeking through Steve’s pathetically thin and badly arranged curtains hitting you straight in the face.

You don’t move initially, enjoying the sound of both boys’ soft, rhythmic breaths, grateful they’ve both had the opportunity to rest and sleep.

You use this moment of stillness to allow the events of the previous night to filter through your consciousness. Eddie’s still here. He’s somewhat warmer than he was, and is still breathing. You’ll take all of those as a win.

His arm is still wrapped around your ribs, his chest against your back. During the night, one of his thighs has made its way between yours, and his hips are now pressed up against the swell of your ass.

You suppose that if you look at it objectively, he’s in a pretty good approximation of the Recovery Position. Good for him. Promoting healing, aiding recovery, and all that.

And you suppose that if you look at it subjectively, having the entire length of Eddie’s body squashed against the entire length of yours, and having his leg pressed against you just there, stirs feelings that are inappropriate for you to be having right now. Such as how much you’re enjoying it. How safe you feel. How much you wish there weren’t even these small, thin pieces of fabric separating you from him…

He snuffles behind you, groaning softly, and his arm contracts, pulling you even closer to him. You’d much prefer it was more than just the involuntary tensing of a waking man that’s causing him to do this, but push that thought to the back of your mind.

You slowly turn your head as far as you can, only able to see a little of him out of the corner of your eye. His hair is fuzzy as hell, but that’s the least of your concerns right now.

In what you hope is a soft and comforting voice, you ask,

“Morning, big guy. How’re you feeling?”

Eddie’s voice is cracked and broken, like he hasn’t used it in a while. It’s gravelly and low as he mumbles,

“Mmf. A little sore, but warm. God, it feels so good to be warm…”

His arm clenches around you again, and he pushes his face into the back of your neck.

Trying to cover an unbidden moan, and inject some levity, you reply,

“Well, thank goodness for that, otherwise all of mine and Steve’s efforts last night would’ve been for nothing.”

Eddie shifts, starting to get a sense of where he is and the situation he’s found himself in. It causes Steve to stir behind him and let out a little groan of his own, and you feel Eddie freeze.

Trying to calm him and keep this obviously bizarre situation simple and light, you mumble,

“Yeah, body heat seemed to be the best way to keep you warm. I don’t suppose waking up naked between me and Harrington was on your bucket list, right?”

Eddie’s cheeks don’t exactly flush (going from pale grey to pale pink far too much of a gradient to be entirely achievable right now), but you do notice a little warmth appear in them.

Eddie jests, at least you think he’s jesting, as his grip around you tightens again, stronger this time as his muscles wake up, and he chuckles lightly as he smooshes his face into your hair,

“Well, it's definitely not the worst place I’ve ever woken up.”

This rouses Steve enough that he’s now fully awake, and he seems to remember where he is too. He moves away from Eddie and sits up, rubbing his eyes and yawning. Glancing over, he mumbles,

“Hey, man. So, there’s literally hundreds of things I wanna ask you right now, but I guess I’ll start with, uh, how are you?”

Steve’s face contorts with a mix of incredulity and embarrassment at the utter banality of the question he just asked.

Unfazed, Eddie replies,

“Honestly, dude? I’m not entirely sure…”

He tries to shift his legs to sit up, but realises how enmeshed they are with yours, and inadvertently pushes his thigh up even closer to you.

Steve continues, unable to stop himself.

“What happened? Where have you been? How did you even get here?”

Eddie lets out a long, low exhale.

Finally picking up on how tired Eddie still is, and how tangled your and Eddie’s limbs are, you guess Steve decides he doesn’t want to get into any of that right now and declares,

“Y’know what, I’m gonna go make coffee.”

He grabs some sweats and a crumpled tee, and heads out towards the kitchen, leaving you and Eddie alone.

Fuck, this is awkward.

After a short pause, you mumble,

“Yeah, I suppose we should get up too. The kids are gonna be beside themselves, I’d prepare yourself for a barrage of questions if I were you.”

Exhaling, you somewhat reluctantly extricate yourself from Eddie’s embrace, sitting on the edge of the bed and reaching for the pile of clothes you’re grateful you had the foresight to put out last night.

Pulling on jeans, a worn t-shirt and a woollen jumper, you sit back down and turn to Eddie, who’s now leaning up against Steve’s battered headboard, sheets bunched around his waist.

You notice his eyes are still sunken and red-rimmed, but he’s lost some of the sallowness that he had last night, and his features are significantly more relaxed.

As he sits up you have the chance to observe his torso properly. He’s thinner, and much paler, than the boy you remember. The odd appearance of his musculature that you could see last night is still abundantly present.

And there are scars. Lots of scars. They vary in appearance and colour, rough slashes and violent starbursts, in silvery white, muted pinks and shades of angry purples and reds. Some look smooth and well-healed, whilst others are raised and jagged. Some transect the inked designs you came to know so well, and it looks like he might’ve lost a nipple.

Realising you’ve been staring, you tear your eyes away and move them instead to Eddie’s face. He looks terrified, like he’s worried you’re going to find him abhorrent and run away screaming.

He starts to reach for the covers, to cover himself, but you lunge forwards and grab one of his hands in yours. You don’t break his gaze as you tell him,

“It’s okay, Eddie. You don’t have to hide yourself from me.”

His face softens, but his eyebrows remain pinched and his lips are still pressed tightly together.

Finally looking down as you stroke over his hand with both of yours, you notice that the wounds that you bathed and tended to only a few hours ago are practically healed, only a few areas of redness remaining where there were bleeding gashes and scarlet grazes. Some have almost disappeared.

You decide not to focus on this and concentrate instead on the fact that your friend, your best friend, the one you all thought was dead, is back with you here, right now.

Grasping his hand in both of yours, you murmur,

“However it happened, it’s really, really good to have you back, you know.”

He smiles then, and although it reaches his eyes, it does little to lift the grey pallor of his face.

He brings his other hand over, and as he rubs his thumbs over your knuckles he notices the ring on your thumb. He runs a pad over the contours of the skull.

“You- You kept this?”

“Of course! I wear it every day. It helps me remember my best friend.” Your voice gets quiet as you add, unsure whether you’re overstepping.

“It helps keep you close to me.”

You hold each other's gaze for a beat too long, and Eddie’s lips open as if he’s going to say something.

Before he has the chance, a ball of anxiety rises in your throat, and you decide you can’t take the risk of him… what?

Telling you you’re stupid? That it doesn’t mean anything? That he wants his ring back?

You know none of this sounds like anything Eddie would say, but in your fragile, exhausted state you need to protect yourself from the risk of emotional harm, no matter how small.

You remove your hand from his and bend to retrieve the clothes Steve left for him, reasoning with a small smile,

“We don’t want you getting cold again, right?”

Eddie starts to dress, grunting a little as his limbs start working again. He only has time to pull on the worn sweatshirt when the door bursts open and the kids rush in. Dustin first, swiftly followed by Mike and Lucas, whilst Will and Jane hang back in the doorway.

The three teens leap, grinning, onto Steve’s bed, whooping and hollering and rolling around. They’re full of questions and theories and tales of what they’ve been doing whilst he’s been gone, all talking over one another.

Whilst Eddie is smiling and laughing and you can tell he’s buoyed by their love and exuberance, you also know he still needs to recover from last night, let alone whatever else he might have been through these past few weeks. So after a few minutes you shoo them out, instructing them to go help Steve make breakfast.

Dustin’s the last to leave, pausing in the doorway as he turns back, running his hand down his cheek and saying, with an infinitely adoring expression on his face,

“I can’t believe you’re here, man. It’s so good to have you back.”

They share friendly smiles before Dustin turns on his heel and follows the others, his voice decreasing in volume as he heads down the hallway yelling,

“I’m on toast duty today! You guys ate all the good peanut butter last time…”

You both snicker at their antics, Eddie shaking his head a little.

You want to say more, but settle for,

“They missed you. We all did.”

Eddie furrows his eyebrows and rolls his lips inwards into a tight-lipped smile, and you sense that he’s just as emotional as you all are.

He continues dressing, and you’re relieved the kids didn’t see Eddie’s scars, for all their sakes. You’re not sure whether they’re ready to revisit what happened in the Upside Down, and you don't want Eddie’s first day back with you all to involve him having to uncomfortably explain where they all came from.

He dons the rest of the unfamiliar clothing, and eventually stands, facing you. He spreads his arms wide and pulls a goofy face, raising his eyebrows high and flattening his mouth into a thin line, knowing how unlike ‘him’ he must look right now.

You never imagined you’d ever see your favourite black-loving metalhead in an oversized heather grey Hawkins Athletic sweatshirt, worn navy sweatpants and fluffy white sports socks, but needs must, and at least it’s all clean and he’s staying warm.

There’s a crash in the kitchen, startling both of you, but it prompts you to suggest,

“Come on, let’s go see what chaos those guys are causing.”

You direct him to the front of the house, and as Eddie shuffles into the kitchen all eyes turn to him. You see the kids take in his fluffy hair and new garb. He notices and, preemptively gesturing to himself and in a very close approximation of his Dungeon Master voice, says,

“If anyone says anything about this, I swear I will kill you. Got it?”

Mike and Lucas try to act like they weren’t even looking, and Dustin raises his hands in supplication. Jane laughs at the boys’ responses and Will smirks at the shenanigans, and you’re certain he and Eddie are going to get along just fine.

The kids have made everyone a simple breakfast of boiled eggs, toast and fresh oatmeal and they bring it to the large farmhouse-style table as everyone gets situated. Craving his proximity, you take the chair next to Eddie. Steve’s made a large pot of hot coffee, which is swiftly devoured by the four adults and almost instantly requires replenishment.

The kids want to fill Eddie in on, well, everything. Over breakfast there’s much chatter about what’s been happening in town, how the three of you ended up staying here, how kind and supportive Wayne and Owens have been, even a somewhat discombobulating discussion of what Eddie’s funeral was like. Plus there’s tales from the boys about D&D and stuff that’s important to the teens, most of which you zone out of.

Eddie is also properly introduced to the two he doesn’t know. He greets Will with a broad smile and claps both his hands around the boy’s slender one, a symbolic gesture full of characteristic Eddie warmth, welcoming another sheep even though this particular one has known the others for many years.

You don’t think anyone else notices, but you don’t miss the moment of extended eye contact and tiny nods that are exchanged between him and Jane, as they are introduced and shake hands.

Eddie seems to have a good appetite, devouring four warm, runny-yolked eggs, three slices of toast slathered with butter and jelly, and two large bowls of oatmeal with honey and syrup in rapid succession.

There’s some syrup on his chin when he’s finished. You want to clean it off with your thumb and suck it into your mouth, but you resist the urge.

The food cheers him, even seems to put a little colour in Eddie’s cheeks. Well, perhaps not colour exactly, but a move from grey to white is certainly progress. It’s hardly Cordon Bleu cuisine, but Eddie’s hoovered it up like it’s the best meal he’s ever had. You wonder what he’s been surviving on all this time to make such simple stuff seem so luxurious.

Coffee mugs are refreshed, the table is cleared, and there follows a semi-formal exchange of the personal items of Eddie’s that are in the cabin. Lucas returns his pocket knife, which Eddie thanks him for with a bro handshake and a half-hug, and Dustin gets down on one knee and presents him with his wallet chain on outstretched hands, as if he’s presenting a weapon or battle trophy to his commander. Eddie ruffles his hair and brings him in for a crushing bear hug.

Robin and Steve return his crucifix and boar’s head rings, which he dons, and you can’t help noticing that they’re slightly looser than they used to be. You’re grateful nobody questions why you don’t return the skull ring to him, or seems to notice the knowing glance and small smile that he gives you.

Dishes are cleaned and yet more coffee is brewed, and you head to the utility room to see how Eddie’s clothes are doing in the (noisy, and possibly unsafe) drier. As you return there’s a lull in the conversation.

Ever the direct one, Robin can’t stand the not knowing any longer, and as Steve pours the next round of coffees she blurts,

“So, what the fuck happened? We thought you were dead. You were dead. They fucking buried you!”

The kitchen falls silent for a moment, nobody sure how much Eddie wants to divulge or relive.

He wraps his palms around his steaming mug, and takes a long, slow, deep breath in and out before he starts talking.

“I don’t remember much after that night with the, uh, Demobats. I kinda remember being jostled into a van, or a military-type vehicle maybe? And tubes, bright lights, people shouting…

“The next thing I know, I’m in some kind of lab, a poky room with a tiny cot and metal furniture, and people coming in at all hours to prod at me and stick me with needles. They did all sorts of tests and injected me with shit, and they wouldn’t tell me what any of it was.

“I’m not sure whether it’s a good or a bad thing that I can’t remember a lot of detail. It’s mostly just pain, agony, and being either chained or locked up. And screaming, so much screaming... Whether that was me or the others, I don’t know.”

You interject,

“There- There were others?”

He nods slowly.

“Yeah, definitely more than just me. I have no idea how many, who they were, what happened to them...”

His hands start trembling, and he lets go of the mug that’s started to shake in his grip, quickly putting his hands in his lap.

“I think the injections they were giving me were concoctions made from the… things they found… down there.

“Owens visited me a couple of times. He said he didn’t like what was being done to me but he wasn’t able to change anything. The last time I saw him he told me he was being transferred to a different site and didn’t think he’d be able to visit again, but he wanted me to know there was someone on his side.”

There’s a brief pause before he continues,

“The last, uhh, experiment was the worst-”

Eddie screws up his face and clenches his teeth at the memory, and balls up one fist, bringing it up to his pursed lips. He squeezes his eyes closed, and a tear appears at the corner of one eye.

