#was supposed to be a warm up whoops

[phier]

[tianhai03]

[danteleon] its been getting colder lately ❄️

[tubhole]

i was sketching arin as a warm-up while watching streams yesterday and then it ended up being. not a warm up lol

version w/o the bubbles:

[supercutszns]

a place with you; luke castellan

wc: 2.8k (got a little carried away whoops)

pairing: luke castellan x f! reader

synopsis: luke is used to people coming in and out of hermes’ cabin without a second thought. so when you’re having a hard time adjusting to camp life, he doesn’t expect you to stick by his side, even after you’re claimed.

warnings/notes: shy reader going through a tough time, hurt/comfort, pining, kisses, fluff, potential ooc luke i don’t know what i’m doing, most of this is prob inaccurate lol, i got wayyy too attatched to this i am sorry, title inspired by dragon eyes by adrianne lenker

Luke Castellan is the son of a messenger. He’s used to delivering, passing things along, letting them enter his life and leave him. Sometimes it makes him angry. At his father, at the world, at himself.

So when you passed through the Hermes cabin for the inevitable few weeks before getting claimed by your Godly parent, the last thing Luke expected was for you to stay.

When you first got to camp you were terrified. Luke remembers that much. He can still picture you in Chiron’s towering shadow as he led you up to Hermes cabin. He gave you the usual spiel about the cabin, the land of the unclaimed, but it clearly hadn’t quelled your nerves. You were wringing your fingers together when Luke first spotted you, your eyes blown wide in what he knew as shock and a sort of . . . grief. For a life you’d left for what Luke knows as a life you’d never really have. He’d seen it in so many campers before you. He’d see it many times after.

“This is Luke, Hermes’ head counsellor and one of Camp Half-Blood’s finest,” Chiron pointed him out to you at the entrance. After Chiron introduced you, Luke held your name in his memory. Not because there was anything particularly intriguing about you at first, to be honest, because he’d seen a lot of people like you that needed help settling in (although maybe not many his age). It was harder for some people to adjust than most. He knew that better than anyone.

“Nice to meet you,” he stuck out his hand for you to shake after Chiron left. “I’m Luke.”

You sniffed, shaking it without looking at him. You were so, so embarrassed. This whole time you’d been too stupidly overwhelmed to process anything. Why was this so hard for you? Was it this hard for everyone? “Hi,” you managed, and that was it.

Now, weeks after your first meeting, you’ve concluded that it was not, in fact, this hard for everyone. The camp is crowded but full of life. You’ve never seen more happy kids in your life. There’s a sense of community on the wind.

So why can’t you feel it? Why is it so hard to connect with people? To participate in the fun? Everywhere you look there’s people but it’s all just so . . . lonely. You don’t fit. You’re lost.

Luke wakes up at night when the cabin door creaks open. He’s already tossing, so it’s no surprise he catches it. Unfortunately, he’s supposed to be a good counsellor—sneaking out at night is against the rules, and you’ve gotta reign the strays back in before they cause a ruckus. Sure, Luke’s not exactly a stickler for the law, but the least he owes is to make sure everyone’s safe.

Groaning, he draws himself out of the comfort of his bunk but doesn’t get far when he spots a familiar silhouette slipping out the door. He knows it’s you. He’s been hearing crying at night, and this is confirming his suspicions. It makes him ache in a million different places. Every time he thought about approaching you he shut himself down almost instantly, because who the hell wants some random guy coming up to them in the middle of the night and drawing attention?

This time, though, he’s a little worried.

It’s chilly tonight but not too bad, especially when you’re huddled up in a ball on a hill in front of the lake, grass tickling your ankles. Your tears keep you warm.

It’s a sorrow that feels bottomless. You don’t know what’s gotten into you. You don’t know why everything’s so hard.

There’s a scuffling of shoes, and your name is carried to you on the heels of a breeze. Oh God. There’s someone else here.

You sniff and smear your tears on the palms of your hands the best you can but a little part of you only wants to cry more now that you’re all anxious, and you only have a few seconds to collect yourself before you turn around and see Luke, your cabin leader, with furrowed brows. “Oh, h-hi, Luke.” It’s hard to ignore the splinter in your voice. You curse yourself a thousand times.

“Hey,” he says hesitantly, eyeing you in a way that makes you feel entirely exposed. “You, uh, you know you’re not technically supposed to be out here, right?”

You start to scramble to your feet with an apology on your tongue but surprisingly he laughs, a gentle sound, and beckons you to sit back down. “No, no, I’m not gonna get you in trouble or anything, just . . . letting you know.”

It’s uncertain if you should keep sitting, but you decide to because well, you’re already down here, and things can’t go lower than this. Luke comes to sit next to you and you stare out into the sea like your life depends on it. “Wanna talk about why you’re out here?”

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“I mean,” Luke sighs, scooting a little closer to you. “Most people don’t up and leave in the middle of the night because they’re having a great time.”

The answer is too hard to say so you don’t reply.

Again, Luke sighs, and you try not to look at the shadow the moon casts on his admittedly handsome face. “It’s hard settling in, I know. It happens to a lot of people. I’ve . . . I’ve seen a lot of them, and it doesn’t get any easier.”

“Well it sure seems easier,” you snap, and your self-control flies away before you can stop it. “I have no idea why I can’t just suck it up and fit in here. Everyone seems so happy and it’s driving me nuts because I’m just so confused on why I can’t—why I can’t—process any of it.” Tears burn your eyes. “I’m just miserable. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

In the corner of your view, Luke’s face falls. “I’m your guide, you know that, right? I can help you.”

You sniff, embarrassingly pathetic. “I know.”

He comes even closer. “So why didn’t you ask?”

“Because I—I don’t know, you’re busy all the time with all the people in there, so I’m sure your job’s already stressful as is, so—”

“My job is to help you,” he says, a hand on your shoulder. “That’s what I signed up for. If you need something, I’m the one to ask.”

“I’m not sure you signed up for me crying like a baby,” you swallow, the ripples of the lake blurring together. “I mean, I’m like, older than half the kids here, and they’re all so much better than me. I’m not good at a—anything, and I’ve tried it all, and nobody’s claimed me yet, and I feel so weird and old and alone and . . .” It’s too much to think about so you dig the heels of your palms into your eyes, hoping the sting wards off the thoughts. “What if I’m nothing? Why am I here?”

You’re crying again, hiccuping into your hands. Shame sears into you. Luke’s arm curls around your shoulders and you realize how cold you are when he’s warm, so warm, and you want to cry even harder. You don’t even know him, but it’s the most tenderness you’ve received in what feels like years. “Hey, deep breaths,” he murmurs, rubbing your arm with his other hand. “It’s okay. Look at me.”

It takes a ridiculous amount of strength to heed him. His hand catches your cheek and you can’t bear to pull away. Something strange rustles in your stomach.

Luke’s taught instinct when faced with situations like these is to reassure that the Gods always have a plan. But he doesn’t feel like much of a liar tonight. Both his hands steady your face towards his, your skin damp and cold beneath his thumb. “It's not your fault. It always takes a little bit of time for people to get claimed, it’s never . . . well, you can never tell.”

“What if I don’t get claimed?” You say it so quiet you can pretend it was imaginary.

His eyes crinkle at the sides when he says, “Well, Hermes’ll always have a place for you.”

I’ll, Luke wants to say, I’ll. His father is not responsible for his cabin’s kindness.

“No one really prepares you for how overwhelming this is,” he continues, thumb rubbing the apple of your cheek. Your vision is clearer now, and Gods, he is handsome, isn’t he? Even when his eyes are forlorn. “It’s harder in a way when you’re older. More to leave behind. Less to look forward to. It’s easier when you have a friend. Or a great cabin head.” He tilts his head with a faint smile, “Lucky for you, I’m both.”

It almost makes you laugh, and that’s enough. “It’ll get easier,” he promises softly. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

Your cheeks burn. It’s hard to keep his gaze, so you blot at your eyes with your hands as Luke gently slides his off your face. “Thank you. Sorry for, um, all that. And the crying.”

He chuckles, “Don’t even worry about it.” You watch him rise in the throes of starlight. He offers you a hand. “Aren’t you cold?” He asks after pulling you up, and you sheepishly nod your head. He tosses you a sweater he’s been wearing, and it smells like firewood. Nostalgic, in a way. “I’m gonna poke around for some tea. Wait for me back at the cabin.”

Before he leaves, he squeezes your arm and that thing happens again in your stomach. “No need to be embarrassed, by the way. You can come to me anytime. I’m probably less busy than I look.” As he walked away, he added, “And don’t worry about the crying. You’re pretty either way.”

Either way. The tea doesn’t seem important anymore because your face is on fire.

Time reveals that Luke is right. He is a great cabin leader and a friend, and it’s hard to tell which he’s better at. You fall in with him right away. Soon enough, you’re drawn into your new life, so slowly you barely realize it’s happening. The days get shorter and you start wishing they were longer. The nights get easier. And when they’re not, Luke tucks you into his bunk and folds you in his arms until you drift off. You pick up a bow. A sword. Luke tells you to straighten your shoulders with a hand on the small of your back, and you swear it always lingers. You braid garlands of carnations for your cabin mates and they wear them with pride. It’s warm, your cheeks hurt from smiling, and things start to feel like home.

Until you’re claimed.

Now you’re a ghost in Hermes cabin, another empty bunk to be filled, and Luke stares at it until he can remember every last detail of what it looked like when it was yours. A beautiful, gentle daughter of Demeter, no longer in arms’ reach. He should’ve seen it coming.

He sees you with your siblings all the time. You’re so happy and he envies it. You belong there, he knows that, the way your face lights up at the dinner table and how you giggle when your half-sister presents you a flower. But sometimes your eyes wander, and something inside them dulls, until you look at him, too.

Luke’s place at camp is to be nothing but a funnel for lost campers to find their home. He’s a temporary stop in everybody’s journey. He’d made peace with it a long time ago. But here you are, messing it all up, because you still don’t leave him.

You beg him to give you another sword-fighting lesson. You sit next to him at bonfires. You pick him for partner camp activities. It doesn’t matter how many younger boys want to latch onto him for guidance—he sees you heading towards him, and he can’t imagine choosing anyone else.

But you’re always whisked away by your siblings, separated at meals and in sleep and in activities so it’s never, ever enough. Why did he delude himself into thinking you’d stay forever?

After weeks of distance from you, he’s elated when you have even a fraction of a conversation. “Hey, Luke!” You call out to him, and he finds you instantly. You’ve broken away from your siblings to get to him.

“Hey,” he smiles, and hopes he doesn’t look too pleased.

You lean a little towards his ear, and you smell like every wonderful thing in the world. “Can we hang out tonight? On the hill?” You’re a little bashful when you say it and it’s entirely endearing. Even now, you’re still so unsure. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” he says almost instantly, and it makes you look less nervous. “Yes. Absolutely. But don’t get caught breaking curfew now, you hooligan.”

Someone calls your name and you give a curt, playful nod. “Yes sir, camp counsellor sir!” He carries your laugh close to his heart until night falls.

You’re already there when he arrives, a vision in the moonlight before he even sees your face. “Hey, angel.”

When you turn around you look flustered. He won’t pretend like it doesn’t flatter him. “H—hi, uh, hello.”

There’s a moment where the world is still. The two of you, alone, for the first time in ages.

He sits down next to you, and it’s like the first time all over again. You get to talking, about your days, your anecdotes, your cabins. The strangeness of it all. “It’s so weird waking up in the morning and not having you yapping in my ear,” you remark, and he teasingly pushes your shoulder.

“Well, one of us has to be the talker, and it’s clearly not you,” he retorts.

You fiddle with blades of grass between your fingertips, weaving them together. “I’ll have you know I had a cabin-wide conversation about Capture The Flag yesterday, and I contributed greatly.”

“Oh, really?” He grins, knocking your elbow to steal your attention. “Look at you, coming out of your shell. I’m so proud.”

It’s hard to hold his gaze for more than a second. You’re afraid you’ll do something stupid if he keeps looking at you like that, but you almost want to. “Oh, shut up.”

He puts a hand on your shoulder. “No, I’m serious. I’m proud.” His eyes rake over your face. “You’re flourishing. You found your place.”

You can’t stop yourself from saying, “I kind of miss my old one.”

There’s a way he studies your expression that makes you feel utterly helpless. You wish you could dish it back to him, but you know you just look awestruck whenever you stare at him for so long. He’s quieter when he replies, “I miss it, too. A lot. Sometimes, I—” His face scrunches up like he just tasted something sour. “Nevermind.”

Frowning, you prod, “What? What is it?”

He sighs and turns to the horizon. This is the first time you’ve ever seen him struggle. “Sometimes, I wish you hadn’t been claimed. Sorry, that’s . . . that’s awful, I know.”

His surprise is evident when you say, “Sometimes I wish I wasn’t either.”

He turns back to you. “Really?”

“Really,” you nod, staring at the beads on his necklace. “You’re the only reason I’ve adjusted here at all.”

“Don’t sell yourself short.”

“It’s true. And I miss you.” A few months ago you would’ve kicked yourself for saying this. But Luke has a way of inspiring confidence in people.

“I miss you, too. So much.” He gently prys the grass you’ve been weaving out of your hands, now a small necklace. “But look at how talented you are. I’ll tell you, I’m lucky you’re still sticking around. For most people, Hermes is touch-and-go.”

Luke leans forward to tie the garland around your neck, and your pulse picks up. “This isn’t about Hermes, Luke,” you try to be firm but it comes out soft. “It’s about you.”

His hands stop fiddling and rest on your neck. When he speaks, you can feel his breath on you. And you have no idea that he’s been waiting to hear that his whole life. “What’s about me?”

It’s not fair, your inability to string sentences together only worsens right when a beautiful boy is this close to you. “Hermes isn’t—it’s not special because of your father, it’s special because of you.”

There is nothing else you can possibly think of saying with the way his fingers trace up your neck and hold your jaw. “Yeah, well,” he murmurs, “The only reason anything in my life is special is because of you.”

You don’t know if it’s a lie or not; you don’t care. His nose nudges yours. There’s a moment where you wonder if this is as close to Elysium you’ll ever get. Then he slips a hand to the back of your neck and pulls you to his mouth.

He kisses you in a near fury, then when he knows you’re not going anywhere, it’s the gentlest thing you know. It’s hard to believe this is even happening. Your hands weave through his curls but he holds you steady, and thank the Gods for that because you’re pretty sure you’re melting. You kiss again, and again, and again, until you genuinely think you’re going to pass out and you have to pull away.

“Aw, look at you,” he murmurs when you can’t meet his eyes, a playful lilt in his voice. “Still so nervous.”

“Would you shut up?” You press your face into the crook of his neck with a huge smile.

He kisses the top of your head. “Love to, angel.”

Luke Castellan is the son of a messenger. He’s supposed to believe he’s bringing the best of humanity to the Gods and glory above.

But screw the Gods. He’s keeping this one for himself.

[noearchives]

things that you do that make his heart skip a beat!

characters: portgas d. ace, sabo, trafalgar d. water law, sanji.

note: you ever get that feeling when your heart feels like it fell out of your ribcage when the person you like does Something . yeah

cw/ tags: gender neutral reader, short drabbles, fluff ^_^

portgas d. ace

when you say "i love you" out loud.

- it's simple, yet it makes his heart stop every time you say it. many people throw around those three words like it meant nothing at all, but to him, it weighs heavier than the entire world.

- when you say it out loud to his face, he immediately beams brighter than the sun.

- he'll never get tired of how those three words roll of your tongue-- it's a reminder of how you love him and him only, out of everyone else on this planet.

- even if the whole world's against him, you still chose him.

- "say it again," he says, the glint in his eyes like a puppy's.

- when you do, he lets out a chuckle and wraps you in his arms, squishing the air out of your lungs as his cheeks turn warm.

- "oh, i love you. iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou," he mumbles into your neck.

sabo

when your fingers accidentally brush against his.

- god, it makes him feel so stupid because you've been together for a while now, and it's silly to get so flustered over something so minor. what is he, 12?