You don’t know whether it’s the right thing to do, but you grab his other hand under the table, hoping it’ll give him comfort but fully expecting him to flinch away.

He doesn’t, and his hand clamps around yours in a fierce grip, almost crushing it.

Voice trembling and breaking, he continues.

“It was- Jesus H Christ- it was like liquid fucking fire. All I remember was feeling like they’d injected me with molten lava, and then there was so much shouting, and hands holding me down, and then everything went black...”

He pauses, and nobody else speaks.

Steve swallows, the tap drips into the sink and Robin’s rings clink softly against her coffee mug as she turns it anxiously.

“And then… And then the next thing I remember is coming to, and feeling cold, so- so fucking cold. And darkness, absolute darkness. And I was so scared, and I just started scraping and scratching at whatever was over me, and just kept scrabbling and digging until… there wasn’t anything over me anymore.”

You’re all stunned.

Someone says a quiet ‘fuck’, and you think you hear a sob, perhaps from Dustin.

Steve remains silent but runs a hand through his hair, palm coming to rest over his mouth, and Robin mutters a soft,

“Shit, Eddie.”

You all realise that Eddie wasn’t lying on a slab at all for these past two months, but was being experimented on, and it takes a long moment to sink in.

Eventually, Eddie says,

“Fuck. They really buried me, huh?”

To illustrate his point and as an attempt to inject some humour into the moment, he loosely combs his fingers through his fluffy locks and asks, “When I got here, did I have stuff in my hair?”

There are a few chuckles, and someone throws a balled up paper napkin at him.

There’s another short pause where nobody says anything, but then it’s like a dam breaks and everyone starts talking at once. Robin and Steve make comparisons with the Russians, the kids offer D&D analogies and half-baked scientific theories, and people ask Will and Jane what they think.

For the rest of the morning much discussion ensues, as well as the consumption of store-brand cookies and even more coffee, and you all try to fill in the blanks. Whilst some of the kids interject with ideas and suggestions, others sit quietly, mostly listening. You wonder quite how much secondhand trauma this is going to cause all of them.

As a group you eventually surmise that some shadowy branch of the military was battering Eddie and the others with all sorts of tests, and injecting them with unknown substances, goals unknown and refusing to tell anyone what they were.

Owens clearly never agreed with their approach, and it sounds like he tried to distance himself as much as possible.

The military finally took their experiments too far. Thinking they’d killed him, they eventually released Eddie’s body to his only family, Wayne, and allowed him to be buried.

Unbeknownst to them, their final experiment was the most successful, it just took longer to manifest than the others. Weeks, in fact. Just long enough for the scientists (if you could even call them that) to lose any expectation of a recovery, and for Owens and Wayne to organise a funeral.

Eddie had awoken, dazed, trapped and freezing and with no idea where he was, and had somehow managed to smash the lid of his coffin and scramble his way to the surface. On a rainy night, miles from anywhere.

Finally, Mike is the first to ask the question you think most of you have been contemplating.

“Dude, how did you even find us?”

At particularly painful points in his oration, Eddie has looked to you, seemingly finding comfort in your face, and his gaze doesn’t leave yours as he replies,

“Honestly? I don’t really know. I just had this… feeling… that I needed to come in this direction. And the closer I got, the more certain I was that this is where I’d find you.” Hurriedly, he looks around the rest of the group and adds, “Find you all.”

He carefully lays the hand not holding yours flat onto the table, and, eyes fixed on the faded floral tablecloth, he chokes back a sob as he asks a question that he’s clearly been holding back.

“Why didn’t anyone- Why didn’t you come find me?”

Robin grabs his hand across the table, wrapping it in both of hers, holding it tightly. There’s a beat of silence before she speaks.

“W-we didn’t know! They didn’t tell us anything about any lab. We thought you were dead. Eddie, that first night? They told us you’d died!”

Her voice cracks on the last word, and you see tears start to slowly run down her cheeks.

Eddie chokes, and his eyes lift to the ceiling.

Dustin’s the first to move as he scrapes his chair back and sprints around to Eddie, enveloping his shoulders and neck in a clumsy but aggressively enthusiastic hug as he mumbles into his friend’s shoulder,

“But you’re not dead. You’re not. You’re here, with us, now. You’re back, Eddie, you’re back...”

Lucas stands too, ruffling Eddie’s hair and half-hugging the top of his head with one arm, leaning his cheek against Eddie’s curls, and you lean into Eddie, placing your forehead against the side of his bicep.

Steve turns from where he’s been brewing even more coffee, and moves to place his hand on a patch of shoulder not covered by Dustin or Lucas, patting softly. As he turns back to the stove he comments,

“Yeah, man. D’you really think we wouldn’t’ve come got you? Fuck those guys and all their crappy experiments. No one does that to a member of The Party.”

You simultaneously feel Eddie’s grip on your hand tighten, and the rest of his body relax. Many of you are crying, the sleeves of Eddie’s sweater darkening in patches from the wet plops of Dustin’s tears.

Will and Jane are affected too, and you see their faces soften as they clasp each other's hands under the table.

Eddie’s breath deepens as he absorbs the love and affection of his friends. You guess he’s not used to this much positive attention, and has clearly received even less over the last few weeks.

You all sit in silence for a few long moments, allowing all this new information to sink in and emotions to settle.

Eventually the noise of the stove and the clattering of coffee supplies, together with a strong gust of wind and the increased pattering of leaves against the window, brings you all back to the room.

Eddie seems to have processed everything faster than the rest of you, his emotions shifting, and as Steve pours more coffee he becomes agitated, slamming his fists on the table, startling all of you with the ferocity of his movements.

You guess he’s angry not only at the testing he underwent, but that they lied to all of you, and let him feel hopeless, like nobody cared.

The kids move back as he stands and starts pacing, running his hands through his already-frizzy hair and shaking his head.

“FUCK! Those bastards! Not only did they use me as some kind of twisted lab rat, but they didn’t even tell you guys I was alive? And they let me think that none of you cared enough to come find me, visit me, get me out? GODDAMMIT!”

He slams a palm into the doorframe, and you all jump a little.

Turning back to the room, Eddie notices the effect he’s having on everyone, and, rubbing the back of his neck, says,

“I think I’m gonna go take a walk…”

He moves towards the back door, the expanse of the disused field behind the cabin seemingly the ideal place for him to get his head together.

But, spying the large axe leaning against the frame, he has a better idea.

“Hey, uh, do you guys have, like, logs ‘n’ shit that need chopping? I really need to, um, work through some stuff. Besides, it’s probably the least I can do, given how much heat and hot water I’ve already cost you all.”

He gives a sheepish snort and brings his hand to his face again.

It’s you who speaks first.

“Are you sure, Eddie? I mean, it’s been a stressful few days. Are you okay to be doing something so… physical?”

“Yeah, yeah… I’m feeling a little… pent up. Could do with working some of it off, y’know?”

You nod, figuring all of you are going to need different ways to process this whole bizarre and unsettling situation.

Dustin and Mike find some old tan workboots in a closet, presumably left by the previous owner. They don’t fit perfectly, and it looks like something may have nested in one of them at some point, but they’ll do for now. Eddie pulls them on over his loaned sweats and socks, leaving them unlaced.

Robin offers him his leather jacket. She’s obviously had a go at cleaning off as much of the mud as she can, but you can all tell it’s never going to be quite the same. At least it’s dry now, and Eddie takes it gratefully.

He grabs the old axe and the small hatchet that you use to chop kindling, unlocks the back door and steps outside, closing it behind him.

Dustin wants to go out to him, but Robin grabs him and holds him in a tight hug, explaining that he needs some time to process stuff.

The others give him space, some staying at the kitchen table to process their thoughts, others retreating to the living room and diverting their thoughts with the crackling cartoons that break through the terrible TV signal.

You choose to keep an eye on Eddie, staying back a little from the back door so as not to alarm him, but keeping him within your eye line.

You see Eddie pace a little, muttering to himself, then he shakes his head as if to clear it.

He turns to the log pile and hefts the axe a couple of times, getting the feel of it. He lifts a couple of modestly sized logs onto the stump, wielding the axe above his head and splitting them easily. Almost… effortlessly.

He chops a few more, flinging them into a pile with ease, then moves to lift a few larger ones, breezing through them with the same ‘hot knife through butter’ nonchalance.

It’s the most physical activity you’ve ever seen him do, aside from lifting the odd amp or two, which always left him puffed out. But he’s sailing through the woodpile with barely any exertion.

You can see he’s still processing the contents of your morning, as his features screw up occasionally and grumbled words and what are probably profanities spill from his lips.

As he hefts the axe through the tough logs you can see his eyes are getting redder, and his skin appears paler. You can’t see his body, but the tendons on his hands and neck are popping starkly underneath his translucent skin. And, the wind has picked up considerably since he’s been outside, whipping loose leaves and twigs around the cabin just like it did last night.

Eventually, he starts on the biggest, gnarliest logs. The ones you guys would only attempt when you really, really needed the firewood.

You hear grunts, muffled by the back door, as he works the tougher wood.

The axe gets stuck partway through a particularly thick log, and with an animalistic grunt Eddie yanks the blade from it. Easily lifting the log in his arms, he notches his long fingers into the groove and, in a move that startles you, he rips it into two pieces with his bare hands.

By the back door you suppress a gasp, your hand flying across your mouth and your eyes going wide. You’re not sure whether you should go to him, try to comfort him, or leave him to work through this in whatever way he needs to.

You don’t get the chance to decide, as he finally gets to a particularly old and knotty log that none of you have been able to get anywhere close to splitting. As Eddie slams the axe down into it with a ferocity you didn’t think was possible, he gets it far further than any of you have so far, but again, the blade gets stuck.

The wind picks up even more, as Eddie picks up the axe, log attached, and heaves it around his head, sending it spinning across the back field as he lets out a loud, feral and painful-sounding yell.

Breathing deep for a couple of moments, he runs a hand down his face and begins to trudge across the bumpy earth to retrieve it, coping easily with the rough and uneven ground of the ploughed field and his ill-fitting boots. You can see he’s still yelling expletives and occasionally waving his arms and shouting up into the sky.

The distance that he’s managed to throw the axe is substantial enough that he shrinks in your field of vision by the time he reaches it. You can no longer make out his expression, but as he comes to a halt you do see him bend over and place his hands on his knees, watching his back heave as he takes a few more deep, steadying breaths.

He lifts the axe and heaves both it and the attached heavy log easily over his shoulder with one hand. You consider that you’ve never seen him lift anything with such ease, save maybe his leather jacket, flung over his back, dangling it from one finger on a hot day.

As he turns and starts making his way back to the house, you notice that the wind has started to die down and is whipping less of Eddie’s hair around his face, and leaves and twigs begin to fall to the ground.

You hadn’t realised Jane had come to join you at the back door. Despite not directly knowing Eddie before, she says, in her characteristically deadpan voice, “He is… different now. Isn’t he?”

You purse your lips and nod, quick and small, and find it remarkable that this seemingly awkward young woman, who’s endured so much at the hands of so many, has developed such insight and tenderness.

After removing the axe from the gnarly chunk of wood and placing it by the back door, Eddie spends a few minutes arranging the logs he’s split into neat piles beneath the small shelter. The skin around his eyes is less red now, and his general demeanour seems more relaxed, controlled. Perhaps this has helped after all.

He takes a couple of breaths and composes himself before he heads back towards the door, holding the axe in one hand and a stack of logs atop his other arm.

Bashful, and conscious that you’d rather he didn’t know that you’ve been watching him the entire time, you take a few steps backwards and make like you’re just now coming to the door, opening it for him with a broad smile and directing him to the place in the living room where you store the wood for the fire, thanking him for his efforts.

As he places the last of the wood and starts to take off his jacket, you notice that his hands are again torn and bloody, splinters sticking out every which way and an angry-looking blister on one palm.

You assume that he’s reopened his wounds from last night, but the positions and patterns don’t match up. Everything from last night has almost completely healed, and these are all new.

Regardless of the peculiarities, they need attention, so you instruct him,

“Come with me, let’s get you cleaned up.”

You send him to your bedroom as you grab some washcloths, a bowl of warm water and the first aid kit from the bathroom.

You sit him up against your headboard, setting up your supplies on the comforter. Figuring it’s the most practical position for you to be in, you straddle his knees and begin dabbing at his cut and splintered hands with antiseptic. Realising there’s too much debris in the way, and wincing at the sheer size and quantity of them, you grab some tweezers, removing the splinters of various sizes that have embedded into his fingers and palms.

As you swap back to using the wet cloths and begin cleaning the blood from his skin, you’re perhaps less surprised than you should be to find that the new injuries have already stopped bleeding, and some of the smaller ones even appear to be closing up, apparently heading the same way as the cuts on his face and feet from whatever happened last night.

You work quietly for a few moments before your curiosity gets the better of you.

“Eddie?”

“Hmm?”

“What was that? Outside, just now? You seem…”

“Different? Yeah, I know… Don’t ask me how it happened, but I feel different too. Stronger, faster…”

He glances at you through his bangs.

“Less in control…”

His brow is furrowed as he holds your gaze, and you guess he’s waiting for you to back off. You don’t.

“I guess they… changed me.”

You move to touch his chin gently with one hand, wanting to reassure him. You realise that by telling him this you’re going to reveal that you were watching him, but you forge ahead anyway.

“Listen, I’m not gonna pretend that whatever it is that I just saw wasn’t a little… unnerving. But I’ve never felt unsafe around you. Quite the opposite, in fact. And that hasn’t changed. I don’t think it ever will.”

He refuses to meet your gaze, and twists his battered hands together in his lap, seemingly fighting with himself.

“I should go. Leave you guys. You’re not safe with me here.”

A vice grip seizes your chest. All logic leaves you, and the only thing you can think about is never letting him go again.

“Eddie, no!”

“I don’t really know what their plan was, but I’m guessing they were trying to make me into a super soldier, or something. They’re not gonna stop. As soon as they find out what happened at the cemetery, they’re gonna try to find me. And if I could find you, they can find me.”

A ball of anxiety forms in you. You can’t let him go. You just can’t.

“I thought you were dead, we all did. I’ve only just found you again, after I thought I’d lost you forever. Please don’t say you’re going to leave?”

Your voice cracks and you swallow back a sob. You lurch forward and grip both of his hands with all the strength you have left, not caring that you’re getting his blood on you, and might even be hurting him.

If Eddie feels any pain, he doesn't flinch. But the sight of you falling to pieces in front of him, because of him, is apparently something he can’t bear.

“Okay, I won’t. I’ll stay tonight, at least. Then we’ll try to figure something out. Maybe contact Owens, see if he knows anything. Alright?”

He raises his head and looks into your eyes now, as you snuffle a little and manage a small smile. He’s yours for tonight, at least.

No, not exactly yours, you have to remind yourself. He’s safe, with all of you, for tonight, at least.

Something else decides to jostle for prominence in your mind, and you ask him, quietly,

“How did you find us? Really. How did you know where to go?”

Eddie takes a deep breath before shifting slightly, and he returns the grip on your hands.

You think you hear a little trepidation in his voice as he speaks.

“I don’t know if this is going to sound crazy, but… what doesn’t these days, right? It’s like- Even before… everything, it’s like every time I left you I left a part of my soul with you. And… it would stay with you all the time we were apart. And then whenever I was with you I’d find it again. That’s how I found you. It was like I was searching for a piece of myself, and somehow I just knew where to find it.”

He goes quiet, dropping his chin to his chest again.

His words play on a loop in your head. Even before… I left a part of my soul with you… and whenever I was with you I’d find it...

You shift forwards even more, closing the gap between you, and the movement makes you become acutely aware of your proximity. You become conscious of the feel of his firm thighs between yours, how good it feels. How, for the second time in less than twenty four hours, you wish there weren’t these thin pieces of fabric between you.

Something sparks in your chest: Could he feel the same way as you?

Your voice trembles as you practically beg him,

“I don't want you ever to leave, Eddie. I don’t want us to ever be apart, and always be there for each other. I don’t want you to ever be missing a part of your soul again. I want to be with you, always.”

Eddie huffs out a sob of his own, lifting your hands to his and nuzzling his face into your knuckles. He takes one and slowly turns his head until his round nose connects with your curled fingers. And then, ever so slowly, he connects his lips with the soft, sensitive skin on your palm.

Tentatively, he moves a little and purses them against the inside of your wrist, lightly pressing them there, inhaling deeply and his breath shuddering slightly as he inhales your scent.

You notice both of your breathing has quickened. You can feel Eddie’s as it passes over your skin, and you feel your heartbeat in your throat.

Eddie looks over at you. His body may have changed in myriad ways, but his eyes remain the same. They’re still the huge, beautiful, warm pools of cacao that have drawn you in since the moment you met. It’s the tether that makes you realise that no matter how else he might’ve changed, deep down he’s still Eddie. Your Eddie.

You move your other hand, gently taking his wrist, and move his free hand up to your face. You close your eyes as you softly kiss his palm, and then move his hand to cup your cheek.

Gently, almost imperceptibly, Eddie moves his thumb and touches it to the very corner of your mouth. You feel a heat in your belly and you turn your head towards it, skimming it over your lips.

Your eyes flick between his chocolate orbs as Eddie bends his thumb ever so slightly. The pad of it pulls at the plush of your lower lip a tiny amount, but it’s enough to create a gap.

Without thinking you start to open your jaw, and he begins to move forwards. As he pushes into your waiting mouth all you can think about is tasting him, and your tongue starts to move. Just as the tip of it is about to make contact with Eddie’s thumb, there’s a jarring yell.

“Hey, everybody! Grub’s up!”

You pull apart with a start, both inhaling sharply.

It’s Robin, calling from the kitchen. Of course you’re grateful that the mums never allow the kids to arrive empty handed, but a large part of you wishes that you and Eddie could’ve had just a little more time to explore… whatever this is.

You let out nervous chuckles as you smile softly at one another, and hold each other’s gaze for probably little longer than is strictly necessary before you gather up the medical supplies and you both stand.

You can’t help but take Eddie’s hand in yours as you pull him towards the kitchen, encouraging him to follow lest he misses out on the delicacy that is Dustin’s mom’s substantial contribution.

“C’mon, Claudia’s lasagnas are totally legendary. It may sound simple, but combined with Mrs Sinclair’s recipe for garlic bread, I promise you, you’re about to have a near-spiritual culinary experience.”

Still feeling the heat of what just occurred in your room you busy yourself with packing away the first aid kit, and then elect to sit across the table from Eddie. You convince yourself that you’re not avoiding him, simply allowing the kids the chance to get close to him for a little while.

As if reading your mind, Dustin immediately plants himself in the chair next to Eddie, swiftly followed by Mike on his other side. Lucas sits next to Dustin, and Will slides in next to Mike. They chatter excitedly about campaigns and creatures and characters, and to see Eddie flanked by his adoring sheep brings a different kind of warmth to your chest.

The conversation remains light over dinner. Jokes are cracked, teasing occurs, and you’re pleased everyone’s getting a break from the tension and horrors.

The culinary delights are as good as you’d promised, and Eddie hums and moans at the delicious bounty before him. He remains pale, but he’s definitely regained some strength, vigour.

He glances over at you after taking an especially large mouthful of the meaty dish, and after you stop giggling at his uncouth antics he grins at you, tomato sauce staining his lips and the sides of his mouth, confirming,

“You’re right, this is goddamn heavenly!”

At another point he takes a particularly large bite of some soaked bread, and herb-flecked garlic butter oozes all over his thumb. Your eyes are drawn to it as he brings it to his mouth and presses it between his plump lips, and your eyes connect across the table as he sucks it off, twisting the digit and temporarily giving himself the most salacious pout. He spots you looking, and leaves his thumb in his mouth for what you consider is altogether too long before pulling it out with a pop. You gulp audibly and shift in your seat, grateful for the general clamour disguising your arousal.

You haven’t discussed as a group whether or where Eddie’s going to stay, though it seems to be unspoken between all of you that of course he’s going to remain here until you can all figure out what to do next. You decide not to raise the earlier conversation you had about him possibly leaving.

Dustin’s the first to broach the subject, asking,

“So, where’re you sleeping tonight, Eddie? You wanna come bunk with us in the warmest room in the house?”

He wiggles his eyebrows, attempting to extol the virtues of the open fire. His excitement is palpable, and you envy the optimism of youth that can make even the least appealing flat surfaces sound like an enticing bedspace.

You interject on Eddie’s behalf, suggesting,

“Hey guys, I know it would be the coolest sleepover ever, but I think Eddie might’ve earned the luxury of an actual bedroom after what he’s been through recently, don’t you think?”

Dustin looks crestfallen, but recovers quickly, agreeing with an only slightly pouty,

“I suppoooooose…”

Without looking at the others, you turn to Eddie and proffer,

“You’ll stay in my room, right?”

Eddie nods, his curls bouncing, as he agrees, perhaps a little too quickly,

“Of course, yep, that sounds… entirely fine.”

You miss how Robin and Steve glance at each other, Steve raising an eyebrow as Robin smirks at him.

There’s a quick clean up as dishes are done and pans are left to soak. Craving normalcy, you pile into the small living room and manage to make it through about two thirds of another of Keith’s loaned films before blinks get longer, eyes start to close and heads start to loll.

Robin chivvies the teens to get their sleeping bags set up, and there’s the typical grousing and bickering as everyone tries to use the bathroom at the same time. You think at one point three of the boys are trying to use the sink simultaneously, jostling each other and spitting far too enthusiastically in an effort to spray their compatriots. It’s a small nugget of frivolity that makes you consider the possibility that you might just all be okay.

Steve moves the small electric heater from his room back to yours, and you retrieve Eddie’s clothes from the drier. He slips into his Hellfire shirt and clean boxers as you change into your Garfield nightshirt, and then starts to grab blankets from beside you.

Confused, you question,

“What’re you doing?”

“Oh, uh… I just thought I’d sleep on the floor, y’know, give you the bed.”

You’re aghast.

“Don't be silly, Eddie. There’s plenty of room. Sleep up here, please? I mean, it’s not like we never have before. All those nights in the trailer when I got too baked to make it home, or you got too baked to drive me, or both…”

You both chuckle at the fond memory. You wonder whether you’ll ever let on that sometimes you were faking it, or deliberately took too many drags from the last blunt, just so you could spend the night with him, in his bed.

He throws the blankets back over and, smiling, climbs in beside you.

Turning off your bedside light, the room becomes bathed in the low, pale blue glow of the moonlight.

You both lie on your backs, staring at the ceiling. Somehow it’s easier to talk like this.

Thumbing the skull ring on your hand, you want to talk about the… other thing that happened, but have no idea how to bring it up.

As you’re ruminating, Eddie beats you to it.

“I hope it wasn’t weird? Earlier, I mean. It was…”

Your thighs clench a minuscule amount as you recall the feel of him between them, and the lightest brush of your lips on various parts of each other, and you finish his sentence for him.

“Nice. It was nice.”

Shit. It was so much more than nice, you think to yourself.

“I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of you, or anything. I guess I’m just a little touch-starved, y’know…?”

“I don’t. Honestly, I’m just glad to be close to you again. And if I made you feel uncomfortable then I’m really sorry…”

You can tell by the minor shifts in the covers and from his general demeanour that Eddie’s fidgeting with his hands.

“You didn’t, I promise.”

There’s another pause, and Eddie huffs out another small breath before he continues,

“Listen, I know the past twenty-four hours has basically been weirdness personified, and I don’t want to make it even weirder, but…can I… maybe… hold you?”

“I think weird is probably the understatement of the century, but it’s okay. And… I think I’d like that.”

You shift closer to one another under the covers, and you turn onto your side as Eddie moves himself to spoon behind you in an echo of your position last night.

He tentatively drapes his arm over you. He feels warmer than when you last did this, and more relaxed, and you press slightly backwards towards him as much as you dare, letting out a heavy, relaxed sigh.

You take Eddie’s hand in yours, threading your fingers with his, running yours over and between his digits and turning his forelimb this way and that. He hums into your hair and lets you move his arm however you like.

But you stop when you glance down in the dim light and spot a small tattoo on the inside of his wrist that you’ve not seen before. It’s definitely new. You know this because you’ve spent hours tracing over every inch of his inked skin, fantasising about following the images with more than just your eyes, imagining using your fingers, your hands, your lips, your tongue…

But this one’s not like any of his others. This one is small and simple, and looks like the outlines of two soft-cornered rectangles with a blocky W between them. It takes you a moment to process what you’re looking at, realising it looks a lot like one you’ve seen before. She’s had it covered with a delicate floral design (having connections in government really can get you anything, including underage ink), but you remember what it looked like.

Jane’s was a rectangle stacked on top of two horizontal lines, but when you looked at it from a different angle it became numbers: 011.

Looking at Eddie’s, you move the position of his arm. It turns the image a little, suddenly giving it more meaning, as you see it depicts a different number: 030.

Quietly, you croak,

“Eddie, what’s thi-?”

You don’t have a chance to process what any of it could mean as Eddie suddenly tenses, his head lifted from the pillows and his face flicking towards the window and back to you.

His brow furrows as he murmurs,

“Do you hear that?”

You strain your ears and hear nothing at first. But then, gradually, and from far away, you hear the disturbingly familiar sounds of flapping, shuffling and screeching.

Goosebumps appear on your arms and the back of your neck as you abruptly recall the only things you know of that make sounds like these:

Creatures from the Upside Down…

Prev: Prologue Part One

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Thanks so much for reading!

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A/N 2: Did anyone spot the LOTR, Captain America and/or Make Up references? 🧝‍♂️🪓👍 (Also, completely by accident, AQPDO too 😜, and ETA: this and THIS 🫠)

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Step into my parlour, said the spider

Stepbro! Simon x reader

Warnings: this one’s kind of deranged. Simon is a fucked up little freak. I mean it when I say this is dark, read with discretion. Implications of murder, and non-con

Word count: 1.5k

Once again 141 server bringing out the worst in me, @chxrryghost @cooliofango see you guys in hell 🫡

Before you, life was a series of dull greys and monochromes, there was no warmth, just cold never-ending darkness that persisted in the form of his father's abuse. That didn’t matter now though, because nothing before you mattered.

Simon is nine years old when the angel (you) starts to live with them, he’s got no clue how his deadbeat of a father managed to finagle another woman into marrying him but he pays little mind to his new step-mum when he has you. 

You’re five years older than him, but you’re not like Tommy or dad at all. You’re kind and you tuck him into bed and give him cuddles and kisses that make him feel all fuzzy inside. You take him to the park and protect him from his dad. You try to hide the dark bruises that litter your skin, a consequence of shielding him, but Simon’s not so naive. 

He grows up hiding in your shadow, falling deeper and deeper into an obsessively deranged love for his saviour, the only person who loves him and treats him kindly. He seethes silently, waiting for the moment he’s big enough to protect you instead. 