- but whenever the two of you reach for the same pen at the same time and your fingers overlap his during the process, the way you giggle as you say "whoops, sorry about that" makes his poor little heart flutter.

- the effects only double if it happens when the both of you are on a mission together with the rest of the revolutionaries.

- he's supposed to be professional and serious, but when your hand brushes against his when you walk side-by-side, he feels like he has to drop everything he's doing to kiss you silly.

- oh, darling, how can you do something so scandalous as such in front of your fellow coworkers...

- he fights against every fibre of his being to not hold your hand right then and there. it's like torture to him!

trafalgar d. water law

when you bandage his wounds.

- most of the time, even when he says he's alright and he can handle it on his own, you insist on helping him bandage his wounds and take care of him until he's healed.

- he was forced to mature too early when he was a wee child, and he's been taking care of himself ever since-- there's no time nor place for him to be gently cared for.

- so when your mind is focused on nothing but his wounds, delicate fingers wrapping him up as if every movement is calculated to make it hurt the least, his heart melts right there in his ribcage.

- "sorry- did i press too hard?" the look of worry in your eyes is so adorable. he might just pretend that it actually hurt so he can see the knot between your brows tighten more as you apologise frantically.

- not to mention the way you unintentionally stick the tip of your tongue out as you focus on taking care of him is so goddamn adorable. he would tease you with a kiss if not for the fractures in his bones.

- your cool fingertips on his skin makes his entire body tingle. thank god he doesn't have a monitor showing how fast his heart is beating right now.

sanji

when you hug him from behind his back.

- his favourite love language is definitely physical touch...

- when you catch him off guard when he's busy cooking for the crew, he feels like he just ascended to heaven.

- the way your arms rest so perfectly around his waist, the way your face is buried in his back, the way that you smile at him when he turns his head around...

- it just feels so domestic! it's like everything he's fantasized about when he was younger, with him cooking on a casual friday afternoon, with the love of his life behind him saying something like "mmm, love, that smells so good..."

- this is all he's ever wanted. him doing his favourite thing (cooking), with his favourite person (you), in his favourite place (the thousand sunny).

- it makes him think of a future with you in it.

- he bites his tongue to hold himself back from saying "let's get married right now."

[harryforvogue]

a fic about harry and faye where faye needs to be picked up because it's snowed so bad and also she's feeling very very needy. has smut so be careful. or not. do whatever you like. DO leave feedback though or else i will fucking haunt you

***

Faye calls Harry at around 6pm.

He’s asleep, his iPad abandoned by his side with the pen still between his fingertips. He doesn’t know what time he dozed off, but he’s got to thank Faye for the portable heater she bought him for Christmas. It’s magnificent.

Getting himself out of bed to reach for his phone is difficult. When he finally manages, the only thing that makes him pick up is Faye’s photo.

He brings it to his ear. “Hi, baby.”

Immediately, he can hear the frown in her voice. “Oh no. I woke you up.”

“It’s all right,” he says, rubbing his eyes. “I wasn’t supposed to sleep anyways. I’ll barely get a few hours at night if I nap now.” He brings his phone back to his bed and sits down. “What’s up?”

“Um, well I just finished rehearsals.”

“Yeah? That’s good. Got out early?”

“Yes, it’s snowing pretty bad now.”

“Mm, is it?” He forces himself to get back up and take a peek out his curtains. She’s right; the snow lays on the roads, flurries all around still. “You wanna stay on the phone with me until you get home?”

“That’s kind of the thing. I’ve been at this bus stop for 15 minutes and my app keeps saying the bus is about to come, but the roads aren’t properly cleared so I don’t think it’s coming.”

Harry frowns. “You’re outside?”

“Yeah. I walked to the stop, but it’s like a ghost town here. Nobody’s out driving. The buses may have all been canceled.”

“Oh shit. Are you wearing warm clothes? Gloves and all?”

“Yup.”

“Good. Which stop are you at today? I’ll come get you.”

There’s instant relief in her voice. “Thank you.” She tells him which stop and then sighs softly. “It’s not that cold which is good. I suppose I should sit down on the bench but there’s ice on it and I already slipped while walking here. My butt still hurts.”

Harry groans as he tugs his jacket on and grabs an extra beanie. He shoves his feet into his shoes and grabs his keys. “Don’t tell me that,” he says. “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” Faye laughs. “I’m okay.”

“Think you can hold on for 15 minutes?”

“Yes, but Harry you have to drive safely, okay? The inner roads aren’t cleared at all.”

Harry sticks a piece of gum in his mouth. “Yeah, love, I’ll be fine.”

“Okay.”

“Wanna stay on the phone with me?”

“Um, I would, but I can barely feel my fingers.”

Harry has to groan again. He’s outside now and thankfully his car isn’t looking too bad. He’ll still need to defrost it a bit. “Faye, you just told me you had gloves!”

“Whoops.”

“Okay, I’m going to hang up, but please try to get warm. Go into one of those shops nearby.”

“The only shop open near me is the chicken shop.”

“Go in there.”

“I don’t like the smell of chicken.”

“I must say that you are insanely difficult today.”

Faye giggles. “I’m not.” She must hear him turn his ignition on. “Okay, bye now. Drive safe.”

“I will.”

She hangs up. Harry has to step out of the car with his snow brush, pushing his way over to clean his windshields. He’s blasting the heat on the inside, and within ten minutes, he’s ready to go. When he gets back in his car, he’s muttering swears, trembling with the cold. “Not that cold, my ass.”

And Faye’s right. The inner roads are horrendous. He drives so below the speed limit, he may as well walk to get her. 15 minutes turn into 20 and by the time he’s pulling up to her bus stop, he’s very worried Faye may be a frozen block of ice. 

Faye wobbles her way over to the car, yanking the door open and all but throwing herself inside. She’s shivering so bad, Harry puts the car in park and reaches over the console to hug her tightly.

“For fuck’s sake, Faye,” he mutters, suppressing a shiver at her cold face pressed into his neck. “I told you to go into the shop!”

“If y-you made me wait any longer, I would have!”

“I drove as fast as I could.”

Harry turns the heat up higher and rubs her arms firmly, trying to get her tight muscles to relax. She’s wearing a winter jacket, yes, but her head is uncovered and she doesn’t even have a scarf. He pulls back to look at her, hoping there’s disappointment on his face. But Faye’s eyes just light up and then she’s lifting her head to get a kiss.

He can’t say no.

He cups her face and softly kisses her. Her lips are cold, but he can still taste the cherry chapstick as if she kept reapplying it every few minutes. She kisses him several more times, but when she places her frozen hands on his neck, he pulls away sharply.

“Faye!” He holds his neck as if wounded. “That’s so cold!”

Faye’s knees bounce. “Sorry!"

She doesn’t look sorry.

He grabs the beanie he’s brought her and throws it onto her head. Her bangs get caught on her forehead, momentarily blinding her, and she laughs, fixing the hat. Her black hair frames her cheeks. She reaches in for another kiss, but Harry stops her with a shake of his head.

“Get warm first. Or else you’ll get hypothermia and then I’ll have nobody to kiss.”

Faye says, “Wow you sound a lot like me.” She holds her trembling hands by the vents, shivering so bad, she’s compelled to make audible noises to show how cold she is, her jaw quivering. Harry starts driving the car again, and once he gets off the main street, he reaches for her hand and holds it in his lap.

“How were rehearsals?”

“Okay,” she says, shoulders shaking. “Maybe people couldn’t come in today because of the snow. I had to do, like, three roles.”

“Opening night is next month, right?”

“Yup. I got you your tickets.”

Harry kisses the back of her hand, squeezing her pale fingertips hard. She's painted her nails dark blue, he notices. “Thank you. Are you hungry?”

“Mhm.”

“Let’s get something to eat then. I don’t have anything at home. Didn’t cook today.”

“Oh. Are we going to yours?”

“Yes.”

“Can I stay over?”

Harry smiles. “Yes.”

“Is Timmy home?”

“Nope.”

“Can we play that video game again?”

Harry sends her a look. “I thought you’d want to watch a movie or something.”

“Well, if you want to. But I had a lot of fun playing that game.”

“Yes, you were so good at it.”

She was not. Harry spent the entire night trying to save her, getting himself killed, and then yelling and begging her to stay alive until he could be revived. Faye had a lot of fun it seems, though Harry wouldn’t say it was a very productive night.

But, if she wants to do it, then they will.

“I feel like I’ll be better tonight,” Faye says, leaning forward to put her face against the air vent. Her eyes flutter shut. “We’ll get to the next level.”

“You mean level two.”

She laughs.

Harry’s pulling up to the take out shop they’ve agreed on when his phone goes off. He answers it on the car’s speakerphone.

“Yeah, mate?”

“Hey,” Timothée’s voice rings out. “Where are you right now?”

“I’m with Faye picking up food.”

“Oh cool. Hey, can you pick me up from the shop, man? My car’s fucking buried.”

Harry sighs. “Yeah, that’s fine. When are you off work?”

“Twenty minutes.”

“Yeah, I’ll get you.”

“Cool, and hey–”

“Yeah?”

“Can you grab me some food? I’ll pay you back.”

Harry says, “I’ll think about it.”

There’s silence on the other line until Timmy says, “Faye?”

She leans in. “Yeah?”

“Can you make sure he gets me food? I’ll Venmo you right now.”

“Will do.”

“Thanks. Bye!” And then he hangs up.

Harry rubs his eye and then unbuckles his seat belt. Faye goes to do the same, but he stops her, shaking his head. “No, you need to stay warm.”

“I’m fine!”

“Nope.” He locks the car after opening his door and gives her a meaningful look. She watches him disappear into the shop.

When he comes back, he thinks she’s looking a lot better. The red in her cheeks has returned and she’s reapplying her chapstick without shaking fingers. He leans over and kisses her, pleased that her lips aren’t frozen anymore. Unexpectedly, she holds onto his collar and kisses him harder, and she doesn’t let him go until he’s chuckling against her lips and trying to pry away.

“What’s gotten into you?” he murmurs, peppering kisses down to her jaw. She shivers, but not from the cold this time.

“Just missed you.”

“Mm.” He kisses her cheek. “I missed you too.”

It’s a lot harder to drive after that, especially because Harry’s hand rests on Faye’s thigh, and she keeps playing with his fingers, occasionally pulling his hand up to kiss his palm. 

When they get to the shop, Timmy rushes into the car and slaps a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Thank you, man. This is great. Thanks. Hey, Faye.”

“Hi.”

“You’re coming over?”

“Yup.”

“Cool. Did you get me any food?”

“Yes we did.” She hands him the aux cord when he asks for it. They listen to his odd taste in music for the ride home.

Harry takes Faye up to his room when they get home. Timmy’s nearly falling asleep so he eats his food quietly and then heads to his own room with a reminder through the walls that he’d appreciate it if Harry and Faye kept it down.

Faye says, “I don’t know why he always says that,” as she’s climbing into Harry’s lap on his bed in his shirt only. He looks up at her, eyes shining, his hands resting just below her butt. She wraps her arms around his neck. “We’ve never been that loud.”

“I mean I certainly haven’t,” Harry teases, pulling her down onto his thighs.

“Me neither!”

“Sure.”

Faye can’t come up with a response, so she kisses him, and then turns around in his lap, back pressed to his warm, strong chest. He places his hand on her thigh, holding her to him. As he’s setting up the game, she reaches over and grabs his iPad, turning it on to see his latest sketch.

It’s a very daunting looking dragon with detailed wings and scales. She zooms in to see all of it, thoroughly impressed. “This is so cool, Harry!”

“Yeah? Thanks, baby. Had a client say she wanted a big dragon piece so I’ve been brainstorming.”

“Where does she want it?”

“Around her bicep.”

“It must hurt like crazy.”

Harry hooks his chin over her shoulder and hugs her tight to him. “Yeah, but as long as they’re happy with it, right?”

She turns her head to look at him with her devastatingly pretty eyes. “Have you done any cool ones this week?”

He makes a show of thinking really hard. “Did a decent snake two days ago.”

“Ooh. Will you post the pictures?”

“Yeah. Haven’t had the time to.”

Faye cradles his face and kisses his cheek. “I’ll be the first person to like it.”

“You always are,” he murmurs, tilting his head back so she can continue her kisses down his neck.

His eyes flutter shut as Faye’s hands run over his arms, gently pressing herself back against him. He feels her breath hitch.

“Faye,” he softly admonishes. “You said you wanted to play the game.” 

“It’s still loading,” she whispers back, shaking him off to be able to turn in his arms again. The force she kisses him with throws him off. He’s pushed back, hands flying out to steady himself against his mattress. She wraps her legs around him and kisses him breathless, her fingers trailing up the sides of his head and then burying themselves into his curls. She presses herself against him again, and then she gently licks at him. Harry welcomes her tongue when he parts his lips.

She kisses him like she hasn’t been kissed properly in years – which is simply untrue because he kisses her until she forgets her name on a routined basis. Faye presses herself even closer, and when the first whine leaves her throat, Harry’s arms are around her, dragging her hips against his. She sighs as if that small contact between them has caused her such release.

The TV makes a noise to tell them the game has finished loading. Faye’s mouth shows no signs of letting him up. Harry pulls up for a second to breathe, and then kisses her again, leaning into her with his hands spread out against her back. They stay there until he’s sliding his fingers under his shirt that she wears, slowly pushing her until she’s laying on her back and Harry’s hovering over her.

“The game,” he whispers.

“Hm?” she manages, rolling her hips against his again, her eyes both innocent and flirty.

He breathes out a swear and then works on pulling the shirt off of her. Faye shivers immediately, but he kisses down her neck and collarbones to warm her up, letting her adjust when she catches onto what he wants to do. She slides back and lets him move further down her body.

“Harry–”

“Yes, baby?”

She changes her mind when Harry’s fingers hook into her underwear. “Oh. Oh, nothing.”

“Tell me,” he says, dragging them down. 

“Well, it’s only that I thought I’d do this for you. Because you, um, picked me up and I wanted to thank you.”

Harry chuckles. “You can do that after this, but right now I have a feeling you’re going to explode if I don’t touch you. Care to tell me what’s got you so worked up? I fucked you so well just two days ago.”

Faye throws a hand over her eyes and Harry doesn’t know if it’s because she’s forced to answer his question while unclothed or if it’s his words that embarrass her. Possibly both.

“It’s because you came to get me and your voice was so deep and raspy and tired and your hand on my thigh and–”

Harry situates himself between her legs and lets her knees come up besides his head. He kisses her soft inner thighs and wraps his arms around them. Faye lifts her head to glance down at him and then moans softly when he licks into her. Slowly. Teasingly.

Her black hair is fanned out around her, her breath coming hard and fast. Her lips are parted, pink and swollen from their kisses. She looks ruined already. Harry will never get used to the sight. He never wants to.

“Fuck,” she whimpers, throwing her head down. Her eyes flutter shut as Harry leans in and takes over completely, his skilled mouth ruthless against her. His fingers dig into her hips, holding her down though she desperately raises herself to meet his mouth.

“Oh, I love you,” she whispers, threading her fingers into his hair. “So much.”

He sucks and licks and laps diligently until her back is gently arching off his mattress and she has to bite down on her knuckles to keep her noises in. Seeing her like this turns Harry on, his body on alert. He feels like every cell of his body has been electrified, but despite his arousal, all he wants is for Faye to fall apart against him.

It doesn’t take her long. Her thighs tremble. She cries out and yanks his hair. The pain is distant to him. Harry lets her use his tongue to ride out her high, and when she’s done, she’s whimpering from sensitivity. Harry only pulls away when she’s whining, “Ah, okay, okay, that’s it, please. No more.”

He grins at her, gently wiping the corners of his mouth. “Always so good for me.”

Faye covers her face. Harry helps her back into her clothes and then lays beside her until she’s ready to turn to him and kiss him. He kisses her hair. “My darling girl,” he whispers. “My baby. So perfect."

She’s straddling him before five minutes are up, her hands resting on his chest, hair falling like curtains around her flushed face. The strands hit Harry’s cheek. His hands are on her thighs again, and he’s smiling lazily at her.

“I love you too,” he murmurs, running his hand up to her waist. 

Faye swallows and grinds down on his length through his sweatpants. “My turn?”

“We can take a break if you w–”

“No,” she says immediately, fingers already pulling Harry’s shirt up. Her eyes hungrily take in every tattoo she slowly reveals. Harry lifts his head to pull the shirt off.

Faye seems to have something in mind already. So Harry just lets her undress him, enjoying the kisses she trails after her hands. She has plenty of energy, preferring to stay on top of him instead of switching back over. 

She works herself over him until she’s throwing her head back and nearly sobbing with relief. Harry watches the pleasure roll over her, her hands in tight fists against his chest. 

“I love you,” she says again, taking deep breaths when it’s over. Her face is a gentle pink, her chest flushed. “I love you so bad, Harry.”

Once he’s pulled out of her, he’s grabbing her waist and pulling her down to him, wrapping his arms around her tight. “I love you,” he says, kissing all over her face, wiping the corners of her eyes. “My pretty girl, I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Spent, Faye lets him cuddle her, her face pressed against his neck. His body is warm and as comforting as always. He mutters how much he loves her several more times.

Some time later again, Faye raises her head from his chest and says in her scratchy voice, “Should we play now?”

And Harry kisses her and says, “Yes, baby.”

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Eddie Munson x fem!reader [6.2K] prompt: can I hold your hand? Shy Eddie, some yearning and fluff.

Eddie Munson wasn’t quiet. No. 

He wasn’t reserved, he wasn’t timid, he certainly didn’t let anything or anyone make him shrink. He was bold, brash, loud, dramatic and awfully, awfully charming about it all. He liked to garner attention, he liked to flirt, he liked to make himself known. 

No, Eddie Munson wasn’t shy by any means. 

Apart from around you. 

It started off subtle, little things that took you a while to cotton onto. On the days that Steve was busy, working overtime and unable to pick up Dustin and Mike from their club meetings, you’d linger outside the classroom door, listening to the pretty cadence of Eddie Munson’s dungeon master voice. 

You liked the lilt of it, the way he drawled out his script, his low tone dropping to a whisper before bursting out with a plot twist, the sounds of hands slamming on desks and groans and whoops from his enchanted audience. 

Then you heard the applause, the sounds of papers shuffling and chairs scraping against linoleum and you knocked once to be polite, opening the door to see the group of boys, and Erica, turning their heads to stare. 

Dustin waved, Mike smiled, Erica popped her gum at you and Eddie Munson stopped mid speech, big, brown eyes wide and his mouth in a pretty, pouty ‘o’. 

Silence fell over the hellfire table. 

You smiled, bright and warm, waving back to Dustin as you watched the kids gather their bags, sliding in their character sheets and murmuring their goodbyes to their friends. Eddie was still staring. 

The boy didn’t speak until you were ushering Mike out of the door, telling them that Lucas had finished basketball practice ten minutes ago and he’d be waiting by your car. Eddie cleared his throat as the room emptied, smiling shyly at you when you met his gaze, letting your eyes linger too long on his silver rings, the tattoos that peeled out from under his rolled sleeves, the curls that bounced in front of his pretty eyes. 

“Hi,” his voice was so much softer than the boom you’d heard from underneath the door, the one that had spoken about dragons and monsters and warlocks. “You’re not Steve.”

You grinned, looking up at him with more flirt than you’d intended and you watched him swallow hard, take a little step back and breathe out a stuttering breath that you probably weren’t supposed to hear. 

“I’m not,” you agreed, “Steve’s busy, got caught up at work but, uh, he said you wouldn’t mind if I gate crashed instead.” 

Eddie mentally cursed out his friend, unable to stop himself from looking downdowndown until his gaze found your bare thighs, the pretty light green sundress that skimmed the tops of them, your too clean sneakers toeing at the floor by his boots. 

Eddie Munson was fucking blushing. 

“I, uh— sure, yeah,” the boy winced, nose scrunched, eyes closed ‘cause oh my god, what was wrong with him?

But you laughed and it was a sweet noise, the prettiest sound Eddie had ever heard and suddenly he didn’t know what to say but he knew he’d go home that night and remember the smell of your perfume, something sweet like coconut and summer. 

But then Mike was shouting down the empty hall, Erica pulling at his bag as he complained and each huff echoed off of the locker lined walls and you were stepping backwards. 

You raised a hand in a small wave, smiling at the boy until you had to turn around to see where you were going and Eddie immediately missed the sight of your face. You were almost at the doors, all the way at the other end of the hallway and the boy was still standing, jaw slack, lips parted and eyes shining, watching you walk. 

And then as if he’d been hit over the back of the head, he snapped into action, voice breaking like a teenage boy as he called out. 

“Hey! Shit, uh—” Eddie winced when you turned, lips pressed together so it didn’t look like you were laughing at him. You waited, patient. “I, uh, fuck… what’s your name? I didn’t get your name.”

You grinned then, wide and easily, hands clasped behind your back as you stood, the setting summer sun lighting you up from the open doors behind you. Eddie thought you looked like an angel. 

You called back at the same volume, amusement and intrigue colouring your voice, telling the boy your name. You watched him mouth it back, trying out the syllables on his tongue, as if he was making sure it suited the shape of his lips. He must’ve decided it did, ‘cause he grinned, wide and pretty enough that you could see his dimples from even where you stood. 

“I’m Eddie,” he told you, arms folded a little shyly, one hand reaching to pull at his curls, hiding his grin behind them. 

Behind you, Dustin scrunched his features, bewildered. What was going on?

You smiled, ducked your head and nodded. You made sure you caught his stare as you looked straight at him, starting to back yourself towards the exit, the cool evening air hitting the tops of your thighs. 

“I know,” you told him, and god, Eddie looked shell shocked. 

—————

The second time you bumped into Eddie, it was at the grocery store and he knocked down an entire display of Campbell’s chicken noodle soup. 

You were pushing a cart with your headphones on, wire tangled around your wrist as you shoved strawberries and cherries into the trolley, leaning against it until your skirt rode up too high and you were in danger of flashing the entire store. 

You think that’s when it happened. 

‘Cause you were straightening up to the tinny sounds of Joan Jett when you heard a dull crash behind you, the noise sounding far away from the way guitars and drums filled your ears. But you pulled away one speaker to look around, brows furrowed and lips parting at the sight of Eddie Munson staring at you from the midst of chaos. 

Soup tins rolled down the aisle, some split open and creating a mess, puddles of noodles pooling at peoples feet. Steve Harrington was beside him, scolding the boy who wasn’t paying attention, a basket hanging from his arm. Mrs Collins, the town librarian, was scowling as she sidestepped a can or two, tutting at Eddie who was still standing there, motionless. 

You found his gaze, lifted a hand in greeting and smiled. 

It was awfully lovely the way he turned pink for you, cheeks flushed, eyes wide and doe like, blinking slowly as you moved towards him. The mess in the tiles and the tired store attendant with the mop stopped you from getting too close, but you grinned all the same. 

“Harrington,” you greeted first, familiar and warm. 

Steve huffed out a laugh at the way Eddie was staring, already well versed in the way the boy reacted to you, hearing all about your first meeting from Dustin who told him animatedly about how Eddie freaked out when he first saw you. 

Now, with chicken soup at his feet and a fumbling Eddie by his side, he was starting to think the younger boy hadn’t exaggerated all that much. So Steve grinned and greeted you in a similar fashion, nudging Eddie not so subtly to get him to say hi too. 

It was like Eddie suddenly realised what had happened and he blinked at the mess around him, toeing at a rogue can, sending it rolling down the other end of the store. The store assistant sighed and walked off with his mop but Eddie couldn’t really find it in himself to apologise, not right then, not he his throat felt too tight and his face was hot and you looked so pretty. 

“H-hi,” Eddie managed, hands shoved deep into his jeans pockets so he wouldn’t do anything else stupid, like take down the Gatorade stack.

“Causing trouble?” You grinned, stepping over a cream coloured puddle to gain some closeness, skirting around Eddie to avoid stepping into the mess. You left your cart sitting, played pretend and made out as if you really wanted that bag of trail mix that sat on the shelf behind the boy.

“Us?” Steve smirked, “never. Just… some of us are easily distracted, it would seem.”

Eddie let out a strangled noise, chin tucking down to hide his pink cheeks. He could feel the warmth from them, the same way he could feel your eyes on him. 

He didn’t say anything, he couldn’t say anything. Eddie wanted to hit Steve, a good, solid thump to the stomach because he felt like he was dying. He’d never felt that way before, so unbelievably shy and self conscious, unsure where to look, his stomach tumbling, his heart racing. It was wonderfully terrifying, made even worse by the way you looked, too pretty in another sundress - red this time - headphones blaring music he liked, dainty gold rings adorning almost all of your fingers. 

“We’re actually just grabbing some snacks,” Steve went on. “Movie night at Robin’s, d’you wanna join us?”

Eddie took it back, he didn’t wanna hit Steve, Eddie loved Steve. He held his breath as he finally looked at you, electricity buzzing over his skin when he realised you were already looking at him, a small smile on your face as you stood with one hip popped, the bracelets on your wrist singing as you swung your unwanted bag of trail mix. 

You pouted, genuinely disappointed that you had to say, “I’d love to but unfortunately I already have plans, thanks though.”

With another boy? Eddie wanted to ask. Did you have a boyfriend? A date? A girlfriend? Both? His head was swimming. 

Steve tsked, feigning dramatic disappointment to get you to smile and it worked and Eddie hated it. That’s something he would’ve normally done, a whole thing of clutching his heart as if you’d broken it with your soft rejection, anything to get you to smile at him like that. 

“Another time, then,” Steve told you and he slapped Eddie’s shoulder, a hand on leather. “Eddie’s hosting next week, horror night at his place. You should swing by, make sure he doesn’t scare himself stupid.”

You let out a soft laugh and Eddie swore he felt himself melt. He matched the sound, albeit a little more nervous than you, nose scrunching because he didn’t know what to say. 

Steve was starting to think he was playing wingman for a boy who'd forgotten how to function. 

“D’you need someone to hold your hand, Eddie?” You teased gently and the irony wasn’t lost on you because the boy was so much taller and wilder looking than you were, all leather and silver chains to your floaty, short dresses and his T-shirt today had a sun bleached print of Chucky on it. 

Eddie stumbled and stammered and after a swift pinch to his ribs from Steve he nodded, heart stuttering and stalling when you grinned wide and bright. Oh, holy shit.

You turned then, stepping back over the wet tiles and grabbing your cart, dumping in the bag of nuts and dried fruit with a small laugh only you could hear before turning to wave at the two boys. 

“I’ll see you both next week then,” you confirmed. You made sure to smile right at Eddie, not missing the way his gaze skimmed over all of you, the highs of his cheeks flushed. “You know, just to make sure Eddie’s looked after.”

And then you winked. 

You’d barely disappeared around the end of the aisle before Eddie groaned out loud and clutched at Steve’s t-shirt, trying his hardest not to drop to his goddamn knees in the middle of the grocery store. 

“What the fuck was that?” Steve choked out, holding back the laugh he wanted to release since Eddie first went into the tower of cans. “Where did your social skills go, hot shot?”

Eddie just shrugged, his head resting on his friend's shoulder. “I think I’m in love,” he replied mournfully. 

—————

Low and behold, you actually did come to the next movie night. 

Steve didn’t tell Eddie until the darker haired boy was setting up the movie, glancing at the time on the VCR and looking back at him questioningly. 

“Where’s Nancy and Jonathan? They’re never fuckin’ late.”

Robin was already sprawled out on the sofa, legs pushed underneath the pillow from Eddie’s bed that she had a habit of stealing. He missed the way she smirked, the way her eyes flickered to Steve’s and how they shared a look.

But Steve didn’t miss a beat, sounding cool, calm and completely normal when he replied, “oh, they’re picking up your friend.”

Now, Eddie wasn’t Hawkins' most popular guy. In fact, he could count on two hands the friends he had that were over the age of eighteen and most of them were already here. 

From the floor below Robin, busying themselves with the pizza boxes, Gareth and Jeff were laughing, eyes on food as they ignored Eddie’s glare. He looked panicked. 

And when he caught Steve’s eye and he watched how his friend smirked and shrugged, Eddie knew exactly who he was referring to. 

He whispered your name, each letter of it getting stuck in his throat and god, was he sweating? He felt too warm. “She’s coming? She’s coming here? Now?”

No one had a chance to respond before Eddie was on his feet, spinning in a circle, once, twice, before he made a noise that nobody could really discern. And then he was off, video tape only half way into the machine and the other movie boxes littering the living room floor, but Eddie didn’t seem to care as he disappeared into his room. 

There was a thump, a thud, a curse and what sounded awfully like a quick prayer. 

“Eds?” Robin called out from the couch. She looked concerned. “You okay?”

The girl only received a yelp in response and when Eddie reappeared he was in different clothes, his shorts swapped for cotton sweatpants, grey and almost new looking, free of ink stains. And his new shirt didn’t have any holes in the collar and the band logo on the front was less faded than his other choices. 

If he was breathing funny, nobody decided to comment on it. 

Eddie was combing his fingers through his curls, grunting at each tug whilst he kicked stray guitar picks and old notebooks under the sofa, pulling at Robin’s leg until she fell off with a whine, fluffing up the cushions she’d squished. 

Steve was staring, Gareth was confused and suddenly, there were tires on gravel and the groan of Jonathan’s unreliable car engine. 

“Oh my god,” Eddie whispered. 

And then you were in his trailer, walking in behind Nancy with a four pack of Eddie’s favourite beer in one hand and a bag of gummy bears in the other. You were in another dress, Eddie immediately noticed, a longer one this time, the black button down material reaching your ankles and when you moved, there was a split up the side that showed a ridiculous amount of leg. 

“Oh my fucking god,” Eddie mouthed again, staring at Steve with wide eyes before watching how you moved so easily into his small kitchen, smiling at Nancy when the girl showed you where to place the stuff you’d brought. 

You were in front of him as the room buzzed with conversation and semi serious arguments about pizza toppings and snack choices, Jonathan taking over VCR duties as he knelt in front of the television. Everyone was decidedly not looking at you and Eddie. 

You smiled, that same lovely smile you always seemed to save for him and Eddie huffed out a nervous breath. 

“Hey,” you greeted softly, holding out the pack of beers, giving them a little wiggle. “Nancy said you liked this kind.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to,” Eddie exclaimed, but he took the bottles from your hands, cheeks pink when your fingers brushed and suddenly the trailer had never been smaller and he swore all he could smell was your perfume. “But, uh, thank you. Can I get you a drink?”

And then just like that, the lights were off and everyone was squished onto the sofas and armchairs, pizza boxes on the floor and everyone had glass of something fizzy or alcohol. The room smelled like popcorn, the TV buzzed with static and everyone eventually settled when the opening credits for Poltergeist started to play. 

Eddie really wasn’t sure how it happened, how you managed to end up next to him, both of you in the armchair that usually only sat one person, but the boy was certain it had something to do with Steve jostling and a Robin insisting there was absolutely no room elsewhere. 

Eddie felt like he couldn’t breathe, he could feel you against him, all soft curves and softer skin, thigh pressed to his and you slipped your sneakers off and tucked your legs into your chest. Eddie’s curls tickled your neck and you smell his cologne, peppery and woodsy, smoke and something sweet and god, he was looking at you with eyes that were big and bright, even in the low light of the TV. 

He was chewing on his bottom lip, gaze barely focusing and when you shifted slightly and your dress fell open a little, exposing the length of your calf and your knee, Eddie let out a choked sound and tried not to stare. But then the clown was putting his arms around little Robbie’s neck and pulling him under the bed and it seemed like the perfect excuse to move a little closer and hold out your hand, palm up. 

“Can I hold your hand?” You whispered to the boy, so close that your nose brushed his shoulder. You smiled when you heard his breath hitch, wiggling your fingers once, twice as Eddie looked down at the way your rings glinted, gold to his silver. “I forgot how creepy this movie is.”