By the time you’re sixteen, your mother has split, leaving you behind though you reassure Simon that you’d never have left him anyway. His father’s been out of a job for a while and you’ve been running yourself ragged to support Simon and Tommy. Tommy the bastard that he is doesn't appreciate the work you do and Simon is once again forced to grit his teeth and seethe as he watches you come home every evening like a zombie. Some mornings you don’t even make it to the bed to fall asleep, though Simon’s always waiting, dragging you under the covers before burrowing his way into your side. 

You let yourself get degraded by filthy men that slap your ass and call you names just for a measly tip. You’re one of the prettiest people on the planet which, unfortunately, attracts a lot of attention from the disgusting dregs of society. Boys your age and older, far too old to even consider glancing your way. The few brave enough to hover are always quickly scared off by Simon’s intense glares, and he preens when you pat his hair in thanks.

His dad notices too and Simon comes home from school one afternoon to find the man on top of you, hands wrapped around your neck as you struggle beneath him. A plate shatters over his dad's head and it’s not until Simon is on the floor and his old man is red in face, screaming at him that Simon realises what he’s done. 

You’re screaming and you shove his dad from behind, scooping Simon into your arms with adrenaline-fuelled strength you wouldn’t normally possess and are locking you and him in your shared room. Barricading the door and squishing Simon against you as your breath rattles. 

You fall asleep with Simon nestled against your chest, none the wiser to how his blood chants with the fervour of a thousand men, mine, mine, mine.

The universe finally seems to give you a break after that, his dad leaves the both of you alone and not long after your 18th birthday you get a cushy, well-paying job as a secretary for some hot-shot lawyer. Though Simon gets a little upset when you spend all your money on him, new clothes, new books for school, a GameBoy, whatever he wants. 

Best of all, his dad dies. The alcohol and drugs finally taking their toll on his body. (It’s not until a few years later that he’ll realise you were entirely too calm when the police came knocking. Serving them tea as you pretended to be shocked about the news.)

You get custody of him and Tommy and you move them into a much nicer neighbourhood. Though Simon’s not happy at having his own room and often sneaks back into your bed, knowing that you’ll simply sigh and open your arms for him, letting him snuggle against your chest. 

Simon should’ve known better, should’ve known that his happiness wouldn’t last. It’s not even a year into what you called the start of his new life that he comes home one afternoon from school to find you sobbing into your hands, hair and outfit dishevelled. Though you refuse to give him the details of what happened he manages to put two and two together from the state of your being and the knowledge that you’ve been fired. 

You take up waitressing again but it’s not enough. He’s not sure who ends up reporting it but a few days before his 14th birthday Simon gets taken away from you, no matter how much he kicks and screams. He tries to run away a few times but he’s always found and dragged away from you again. 

You move away not long after, having been offered a once-in-a-lifetime scholarship. Simon tries to understand as you explain through tears, kissing his forehead for the last time. He knows it’s selfish of him to feel betrayed but he can’t help it. Can’t accept that you’re leaving him. He doesn’t cry, instead, he immediately starts plotting. This is just a minor bump in the road, he’ll spend every waking moment until he’s eighteen perfecting his skills and plans and then nothing will keep you apart ever again. 

Time passes by excruciatingly slow, the only positive is that he’d finally grown even further, and had sprouted in height and musculature so much that he fears you might not recognise him. It takes him another extra year to find you, but when he’s twenty-three, with military resources at his disposal he finally, finally sees you again in person. 

You’re still the picture of perfection, clothes hugging your form so tantalisingly that Simon feels his cock throb in the confines of his pants just from seeing you. He steps forward, weaving through the crowd of the market only to stop in his tracks when a man wraps his arms around your midsection. Instead of rebuffing the touch you lean back and smile against him and Simon feels as if the Earth has been pulled from his feet. 

How could you do this to him?

He’s waited so faithfully for you all these years and you’ve replaced him? He watches as you kiss the interloper with a smile and Simon clenches his fists in fury so harshly his palms bleed. How many men had you let into your bed? How long did it take for you to forget him?

The plan’s changed. You’ve forced him into this. It’s not his fault that he’s had to plant cameras throughout your house. It’s not his fault that you’re so tantalising it forces him to break into your house, stealing your used panties to help get himself off. It’s not his fault you force him to learn you and your boyfriend’s schedule and it’s not his fault your scumbag partner doesn’t take his carefully worded hint to leave you. 

Your boyfriend is dead. Unfortunate, but needs must. Simon watches you sob into your pillow, hard as a rock as he imagines licking the tears from your cheeks and decides he can’t wait any longer. 

You’re so distraught that you don’t even notice Simon is in your house, you don’t notice until he swings the bedroom door open and you look up with a scream. He supposes he must make something of a terrifying sight, he’s a large man, and his face is covered by his trademark skull balaclava.

Simon allows you a few seconds to scramble around in panic before he crosses the distance, trapping your back to his chest and groaning as he humps into your ass. You scream, hitting at his arms as the tears start to flow anew and Simon throws you down on the mattress, weighing you down with his bulk. 

“Please, you don’t have to do this” you beg with teary eyes that do nothing but fuel his arousal. He does take pity on you though, restraining your wrists with his right hand and using his left to tug off his mask. He watches as your eyes gradually widen, elation filling his chest as recognition fills them. 

“Simon?” your voice wobbles and his name has never sounded better. Groaning, he rests his forehead against your collarbone, taking calming breaths to stop from cumming then and there. It’s okay though, he’s got all the time in the world now. You’ll spend the rest of your lives together, you’ll never be apart again.

[dilatorywriting]

Heroes vs. Villains : Pomefiore

Gender Neutral Reader x Pomefiore vs. Neige Leblanche Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: Woe to the Ramshackle Prefect, being caught up in the drama between the Disney Villains and their respective heroes. Pomefiore Version ie. Wherein Vil tries his very best to correct your abominable wardrobe and you swoop in to kidnap save an unsuspecting gentleman in distress.

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3]

“Your wardrobe is atrocious. And I’m not going to be seen with someone who looks like they rolled around on the floor of their closet and put on whatever stuck to them first.”

Firstly, your closet wasn’t big enough to step inside, let alone roll around in. So take that, Mister Metaphor.

Secondly, you didn’t even own enough clothing for that to be an option. Dressing yourself like some kind of confetti monster? Yeah, no. You had three pairs of donated, grey, uniforms and a couple over-large sweatshirts that Jack had kindly donated to you once fall set in. Today it just so happened to be Uniform #2 that was the clean one of the set. So.

All of that being said, from the sounds of things, your Crimes Against Fashion had spurred an emergency shopping trip. A shopping trip spearheaded by the Vil Schoenheit, and very hopefully being funded by his seemingly never-emptying wallet. Also, to be perfectly honest, Ramshackle was cold. And you would very much like some new socks and at least one fuzzy pair of pajama pants to go with Jack’s old crewnecks. Maybe a nice throw blanket. That alone was worth the blow to your dignity.

“Will I survive?” you lamented, as Rook fussed with your sad excuse for an umbrella.

“No,” Epel drawled, entirely unsympathetic. Not that you could blame the guy. An afternoon that the House Warden spent with you was one less hovering over Epel—one less hour stuck in front of a mirror, one less etiquette class that was more punishment than lesson. Perhaps one more secret rack of barbecue ribs snuck in from the Savanaclaw Dorm.

“Mon Coeur, you are going to get soaked,” Rook tutted, finally conceding on trying to fix your shredded nightmare of a parasol. You’d found it in one of the many dusty closets Ramshackle had to offer. One of the ghosts said they recognized it from their time on campus two-hundred years ago.

“Sorry.”

“It is far from your fault!” Rook gasped, and Epel rolled his eyes.

“Why don’t you ask Vil to buy you one?” your purple-haired friend mocked, and you fought the urge to stick your tongue out at him.

“Maybe I will,” you sniffed, indignant.

“More likely he’ll just see it an’ get all upset, and be like, ‘ah! How ugly this darn thing is! Throw it away before my eyes bleed!’” he crooned, dramatic—so caught up in his theatrics that he nearly dropped the little apple carving he was working on.

“Yeah, right. Like Vil would ever be caught dead saying ‘darn,’” you jabbed, and Epel hurled the fruit at your head. Rook caught it gracefully and returned it to the grumpy farm boy with a gentle toss. “But otherwise, spot on.”

“‘Spot on’ about what, precisely? Your collective complete and utter lack of decorum? This is a public space, show some class please.”

And with that scathing remark, Vil Schoenheit had officially entered the scene.

The venomous beauty���s purple eyes traced over you in the way that they always seemed to—picking apart whatever things he deemed worthy of plucking. His gaze landed almost immediately on your near-disintegrated umbrella, and it narrowed with distaste.

“You’re not bringing that with us. In fact, you might as well just toss it with the garbage on the way out.”

You and Epel made painfully long eye contact.

Rook shoved a red-and-white checkered parasol into your hands with an indulgent smile.

The journey to the outlets from there was actually pretty pleasant. Vil’s private car was swanky and smelled like the fancy sort of air fresheners that didn’t prick at your nose with an oversaturation of chemical fruitiness. He rattled off list upon list of ‘essentials’ that was sounding longer and more expensive by the minute. But (as he immediately confirmed upon seeing your mounting horror) this was to be a Schoenheit Expenditure, so you decided to let him enjoy himself and tally up a ridiculous amount of brand name garbage.

The stores had private parking. And that was immediately intimidating.

Vil fixed his ‘normal people disguise’ more firmly in place before walking you through the building with a surprising level of enthusiasm.

“It works a bit differently—” he continued, piling item after item into a cart that was already close to overflowing. “—Most of these products are meant to be customized, but I suppose we can look into that later. Off-The-Rack is not usually my preferred method of browsing, but it will have to do until we’ve bulked out your general wardrobe into something passable.”

He was muttering to himself like a mad scientist—holding swatches to your face, tugging bits of various fabric against your fingers. His efficiency and complete competence in all things was endearing, if not a bit terrifying.

Then, Vil draped a soft, amethyst, scarf around your neck.

“Here,” he said, still mostly buried in the racks. “You can wear this now—for the cold. This color suits you.”

“Really?” you hummed, doing your absolute best not to let your eyes fall to the price tag dangling off the end of it. You failed. “It’d fit you better,” you rambled, trying to take your mind off the triple-goddamn-digits you’d just seen. “It actually matches your eyes kind of perfectly, don’t you think?”

There was a pause then, and for a moment you worried that you’d said something irritating—maybe unintentionally questioning his fashion judgements or blablabla. One thing that you knew for sure was that when the King of Poisons had to stop and ponder on a reply, you’d done fucked up. And were his ears red? Oh no you must have really pissed him off—

“I am trying to focus on turning you into an even marginally acceptable member of society,” he rushed out finally, sounding strained. “So if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Fine, fine,” you sighed. “I’ll go grab us some coffees or something.”

“Don’t wander too far,” he called, sounding distracted. “And no—”

“No caffeine, decaf only. Stimulants will ruin your skin, and digestive tract, and blablabla,” you droned. “I know your drill.”

“That goes for you too, potato,” he tutted, a pleasant warmth coasting over the reprimand.

You waved him off with a grumble and headed out into the main building. It was bright—nearly unpleasantly so—and every surface looked like it was made of a stone so expensive that you probably wouldn’t even be able to pronounce its name.

You wandered around aimlessly for a few minutes, wondering idly if a place this upscale would even have a café kiosk. Surely rich people still drank coffee, but you’d also heard something once upon a time about how ‘to-go cups’ and ‘not savoring the brew’ were some kind of gross social faux pas. You sighed, and as your shoulders slouched you felt a brush of sinfully soft fabric against the back of your arm.  

You froze and reached hesitantly up to your neck. You were still wearing the purple scarf. You pinched at the ridiculously expensive cashmere with wide eyes. Did this make you a thief? I mean, no one had bothered to stop you or anything. Did these sorts of stores have different rules? Like an honesty policy maybe? And you technically hadn’t even left the building yet! So maybe—

WHAM!

“Ah! I’m so sorry! I just—I have to—!”

You were ripped out of your morality spiral by a sound like a storm, and you looked up past your assailant to see a herd of people stampeding in your direction. Immediately, your I-was-shopping-with-an-internationally-recognizable-superstar instinct kicked in, and you bodily hauled yourself and whatever poor sap who had nearly mowed you down into the nearest store and then into one of the changing rooms beyond that.

The tempest that followed was a roar of cacophonous noise, but thankfully brief. Only a few people ducked into the store you’d taken refuge in, and none of those ventured very close to your hiding place. You breathed out a sigh of relief. It sounded weirdly muffled behind the changing room’s thick, velvety, curtains.

“Th-Thank you for that,” stuttered whoever you’d just kidnapped.

“Don’t worry about it,” you shrugged, and turned to get a better look at your new partner in crime. Immediately you froze, an odd sense of recognition working through you. “Uhm—Are you Neige? Neige Le Blanc?”

“Leblanche,” he corrected gently, and then winced. Like he’d only just realized that maybe outing himself after being nearly accosted by a mob was not the best idea.

“Oh. Alright,” you said, dazed.

This was Vil’s arch nemesis? He reminded you a little of a cocker spaniel—with big, wide, heavy-lashed eyes and soft, dark, curls framing his perfectly petite face. Sure, he was lovely. And maybe you were a little biased here, but this guy—this, this walking cherub—was standing in the way of Vil’s absolute, tyrannical, reign over all things sexy? Sure, he was adorable enough. But most beautiful of them all? Come on.

“U-Uhm…” Neige stuttered, nervously clasping his fingers. “Do you… Want an autograph or something? As a thank you?”

“What?” you blinked, allowing yourself to be pulled back into the very surreal situation unfolding around you. “Oh. No thanks. I don’t want to be massacred.”