It took the boy a second and he could’ve sworn he had a full audience of friends staring at him in the dark, but he smiled soft when he brought his hand to yours, marvelling at the size difference when you pushed your fingers between his. He sat for the rest of the night like that, your joined hands resting against your knees and Eddie didn’t have any concept of time or reality. 

All he knew was you, the touch of you, the smell of you, the solid, warm weight of you leaning into his side in the dark and god, his stomach flipped and his heart raced when you played with his fingers, toyed with each of his rings, spinning the metal around each digit. 

It felt like he was free falling, head spinning, chest aching. And then the movie was over and someone flicked the lights on and you stopped touching him - it was awful, the way you let go of his hand, but you were looking over at him with the sweetest kind of smile and suddenly Eddie didn’t want to ever be away from you, heart palpitations be damned.  

—————

Eddie hadn’t been working in the record store all that long. But he enjoyed the calm, the low lights, the way he got to choose the music. He especially liked the way you dropped in from time to time, leaning over the counter to invade his space, perfume and the smell of sunscreen taking over everything. 

He never got much done during those shifts, the usual customers going mostly ignored as you hopped onto the cash desk, dress hiked, legs swinging, smiling just for him. Eddie had gotten a little more used to your presence, the way you liked to lean into him, the way you liked to brush a hand over his arm when he listened to you talk. 

You liked the way he still went pink for you, pretty lips parting when you traced a finger over the tattoos you were sometimes lucky to see peeking out from under his shirt sleeves. And when the day turned to evening and you were still there, keeping him company through a slow, slow day, Eddie got brave and leaned in close to where you sat, forearms brushing against your thighs and you hummed thoughtfully at the close contact.  

You reached for a pen, a black biro that you twirled between finger and thumb and you tapped at Eddie’s wrist, grinning when he looked at you raised brows. 

“Can I help you?” He murmured. 

“Maybe,” you replied sweetly. “Gimme.”

You wiggled your fingers at his arm, pulling at his hand until he relented (easily and quickly) letting you rest it in your lap. Eddie swallowed hard, a small noise coming from his throat that he quickly coughed away, trying his best to ignore how his arm was touching your bare thigh. 

You seemed to favour dresses around him, any length, all colours but always pretty and this one was short and tight at your waist, flaring out with cute little daisies adorning the fabric. 

Eddie couldn’t take his eyes off of it. 

“What’re you up to, trouble?”

The nickname was still fairly new and it felt soft and sweet on Eddie’s tongue and the boy loved how it made you grin, preening a little as if it was the highest compliment he could give you. Maybe it was; a true testament to the havoc you played on his heart rate. 

“Giving you a new tattoo, Teddy.”

That nickname was new too. It started out as a tease, a joke when he’d appeared at the diner one night late, the rest of the party half way through their burgers ‘cause Eddie had had a nap that turned into a small coma. His curls had still been messy and sleep mussed, his usual leather jacket replaced with a hoodie that was too large and awfully soft looking, a tan colour that made his eyes look like sticky honey. 

And thus, Teddy slipped from your lips over strawberry milkshakes and as the rest of the group howled with laughter, the boy in question turned the prettiest shade of pink. But his boots knocked against your sneakers under the table and when he looked at you with a smile that was all bitten lips and dimpled cheeks, you knew he really didn’t mind it at all.  

It still made him blush though, especially when you called him it all alone. ‘Cause you said it in a voice that was so much softer and sweeter, like you were saying it just for him. 

Eddie stayed impossibly still, more still than he’d ever been, just for you. You’d pulled him even closer, heads bent together, his curls brushing at your cheek as you carefully drew out your design. Eddie hugged out a quiet laugh when he realised what you were doodling, the dark, thin lines tickling at the inside of his forearm. 

But let you keep going, lips twisted into a fond smile and he wondered how he could keep the pen marks there forever, whilst simultaneously planning all the ways he could hide it from Steve and the other guys. They all laughed at Eddie when it came to you; the way you could make him flush, the way you could calm him down and make him softer and quieter. They all told Eddie he was whipped and well, the boy never argued. 

“There,” you whispered and Eddie could hear the smile in your voice despite the way he couldn’t see your face from the way you were still curled into him. “All done.”

You moved back, only slightly, back straightening and bracelets jingling as you took Eddie’s hand in your own and moved his arm under one of the dim lights. The little black lined teddy bear shone a little wetly under the glow, floppy limbed and one ear a little smaller than the other. 

You grinned, no, you beamed and Eddie’s heart stuttered and stopped at the sight. Your touch was so warm, hot against his skin and the boy was so sure that he’d never, ever get used to it. 

He grinned, tucking his lips between his teeth to try and control it, all flushed and pretty in the way he lit up for you. He knocked his shoulder to yours, curls tickling your bare shoulders. 

“Well shit, sweetheart,” Eddie whispered. “If that isn’t my new favourite tattoo.”

—————

It had been well over a month and Eddie Munson still hadn’t kissed you. 

You didn’t want to sound dramatic, but it was really ruining your life. Maybe not ruining it, but it was definitely making things difficult. ‘Cause more often than not, you spent time with Eddie alone and the boy still blushed when you smiled at him, tripped over his own feet when you let your dresses stretch up too high on your thighs and god, god, he let his gaze roam everywhere when he thought you weren’t looking. 

The air was a little thicker, heavier, warmer, when Eddie Munson was around. 

And now, you were in his bedroom, somewhere you’d started spending more and more time in. It had become easier to slip your shoes off and laze on his bed, always on top of the sheets and you always had to pay the space beside you before Eddie let himself fall down onto the mattress too. 

Music was playing, soft and fuzzy with static ‘cause the summer outside was a little too hot and the heat was fucking with the generator. Eddie was sprawled out beside you, his white t-shirt so threadbare and stretched out you could see the ink on his chest underneath. The day was warm enough for Eddie to pull his hair back, messy curls pulled into a haphazard bun, loose strands falling into his eyes as he pulled his rolling tray towards him. 

He was too busy licking a neat stripe along the paper to notice the way you were pushing yourself to your knees, head tilted to the side as you carefully studied the boy. He was painfully pretty, soft eyes, softer lips and all strong lines along his jaw, his nose, the slant of his high cheekbones. 

If you wanted to do this, you were going to have to do it soon. ‘Cause you wanted to be sober for this, Eddie too, and the boy was ready to slip the joint between his lips to light it and pass it to you. 

So you cleared your throat and tried not to fall off the bed when Eddie’s head shot up and he gasped at how close you were. The joint fell to the bed, forgotten and Eddie blinked, lips parted as he tried to not freak the fuck out. 

You had a new dress on, white with tiny cherries printed all over it, thin straps holding it up and Eddie had groaned at the sight of it when you first appeared at the van door. 

You were so, so close. You could count the freckles on Eddie’s cheeks, the tiny ones that dotted across the bridge of his nose and the more you looked, the more the boy blushed. You watched his skin turn rosy, brown eyes blinking at you, messy curls slipping out of the purple hair tie he most definitely stole from your wrist last week. 

“Wha—?”

“Can I kiss you?”

Silence. Shock and silence and awe and a painfully long pause. Eddie wondered if his heart was still beating. 

You sighed, pushed yourself a little closer still, knees pressed the mattress and when Eddie didn’t pull away, you let your hands rest on his knees and your gaze met his. 

“Do you not want to kiss me?” You asked and you were surprised at how brave you sounded, not a hint of shyness left in your voice and maybe that’s because you’d been so fucking sure that Eddie liked you. 

Like, liked you, liked you. 

Steve had said so. So had Dustin. Even Robin winked and smirked at you when Eddie entered the room. 

“It’s okay if you don’t,” you assured him softly, lip tucked between your teeth. You bit down on the skin there and huffed out a breath when Eddie’s gaze zeroed in on the way your tongue peeked out afterwards to soothe the sting. “I just— I just thought you wanted to.”

Eddie didn’t say anything, he just gasped at you for a second or two - although it felt like hours - pink lips pouted and his jaw slack.  He looked too pretty; genuinely, heartbreakingly pretty, with his tied up curls and flushed cheeks and the stretched out collar of his shirt that showed of skin and ink and freckles—

“I do, fuck, no, yeah— I do.”

The rejection that was curling into your stomach retreated and your head snapped back up. You stared at him, replaying his stuttering, stumbling words and you watched as the boy sucked in a deep, ragged breath. Then his wide hand was cupping your cheek, guitar string callouses rough against your jaw, fingers slipping your hair and he was pulling you forward as he moved in andandand—

The bed protested under your knees and Eddie’s, both of you colliding in the softest way possible. You met in the middle, you a little taller than the boy, ‘cause at the eleventh hour you’d gotten too impatient and pushed yourself up so you could grab at his face too. 

He was rough stubble underneath your palms, pliant for you, willing to go wherever you moved him to and he titled his head when you moved in and down, cheeks a pretty rose colour and his eyes fluttered shut when your lips touched his. 

Eddie was hesitant at first, just for a second or two, both of you adjusting to the feel of a new mouth against your own. But his lips were warm and soft and they tasted like smoke and the lemonade he’d been drinking, tart and sweet and like the summer outside. 

And you pushed yourself against him a little bit harder, one thumb stroking over the apple of a cheek and you let your bottom lip slip between his own. Eddie groaned then, a wicked sound, dirty and low and you felt it vibrate through his chest and yours. It made you squeeze your eyes shut a little tighter, made your breath catch in your throat and want to test the waters a little more.  

You let your tongue peek out, a slow, soft slide against the seam of his lips and he parted then for you with another pretty sound, a whimper that had your toes curling and without much warning, his hand dropped from your jaw to catch at your waist and you were being tugged onto his lap. 

You knew your dress was hitched up a little too high to be decent, but you didn’t really care. You gasped out at the contact, Eddie’s fingers gripping you on the edge of too tight, your legs splayed out over his thighs as he kissed you back with so much wanting that you thought you’d cry. 

It turned a little messy, a little desperate, tongues sliding, lips parted over each other as you both made dirty, little sounds they had both of your hips rocking towards each other. Your hands grabbed at the back of the boy's head and you whined at the curls that were tied away from your fingers, so you scratched at the nape of his neck instead, almost - almost - too rough, making the boy shudder and groan underneath you. 

And when you both pulled away for air, Eddie was all shades of pink, flushed cheeks, lips kiss bitten and rosy, pouty and a little swollen from where you’d been loving on him. His eyes were glassy, glazed over, jaw slack and the muscle there ticked once, twice when you pushed yourself further into his lap. His hands flew to your thighs, bare and almost too exposed, fingers curling around the doughy skin and you weren’t sure if he wanted you to stop or keep going. 

You were both panting, chests heaving and everything glittered now that Eddie Munson had finally kissed you. Dust motes sparkled in the sunlight that came through the gap in the curtains, the shades drawn to trap out the heat but my god, you were burning. 

And it was like you couldn’t help yourself, couldn’t keep your lips off of him now that you’d started and you leaned back in, hearing the way his breath caught in his throat. It made you feel bold, powerful, reckless, it made you feel absolutely fucking wrecked. 

You mouthed over his jawline, the sharp line of it covered by a rough stubble that hadn’t really been there that morning and Eddie moaned for you when you hit a little spot underneath his ear. You grinned, smiled against his skin and took the lobe between your teeth and nipped gently, sucked at it until he was fully shivering underneath you, grabbing at your thighs until you knew you’d have crescent moon shaped marks the next day. 

“Is that okay?” You asked him, voice impossibly soft, almost a little husky from the way he’d kissed you. “This alright, Teddy?”

His eyes almost rolled at the pet name, he couldn’t handle the sweetness of it, not with you in his lap with your pretty dress rucked up all indecently, your lips ghosting along the shell of his ear. 

But he nodded, weak, holding on for dear life when you sighed all prettily and kept up your touch. You kissed a line along his neck, mouthing and sucking at the strong column of his throat as his Adam’s apple bobbed under your lips. You kissed a bruise into the crook, where his neck met his shoulder and you sucked and bit down until it was the prettiest shade of lavender you’d ever seen. 

When you pulled back, Eddie’s eyes were closed, lips parted and breath coming out in harsh pants. It was almost unfair and you could feel him underneath you, impossibly hard, thick and twitching every time you moved against him. 

So you slowed it all down, softened yourself, your kisses a little sweeter as you peppered them across his face. His cheeks, the tip of his nose, the soft skin of his eyelids, bottom lip sweeping over his lashes. You kissed the corner of his mouth, his chin, his forehead and onto his hairline, messy curls tickling your cheek. 

And the whole time you whispered to him, soft, pretty words that had him sighing and gasping with each touch of your lips. It was all too good, too much, too nice and Eddie wasn’t sure what this meant yet but he never wanted it to fucking end. 

“So pretty, Teddy,” your hand dragged down the length of his bicep, lithe muscles wrapped underneath ink and soft skin. “You’re just so pretty, y’know that?” Your thumb swept over the faded outline of the bear drawing you’d penned on him a week or two before and you smiled, tucked your face into his neck. 

“So pretty when you blush for me,” you whispered and god, Eddie was trying his best not to lose it. “All pink ‘n cute.”

You held his chin in your grasp, finger and thumb pressed gently there to bring his mouth back to yours and he complied happily. He sighed into you, sweet kisses turning into another slow, lazy make out session, the dirty flick of his tongue against yours making you squeeze your thighs over his. 

“Shy boy,” you murmured against his lips. “Or so I thought,” you hugged out a laugh when one brave hand moved from your thigh to your hip, brushing the curve of your ass underneath the fabric of your dress. 

“You’re gonna kill me,” Eddie groaned, forehead falling to rest against yours. “Babe, baby—”

You whined at that, let him push his mouth back to yours so he could kiss you again and it went on like that all afternoon, until the blue sky turned into a deep violet, until the stars blinked and Eddie had you pressed into his pillows, kissing his own line down your throat. It was dizzying, the way he nudged the strap of your dress out of his way with his nose, hands never leaving your sides, your hips, the dough of your ass. 

And when it all got too much and you both got too close to going too far, too quick, you slowed it back down with soft kisses and lazy touches. You were nose to nose on his messy bed, one of your legs hitched over his hip as he held you close and you were smiling, cheeks sore, eyes bright kinda smile. 

“Shy boy,” you told him again, nose scrunching when Eddie grinned at you and kissed it. He was still the prettiest shade of pink, but god, you’d never get tired of it. “My boy.”

[mizusnose]

ahem so I just read your college fuckboy mizu headcanons (which I loved) and was wondering if I could request a lil something about fuckboy mizu genuinely liking the reader so she makes changes to convince the reader she's serious. Reader would probs be SUPER skeptical bc casual relationships isn't their thing but it'd be so cute. Obvs you can just ignore this if you don't want to do it my mind has just been mizu brainrot lately

so i’ve been letting this one marinate for a bit BUT: reader who gets together with Taigen to spite Mizu who won’t get serious for reader. Cue the jealousy, club shenanigans, and poet mizu (!!)

boyfriend by dove cameron for max brainrot

———

Taigen was a fine boyfriend. All things considered. He was better than most of the guys you’d been with before, and he had a motorcycle that he’d let you take pics with and post them on your feed.

But, he wasn’t Mizu.

This point had been made several times. Mostly on Taigen’s end. His constant whining of I see the way you look at her, god I bet you thought I was a woman huh, better yet—you wished I was her huh!

He wasn’t wrong, necessarily. It wasn’t your fault you’d gotten bored and decided to go to Taigen’s fencing practice. It wasn’t like you’d intended on falling head over heels for the hot butch lesbian who had a mean smirk and a sweaty jaw when she whooped Taigen’s ass.

You still remembered the way she had her neck bared, her hair falling over her shoulders, the beat of her heart nestled in between her collarbones, the dark green of her veins under her skin.

So, yeah, maybe you did have a thing for Mizu, who may or may not be your boyfriend’s biggest rival.

Heavy quotations on the rival part since Mizu didn’t give a shit that Taigen hated her—in fact, she didn’t care that the majority of the lesbians, bisexual, and bi-curious girls on campus hated her guts.

But that was what made her interesting.

You’d thought about it often: her, telling you to leave as soon as you’d come on her tongue or strap or fingers, (whatever was fine, you weren’t picky.) and you’d feel that tug in your tummy and your jaw would relax and fall open and—

“hah, did you come?”

And then you’d be back where you started: dating Taigen and fucking him and not being able to enjoy it or come or anything.

The thing was this: You’d only ever been in long-term relationships. Never dabbled in casual one night stands that Mizu was rumored to stick by. Even if you did want her, her time was limited. And you didn’t exactly love sharing.

So, when Taigen complained about having to go out this weekend to “bond or some teammate trust building shit, pfft, as if we aren’t trying to kill each other every practice. Not to mention Mizu will be there,” You convinced him to go, and for you to tag along. As moral support of course.

Now as much as Taigen loved telling you how much he hated Mizu, he liked coming to the thought of her much more. You’d done it quite often, bring Mizu up in sex, the way she’d fence and made him look like a fucking loser. How good she’d look kissing you, having you, taking you away from him. You’d both come then, not just him.

So you supposed it wasn’t that weird to be crushing over Mizu. Especially when the weekend came and the alcohol was sweet and fizzy and the wine dark and bitter, and the club lights shimmering on Mizu’s skin, her hair, her hands as she came up behind you.

“Hey.” She said. Simple, easy, confident. Her hands brushed your exposed back, the bend of your hip, the jut of your ribs.

“Hi.” You said. Sultry, warm, quiet so she’d have to twist closer to hear you when you gasped as she held your waist, tighter this time. A little mean, “I have a boyfriend.”

And she’d chuckle, and pull away and quirk her dark eyebrow up, “Really? Him?” A barely there glance at Taigen who was with the other fencing team members taking body shots off one another, “I could be a better boyfriend than him, you know.”

She spun you around, the steady heat of her palm always on you, “You know me.” It wasn’t a question. You saw the way Mizu’s eyes dragged across your body on her way over, her tongue on her lips as she stared. She knew you were Taigen’s girlfriend.

“Been watching.” She brought you closer, shifted her hands and then you were close. Closer than you’d ever been to her before.

She smelled heady and like pinewood. The plane of her chest was defined, sturdy, and you wondered if she had small breasts, if they were sensitive.

“Can’t believe I almost went home when you’re here—all alone.” She smirked, the same damned smirk you’d replay in your mind as you masturbated and thought of her, “Think I might just steal you from him, hm?”

Her hands slipped up your back, to the bottom of your nape, a demanding grip: there one second, gone the next. She watched your face, your lips, your neck.

“Does this usually work on other girls?”

You pushed away then, your legs wobbly and your underwear damp. You wanted, but you knew exactly what Mizu thought of you: an easy thing, something of Taigen’s. Good for a night, forgotten the next.

So you straightened your clothes, and met Mizu’s confused gaze, “I have a boyfriend.”

Mizu’s mouth twitched. Barely. But you’d caught it as you turned, and headed to the bartop. Even if Mizu was who you’d wanted, being a one-night stand wasn’t what you wanted.

So, you walked back over to Taigen, beers in hand, and watched Mizu as you kissed him wide and dirty. Her glare a steely weight in your belly, and on your beating cunt.

You’d make Mizu yours, one way or another.

——-

Let’s make this a 2 parter. Poet mizu will have to wait. Thanks for the ask :)

[spiteful-lvsts]

•And I’m The Perfect Sacrifice•

• Final Guy!Reader x Slasher!Dottore

• AMAB Top!Reader x Bottom!Dottore

• Summary: In a turn of events, you find your cabin trip ambushed by a masked killer, and you remain as the final survivor.

• Warnings/Content: modern/college au?, dottore is referred to as zandik, mentioned violence and deaths, unsanitary (blood as lube), wound fingering, slight orgasm denial, slight dacryphilia, body worship, both reader and dotts are kinda deranged, porn with feelings?, hurt/comfort?, masochist!dottore

• Notes: whoops too many dottie drafts, this is partially inspired by final girl by graveyardguy, technically webttore? i think his mask would fit more than the bird one

The killer is pinned beneath you, held down by your weight, arms restrained above his head. The stench of iron is prevalent, a reminder of what happened, of the corpses that lay just inside the room. You could kill him now, injured as he was from your earlier scuffle.

And yet, you can’t. You won’t.

Because you knew him. Knew his face, despite the mask, despite of the blood and viscera painting him now. And oh, how you’ve missed him, that some part of you ached to devour him whole.

“Zandik,” you softly murmur, “Oh Zandik, where have you been?” He’d been missing for months, since his home burned down. Only to show up now.

He squirmed underneath you, a halfhearted escape attempt at best. “Don’t act like you suddenly fucking care again,” Zandik grit out, red eyes flickering between you and the window. “You didn’t look for me.”

Frowning, you reached up, fingertips skimming the edge of his mask, feeling him flinch. “...Not by choice.” You only say, like it’s a quiet, mournful thing.

There’s no rebuttal from him, so you continue. “Then, won’t you at least let me see your face? It’s been so long,” your fingers trace the leather straps connecting the mask, “I’ve missed you, Zandik.”

“...You won’t like what you’ll see,” He protests weakly, but it’s not a direct refusal. “I’ve changed, I’m not the same person you knew before.”

“I loved you then, I love you even now.” Your voice is soft, reverent even. And Zandik trembles at your admission, averting his gaze. This wasn’t supposed to have happened. It was supposed to be just simple, petty revenge, for what happened to him at the Akademiya.

And yet, you were an outlier. As you always were. He didn’t expect you to be here, of all places, and a part of him seethed when he first saw you tonight. Thinking you had replaced him, so easily, so quickly.

A warm touch breaks him out of his reverie, your hand gentle upon his face, as you waited for him to answer. Ironically, Zandik can’t find it in him to truly hate you, not when you’re like this. Still covered in drying blood, eyes full of worry for him, despite knowing what he did.

So he answers you, not verbally, still he twists his neck and head to bare you his throat. The metal clasps gleam in the moonlight. An implicit invitation.

Two sharp clicks echo in the room, barely undercutting the tension. Zandik can’t bare to look at you as you discard his mask, eyes and hands clenched shut as he awaited your judgement. Something sour in him curdles at the thought of being rejected by you, he’d never been one for other’s opinions, but when it was you...

Instead your warmth remains, letting him lean into your touch. Eyes fluttering open to meet yours, “There you are,” your hands cup his face, thumb brushing over still-tender scar tissue, and he has to suppress a whine at its sensitivity. You were always so damnably gentle to him.

“I’ve missed you,” you whisper again, earnest as you always were. Even now, even splattered in blood and gore, what remained of the rest. Zandik realizes then, that even if the world shuns him, condemns him a sinner, that he loves you.

“...I’ve missed you too.” His voice is quiet, smaller than he’s ever been. Suspended in this fragile tension, he can’t help relaxing just the smallest bit in your presence. No longer restrained, he was sure if he ran, you’d let him. Though some small part of him wanted you to follow him.

In the (almost) comfortable silence, his gaze slides over to the corpse in the room. Their eyes clouded over, frozen in fear during their last moments. In truth, whoever they were didn’t matter, what mattered was that they had to suffer for what they did to him.

Why did they get to live, unmarred by the consequences of their actions. Going about their days as if they weren’t as bad as he was. Zandik’s hand twitched, thoughts spiraling as rage threatened to bubble over. You were part of this trip, weren’t you? Were you going to betray hurt him, as they did?

He wants to— needs to ask, were you still lying to him? He wants to believe you, he really did, but some traitorous part of him still doubts your sincerity. “Why were you here in the first place?”

A dark expression flashed by your face, yet as quickly as it came, it was gone. “Same reason as you, I’d think.” You smile, sharp and dangerous, with a hint of teeth. And Zandik swallows, throat bobbing as heat pools in his gut. Anger dissipating at your statement.

Between the two of you, you had always been the kinder of pair. But oh, Zandik was quickly finding out how much he enjoyed this more... dangerous, side of yours. He can’t help the flush crawling up his neck, across his face to the tips of his ears.

Against all rational thought, Zandik finds himself grabbing the front of your shirt, pulling you closer to him. Your lips come together clumsily, messily, the taste of iron shared between you as his sharp teeth clips your lip. Zandik relishes the noise of surprise you make, even as you wrench control from him, drawing a whine from him as your tongue traces the inside of his mouth.

When you pull back, he’s panting, dazed and breathless. “Please,” Zandik breathes out, already half-hard as you gazed at him through half-lidded eyes. Hands gripping your shirt tighter, unsure what to do with himself.

You blink, slow and languid, “Here? Now?” Your voice is quiet, but it leaves him trembling as he nodded. The ache to devour him is back, laid beneath you as he is now, and you can’t deny how much you wanted Zandik as well.

Your clothes were almost an afterthought, torn off of each other in the throes of passion. Though, in all honesty they were probably unsalvageable, from your previous altercation and all.

The low light obscured many things, but here, exposed only to you, Zandik was the loveliest thing you’ve ever seen. Scars and all, as your fingers trace the burns covering his body. Perhaps sometime later, you could really take the time to appreciate all of him, this desolate cabin hardly seemed appropriate for the task.

A shock of pain shoots through him when your fingers accidentally dig against the gouges in his side, reopening the wounds. Something electric sparks through Zandik as his mouth falls open in a startled moan. Maybe it was from delirium, or blood loss, or both, but his cock throbs at the feeling.

Startling at the noise, you almost began to ask if he was okay. Only to be cut off, “Do that again.” He orders, and he sounds... not hurt, or mad, more curious than anything. It’s not like you didn’t notice the effect it had on him either, with how hard he was pressed against you.

So you comply, not that you could’ve denied him anything, and oh, how lovely he looked as his spine arched. Hips twitching in search for friction. Your name, a bitten off whimper- a plea on Zandik’s lips as he squeezed his eyes shut from the pain, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes.

His blood coats your fingers, warm and wet, he doesn’t ask for you to stop, even as your nails dig into him. You swallow the saliva gathering in your mouth, briefly tucking your face against his neck, you could hear Zandik’s heart hammering in his chest.

“D’you think you could cum from this?” You murmur, more of a joke than anything but at they way he whined, well, maybe you weren’t too far off.

When you pull your fingers from the wounds, it was almost cute how he glared at you, whatever impact it would’ve had was lessened from the beading tears and the flush across his face. “I didn’t tell you to stop—” he begins to complain, after all, he’d been so close before you stopped. But quieting when you press a kiss to his lips, unbearably soft in comparison.

Your bloodied hand trails down his body, leaving a streak of red, stopping when your fingers just barely tease his hole. “Wouldn’t you prefer to cum from this instead?” You ask, and Zandik shivers from your tone, eyes flickering to your neglected member, precum smeared against his thigh. Blood wouldn’t be nearly enough to ease the burn, but something in him craves it.

“Please,” his voice cracks, and the sheer want in his voice makes the heat in your gut intensify, “Make me yours, need them all to know you’re mine.”

The stretch burns, blood-slick on your fingers barely soothing it. Regardless of the pain, Zandik relishes in it, a choked moan making its way out of his throat when your fingers crook in just the right way for him to see stars. You work him open with a tender patience, in contrast to his own impatience, rocking his hips down into your hand.

Pain and pleasure mix into something intoxication, his mind growing muddled from the ministrations of your fingers, and the sweet nothings whispered to him. Still you remain an infuriating tease, despite the tenderness. Just barely brushing against his prostate with each movement of your fingers, not quite enough for him, but just enough to leave him yearning for more.

His dick was hard and useless, leaking pre onto his abdomen at each movement. “Hngh-! Would you j-just get on with it alreaDY—!!” Zandik’s complaint turns into a shriek at a particularly harsh jab from you, his walls clamping around your fingers at the rough treatment.

You rub soothing circles into his uninjured side, murmuring sweet nothings to him, even as your hand doesn’t stop moving. “Mm, I promise I’ll make you feel good soon. You can hold out for me a little longer, can’t you darling?”

And you sound about as earnest as you always were. Even with that playful lilt in your voice, even as you looked down at him with an expression full of love and lust.

All Zandik can do is let it happen, head lolling back as he surrenders to your whims. All too aware of your ministrations, the kisses peppered against his skin. The promise of something more the only thing keeping him from losing his mind fully.

Logically only a few minutes at most would’ve passed, but with how high-strung he was, it felt like hours to him. When you finally pull out your fingers, it was almost a relief. But it left him so achingly empty.

All his thoughts had faded into a pleasant buzz while you toyed with him, only to be brought back into focus at the feeling of your cockhead prodding at his entrance. At some point Zandik found himself wrapping his legs around your waist, an attempt to drag you closer into him, to fill that aching emptiness. His own arms winded around your shoulders, nails digging into your back as he anticipated what was to come.

It hurts when you finally push in, no amount of preparation could’ve prepared him for it, even with the aid of his own blood. Still he can’t help but crave more of it, rocking his hips against yours, urging you deeper. “Hah-! Mngh-” his breathing comes out short and uneven, already drooling from just this, “T-too mu-aH-!” His body jerks when your hand suddenly wraps around his length, blood and pre mixing, leaving caught between two points of pleasure.

You kiss away the tears falling down his face, letting him whine and gasp as you trailed kisses down his jawbone, to his neck and collar. “You’re doing so well for me...” you murmured against him, mouthing along his skin, hand slowly pumping his dick in tandem with your movements.

Zandik keens when you bottom out, your hips flush against his ass, your cock a searing heat inside him. Through the tears gathering at his lash line, he could see how well you filled him out, how his stomach bulged from your size.

Perhaps some other time you two could be gentle with each other, to be as lovers were, but tonight there was only an animal need for more. Case-in-point, the way Zandik squirmed impatiently, whining cutely for you to move already, sharp teeth worrying his bottom lip.

It’s not as if you were unaffected either. The way his walls fluttered around you, all warm and tight. Squeezing just the slightest tighter whenever you nipped at his skin.

Regardless, who were you to deny him? With how pretty he was under you, oh he was gorgeous objectively and to you, but the image of Zandik all flushed and teary eyed? You just wanted to ruin him.

The drag is a painful, pleasurable burn as you pulled out. Tip just barely remaining inside him, before you snapped your hips forward, drawing out a choked off scream from him. Eyes rolling back and body spasming, mouth falling open into an ‘o’.

Angry red lines bloom across your back, Zandik’s hips bucking in response to your ruthless pace, sobbing with every well-placed thrust against his abused prostate. You only pull him closer to you, fucking deeper into him, nails digging into the gash in his side as you gripped his waist. The pain shooting straight to his dick and the part of his brain that left him pleading for ‘Gngh! More- moremoremorepLEASE-!’

He’s half delirious from blood loss and arousal, only able to focus on how full he was, drool dribbling down the side of his mouth. Obscene noises echo throughout the room, the sounds of your groaning and Zandik’s whines intermingling. Your own noises were muffled against his body, teeth itching to bite down, whatever remaining self-control you still had waning.

You’ve said it before but god, you loved him, and what was love to you but a desire to consume? And Zandik was baring his neck to you, oh so lovingly.

Your teeth close around the junction between his neck and his shoulder, relishing the way he wailed, how his nails dug painfully into your back. The taste of iron fills your mouth as skin splits under your incisors, sweeter than any honey.

It was just too much for him, the feeling of your hand on him, the shock of pain flooding his system, just you you youyouyou-!

His climax hits him unexpectedly, vision briefly whiting out from the intensity. Hips bucking as he came, ropes of white cum splattering across his abdomen and between your fingers. Your thrusts don’t stop, and neither does your hand, intent on milking him dry.

Zandik sobs through his orgasm, thighs trembling even as they weakly tightened around your waist, fat tears following down his face. Barely registering your tongue laving across the bite, an apology of sorts, not that he minded it. His dick twitches in your hand, painfully sensitive to your touch.

You weren’t far from your own climax either, pace growing erratic inside him, his walls a vice around your throbbing cock. All you could think about was how good he felt. Your hands move to grip his waist, hold practically bruising as you rutted into him, a familiar heat pooling in your gut.