He gasped. “I know that they may not have left the best first impression just now, but I promise that my fans would never do that!”

It wasn’t his fans you were worried about. Vil’s high heels looked sharp enough to gut a man, and you did not want to be the first test subject for that hypothesis.

“Don’t worry about it,” you shrugged.

“…I might have to camp out in here for a while,” he mumbled after a quiet moment, morose.

“Probably,” you sighed, sympathetic. “Sorry.”

“You, uhm, you don’t mind keeping this a secret, do you?” Neige smiled, wobbly.

“I’m not going to turn you over to your ravenous fangirls,” you reassured. Because sure, the mean-spiritedness of the residents of Night Raven College may have been rubbing off on you, but you had yet to become that heartless.  

“Thank you,” he relaxed, genuine appreciation warming his dark eyes. And then he aimed that kilowatt, darling-of-the-world, smile in your direction and fired. “You’re my hero.”

For a moment you were honestly, thoroughly, dazzled. It was like you could hear songbirds and heavenly choirs singing all around you—filling the dark space with sparkles and warmth that danced merrily across your skin like the soft fizz in a soda pop.

But then, like a sign from God, your phone buzzed angrily in your pocket and you glanced down quick enough to catch a bright V.S. flash across the screen.

Oh shit.

You turned, ready to make a bolt for it and leave your companion stranded, when something atrocious caught your eye.

“Is that a sweater vest,” you gaped, poking at the stitched material poking out from beneath Neige’s RSA blazer. “With squirrels on it.”

“U-Uhm. Yes?” he squeaked, cheeks dusted pink.

How in the fuck does Vil think he’s less fuckable than this guy, what the fuck.

“I-I’m sorry, but did you just say—"

You hurriedly pulled the (stolen?) scarf from your neck and shoved it pointedly over Neige’s mouth, before wrapping it securely around the rest of his head. Your phone was buzzing again—longer and sharper this time. Like a certain someone was spamming you with indignant, ‘how dare you abandon my magnificent ass,’ essays.

“So that hopefully no one will recognize you,” you (lied) explained cheerfully, and tightened the makeshift gag. Now he could be the accidental thief. Neige gurgled his thanks into the fabric, or at least, you assumed that’s what he was spluttered out. It was hard to tell past the, you know, gag.

You peaked out beyond the curtains and observed the empty storefront like a proper super spy. All clear. Thank God.

You swiveled back and thumped Neige Leblanche on the shoulder with what was perhaps a bit more force than necessary, seeing as his knees had started to shake. He swayed in place, an odd shade of pink creeping past the barrier of the scarf and nearly all the way to his hairline. Hopefully he wasn’t about to faint or something—you really didn’t have time for that.

“Good luck,” you told him emphatically, before darting out of your hiding space and back into the horrible fluorescent nightmare before you.

“Wait!” you heard him call. “I didn’t even get your name—"

But at this point, your phone had graduated from spurts of rage to outright howling in indignation, so you didn’t have much choice but to keep on running. You pressed down on the green ‘accept call’ button with all the enthusiasm of a soldier being sent off to the front lines.

“What?”

“Don’t you take that tone of voice with me,” Vil hissed, doing an impressive job of keeping his voice low and level while simultaneously sounding ready to tear your ass to pieces. “Where are you?”

“I got lost looking for coffee with no caffeine. You know. The best part of the coffee,” you admitted. Sort of.

“You got lost?” he sounded incredulous. “In a single-story shopping center? With maps at every corner?”

“There were a lot of people,” you defended.

He sighed, clearly put upon, and you had the distinct impression that he was pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just meet me back at the side entrance. We should leave—it’s starting to get crowded and I don’t want to deal with the stampede when I’m inevitably recognized.”

“Of course,” you agreed easily, and made your way up to one of these supposed ‘maps at every corner.’ And oh. It was actually… very well drawn and very helpful. Fuck you, huh? “Did you get everything you needed?”

“I got everything you needed,” he corrected. “And we will be trying every single item on when we return to campus.”

You whined, and man, oh man. You didn’t think it was possible to smack someone upside the head through a phone, but somehow Vil made it work.

It didn’t take long from there to find the exits, and just in the nick of time too it would seem! As a steady stream of eager ‘shoppers’ began to flood into the building—most of them twittering about ‘did you catch a photo’ or ‘I heard someone saw him around that one store!’ Vil watched them through the tinted lenses of his glasses, lips pursed.

You were just about to step back into the car and out of the chilly rain when an eruption of screaming broke out somewhere in the near-distance. You immediately braced for impact, but when you were not immediately trampled into a pile of gelatinous goop beneath the thundering feet of hundreds of fanatics, you chanced a glance upwards.

Neige Leblanche was being herded out of the main entrance by a troupe of security guards, each one holding a different black umbrella over his head. It created a shadowed canopy that, despite the rain and gloom, somehow managed not to dull the radiance oozing off him and his perfect-perfectness. The fair beauty rubbed awkwardly at the back of his head, as if perplexed by the swarm of people ducking in and out like a pack of dogs circling a big, juicy, steak. Nevertheless, he waved to each and every fan—smiling demurely and sweetly as he went.

“We should go while they’re distracted,” you whispered, tugging at Vil’s arm. “And in case the swooning is contagious.”

He didn’t move. There was an odd sort of look on his face, one that usually preceded some of the most brutally cutting insults you’d ever heard.

You turned back to the growing mob, curious about what could have possibly snagged his attention—and ire—so completely.

Wrapped artfully around Neige’s neck, and flapping neatly alongside the chilly autumn breeze, was your purple scarf.

The dainty actor lifted the soft fabric to his lips, burrowing his chin into it not unlike how some adorable little round-cheeked bunny might photogenically cuddle into a—a cloud. Or a pillow of cotton candy. Or something else equally as cute and ridiculous. Neige’s cheeks bloomed a fetching shade of pink and his wide, brown, eyes glittered from over the folds of cashmere. His audience squealed.

“Well, at least it’s not you they’re mauling this time,” you hummed, shooting Vil another hesitant glance. That sour expression had twisted into a familiar and awful icy sneer that you hadn’t seen him dawn in a very long time. “Vil?” You called. “Are you alright?”

“Hmm?” he blinked, seeming to come back to himself. That frigid snarl was washed away by a mask of complete stoicism, and honestly, you weren’t sure which was worse. “Oh. Yes. Of course. Shall we?”

The hand he offered to help you climb over the many boxes of clothes and into the backseat was stiff, tight. It clapped around your wrist like a pair of manacles, and he didn’t let go until you were out of the parking lot, past the backroads, beyond the gates of Night Raven, and all the way back into the lavish halls of Pomefiore. 

[lost-in-fandoms]

Hi friend, please give us more streamer Max AU! First interaction between them maybe??

part 1 here

Daniel blinks awake, groggily turning off his alarm and rubbing his eyes, blindly reaching for the water on his bedside table.

The room is still pitch dark, the night quiet outside.

2:55 am.

He grabs his phone, settling again onto the pillows and clicking through his apps until he can open the now familiar twitch app and navigate to Max's channel, just in time to see the starting soon screen appear as it goes live.

He knows this is ridiculous. He knows that he is not helping himself or his unstable sleep patterns by setting an alarm in the middle of the night to watch a guy stream from somewhere in Europe, but as long as nobody knows nobody can judge him either, so that's okay.

He yawns, scratching at his chest, watching people say hello to each other in chat as it comes alive.

He has yet to ever type something there.

In the two weeks he's been watching Max, he has managed to figure out what subscriptions and gifted subs are, Max's schedule (stream four times a week plus whenever he feels like it), and has started to recognise some usernames in chat. But there is something about actually typing that feels...revealing.

His username is generic, just Daniel_358, the number randomly chosen until twitch stopped telling him the username was taken, but that's still his name. Connected to his private email. And he knows he's not doing anything wrong, but it still feels forbidden, to wake up at night and spend about two hours just looking at Max.

The screen suddenly changes, switching to Max's camera, his pretty smiling face filling Daniel's small screen. Not for the first time, he thinks about setting up the projector, just to be able to see more.

"Hello everyone, it's Friday! And we're playing Minecraft today."

Daniel lets Max's now familiar accent wash over him, feeling himself smile back instinctively. Max looks soft today in the dim golden glow of his light, a faded sweatshirt almost covering the very short grey shorts he's wearing, and it makes Daniel wish he had Max right there, in his bed, warm and sleep rumpled in the sheets.

Yes, he is aware how weird that is too. He knows that it would maybe be less weird if he only got off watching Max's streams.

He has by now mostly figured out Max's deal. He'll play his games, talk with chat, and from time to time do something that will make Daniel's breath stutter in his chest. Touching his legs, squeezing himself through his shorts, raising his shirt to touch his stomach, trailing his fingers down towards his pants. One memorable time, he had pushed it high enough to touch his own nipple, a visible shudder traveling through him. Daniel had almost come on the spot.

The whole stream sometimes ends up feeling like a 2 hours long edging session, and he is so painfully hard by the end of it he comes as soon as he gets a hand around himself, waiting until Max has said goodbye to do so.

He doesn't always get off though. One time he had actually fallen back to sleep, Max's voice and Stardew's soft sounds lulling him straight into dreamland. But he always gets at least a little bit hard, something too sensual and alluring about Max for him to help himself.

Today though, Max seems more subdued. He still has his legs splayed open, miles of fuzzy skin on display, but he's focusing more on the game, even replying less to chat.

Daniel frowns, knowing he's not the only one who has noticed it, other worried messages popping up, mixed with a few more rude ones, telling Max to get on with it already.

"Sorry chat," Max says, finally acknowledging the messages with a small laugh. He takes a hand away from his keyboard, but instead of one of the usual teasing touches, he brings it up to his face, rubbing at his eyes and then dragging it down his cheek.

"It's been a long week," he adds with a sigh, before pushing himself to sit a bit straighter, pulling his smile back on. He's playing with the hem of his shorts now, pulling them high enough they completely disappear under the sweatshirt, but Daniel can tell it's an halfhearted attempt at best.

For the first time, he pulls up the chat, fingers itching to write something, but not knowing how to word it without being offensive. "You don't have to touch yourself if you don't want to"? Nobody ever actually acknowledges that bit out loud, he can't be that direct. "You don't have to stream if you are tired"? Would that feel like he's telling Max he doesn't care about his stream? He doesn't want that to be the first impression Max has of him.

Daniel_358: anything we can do?

He feels stupid as soon as he sends it, cringing at himself. What would he even do? He's on the other side of the world, a complete stranger.

And yet Max smiles, soft and sweet, and Daniel's stupid heart jumps in his chest.

"Hello Daniel, welcome in. You just being here is enough."

Daniel knows, he knows, that Max is just saying that, just a throwaway line to make him feel good, but at the same time he can't help but melt a little at the way Max says his name. At the thought of Max wanting him there.

He watches as a few more messages pop up, offering vague support, and sees the moment it gets too much for Max, his face closing off a little as he goes back to the game, trying to redirect chat's attention to it.

Without thinking too much about it, Daniel navigates to Max's profile down to the donate button. He's hovered over it often enough he doesn't have any trouble finding it, but it still takes him a couple tries to figure out how to properly go through with it.

A few moments later, a new alert pops up on the stream, startling Max (and Daniel, even if he knew it was coming) badly enough he accidentally falls out of a tree.

Daniel_358 has donated €358: for making it through the week and as good luck for the next

Max blinks. Pauses the game, then blinks again.

"I..uh...thank you Daniel for the donation? That's...a lot of money, mate," he stutters out, shaking his head slightly in disbelief. "Are you sure?"

Daniel_358: of course Daniel_358: you deserve it

Max's cheeks are red, his blue eyes wide, and Daniel's heart is still doing something weird in his chest.

"Thank you, then. It's...I of course appreciate it."

His voice sounds off, and for a moment Daniel is afraid he did something wrong, but then Max smiles, some tension in his shoulders disappearing.

"Well, Daniel just made the week better, so let's go back to chopping trees, yes?"

The chat explodes in a flurry of yeses and nodding emotes, and Daniel settles back on his pillows, feeling warm and satisfied.

The rest of the stream is more normal, Max going back to his usual teasing a few moments later, but for once Daniel doesn't feel like getting off, content with just watching Max's pretty smile and rosy blush. He still gets hard, he's not suddenly gone crazy (...or more crazy at least), but it doesn't feel as consuming as usual.

By the time Max says goodbye, Daniel is half asleep, curled up in his blankets, his phone laying on the pillow next to his.

When the screen goes dark he yawns, stretching slightly and dipping two fingers into his boxers, trying to decide if he feels like getting off or if he's sleepy and content enough to save it for the morning.

He's brushing a finger against the tip of his dick, still contemplating, when his phone dings, a new notification sound he's never heard before. Curious, he takes his hand out, reaching for it and unlocking it.

The twitch app is still open, now with a red number 3 next to the messages icon, and when he clicks on it he almost drops his phone again in surprise.

Player00Max: Hello Daniel Player00Max: I hope it is okay if i message you I wanted to thank you for the donation Player00Max: but it is a lot of money so I of course can reimburse you if you changed your mind

[ashxketchum]

MY DEPRESSION HAS BEEN CURED MY SKIN IS CLEAR MY CROPS ARE FLOURISHING ALL BECAUSE OF THIS ONE IMAGE THIS IS THE YEAR OF ADVENTURE PANDERING LETS FUCKIN GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Let's break this down one by one ~

This is such a good Sora fit I don't even know how to explain how very much OG Sora this is, the pink tones of the overall sporty outfit perfectly capture all levels of her personality. To top it off she's sharing flower themed cream sandwiches with Piyomon AAAHHH the subtle reference okay merch team you can take a w. Not to mention Sora is perfectly matching with Taichi and the fruit in her sandwich is orange stoooopppp itttt!!!!!

TAICHI OMG who is dressing this boy because that's the most he's ever jocked as a 11 year old. The sweatshirt, cargo pants, matching wristband and the sense to put his goggles down, he is winning the sporty casual fashion show for sure. And of course him and Agumon are enjoying some chicken popcorn, love how they weren't even subtle with the packaging art we all know Japan's favourite fried chicken brand anyway 🤣

Yamato. YAMATO. Y A M A T O. You're 11 can you tone down the cool guy heartthrob behaviour for a minute because I am losing my mind THE DOGTAG CHAIN IM GONNA SCREEAAAMMM ACTUALLY I AM SCREAAAMING AAAAHHHHHHH. He looks so good, there is absolutely no wrong element in his entire outfit, everything is perfectly paired up, a fashionista is among us. The little thumbs up over the onigiri that Gabumon is offering him?? Is he telling Gabumon that he's okay with having one and Gabumon can have the rest because that's the sweet, protective, kind, caring baby he is at heart???🥹🥹🥹The blue and green gradient in the background tho?? Mimato math is mathing bestiesss 🤣

Takeru is just a lil guy, but such a perfect lil guy!!! I like how his outfit has the similar green shade as his anime outfit but they still chose to gave him a new beanie instead which doesn't really match the colour tone of the rest of the fit but it's Takeru so we know that he can pull any hat off and that's what he does!!! Him and Patamon sharing burgers, okay mood, but why is he looking so surprised? I need to know what happened, did he spill some sauce on his overalls? Was the burger too hot to bite? WHAT HAPPENED TAKERU????? 😢

Jou, I see you paired up the plaid pants with a nice long, muted, warm toned jacket BUT I SEE THAT PURPLE SHIRT POKING IN FROM INSIDE and excuse me sir but why that purple with the plaid 😭 I need to see a version where Jou isn't wearing the jacket so I can make an informed rating on this outfit but may I add that in the full merch pic he has paired this look with green and white sneakers...I cannot defend you I am sorry Jou, please try brown loafers next time 😭 But outfit aside, Jou eating a taiyaki with Gomamon is lowkey funny I just know that Gomamon cracked a Marching Fishes joke at least once.

Koushiro...I will not go into detail but I will say it's cute that you have a sweater with a little K on it, it's also very cute that there is a splash of orange in your outfit, who's attention are you vying for it isn't subtle at all bby boy and I am grateful you matched your shoes to your sweater even if the socks are definitely a choice and that blue with orange is also definitely another choice. Good to see your are making choices. I like that him and Tentomon are sharing dango, it's always nice to see Koushiro's fondness towards Japanese traditional snacks hinted at in some way.

MIMI. QUEEN. SLAAAAAYYYYYYYYYY!!!! YOU NEVER EVER MISS MY SWEET BEAUTIFUL BABY GIRL. The pastel tones matched with the grey stockings for contrast, that beret and the fuzzy hem boots, you just know she shops at Takashimaya and Isetan and anything below it will just not do 👏🏻 Plus Sora and Mimi are wearing the same tones, which probably means that they pre-planned the outfits together, cuties!!! Also Crepe is such a Mimi™️ choice of dessert but I always get teary eyes when I see Palmon mimic Mimi's gestures, there is just so much love and admiration between them for each other, pure childish wonder 💚 And the crepe even has a cutesy character face on it, which kinda looks like Monzaemon, though I can't be sure but if it is then another win for a subtle reference. Not to mention both Yamato and Mimi look like they've dressed in a more cool and elegant style than the rest like they might be on their way to a date THE MIMAT MATH IS MATHING YALLL!!!

Hikari looks super cute, I think there isn't much official art of her in casual clothing for OG stuff so it's nice to see her in a more cutesy fit suited to her age. The hairband matching the cardigan is such a nice touch!! I can't recall any other casual outfit for OG design Hikari except the War Game and Memorial Party dress, so I think this would be the first time we see Hikari with a hairband and it just looks adorable. Of course she is sharing an ice cream with Tailmon, it's kinda their brand now but like Takeru she's making a surprised expression, perhaps she wasn't expecting Tailmon to offer her a bite of her ice cream?

To conclude, this is probably the best OG artwork we've gotten since Idk maybe the Rainy Day stationery series. This will be sold in advance at the Kamio Store booth at Anime Japan 2024. No other details were mentioned, but the event booth sale feels like a pre-sale before the goods become available more widely at other outlets, hopefully, at some stores that international fans have access too as well.

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk.

Ayushi out.

[kenphobia]

AKSHEJ I LOVE YOUR WRITING!! Could be possibly get more yan Wally?? I have like a horrible staring problem and usually make eye contact like a pro when talking to people due to my parents just driving those mannerisms into me lmao how would Wally react to someone with somewhat similar manners to him? Hope you have a good day/night <3333

EYE CANDY!

"And I have a sweet tooth."

summary. wally couldn't help but be interested when the new neighbor also has a habit of staring. i wonder how that turned out? (headcanons / rewritten / see end notes)

contents. too much fluff. one-sided julie x reader because mmmm, funny little fuzzy man is happy.

✦ Staring was something Wally enjoyed doing. He didn't do it out of malicious intent— sometimes, he does but that's a story for another time —but rather people fascinate him a lot. From the way they dress and move to how they interact with others and the environment around them, it sounds a bit silly and weird but it's something he just can't control.

✦ He supposed it was because of him being an artist. After all, he did spent a lot of his time training his eye to focus on every tidbit of detail in his muses. The roundness of an apple's form, the colorful patterns on Frank's vest that doesn't seem to shift along with his movements, the cute little pads on Barnaby's feet— he had it all jotted down in his mind and every one of his paintings seemed reference his friends or the neighborhood.

✦ Or maybe he's just bored, dissociating on random ocassions that he couldn't help but fix his eyes on something. Maybe it was just that, but god was he so happy you're also doing the same thing as him.

✦ It happened during a simple hangout within your friend circle and Wally caught you staring at him. He stared, of course, unblinking as always but you also stopped blinking.

✦ The unprompted staring contest ended after you finally blinked, your eyes tearing up slightly. Wally laughed and offered you his handkerchief to which you gratefully accepted and wiped your tears away.

"Hey, Frank." Julie whispered to her best friend, "What are they doing?" She pointed towards the bench where you and Wally just kept on staring at each other, unblinking and unmoving like mannequins.

Frank looked from the book he was reading, squinting his eyes at you two. "I have... no idea, Julie. Can I please go back to reading now?" He sighed in exasperation, tired from not having a single peaceful moment with any of his cheery neighbors buzzing on and about.

Another puppet plopped herself down next to Julie and Frank. "Ooh, what are you two doing? Spying on the new neighbor again?" It was Sally, giggling herself silly as she nudged the unfortunate Frank's arm.

"I am not spying on them." Frank glared at Sally, his frown deepening. "I never have been and it was mostly Julie doing that since she's too nervous to even approach them."

"I'm not nervous!" Julie argued, her face flushing red. "They're just so pretty and I don't wanna make a bad impression! I know you'd also do the same if you saw a pretty person, Frank." She puffed her cheeks, crossing her eyes as she squinted her eyes at the puppet.

"Ooo, does Frankie have a crush?" Sally's eyes lit up at Julie's words.

Frank quirked a curious brow. "What's that supposed to mean—"

"Hey, guys! What are you doing here?" Eddie's voice suddenly rang through the air as he jogged up to the trio. His arms rested on the back of the bench, pushing his body weight forward as he leaned. "Is that Wally and (Name)?"

Frank immediately stood up, his face flushed for a moment before it went back to its normal grey color.

"Oh, hey Eddie!" Sally greeted, raising her hand up to the mailman who gladly gave her a high five. "Frank and Julie are spying on them!"

Frank's face bursted suddenly in warmth. "Stop lumping me with Julie's—"

"Oh hush, Frank. I know you just as interested as we are. I mean, look at them!" Sally jabbed her hands to your and Wally's direction as if she was presenting a business proposal to the three.

"I think we should let them be, okay?" Eddie smiled, patting Sally's head. Sweat dripped down from his forehead, sliding off his cheeks in a nervous, almost jittery manner. "They're just doing a staring contest, nothing to worry about."

"I mean, that is true..." Julie hummed, pushing her lips in a form of a pout. "Wally really likes staring, and (Name) too!"

Frank shrugged, crossed his arms and leaned on the back of the bench. "Match made in heaven, I supposed."

Your staring competition with Wally came to an abrupt stop when you hear Julie scream and see her tackling Frank to the ground. Sally was cheering for Julie in the sidelines while Eddie is desperate trying to stop them from fighting.

"What in the world—?"

✦ ... Moving on! Wally would never admit it but he does get flustered by your stare at times, especially in moments where he's extremely chatty and he catches you looking at him. Bonus points if you did that little smile that his heart always go kaboom though.

✦ He'd find himself tongue tied and his face burning redder than the color red itself! If you could just excuse him for a moment, he's just gonna scream into a pillow, thank you.

✦ Wally's glad that someone is like him and it reassures him that staring is a common habit people have. Not that he's insecure about it, no! He's proud of his eyes and his staring, he just loves having someone to bond over it. It's the little things that makes it special for him <33

"You know, Neighbor... Your eyes are really beautiful, have I ever told you that?" Wally asked during a little sleepover you two had one day.

"You told me that a long time ago, Wally." You chuckled, patting his head. You gently combed your fingers through his hair, it was weird seeing it down but you wouldn't deny he was beautiful.

"Oh, Ha. Ha." Wally merely said before laughing. "Ha, I see. But they are really beautiful, you know?" He mumbled, snuggling closer to you as he wrapped his arms around you. He closed his eyes and buried his face in your chest for warmth.

"I love you, (Name)."

"I love you too, Darling."

author's note. this was rewritten to be non-yandere since it was barely even yandere in the first place sjshshd but yeah!! this one gets to stay up lol

also this is my entire masterlist, wooe

[indigoflorals]

needles (18+)

rafe cameron x reader

you and your friends get tattoos on a night out. the artist takes an interest in you

warnings: public oral sex(f), public fingering, sexual tension, tattoos, very slight latex fetish (gloves)

a/n: i live! haha anyway no i’ve just been busy and struggling with my mental health a little. i’m SO happy to put this out for you guys because i’ve been working on it for weeks. i hope you all love it im so happy to post and be back for my community <3 i missed everyone SO much

Alcohol warmed your chest as your pulled your jacket closed. The wind whipped around you, and the December air stung against your skin. It was dark, and there was a thick layer of fog hovering over the ground. The undesirable weather didn’t stop the business of your city on a Friday night, though. Bars were crowded and you had visited multiple places on birthday night out.

You heard your friend gasp from your right on the sidewalk, “Babe!” she cheered, pointing to a neon sign reading Tattoos. You followed her lead as she opened the door to the small shop, stepping inside onto the checked floor. There were sketches hung around the walls, all in different styles seemingly done by multiple different artists.

“We so have to get matched tattoos,” Your friend giggled, leaning onto the counter to flip through a sketch book. You ignored her remark, stepping around the corner to see a different design. A tiger. It was traditional, yet clearly had a lot of the artists personal touch. You leaned in to get a better look at the line work.

“Like what you see?” A voice spoke from behind you. You turned to see a tall, blond man. He was muscular, and covered in tattoos many of which that were seemingly self done. He was handsome, and you blushed at his forwardness.

You pointed back to the tiger, “This is your work?”

He nodded, “It’s old, but yes.” He stepped to stand beside you, taking the framed piece of art off of the wall. “Were you thinking of something like this?”

You exhaled, laughing slightly, “Well,” you looked back to your friend who was looking at simple designs, “It’s a girls night out. For my birthday.”

“Ahh,” He grinned, “So matching tats to commemorate?”

“You got it,” you sighed.

“Well happy birthday then, beautiful,” he winked.

Before you could respond, your friend called your name, and both you and the artist walked over to her. She smiled, twirling her hair at the sight of him. “Babe, why didn’t you introduce me to your friend?”

The artist took your friends hand, kissing it, “Rafe Cameron. What are you looking to get done today, love?” Jealousy filled you, and with it confusion. You had just met this man, and yet you wanted his attention.

Your friends face turned bright red, as she leaned into him before pointing to a design. He smiled, nodding. “Sounds good, just let me call my partner.”

He called loudly for a woman in the back, and she walked out. Rafe showed the design to his partner and turned back to your friend, “Jessica will take great care of you, love.” Your friends face dropped immediately, and she stared at you longingly as the woman led her back into a room.

“Now,” Rafe smiled, back turning to you, “Something simple for you?” He handed you a thick binder with laminated photos sliding out of the sides. You placed it onto the counter, flipping it open. Inside were more more designs, moths, some other similar bugs and skulls. Not ‘traditionally’ feminine. All fitting with your personality.

You turned to him, a blush creeping to your cheeks, “How’d you know what I’d like?”

He shrugged, leaning against the counter with you, “I like to think I’m a pretty good judge of character.” Your eyes landed on a small design of a bee, it was fuzzy looking, and all black and grey. Before you could say anything, Rafe slid the binder out from in front of you, closing it. “So the bee for you, ma’am. Where at?” He smirked.

You stuttered, unconsciously reaching for the binder, “I…I wasn’t do—“

“Again, where do you want it?” Rafe placed the binder back onto its shelf. You huffed at his indifference, a smile creeping to your lips.

“My hip.”