A couple more thrusts before your hips stutter to a stop, flush against Zandik’s body. He moans at the warmth filling him, spreading through him, as you came inside of him. You practically collapse on top of him at the end, the both of you sweaty and gross, but satisfied nonetheless.

When you try to pull out, he shakes his head, tugging you closer. “N-not yet,” he slurs, “Wanna keep you inside, don’t wanna go yet-” babbling something incoherent as his arms wrap around you again.

How cute, you press a kiss against the side of his mouth, sweet and tender. “Alright, ‘m not going anywhere,” you murmur, voice low, making him shiver, “I’m not leaving you again.” You capture his lips again, and he opens his mouth obediently, whimpers muffled against your mouth.

Zandik can taste blood on your lips and tongue, his blood, and he can’t help himself feeling warm all over again. Dazed as he was, he can’t help grinning maniacally against you.

In the morning, or maybe just later, you two would have enough to talk about. Plans to run away, cleaning up any evidence of yourselves from the cabin, packing up your belongings, the works. But for now, you two can just indulge in a moment of intimate quiet with each other.

Perhaps in a week, or maybe more than that, the authorities would be called regarding a missing persons case, students of a prestigious university. The case will go cold, from lack of evidence, and it’ll become its own local legend. How a party of students died mysteriously one night, no trace of another person or anything of that sort, despite obvious foul play.

Some would wonder how it led to the incident, after all the cabin was well maintained, despite its remoteness. It was unlikely for its utilities to break. As far as anyone knew, none of the students tried to call for help that night, or even tried to leave. Theories are made, yet no answers are to be found.

But ah... if the phone lines were cut even before the killer was there, or if the car driven into the woods had its tires slashed in the dead of night? If the doors were conveniently unlocked?

Well, that’s between you and Dottore.

[eiightysixbaby]

magic man

‘you don’t have to love me yet, let’s get high a while’

word count: 3.8k

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ ONLY, smut smut smut!!! minors DNI. swearing, mention of drinking and drug usage (weed), oral (f receiving), slight edging, unprotected p in v, creampie, reader and eddie get high and reader drinks a little but everything is consensual - none of that shady shit, spanking, slight degradation/name calling, reader has a shitty ex (brief mention of manipulative tendencies), reader gets hit on by a creepy perv, eddie makes you watch yourself while he fucks you, overall filth (if I forgot anything pls let me know!)

summary: after moving to a new town to get away from a shitty ex-boyfriend and leave your past behind, you find yourself having even more guy troubles. it’s best to just give up on men entirely - right?

Your empty glass clinks against the top of the bar as you set it down, motioning to the bartender to bring you another drink. You exhale deeply through your nose, grounding yourself, holding back the frustrated tears. You really thought moving out of the city and into a small town, into Hawkins, would be good for you. Thought it would let you escape the shitty men of your past and start fresh. But here you were, sitting on a sticky barstool where your date was supposed to be resting beside you, instead completely alone. This was your third date with this guy, things had been going so well - or so you thought. He decided not to show, and clearly must’ve, y’know, forgotten to tell you. Ha. You sneered to yourself, fuck this.

Electric guitar and drums blared from the tiny stage crammed at the back wall of the even tinier bar. Some local band played, gathering a crowd of about fifteen intoxicated people who whooped and hollered as they played. You take a long sip of your second drink before turning your attention onto the band fully. Their music was loud, a little sloppy, but honestly they had potential. You hop down from the stool you sat on and stand at the back of the crowd, drink in hand. You bob along lightly to the heavy sounds coming from the stage, letting yourself get immersed in the passion and anger the music radiated. You catch the singer’s eye as he performs and you’re enamored for a moment, the liquor rushing to your brain as you get lost in the man’s deep brown eyes. He all but stares you down as the song lyrics tumble from his mouth. Brown curly hair falls in his face, and his ringed fingers work at his guitar. Ripped black skinny jeans hug his legs, chains dangling from the pockets, and on his torso he wears a dark grey Dio shirt, holes cut into the neckline. You chew on your lip as you gaze up at him, watch him as he gets almost intimate with the microphone. Your heart thuds in your chest, and you suddenly feel warm. Blame it on the alcohol, yeah, sure. The song comes to a close and the unnamed singer speaks into the microphone.

“Thank you all so much for listening tonight, we love to see people enjoying our music! We are Corroded Coffin, and we’ve got one last song for you guys,” his eyes are drawn to you as he talks, and you feel unsteady on your feet.

The final song starts, the drummer tapping his sticks together to count the band in, and you rip your gaze from the beautiful man seducing the audience. You remember the reason you’re at this bar in the first place, and a sour taste fills your mouth. No more guys. Not right now. You don’t think you could handle another round of getting your hopes up, just to be inevitably let down by yet another man with too much audacity. You turn on your heels and return to the seat you’d been at before, trying your best to drown out the remainder of Corroded Coffin’s set.

Maybe 20 minutes go by before you feel a hand on your shoulder. You turn, and once again meet the same dark brown eyes that held you before. The singer from the band stands inches away from you, a kind smile on his face.

“This seat taken?” he asks, sticking his thumb out towards the stool next to you.

You shake your head, and he sits.

“I’m Eddie,” he extends his hand for you to shake. “I uh- I saw you watching the set from the crowd. What’d ya think?” his voice is kind, almost shy.

“Y/N,” you introduce yourself before continuing, “listen Eddie, your set was great and you’re very talented, but I really better be going..” you shift in your seat.

His eyes haven’t left you this whole time and you feel like you’re suffocating. You can’t handle another disappointment, it’s best to cut this one off before it even starts.

“Woah, hey, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I’m sorry,” he grabs your arm gently to stop your movement, the metal of his rings cold on your skin.

“Please don’t touch me,” you jerk yourself out of his grip, grabbing your purse to leave.

You shuffle out of your seat, leaving cash for the bartender and turning around quickly to exit the bar. As you turn though, a larger man bumps into you, spilling his drink down the front of your shirt.

“Shit, baby, didn’t see you there…” he purrs at you, his breath reeks of whiskey.

He puts his hands on your waist in an effort to pull you closer to him. You attempt to shove him away and see Eddie rise from his seat out of your peripheral vision.

“Get the fuck off of me,” you spit, but the man is simply too big and too strong for you to break out of his grip completely.

“Come on, baby, don’t be like that,” he laughs.

“She said get the fuck off,” Eddie’s voice is firm, loud. Completely different than the tone he had just used with you.

Eddie grabs the man from behind and shoves him, yelling at him to keep his hands to himself. You don’t stay to see what happens next, fleeing out the front door and collapsing against the outside wall of the building. The fresh air fills your lungs, a stark contrast from the sweaty, musty air of the bar. Your chest heaves, the now sticky fabric of your shirt clinging to your skin. Your face is hot and flushed with anger, and your eyes are shut tight as you hear the door to the bar open beside you.

“Hey, Y/N, fuck… are you okay?” You hear Eddie’s voice.

When you don’t respond, Eddie comes to lean on the wall beside you. He sparks a cigarette, offering it to you when he sees your breathing has slowed. Hesitantly, you reach for it, taking a long drag.

“Thank you. For doing that for me,” you say finally, turning to look at the boy next to you as you pass the cigarette back to him.

“Shit, you don’t have to thank me, sweetheart. Christ knows what that fucker would’ve done if given the chance,” Eddie scoffs, kicking at the gravel beneath his feet.

“Yeah,” you laugh, a bitter and cold sound. “I thought tonight couldn’t get any worse… and then it did,” you shake your head.

“Wanna talk about it?” He asks plainly, blowing smoke out of his mouth as he speaks.

“I was supposed to have a date tonight… son of a bitch didn’t show, didn’t even call,” you scoff. “Not to mention I moved here to escape my asshole of an ex-..” you cut yourself off, embarrassed. “I’m sorry, you don’t wanna hear all of this.”

“You can tell me whatever you’re comfortable telling me, sweetheart. I’ve got all night.” He meets your stare and the look in his eyes is genuine, soft.

“I don’t really wanna get into it all- I just need a distraction,” you say finally.

“Wanna come back to my place? Get high for a while?” Eddie asks you, and he catches the hesitance in your face. “I promise I’m not like, a psycho killer or anything like that,” he raises his hands in mock defense.

“I don’t know, Eddie, I-,” you start, chewing on your lip as you talk.

You’re hesitant to agree, not sure what you’re getting into. Not sure if you’re ready to fall for someone again. Not sure if you like the way your heart pounds when he looks at you.

“Relax, we don’t have to fall in love or anything, sweetheart. I just think we could get to know each other better,” he says as if reading your mind.

And, fuck, there’s something so electric about him. He’s drawing you to him and he’s not even trying. Something in you is telling you to just go home, get in bed with some ice cream and forget about guys for the next century - and the other part of you is urging you to go with him, screaming ‘Go, you dumbass, he’s hot!’

“Yeah, okay, sure. I walked here so, can I hitch a ride with you?” You hear yourself ask him, mind racing as you do it.

“Of course, sweetheart. No way I’d let you walk. Let’s go,” and he’s stomping out his cigarette, urging you to follow him.

The ride to the trailer park is short, and you don’t do much talking on the way there. Eddie opens the door of his van for you, and you hop out into the warm July air. The night seems to buzz with anticipation.

“Welcome to my palace,” he extends his arm theatrically, opening the trailer door for you. “I live here with my uncle but, uh, he works nights.” Eddie explains, as you look around at all the knick knacks littering the trailer walls. “Oh shit, hey, let’s get you out of that shirt, yeah?” He motions to the stain on your shirt from the spilled drink.

You nod, and he jogs down the hall to what you presume to be his bedroom, returning with a clean shirt for you.

“Bathroom’s down the hall on the right,” he smiles.

You change into the clothing he gave you - a black Def Leppard ‘88 Tour t-shirt - and meet him back in the living room. His eyes widen when he sees you and he clears his throat awkwardly. You raise an eyebrow at him.

“Shit- sorry, you uh, you look nice. In that.” His voice comes out almost squeaky, strained.

“No falling in love, remember?” You tease, sitting down on the couch beside him where he’s already rolling a joint for you to share.

The two of you pass the joint back and forth, talking about anything and everything. You relax more and more the longer you talk. Eddie tells you more about his band, you tell him about your life in the city before moving here. You end up telling him more about your ex-boyfriend, the manipulation and lies, all of the heartache he put you through. Eddie listens to the whole thing, resting a gentle hand on your knee, easing your nerves. Eddie tells you about his ex, too, a girl named Chrissy. Says they dated for a few months before they realized it just wasn’t gonna work for them, they wanted different things. You pretend not to notice the way he’s shifted closer to you slowly over the course of the last hour. He pretends not to notice the way you get caught up and stare at his lips while he talks.

The two of you fall silent eventually, simply enjoying each others company. Eddie’s hand rests on your thigh, his shoulder touching yours with how close he is to you. Your mind feels like it’s coated in honey, everything around you feels so sweet as you sink further into your high. Eddie’s watching you, his chocolate brown eyes never leaving your pretty face. He allows himself to rub soft circles into the fabric of your jeans where his hand rests, and you shiver at the touch.

“You okay, sweet thing?” He asks.

“Mhmmm,” you hum, leaning your head on his shoulder.

Eddie’s presence is comforting. You feel safe around him, secure. It doesn’t feel the way it did to be around other guys, like you’re simply waiting for them to destroy the nice vibe you have going. No, being around Eddie feels different. And you’re letting yourself sink into it.

You brave a glance up at him, and he’s staring down the bridge of his nose at you. “You’re really pretty,” you say, giggling.

“Hey, now, sweetheart. I thought we said no falling in love,” Eddie retorts, but his smile completely shatters his mock-serious tone.

You laugh, and he revels in it. He cups your chin in his hand, and lifts your head up so you’re eye-level with him. Your heart is beating a mile a minute, and you lick your lips as a nervous habit. His gaze gets darker as your tongue pokes out of your mouth, his fingers still gently holding your chin. He smells like smoke and vanilla and booze and it somehow mixes together in the most delicious way.

“Kiss me, Eddie, please,” you breathe, your head spinning and your senses filled with nothing but Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

He doesn’t say anything, just pulls you into him. His lips are soft, but demanding in the way they work against yours. You tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging softly as his tongue slips into your mouth. His hands are all over you, on your thighs, your hips, your ass, searching every inch of your body.

“Fuck, baby, I need more of you. Can I have more of you?” he asks, breathless as he pulls away from your mouth.

“Yes, Eddie, please,” and with that, he’s lifting you bridal-style off of his sofa and carrying you to his bedroom.

He sets you down on the bed and immediately you’re pulling your shirt over your head and then grabbing at the hem of his. You don’t know what came over you but you know that you need him. Kissing you, licking you, filling you with him. His energy is addictive and fuck, you’re hooked. Once the two of you are down to your underwear, Eddie’s mouth is on you again. Claiming your lips, your neck, your collarbone, your breasts. You’re a moaning mess beneath him, and honestly if it weren’t for the weed in your system, you’d probably be embarrassed at the sounds leaving you.

Eddie kisses all the way down your body before settling himself between your thighs. He lets out an amused hum at the wet patch that’s stained your underwear.

“Fuck, sweetheart, this wet for me already?” he teases, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Shut up and get your mouth on me right now,” you say, but it comes out sounding like more of a beg than a demand.

Eddie smirks and shimmies your panties down your legs, trailing kisses on the insides of your thighs, biting at the plush skin. Without warning his mouth is on your dripping cunt, his tongue plunging into you like it’s his lifeline. You’re squirming and writhing beneath him, gripping his sheets so hard you’re surprised they haven’t torn. He’s a master with his tongue, like some sensual wizard, working all of his magic on you. His tongue laps at you hungrily, collecting the wetness that’s seeping out of you. He sucks on your clit, eliciting pornographic sounds from your mouth. He laughs against you, the vibrations sending delicious waves of electricity straight to your core.

“Eddie, shit- I’m so fucking close,” you breathe out, desperate beneath him.

But as soon as you get the words out, he removes himself from the spot between your thighs that weeps for him. His chin is glistening with your slick, and he’s got a devilish grin on his face.

“W-why did you stop?” You ask, not even caring about how pitiful you sound.

“Gonna make you wait til I’m inside you sweetheart, I’m gonna get you cumming so hard around my dick,” he purrs, suddenly right next to you, speaking right into your ear.

You feel yourself clench around nothing at his words, and his voice sends chills through your body. He stands up, slipping out of his boxers and letting his cock spring free. You feel like your eyes are going to pop out of your head like a cartoon as you survey his entire frame in front of you. His cock is big, maybe 8 inches, with a leaking pink tip staring you right in the face. His balls hang heavy between his thighs and you fantasize about having them in your mouth.

“Let me just grab a condom, pretty girl,” Eddie starts to open the drawer to his bedside table, but you reach over to grab his wrist.

“N-no, please. I’m on the pill. N-need you to fuck me raw, Eddie, please,” you’re fully begging him, looking up at him with wide, lust blown eyes.

Eddie’s cock twitches as he looks at your already too-fucked-out face, and he swallows the lump in his throat.

“You sure, baby?” he asks, climbing over top of you and kissing you softly.

“Yeah, fuck, need to feel all of you,” you’re breathless beneath him and your cunt is leaking a mess onto his sheets.

“Alright sweetheart, c’mon, on your hands and knees for me baby,” Eddie commands you, and you oblige immediately.

He has you facing the mirror on his wall, and he lines himself up behind you.

“I want you to watch while I fuck the shit out of you..” Eddie whispers into your ear, “-can you do that for me? Gonna watch yourself get fucked, baby?”

You’re nodding way too hard, way too fast. “Yes, Eddie, wanna watch you fuck me..”

Eddie presses a few kisses to your shoulders as he starts to spread you open with his cock. His tip pushes past your entrance, getting sucked into your velvety walls. He inhales sharply, digging his fingertips into your hips. He pushes further into you, spreading you wider for him, going deeper deeper deeper. Your insides burn deliciously at the size of him, wanting all of him and then some.