—

Rafe had you comfortably lied on your back in the leather chair, staring at the tiled ceiling. Your shorts were pulled down to your ankles expose your thighs and hip in the closed room. The tattoo gun buzzed against your skin, burning slightly. He was gentle with you, his opposite hand resting gloved on your bare thigh for stability.

“So,” He turned back to dip his needle in the ink, “Tell me about yourself, birthday girl.”

You blushed at his nickname, adjusting in your seat. He waited for you to get comfortable before continuing his work. “Well,” You mumbled, “It’s my twenty-first actually. I’m just not a big drinker, so my friend suggested we come here.”

“Oh,” He hummed, a smirk creeping to his lips, “A good girl. This your first tat?” You nodded, wincing as the needle hit a sensitive spot. “Sorry, baby,” He looked to you, “Need a break?”

“Yeah,” You sighed, running a hand through your hair, “Hurts less than I thought, though.” Rafe smiled, wiping the excess ink before setting the tattoo gun down, “I’m glad.”

It hit you then as he relaxed into his chair that you were sat only in your top and panties with this very attractive man. You wondered if he felt the tension. Probably not, you assumed. He probably did tattoos like this all the time.

“Sorry,” He gestured to your bare legs, “I’d offer to let you pull up your pants but it’s better if we just wait until we’re all done.”

You waved your hand, sitting up a bit, “It’s fine, really.” You looked down to see his hand still on your thigh. Your breath hitched as your chest heated up. It was stupid, he probably didn’t even realize he was doing it.

“Any other plans for your special day tonight, baby?” The hand crept further up your leg. Your eyes shot to it. “Sorry,” He hummed, not looking to you but feeling your stillness, “Just getting a closer look at my work so far.”

You felt your core throb as you readjusted in your seat, unconsciously giving him a better view of your clothed pussy. “I didn’t have any other plans.” You blushed.

“Ah,” He smirked, eyes finally meeting yours as his hand slid to your inner thigh, “Well I hope I can make your birthday special then.”

You nodded, unable to reply. There was no denying how badly you wanted him in that moment. You felt like you had to be dripping on the leather chair below you. Your face flushed as your fingers gripped the hand rest.

In the heat of the moment, you were sure Rafe felt the tension too. His eyes dropped slowly from your face to your clothed pussy, and he licked his lips at the visible wet patch. “I think I need more room to work,” he hummed, sliding his hand back around to your hip, hooking his fingers underneath your panties, “You don’t mind, do you baby?”

You shook your head, the heat in your cheeks rising still. Lifting your hips, you looked away in embarrassment as Rafe pulled your underwear off in a swift motion. From the waist down, you were bare to him now. “Look at you, baby,” he moaned, running a gloved finger through your folds, the latex cold against your skin. You shook, involuntarily rolling your hips harder into him. “Patience,” he looked up to you, smirking. He placed his thumb against your clit, rubbing it in a circular motion. You clamped your hand over your mouth to silence the moan that ripped through you. Finally.

You could hear your wetness, and you could tell Rafe was just as into it as you were. “I have to taste you,” he groaned, leaning further into you. From his place sitting at the end of the table, he was at the perfect height to eat your pussy. He leaned in so his breath ghosted against your clit. Your hips shook and your cried into your hand loudly enough for him to hear. “Gotta stay quiet for me, baby. Stay quiet and I’ll make you feel real good.”

The second his mouth made contact with your clit, you felt like you could explode. You rocked your hips desperately into his mouth, the heat of his tongue sending you over the edge almost instantly. Rafe lapped up your come like a man starved, not stopping even after you were whining. “Please,” You cried, overstimulated from your immediate orgasm, “I can’t,”

You had been too excited and things had happened too fast, but Rafe didn’t stop. His fingers, now bare prodded to your tight hole, poking inside gently. You threw your head back and he slid two inside, scissoring them as his did. You squeezed your eyes shut as he sucked your clit.

“Rafe,” You moaned as he rolled his fingers against your g-spot. He was relentless, desperate to rip orgasm after orgasm from you. Your legs shook as your thighs cupped his ears. “Gonna come,” You whined, feeling a tightness in your belly. Before you knew it, relaxation flooded your system and you sunk into the chair. Rafe huffed into your pussy before leaning back into his stool.

“Holy shit,” he smirked, wiping his chin which was dripping with yoke fluid, “You squirted.”

You sat up in shock, “No, I did not. I don’t do that.”

Rafe ran a fingers up your slit, and you whined involuntarily. He smirked, your liquids pooling on his finger, “Then what’s this?”

You groaned, leaning back into the chair to avoid him, “Just finish my tattoo please.”

“Oh,” he laughed, “That’s been done.”

tag list, reply to be added or removed

@fangirlwithlou @cutesouls @alinaharlow @maybankslover @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @outerbankspov @lexexo @bbycowboi @ajaxisbae @palmwinemami @rafecameronsslxt @illicitfixations @mvybanks @softcoremaybank @dudenhaaa27 @odussyeus @whoisdrewstarkey

[bugs1nmybrain]

Crusty Kitty~Neko!Shigaraki x Reader Smut 🩵✨️

Notes: I hate myself

Summary: Tomura and his girlfriend end up in quite the predicament after a job gone wrong.

Reader is Described as: having fluffy hair, curvy body, short, female, she/her pronouns, reader wears a skirt, grey/black colored ears and tail.

Warnings: Explicit pet play, 18+ (MDNI), fem reader, breeding, kitty boy Shigaraki AND kitty girl reader, BITING, furry themes?, biting, unprotected sex, dom Shigaraki, unapologetically horny and clingy Tomura, titty sucking, reader is resistant to Tomura's quirk, mention of murder, cringe use of "nya" and other variations of it, mommy kink, cunnilingus, Tomura has white ears and tail, Tomura calls reader a slut, season 5ish Shigaraki (blue hair), shiggy has a noncon-ish thought at one point but the sex itself is entirely consensual, not proofread yet

Fuuuuck...

This was bad.

It wasn't uncommon for Tomura and his crew to run into some people with crazy quirks. Sometimes they'd do the strangest things to their bodies. This one though, it was about to kill Tomura. His newfound tail would not stop wagging and curling itself around his leg, trying his hardest from not grabbing you as you stood in front of him, brushing your hair.

Yesterday, you and Tomura had gone to a little interview to see if this mid-level criminal you two had heard of was willing to join the League. They were well-known in the underworld and had great connections. Tomura hoped to have gotten something good out of the encounter, but he soon discovered what he usually did. Another tryhard who was looking to steal his spot as the ruler of all things evil. So, there was a little tastle, to say the least.

In attempt to protect you, Shigaraki had gone after the villain with physical force. Before he knew it, you and he had been sprayed with some nasty smelling odor, left coughing up a storm. Tomura had managed to snatch ahold of the cocksucker, crumbling him away.

"Achew!" perfumes or anything like that always made Tomura's sinuses act up. "Good riddance. Let's go."

The next morning, you and him woke up to a surprise.

Both of you were decorated in ears, tails, claws, fangs, the whole nine yards. You still looked like people, but...catlike. Like a neko that you'd see in hentai. Tomura couldn't begin to describe the shock that washed over him when he saw you laying next to him with greyish-black ears and a tail of the same color. At first he thought it was just you, but when he felt something fuzzy hit the black of his legs, an instant "oh no" shot through his thoughts.

You two tried acting as if everything was still the same. Okay, so you guys were like this. Didn't mean that operations had to cease, right? Even though the looks that the League gave Tomura made him want to knock each one of them on their asses.

Ujiko said that the effects of the quirk should wear off in maybe a week. That's a long time to have these fuzzy ears and stupid fucking fangs that bit Tomura's tongue when he was least expecting it. Oh yea, his tongue was rough now too. What the fuck.

You. Were NOT helping. Actually, you were adorable. He'd watch as your tail would swerve along around your ass and when your ears would perk up when he asked you a question. Your figure was as breedable as it always was, but something about having the accents of catlike features made him leak. He could smell you now, too. This kitty boy transformation was embarrassing. Not only because of the way he looked but also because he was unbearably horny.

Tomura was horny as fuck already, but this little predicament had him fidgeting so bad and sweating as he looked at you. Your breasts seemed fuller than normal, and your ass was always bucking outwards. You must've been feeling it, too, huh?

It didn't really occur to him that you were both young adults, at prime "mating" time. And it wasn't like you and him were going to get spayed or neutered. It was also super convenient that this had happened right as you were at a high chance of pregnancy within your reproductive cycle. If that didn't make you horny enough, you sure as hell were now.

He watched you brush your fluffy hair, trying to avoid hurting your ears. He wondered if you'd tingle if he touched them. "Let's see..." he thought.

When Tomura stepped toward you, his tail immediately started wagging eagerly. Your eyes darted at him and you noticed how much taller he was than you, making you tingle. You wanted him to dominate you so bad.

"Do you know how bad your cunt smells right now?" Tomura husks, nuzzling his face into your hair. He breathes in your lady musk and grinds his groin against your back.

"I'm sorry..nyuahh..."

!

"Are you serious? Hehehe!"

"Sorry!"

"Shhh..mmm...back your ass up again..."

So you did. You rubbed your ass up on his crotch, tail flicking in his face. God, you made him throb so baaad. You looked up to his face while you coated the crotch of his pants in your soaked cunt, seeing his dilated red eyes that screamed "I'm gonna breed you so bad."

"You're such a sexy kittyyy,,,nyah.." he teased. You couldn't tell if he was joking or not, but the way he rutted against you gave you the impression that he was yearning. He teased his fingers on your ears, scratching behind them while you mewled. The way you reacted made him snicker. He bit your neck without warning, eliciting a yelp from you.

"Mmm! Tomuraawwhh~ what are you doing??

"I need you mommy...let me fill you with my kittens..nnyeow..."

Your cunt arched back on instinct. Tomura hiked up your skirt, showcasing your ass and cunt. It was dripping wet, begging for him to stuff you. He swore he could even see your clit twitch. Oh he wanted to fuck you silly, but he'd feel bad leaving you hanging. And he always got so sleepy after he came, and his catboy transformation made him need naps all the time. His white tail raised up as his cock leaked more at the thought of tasting your pussy.

"Get in bed," he commanded. Without hesitation, you nodded vigorously with a beaming "mhm!" and got in bed. You lie down on your back with your legs spread. You still had panties, but they were perfectly drenched, and there was glossy fluid glazing your thighs. Tomura took their handles and yanked them down, admiring the sight your puffy clit.

It didn't take any time before his mouth was latched onto your hot, wet cunt. Your smell was driving him feral, making his cock leak and twitch with vigor.

"Nyaahh...~!" you screamed. Your cunt was insanely sensitive and Tomura's rough tongue was relentless on your clit. The texture against your cunt drove you crazy as you rolled your hips. But Tomura held your thighs and devoured you, determined to have you cumming in minutes. You went to tug at his thick blue locks, petting his white ears as you did so. His teeth clamped down, though he tried to keep his mouth away from your pussy as he did. Even he respected that a bite to your pussy wouldn't feel very nice.

He mixed in some finger action, too, though he hadn't even thought that his claws may hurt you. He scratched your thighs gently while he continued attacking your cunt with his mouth. He looked up, seeing how full your tits looked underneath your tight tanktop. "Change of plans", he thought.

Tomura came up to your neck, licking and covering you in love bites while he pulled your shirt below your tits. Your nipples were flushed and incredibly sensitive, as you trembled at the slightest touch of his fingers. He cackles a bit and then latches his mouth onto your breast, sucking as if he was feeding on you. He made sure to rub your clit while he did it, hoping to have you cumming while he sucked your titties.

Bingo. With just a few precise motions and his rough mouth, you spasmed on his fingers and cried out in agonizing arousal, creating the most animal-like noises. Fuckkk...

"MMww...Tomuraahh~"

"Ehehehh..what is it? Does my kitty slut need to be stuffed..rrr~..."

He was purring! fhzjdijfas

"Mhm!"

"C'mere, then..."

Tomura manhandled you and flipped you onto your stomach. The sight of your supple ass made him buck, freeing his cock from his painfully tight jeans. His cock was pulsing and almost red from how pent up and horny he was, tip leaking with plenty of pre. He slapped his cock over your hole a couple of times and then proceeded to sink himself inside of you deeply.

"Awh!~"

FUckk...was he drooling? Your pussy felt SOOO wet and hotter than the Sahara. And yet, you were still suffocating him and unbearably tight. He plunged his cock in and out of you, making you scream underneath him. You sounded so gooey and wet and his cock kept thrusting in and out of your soaked cunt, and the added bonus of his hips smacking against your ass made it evident to the whole League that you were getting a good serving of Shigaraki right now.

Your mouth hung open for your cute fangs to show. Tomura shoved his fingers into your mouth, feeling around your sandpaper tongue. You bite his finger on accident, making him shout.

"OW! You bitch!"

He wasn't mad, though. He just cackled and growled to himself with his sore finger rubbing your lips as he pounded your cunt relentlessly. You were so small underneath him, making his dominant instincts fuck you even rougher, knowing that if you wanted to leave he had all the power to keep you under him. Your pussy fluids were leaking your your thighs onto the sheets. Fuck, you two smelled AWFUL, too. "This will need much needed cleanup," Tomura thought.

"Mmm!~ Nywah~ you love my kitty cock filling you up, huh??~"

"Yeaaawh~"

He sounded just as loud as you right now, crying and mewling out and in desperate need to pump you full of his cum. He bit your sensitive ear while he tugged on your tail, causing your ass to lift higher. His cock shoved itself into your core repeatedly and his balls slapped your ass. He bruised your cervix while he rammed you and he was going to cum soon, you could tell by how rough he was getting.

"T-rr-t-tomura!"

He didn't respond with words, instead driving himself in your body a few more times before eventually slamming deep into your cunt with a final yowling groan...Tomura rocked his cock into you even after he came, his sensitive cock aching terribly. When he pulled out he watched as his cum dripped out of your cunt, making him cry.

"Rrrr-hr-hrrr....mawhmmmy~"

"Mmm?"

"I loveee yew~"

"Eheheee...really??"

"rrrr..yeaa. Cuddle me."

It wasn't a request, but rather a demand, as Tomura wrapped his arms around you and practically trapped you in his grasp. He purred in your ear while he smothered you in his embrace, nipping at your ear and neck.

"Hey!"

"Mhmhm what?"

"That hurts."

"But I love you~" his raspy voice mewls.

"rrrr whatever..."

"Say it back."

"I love yeww Tomura~ you know I do."

What a wild turn of events, he thought. Your smell was still driving him crazy, but now that he made you his little cumdump he was ready to nap, and he wasn't going to allow you to leave. Both you and Tomura drifted off into slumber, purring in each other's arms, snuggled as close as humanly (..) possible.

[somnambulant-seraphim]

I made some more of these Flatwoods Monster-ish guys a little while ago. (The fuzzy one in the last two photos is more green in real life, the lighting didn't show the colours that well. )

I made them in order of decreasing size, smaller and smaller until the little grey one. I think that's about as small as I can get with sewing them (I needed needle nose pliers to flip them right-side-out).

[sillygoosealert]

Can you write about Smoke x reader, where reader has a secret crush on Smoke who accidently finds out because someone else lets it slip?

I feel so silly when people ask me stuff, you want ME to write for you? Tehe okay my PPP (Pretty Pink Princess)

Having a SECRET crush on Smoke (≧ω≦)/

Context- your a recruited nurse for the Wu Shi (if you would like me to write about you being a fighter or anything specific just ask because i LIVE for requests)

When being recruited to help at the Wu Shi Academy, you weren’t expecting people besides those training at the Wu Shi to appear

But it seems people from the Lin Kuei like to test their might against those in training

Call it fate, but when a smoking hot young man is observing the recruits, you smile a little and feel fuzzy

You can’t keep this to yourself- you have to ask who he is

So when you’re patching up one of the newest rag-dolls, Jonny Cage, you mention him very casually

‘Did you see the guy with grey hair? Do you know why he’s here?’ He looks you up and down, quirking his eyebrow.

‘He’s smoking, isn’t he?’ You give him a thousand-mile stare, not sure how far this conversation is aloud to go- if you’re allowed to have it at all.

‘He’s cute.. is he becoming one of our recruits?’ you cross your toes, fingers, and legs- which you’d rather keep open but that doesn’t matter right now.

‘I could hook you up, we’re kinda tight’ you know who else is tight.. he wraps an arm around you, exaggerating a sigh as he does.

‘Really? What’s his name?’ Things are going good, too good and too fast, but good..

‘Tomas, he’s a gentle giant, a beefcake too’ you saw, his biceps were massive.

‘Can we keep this between us..? This is the least professional conversation I’ve had..ever’

‘Of course babydoll, my lips- are sealed’ no they are not, they are always moving, but what did you expect?

You go on with your days sitting close to Tomas and getting stared at by Johnny, who is not subtle

You think Tomas notices too, as he looks away with a pink face

You’re sitting at lunch with all the apprentices and smoke- who wanted to spend some time here..

You and Tomas are talking and joking around about the Lin Kuei having competition with how hard everyone is training; you’re definitely laughing a little too hard but he doesn’t mind- or maybe he just doesn’t notice.

‘You’re laughing a little too hard..’ Johnny giggles (tehe) and raises his eyebrows.

‘I don’t mind..’ Tomas says, what a savior.

Lunch ends and you almost go to your respective spots until Johnny and Tomas strike up a conversation.

‘Nice catch, how’d you know she liked you? Was it the laughing?’ Oh.My.Gods.

‘Sorry Johnny, could you repeat that?’ No..OH MY GODS

‘Oh..I thought you knew..’ your fight or flight kicks in, you could-

They’re both staring at you, hard.

‘Hey, it’s okay that you like me- really..’ you might spazz out right then and there, or cry.

‘I..okay..’ you fiddle with your uniform, then you see his shoes right infront of you..

‘Hey..’ you might scream and run into the forest naked- only to be found 2 weeks later dead of starvation and a mortified look on your face.

I NEED help on what to do next

[strangebiology]

Look at the diversity in these guys and gals. There's one who looks kinda like a postcard and then there are white, black, spotted, brown, grey, big antlers, little antlers, fuzzy antlers, light antlers, dark antlers, white spots on their faces, dark undersides...

Reindeer owned by Sami herders in Norway.

[strayflowersstarsandlove]

Just sleep (hwanghyunjin)

Your feet splish and splash in every single puddle you run through, your once red high top converse, now drenched in rain basically looking deep maroon at this point. At least Hyunjin wore his battered black ones.

Hyunjin who laughs so hard, tilting his head back to drink the heavy droplets, who runs so fast as he firmly holds your hand as you guys try to skid through the clearing behind the little cottage house you rented for the day, getting absolutely soaked through by the pelting rain.

The sky is grey, the air humid, electric with that unexplainable static, that feeling in the air that precedes thunderstorms, it's cold but not too cold after a relatively warm spring afternoon. Which was the main reason Hyunjin had dragged you outside that day, he wanted to look at the early spring blossoms and maybe take a few pictures for reference for his next paintings, he wanted to have a walk in the little bush area while you guys talked about everything and anything from how jazz music is severely underrated to how colors should be felt, not just perceived by the eyes.

You even committed to a full commentary on the latest episode of the k- drama you were binging together every time you hanged out at each other's places. You loved it. You loved all of it. The silliness, the spontaneous bursting into giggles, with him tilting his head back and clapping his hands furiously, the soft, whispery like train of thoughts you two got lost in as you discussed things like color blindness and philosophy.

Yeah you went there. Hyunjin was ridiculously knowledgeable, you loved his mind, the way he formulated his thoughts, his perspective on the most random things. You loved how he shyly pressed little kisses on your intertwined hands, how he made you sit on his lap while he was trying to take a picture of the cute little lady bug that was crawling up your arm.

You loved how you two had to bolt in the rain, caught completely off guard by the downpour, how you both started laughing maniacally and then started to run run, run as fast as you could and take shelter back inside the cottage.

Hyunjin unlocks the door briskly, quickly pulling you inside first, panting and giggling and then panting some more as he slams the door shut and collapses on the floor, with you following suit:  "man... I never ran so fast my entire life, I think my lungs are about to give in", you breathe out, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you lean in on his shoulder, him immediately resting an arm around your shoulders, using the other to dab his face as he wheezes in between giggles and his own broken breathing.

"I think I-I think I might pass out", he stutters, smiling in exhaustion as he shifts around and lays his head in your lap. He looks gorgeous. Even with his hair all wet and sticking to his face, his naturally pouty, full lips parting just barely, his eyes closed into two thin lines. Chiseled jaw, modelesque features looking softer in the dim lights. He looks beautiful and happy. He looks so happy.

Right now, in this very moment, you believe you might be just as happy. You feel deeply content, light, at peace with everything. You honestly don't remember the last time you ever felt like this, maybe you never truly have. This gorgeous tall man had quietly unlocked a certain lightness to you that you didn't even know was there in first place. He entered your life little by little and made a home inside your heart and now you couldn't imagine what happiness felt like without picturing his crescent moon eyes and that contagious, pure joyful laugh he had.

Thinking of the word sweet, and kind, and beautiful, without picturing his face first, that was near impossible. The way he smiled at you, the way he spoke sweetly and softly, the way he made you feel like you were 17 again, relieving a puppy love, that kind of love that makes you light headed and fuzzy and warm on the inside. This young love felt just as exciting and sweet and new.

"Can I sleep with you?". You squint your eyes and have to do a double check to make sure the beautiful young man on your lap is actually talking and you're not just hallucinating, considering how lost in your own head you got for a hot second: "sleepwithme?", you mumble all at once, sounding incoherent as you blink in bewilderment and Hyunjin giggles, a pale pink blush appearing on his cheeks, "I realize that sounded so wrong. I mean sleeping as in actually just sleeping. Falling asleep next to you. I want to sleep with you in the most innocent way possible".

You see? Sweet. Hyunjin was just so sweet. It made your heart flutter nontheless. You had been dating for a little while, the relationship still quite new and fresh but budding into a strong, deep connection each day some more. You guys had never actually slept together in any sense whatsoever. You had napped together on couches and trains and cars, unintentionally, but never properly slept in the same bed by your own will. And truly there was something so inherently... Sweet about it all right now.

Hyunjin was asking for that tender, crackling feeling of laying down close to your favourite person, he was asking for the innocent, tenteitive touches two people in love share when they're still trying to gauge how much closeness their heart can take before imploding. Contrary to all of that that though, his request was also all sorts of bold and romantic in the more intimate sense of the term. Hyunjin was subtly asking you to try and feel as vulnerable with him as humanly possible.

Because think of it: why do we, as humans, feel so much better and safer when we sleep next to a loved one? Being asleep means giving up on all conscious control over our minds and our bodies, potentially exposing ourselves to any sort of danger. Why do we instinctively hug people and pillows and plushies in our sleep, why do we subconsciously look for comfort and protection? Hyunjin was telling you you could feel safe with him, without actually telling you.

He was telling you he wanted to be open and vulnerable with you because he trusted you enough to keep him safe in his sleep the same way he wanted to do that for you as well. "Yes, yes I would love that".

You quietly head upstairs and into the bedroom where it occurs to you that none of you have spare clothes since you were planning to drive home in the night and had only rented the cottage for the day itself. And you can't possibly just sleep fully clothed like that when you're so soaked through. "Uh... We can sleep in our underwear, shouldn't be too cold", Hyunjin mumbles, already taking off his shirt and then placing it on a random chair in the room.

You try your best not to stare and start to slowly unfasten your pants, finding it increasingly difficult with how much they're sticking to your legs and mostly with how much you're suddenly sweating out of sheer nervousness. You do appreciate how your boyfriend turns his back to you to get undressed himself though. And how he promptly averts his eyes once he's done stripping and has to turn in order to get in bed and underneath the sheets.

A strange sort of excitement bubbles up at the base of your stomach as you slip beneath the sheets as well, yes you are half naked and yes this is the fist time you'll be sharing a bed with Hyunjin but for all the nervousness that's rushing through your veins there's also this slight desire for him to just see you like that, to just share this intimate moment.

You lay on your back and pull the light duty duvet over your body, the top half of your chest a little exposed in your damp bralette style bra as you stare at the ceiling for a sec, trying to quiet down your heartbeat, trying to relish more in the excitement over the nervousness that fortunately subsides. Hyunjin smiles at you and reaches out to gently grab your hand, he brings it up to his lips and places a soft kiss on it before positioning it back on your chest, just above the hem of the duvet where he keeps it in his hold.

"Is this alright? Are you alright?", he asks softly, fully turning to face you, full lips pursing together as he awaits your reply, mellow eyes searching deep into yours, "yeah, this actually feels pretty nice... thank you", you respond just as softly, smiling earnestly at him and he smiles back in that bashful way that shows only a few of his top teeth and he looks so relaxed and serene and beautiful you have to restrain yourself from cupping his face and kiss him silly.

Hyunjin swallows and sighs quietly, he scoots closer to you, your nostrils immediately zeroing in on his sweet, distinctive scent, his fingers now letting go of your hand only for them to start delicately tracing invisible patterns on your exposed skin just beneath your bra, in the little slit of semi bare torso above the duvet.

He breathes slowly, humming ever so lightly, his fingers move accordingly and it's a little hypnotizing, you feel so at peace, so calm you could just fall asleep like that, perfectly content and at ease. Something about him being so deliberate but so delicate at the same time gives you all the more reason to feel safe in his presence, even in this close proximity.

You close your eyes and you both settle in the quiet atmosphere, the rain outside has now turned into a drizzle that lightly taps against the window, the sound of your breathing being the sole other noise present at the moment. Hyunjin eventually stills, his fingers brushing your skin a few more times until they come to a complete stop, resting warmly on your skin, his breathing slow and light as if he had just barely fallen asleep.

You wait a few more minutes with your eyes closed just to prolong this peacefulness a little more and then open them, squinting in the progressively darker room, blinking a few times as you let your gaze rest upon your boyfriend's face, taking in his beauty once more.

You sigh as quietly as you can and while you keep his hand in his place on you, you lean to the side and kiss his forehead just barely, "I think I might be falling for you, Jinnie. I wish I could tell you, I wish I had the courage to say this to you while you can actually hear me, you wouldn't even have to say anything back. I wish I could tell you through a kiss so I wouldn't have to use words, they would certainly fail me if you were awake... ", you trail off, silently chuckling at yourself, feeling utterly stupid as you turn back to staring at the ceiling.

And you can't see him, but Hyunjin is smiling so big, first with his mouth closed, his lips tight but smiling nonetheless, and then full on grinning and while he still keeps his eyes shut, it's an eye smile right then and there.

"Then kiss me", he mumbles, blindly reaching for your face as you turn to him in shock, he opens his eyes a little, just enough so he can focus on you, he rolls slightly over you to wrap his arms around your neck, pulling you to him with the motion, he stops one millimeter away from your lips, "I've already fallen for you, a long time ago, if it makes it any easier for you", he says languidly, and that's all you hear, along with the sound of your heart bouncing off against your ribcage before you're kissing like you'd never needed words in the first place.