“Fuck, Eddie. Oh my god, you’re so big,” you moan beneath him, pleasure washing over you as you accommodate to the stretch to fit him.

“Look at you, taking all of me like a good girl,” he praises, rubbing a hand over your ass before leaving a swift smack on the soft skin.

You groan at the sudden sting, pushing your ass further back into him, silently pleading for more. He spanks you again - once, twice, three times, the skin turning pink. You ache for him, every slap sending shockwaves through your entire body. All you want in this moment is for him to fuck you dumb.

“Please move, Eddie, need you to move,” you whimper, watching his face twist into a sick grin in the mirror.

“So desperate for me, sweetheart,” he coos, but ultimately gives in to your request.

He doesn’t start slow, either. He pulls all the way out of you before ramming himself back in, a wet squelching sound filling the room. He keeps his thrusts at a steady pace, gripping your hips so hard you’re sure the skin will be purple and blue tomorrow. You watch the whole scene in the mirror, taking note of the way your tits bounce with his thrusts, the way he’s biting his lip in concentration. You reach one hand down to your clit and start rubbing quick circles on the sensitive bud. Eddie catches this in your reflection.

“Such a good fucking girl, touch yourself for me sweet thing,” his voice is low and thick, full of lust, and it makes your stomach flip.

He continues pounding into you from behind, a fistful of your hair in one hand, a fistful of your ass in the other. You can’t tear your eyes from the mirror, suddenly wondering why the fuck you ever thought you weren’t gonna go home with this man tonight. His balls slap-slap-slap against your skin, the noise mingling with the wet sounds from your sopping heat. Your orgasm is creeping up on you quickly, and you increase your pace on your clit, your eyes rolling back in your head. Meanwhile Eddie’s groaning behind you, so blissed out on your pussy, loving the way you squeeze around his cock. He talks you through the whole thing, degrading you in between praises, ‘Feel s’fucking good, sweetheart’ ‘Like to watch me ruin you, huh? Such a fucking whore for me’ ‘Wanna fuck you forever, baby, shit’.

“E-Eddie,” you choke out, his thick cock unrelenting in its assault on your pussy. “Don’t f-fucking stop… gonna cum,”

You’re practically sobbing beneath him, his grip on your hair and his moans filling your ears and his cock stuffing you so, so full are all sensations that become near overwhelming in the most enticing way possible. Before you can even process it, you’re clenching around his length, orgasm washing heavily over you. Eddie’s pulling on your hair roughly, keeping your head upright, ensuring that you’re watching yourself come undone.

“That’s it, baby, soak my cock,” he coos, easing you through your high.

He loosens his grip on your hair as you start to come down, your arms giving out beneath you as you slump slightly into his mattress. He holds you up with one hand under your belly, though, picking up his pace once again. You might as well be screaming beneath him and you’re positive the whole damn trailer park is getting a show, but you don’t have it in you to give a shit. He feels so good inside you and your body is practically vibrating with pleasure.

Eddie’s thrusts start to get sloppier and his breathing grows heavier than before.

“Need to cum in this pussy baby, gonna let me cum in your tight little cunt?” he’s bent over you, growling in your ear, making you tremble.

“Yes- god, Eddie! Want to be full of your cum,” you squeak back, your voice almost knocked out of you.

A few more sloppy thrusts and Eddie’s spilling inside of you, coating your walls with him. You’re really appreciating the mirror in front of you as you watch his face while he pumps you full of his cum, his head thrown back, messy curls falling around his shoulders.

He finally pulls out of you, and you completely deflate onto his mattress, body spent. You can feel his release leaking out of you, sticky and warm between your thighs. Eddie collapses beside you and immediately pulls you into him, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“You okay, sweet thing?” he murmurs, rubbing your back gently with one hand.

“Mhm, you’re insanely good, what kind of spell did you put on me? I wasn’t even gonna speak to you at the bar and now I’m hooked,” you look up at him, giggling.

“I would never tell my secrets, sweetheart,” he teases. “I think you just liked me from the moment you saw me on stage,” he pokes your nose with his index finger, making you laugh.

“Yeah, okay, fine. Maybe.”

“Wanna stay the night? I can think of a few good ways I could wake you up tomorrow morning..” Eddie’s smirking at you, but his eyes are so kind, almost pleading for you to stay with him.

You think maybe, just maybe, this guy’s worth taking a chance on for the long haul.

A half hour later and the two of you are cleaned up, wrapped up in each other under the blankets on Eddie’s bed, him snoring softly with his head resting on yours. Your last thought before falling asleep, is that you should really thank your date for not showing up tonight.

[villain-crown]

heart | @jegulus-microfic | words: 855

* I’m running late on the prompts whoops

critical care, part 6 (part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5)

a Jegulus nurse!AU

“Wow, he’s mean.”

“I’m meaner,” Regulus replied and holy shit James believed him.

He could picture it now: Regulus, a relentless, demanding little thing on top of him, sinking onto James’s cock with a vicious hiss and riding him until he was spent. He would be so small but a force of nature all the same, wrapping James’s heartstrings around his little finger like a leash.

Bloody hell, he’s going to look amazing on our Christmas cards.

“Were you just waiting for me to get angry?”

“I was waiting to see if you could,” Regulus corrected, licking a bit of cream from his spoon. James watched the pink tongue dart out, give a good, long lick and disappear past plush lips once more.

I’m not meant to survive this lunch.

“So you and Riddle used to…?”

“Used to,” Regulus replied carelessly.

“What happened?”

“He asked Sirius if he could fuck the both of us at the same time. Not a good look.”

James gaped at him, thoroughly distracted from his lascivious thoughts. “What!?”

Regulus set his spoon to the side. “It was before Sirius got together with Lupin. He was sleeping with half the hospital and every now and then one of his conquests would decide they wanted the matching set. So now Sirius loses his shit at anyone that looks at me sideways and I get the pleasure of sneaking around behind his back like this.”

That… made a lot of sense actually. James had just assumed that Sirius was being baselessly paranoid but there was something a bit bittersweet about it now. Sirius loved Regulus more than anything or anyone. He must have felt very guilty for putting his little brother in that position.

“I’m sorry.”

Regulus frowned. “Why? It’s not your fault.”

“It’s just… what you say.” James cleared his throat, switching topics. “But why did you want to see if I could get angry?”

“I wanted to make sure I wasn’t wrong.”

“About?”

“You manifesting the right attitude to fuck me.”

Even though James had very blatantly been hoping for it, the direct statement made him choke hard. “What!?”

“I like it rough,” Regulus explained calmly, making James work hard to will the beginnings of arousal away. “With teeth and nails and words. I don’t see anything wrong with it, but I understand that not every guy can deliver.”

James suddenly pictured a naked, sweating, panting Regulus on all fours under him with James’s teeth digging into Regulus’s smooth, warm shoulder as he took him from behind in harsh thrusts. It wasn’t James’s usual style—he liked looking at his partner; liked a bit of connection. But he was only human and what else was he supposed to do but agree if Regulus wanted a little pain with his pleasure?

There was something else that concerned him, however.

“Do you think Riddle’s angry enough to tell people?”

Regulus looked disinterested. “Riddle doesn’t scare me. He understands that the only power he has over me is whatever I decide to give him. If he turns me in to HR, I’ll turn him in too.”

“Mutually assured destruction.”

“No, actually, because I can get another nursing job tomorrow. He’s in a competitive program that lasts two years. He can’t afford to get kicked out. He wouldn’t get another cardiovascular fellowship with a sex scandal on his record. If anything, he’ll try to protect me to protect himself.”

Gorgeous, vicious little thing, James thought admiringly.

“I’m not being unreasonable. If he doesn’t want any problems, he just has to keep his mouth shut. It’s not that hard.”

“And you’re good at that sort of thing, are you? Keeping your mouth shut?”

Regulus just looked at him. “I make a much better impression with it open.”

“I bet you do.”

“So?” Regulus picked up the spoon again, idly pressing it against his tongue. “I already know you’re interested, so let’s not kid ourselves there. The real question is if you’re too scared of my big brother to fuck me the way you obviously want to.”

And that really was the question, wasn’t it? Sirius would lose his mind if he found out, that was a given. If he didn’t take a hit out on James, he’d at least refuse to ever speak to him again.

Objectively, this was a very obvious choice.

He should be running away screaming at the very suggestion of engaging the Slytherin like that.

…But fuck, Regulus was fit.

Like, expensive fashion magazine meets dirty wanking material fit.

This is really sort of Sirius’s fault, he tried to convince himself. The way Remus had told it yesterday when James had struck up a very ulteriorly-motivated conversation on the subject, Sirius had practically raised Regulus and had no spine whatsoever when it came to denying him anything.

“He’s never even heard of the word ‘no,’” Remus had concluded with a fond roll of his eyes. “Sirius spoils him rotten.”

And James would be out of his fucking mind to say no to him too.

“…You know what? Fuck it. I’ll fist fight Sirius every morning in the parking lot for the rest of my life if I have to. We’re doing this.”

[gatorlovebot]

honesty

pairing: john price x fem reader summary: john doesn't like liars. wc: 2.4k warnings: overstimualtion, penetration. a/n: this was supposed to be just a quick little thing about you faking an orgasm for price...and then i started projecting. whoops!

The one thing John Price has always asked of you is honesty. It’s not a hard thing to do when he’s so good at sussing out lies. 

Like when he’s been on a mission for just a little too long and you’ve just had one of the worst days in recent memory. Over the phone you tell him, “Oh, my day was fine, that project at work is coming along nicely.”

“Love.” He stops you. 

“What?” You croak out over the other line, your resolve dropping with each passing second.

“Come on, sweetheart, give us the truth.” His voice is so deep and warm and just like that you’re folding yourself up in your worn couch cushions as your voice warbles across the line. Stuttering and hiccuping as you begin to explain that your day was not fine and that your boss keeps giving you more and more tasks with less and less time to complete each one and that you just really fucking miss him. 

He coos at you and tells you to slow down in that gentle yet commanding way he always does when your emotions start getting too big for you to talk through. He praises you for getting through the day and thanks you for even being on the phone with him. Guilt tugs at his shoulders, something in his brain telling him to let you go so you can unwind and relax on your own. But the selfish part of him always seems to win everytime - he always wants to be the one to hear your cries and chase them away with the smooth timber of his voice.

He can’t help himself to make a quip about your boss, “Overworking you like tha’, ya’ know - I could easily find his address, maybe show up at his place-”

“No, John,” You whine, “I need this job.”

“ No, you don’t, you can just stay-”

“John,” You interject as sternly as you can be with him to try to stop the conversation you two have had hundreds of times. 

“Sweetheart,” He starts, the pause making you think he was going to continue, going to push you just a little bit more, but all he says is, “Thanks for being honest.”

John had been home from a mission for a couple days and since then you’ve found yourself in this position too many times to even count. You on your back, legs high up on John’s shoulders as he connects you two by the hips. His breathing is heavy as he pumps himself into your wet cunt, his presence all encompassing. 

You’d come home from work a few hours prior, your first day back at the office since taking a few days off to really savor and enjoy your time with John. Your first day back had been just as bad as every other day at the office. The only thing holding you together was knowing that Price would be waiting for you when you got home.

Your home was warm and smelt delicious as you entered. Kicking off your shoes and shucking off your jacket to the sounds of John in the kitchen. The table was set and you turned to look in the kitchen  to see John pulling a pan out of the oven. “Oh, welcome home.” He must not have heard you come in over the sound of a record blaring from the record player he had tucked away on the counter. He put the pan down on the stove and turned the music down as he made his way over to you. You go easily into his arms as he engulfs you with his body. You nuzzle your face into his chest, taking in the scent of the deep green henley he was wearing - your laundry detergent and his natural musk. 

After a long, long moment he finally shoos you out of the kitchen to sit at the dining table as he plates up everything in the kitchen. Dinner is phenomenal - as always when John cooks. You're not bad in the kitchen but nothing you come up with for yourself is as good as what John makes for you when he’s home. 

After dinner you force John to let you help clean up with him in the kitchen. Once the leftovers are put in the fridge and the dishes are all put away he leads you back out of the kitchen again and sits you down on the couch. “Oh, so tense, sweetheart.” He coos at you as he pulls you closer to him and gets his big, rough hands on your shoulders. “What’s got my sweet girl so tense, huh?”

All you can do is hum as you melt into his hands. You hear him chuckle to himself behind you, “Don’t worry, love, I got ‘ya.”

Over time his hands start to wander from your shoulders down your back to fidget with the waistband of your pants. It’s you who decides to break the tension, skin feeling hot from his hands as you turn to face him, “Take me to bed, Captain.”

And that’s how you end up here, on your back, John above you and your orgasm feeling so close but just not close enough. It makes you feel awful. John had this perfect night for you and you couldn’t just shut your brain off for once. Time kept stretching by and you know John, know that his goal is to always make you cum first before he even thinks about himself. He usually has no problem at making you a wet, trembling mess but tonight you felt like it was just too far out of reach and the guilt was starting to settle in your stomach. You just wanted him to cum, to finally make him feel as good as he made you feel. It’s hard to think through the sounds of his hot grunts but you decide a little white lie is worth it for John. But he’s very good at reading you, almost too good. And he’s really good at pulling different kinds of orgasms out of you. Like when the way his cock slides against your walls takes you by surprise and your mouth drops open on a silent gasp and all you can do is look up at him with big, wet watery eyes and wonder how someone could make you feel this good. Or when he’s on his way to giving you your fourth orgasm and you can barely keep your eyes open and your tongue is hanging out of your mouth as you pant like a fucking dog in heat. You almost feel bad at the way your sensitive pussy attempts to clench around his cock but he still leans down to whisper, “Good girl.” in your ear. 

You settle for something a little less dramatic, though. You allow your hands to trail up his back to pull him closer to you so he’s not looking directly at your face. You grind your hips to meet his thrusts as you whisper out, “Oh, fuck.”

“You gonna cum for me, love?”

“Yes,” You whimper out emphatically and tack on a sultry moan for good measure before you try your best to clench your walls around his cock. You force yourself to tremble against the sheets underneath him but before you’re finished with your performance he’s sitting up and pulling out of you. 

“What the fuck was that?” He questioned, his face pulled into a confused expression.

Fuck. You’ve been caught. And you should just fess up to faking it so he - “What do you mean? I just came.”

He pulls himself back down to lean over you again, big body blanketing yours. “When you cum,” His voice is dark and low right by your ear, “You greedy little cunt tightens down on me so hard it feels like you’re trying to break my cock off to keep it inside you.”

Unfortunately for you, he’s not wrong. He sits back up again on his heels and before your brain can catch up and form a reply he’s pointing at your glistening cunt, “Whatever that was, was fucking pathetic.”

You gasp at the insult as shame burns in your chest. “John, I’m sorry.” You plead, your voice sounding pitiful even to your own ears. “I just - I just couldn’t make it happen but I really wanted you to cum.”

You couldn’t tell if he was even listening to your weak little ramble because he was leaning over the side of the bed, rooting around in the bottom drawer of your nightstand. You watch him pull out your vibrating wand, something you really only use when John is gone on a mission and you need quick relief. He’s not even looking at you, too busy looking at the buttons on the wand. His face is hardset and his eyes are dark and you know he’s not actually mad at you but you can’t help the nervous feeling bubbling up in your stomach. “John, are you mad at me?”

He finally looks back down at you where you’re still nestled in the pillows. His face is significantly softer as he simply states, “No.” He looks at you purposefully before dropping the toy next to you on the bed and leans back down over you again. Early on in your relationship you had mentioned to him that for whatever reason, being close to him made you feel more comfortable and at ease talking about your feelings and he’s never forgotten it. 

“Making you cum is my favorite thing, why would you deny me that?”

“John, I’m not denying you, I didn’t do it to hurt you or anything. I did it-”

“You did it because you wanted me to feel good, I know.” He cuts you off. “But I don’t give a shit about me. You want me to feel good? You let me make you feel good.” 

He declares it like it's all so simple. And you realize that it is that simple. John Price is a lot of things. He’s stubborn when he wants to be. Sometimes a little too intense, been a bit too crass a time or two. But John Price is a giver. He takes care of his people first and that’s one of the many things you love about him.

Too lost in your own thoughts for John’s liking you feel him start to paw at your waist, pulling your hips into the cradle of his own. He nuzzles his face along your neck, nosing behind your ear so he can whisper into your skin, “Please, sweet girl, let me take care of you. Let me provide for you.”

“Let me provide for you.”

It hits you deep in your gut and tickles an itch in your brain - the one that always says, “Just quit your job and let John take care of you, he’s so good at it.” 

His words have you begging in an instant, “Yes, John, please, take care of me.” You plead.

His grip on you tightens as he rumbles against your skin, obviously pleased with your response. “Thank you, love.” He whispers, “Now, you just got to promise me not to lie about this shit again.”

“I promise,” You whimper out as he sits up again.

“Good girl,” He praises before picking up the wand again. “For your honesty and vulnerability I think you deserve a reward.” He says cheekily, with a mischievous glint in his eyes as he clicks the vibe on. You watch, entranced, as he brings the wand down gently on your sensitive clit. You jolted at the shock of pleasure, having forgotten how powerful its vibrations were while letting out little shocked, “Oh my god”s. 

“Yeah, ya’ like that?” John teases down at you, “How about I give you something else?” He asks as you feel one of his fingers sink into your wet cunt. The vibe relentless on your clit and his finger dragging along that sensitive spot in your pussy has you writhing on his fingers in pleasure. Just minutes ago you were throwing in the towel when it came to reaching your high and now it felt like it was coming out of nowhere. 

As your stomach clenches and you feel pleasure zip up your thighs you feel a pang of panic - what if it will feel like too much? “John,” You gasp, “I can’t do it-”

“No, no, you got this,” He reassures you in that deep, soothing voice, “just hold on to me.”

And you do, reaching out to grasp his muscled forearm as your orgasm finally rips through you, bringing tears to your eyes at its intensity. You barely register John’s voice but it makes your gut twist in a delicious way, “There she is, that’s my girl.”

He clicks the vibe off and extracts his finger from your weeping cunt. He gathers you up in his arms, cradling you in his lap as you catch your breath. Even with an orgasm that good you were still craving more - craving him.

“Please, John.” You beg into his shoulder.

“Please, what, love? Just tell me and I’ll give it to ya’.” His words sounded almost frantic.

“Fuck me, John.”

The noise he makes in your ear is almost a growl as he lifts you higher in his lap to sink you down on his cock. You moan in tandem as your walls wrap deliciously around him. His thrusts are brutal, rocking you up and down in his lap and even with how sensitive you are you wouldn’t have it any other way. His cock glides across all your sensitive spots just right and when you bare down on him it makes your clit throb. He reaches down your body to place a big thumb on your clit, pressure sending you over the edge once again.

You tremble in his arms as he keeps you up, muttering, “Yeah, clench that cunt, make me cum.”

You hear him grunt as you feel his cock pulse within your walls, wet and warm, groaning through his orgasm. You both take a moment to catch your breath before he lays you back down against the soft sheets. “So,” He starts, still winded, “what did we learn about lying?”

“Um,” You pretend to think, “if I lie, you’ll fuck me really good?”

“No!” He barks out a laugh, making your heart sing, before he pinches your thigh, leaning down to swallow your surprised yelp in a searing kiss. 

When you pull away after a long, languid moment he’s about to speak but you beat him to it, “Thank you for making me be honest.” You blurt out.

His responding little smile makes you feel warm all the way to your bones. “Thanks for letting me take care of ya’.”

[twstjam]

Back to your regularly scheduled twstjam simping!!! This post is also gonna be different though, because as I thought of this for Malleus I also began thinking of it for Sebek as well so now I'm doing it for all of Diasofam

Diasomnia + the Just One Bed trope prompts/scenarios

(Or at least, they were SUPPOSED to just be prompts but after Malleus I got a bit carried away with the others agdjdhdjdhd. Whoops? Oh also

DISCLAIMER: None of these are canon-compliant and I imagine them all to have a medieval fantasy setting)

Malleus

You're a traveler who had unknowingly run into the Crown Prince of Briar Valley who's on the run because Briar Valley is currently unsafe for him and he is being hunted by bounty hunters. Seeing him as a fellow aimless traveler, you decide to let him join you and the two of you grow close. The two of you have always slept in different beds or tents of course out of respect for the other's space, until, one night, while in a town, the only inn that the two of you can find with an available room only has one bed in it. Having no other options, you both take it. You had intended to let Tsunotarou take the bed. He hasn't told you much about where he's from and you don't want to pry, but you know that he's from a high-class family and isn't all that comfortable yet with a rough lifestyle. Malleus had thought he'd be okay with it too, used to being the one prioritized, but he realises that he sees you as more than just a retainer like the ones that used to accompany him and the thought of you sleeping on the floor while there's a perfectly nice bed itches his scales. So, he makes you sleep in the bed with him and you wake up in the morning with his body curled around you, warm and comforting and protective, and for the first time ever you feel like you're home.

(The rest of Diasomnia are below the cut!)

Sebek

Sebek is your friend but to be honest you don't know him too well. You're both always so busy with your own lives, you working for Crowley and him for Lord Malleus, so you rarely see each other. You're much closer and more comfortable with the other friends in your friend group, but still you wouldn't mind getting to know him more. You unexpectedly get a chance when, while on one of your jobs for Crowley, you end up in a spot of trouble and to your surprise Sebek comes to your rescue as he had also been assigned a job in the same area as you. You notice that though the two of you aren't that close and though he has a tough time dealing with a deeply-ingrained prejudice against humans, he had saved you anyway. You also notice that when you thank him and compliment his skill, he puffs out his chest with pride and his cheeks turn slightly red and you also notice that he's absolutely adorable. He seems more comfortable with you now as the two of you walk the marketplace together for supplies. Combat and the role of protector were things he prided himself in, so maybe your approval of it warmed him up to you more. Still though, it's daunting when the only available room at the only available inn has only one available bed. You offer it to him, but he refuses to let you be the more gracious one of the two of you and also to allow your frail human body to sleep on the floor. A few minutes later, you're both on your backs in the bed, pillows piled between you in a makeshift wall. It's awkward to say the least. So awkward that neither of you can sleep, so you fill in the silence with mindless chatter. Sebek listens. He also talks. Loves to talk, about anything and everything, and loves it more that you listen. The two of you wake up in the morning groggy but content, having tired yourselves out with endless conversation late into the night.

Silver (ft: angst and bittersweet ending, also not very conventional usage of the trope but I tried agshgddh)

You first saw him in a dream. Whether he was a knight in shining armor or some sort of guardian angel you had no idea. All you knew was that he was absolutely stunning. So beautiful that you didn't think it was possible he could be real. He is real though. Extremely real. He was a fellow trainee and a fellow royal guard and your friend and now he's wanted by the royal family because it was discovered that he's been secretly passing information to the fae. He disappears in the middle of the night but you see him again in your dreams so you go look for him, look for answers, because maybe you're a fool and maybe you're naive but you can't imagine your sweet, earnest comrade who in your opinion is much too gentle to be a guard could be so malicious as to betray you and your other friends in the royal guard. You see him in your dreams. He tries to run from you but you chase him and he lures you into the dark forests of the fae and they swarm you, but there's a fluttering of bats' wings and Silver is there right in front of you and his eyes are filled with pain and disbelief as he looks at you. Silver takes you to his childhood home and tends to your wounds. You discover that he's human but has always been fae, has been surrounded by them since before he learned how to walk, and his father is none other than the most fearsome one of them all: General Vanrouge. You don't want to believe him. Even though the proof is all around you in the homey lived-in cottage you're sitting in, you refuse to believe him, to believe that your friendship was all a part of his big undercover act to gather information for the fae, for his father. So instead, you lie back in his childhood bed and try to process it all. Silver looks like he wants to say something, apologise maybe, but he dozes off before he can. You can't help but laugh. It tastes bittersweet on your tongue and your eyelids are drooping and you fall asleep next to him just like you used to. At least in your dreams it's easy to pretend everything's alright.

Lilia (ft: Enemies to Lovers trope)

Fae General Vanrouge is your sworn enemy and rival and you thought that you'd feel triumphant at his capture, but instead the image of him beaten, bruised, and bloody makes you feel sick to your stomach. You realise that you're the only one who views him as an adversary and an equal. To everyone else, he's just an animal. A monster meant to be slaughtered—and you are the one that they want to bestow that honor on. They want you to execute him, in front of all your people and your men, to the ugly music of jeers and mockery and laughter. You know he's a killer. Have seen it with your own eyes. You've seen his downfall in your sleep, dreamt of it in each waking moment you were on the battlefield, so why does the actual moment feel so horrific and wrong? It's the look in his eyes. You see yourself reflected in them along with the blood that has been spilled by both your hands and his and make the morbid realisation that this monster is the only one you have ever understood and the only one who has understood you, a fellow monster, in return. He slips out of his chains because of course he does who were you kidding and you should stop him but you don't. Your betrayal is witnessed by many. The king wants an execution but like Hell you'll let it be you, so just like Vanrouge, you flee and disappear. Just like Vanrouge, you end up in a blanket of darkness and unintentionally stumble on your long-time enemy in the woods. Just like Vanrouge, you make a begrudging truce and go on the run together because you know the human lands well and he doesn't and two heads are better than one. The two of you accept an unoccupied inn room despite it only having one bed out of desperation and spend a long time competing with each other to decide who gets to sleep on it. The both of you put off sleeping on it together and you know you will sleep on it together because you're both exhausted and sore from a long time on the road and because you both understand each other too much after so long dancing on the battlefield together but neither of you are quite ready to come to terms with it yet. You have to eventually though, because it's late and you're both in desperate need of rest and so you both fall into bed next to each other and your scarred limbs and calloused skin slot together perfectly. You hold each other with bloody, war-torn hands and feel more comfortable than either of you have ever felt with anyone else.

[neonghostlights]

Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Actress!Reader (best friends to lovers-slow burn)

★ A/N: Whoop, Whoop. It’s almost time for the fluff. Not in this chapter though, please read the warnings.

★ Series Summary: It’s the ‘90s in LA and you and your best friend Eddie have both made it big. The following is a series of Interviews, News Reports and One Shots showing you and Eddie’s story throughout the years.

★Chapter Summary: Reader wakes up in the hospital and some confessions are made

★Warnings: READER IS IN AN VERBAL, EMOTIONAL, AND PHYSICALLY ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP (not with Eddie) SOME OF THE ABUSE IS DESCRIBED, hospitals, IV, pain, injury, car accident, arrest, death, threats of killing someone and violence, drugs, angst. PLEASE DO NOT READ IF THIS IS TRIGGERING AND PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF I HAVE MISSED ANY WARNINGS (18 + ONLY MINORS DNI!!!!)

★Wordcount: 2.2k

Series masterlist

Chapter Eleven: Make It Go Away

Date Unknown

You had been asleep, at least you think you were. Everything had been a blur since you got pulled out of the car. 

Your back hurt. Well, everything hurt but you could really feel your back aching against the hard hospital mattress. You knew there were worse things to worry about in your life right now than the comfortability of a hospital bed but you wanted to allow yourself a little moment of selfishness. 

The nurses and doctors put stuff in your IV that made you feel warm and fuzzy. Whatever it was that they drugged you up with wasn’t strong enough to make all of the pain go away or for your mind to shut up. 

You weren’t even sure how long you had been here.

 Days? Hours? Weeks?

There wasn’t a point when you woke up suddenly. You had just gone from a state of slumber to waking gradually and slowly. You think that your brain was still thinking thoughts when you were supposed to be dreaming peacefully, making being awake right now even more disorienting. 

You could remember the accident which you figured was a good sign. If you had brain damage you probably wouldn’t be able to recall the smell of alcohol on his breath or the way he was screaming in your face while speeding through traffic. You didn’t even realize that the car was going into the incoming traffic until you saw the headlights shining in your face. 

And then that’s when the crash happened. 

It was slow motion, the way the car hit the other car and then before you knew it your world was flipping. 

People ask you a lot of questions after something very disorienting happens to you. The worst part is they expect you to know the answers. 

You hummed a sigh, rubbing the scratchy blankets between your pointer finger and thumb. You’d have to make a donation to this hospital when you got out. You’d make sure to write on the check that it was specifically for them to get better sheets. 

You laughed a little at the thought of it. 

It was amazing how quiet it was here compared to how loud it was before. When you first got here there were a lot of people talking to you, shining lights in your face and poking and prodding you. 

Then you got moved to whatever room you were in now. Now that you thought about it, you had to have passed out a few times because of the gaps in your memories. 

You do remember the yelling though. Someone had been outside of your room yelling in what you had assumed was a hallway. You figured you would just check on them after your nap. 

You went to sit up. Maybe you should check on them now. It seemed like the right thing to do after all of the damage you had caused. 

“Nuh-uh. Don’t do this again here. Lay back down,” a voice commanded. You felt warm, calloused hands wrapping around your upper arms, guiding you back down to the bed. 

You fought them, not liking the way they were making you move in the opposite direction than you wanted to go. 

It reminded you of a lot of times Collins hands had been on you. It made you panic, your breath getting faster as you tried to struggle against him. 

“I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to do that. Please,” you cried, throat rawer than you had expected. You weren’t sure what you were apologizing for. The apologies had never worked before with him but it never hurt to try. Maybe he would show you some mercy after all you had been through. 

The voice shushed you. 

“Everything’s okay. I just don’t want you to rip out your IV.” It was soft voice, sleepy. It was gentleness and caring all wrapped into one. It was a sound you had heard all through childhood. It was a sound that you associated with home. 

It wasn’t Collin. 

It was Wayne. 

“Wayne?” You croaked out, bleary eyes finally cracking open to take a look at the man. You felt the warmth pooling in your eyes and start to run down your cheeks at the thought of him being here.

“It’s okay, darlin. Don’t cry,” he said softly. You could barely make him out between your heavy eyelids and your tears. You felt a sob build up and release from your chest. 

There was a knock on the door and a nurse popped in, speaking to Wayne in hushed tones instead of to you directly. 

“Talk to me,” you begged through a whimper. 

She told you what you already knew. That you had been in an accident and under some heavy medication but that you were okay. She said something about getting the doctor before she whisked out of the room quickly. 

“He’s gone down stairs,” Wayne turned to you and said as soon as the door clicked shut. “He just had to go get something to eat and take care of a few things. It’s the first time he’s left you since he got here. He’s gonna be so torn up that you woke up without him here.” 

You weren’t sure exactly who he was talking about but you nodded pathetically anyway. 

You could see Wayne a little better now. It was dark in the room, making you think it was night time without even looking out of the window. There were little nightlights shining that gave just enough light to make out his face. 

He looked tired, worn down. You hated to think you were the cause of his pain. He had more wrinkles than the last time you saw him, and a little less hair. How long had it been since you saw him? Years? 

You opened your mouth to ask him the question that had been on your mind when the door opened again. 

He looked even worse than Wayne. His hair was disheveled, eyes red and tired. You hadn’t seen him this messy since he got a stylist and publicist. His frame seemed so small, but his voice was undeniable. 

If this was a trick of your brain it would be a sick one. You felt like you were in shock, floating out of your body at the sight of someone you had once known and loved so dearly.

But you knew all too well that that love never truly disappeared no matter how much you tried to avoid it.

“I-I heard the nurses talking and I tried to get back here as soon as I could. You’re awake for real this time,” he said as he approached your bed with a wobbling lip. 

“Eddie?” You asked, thinking that this could be a dream. Waiting for the Eddie look alike to clarify that you were hallucinating and that Eddie wasn’t here nor did he care. 

“Hi,” he said, confirming it was him as he took your hand in his shaking one. “How are you feeling?” 

What a loaded question. How does one person feel after something like this? Was it more shocking to announce that you were more shocked to see Eddie here than to be waking up in a hospital bed.

“Confused,” you admitted, politely, like you were talking to an acquaintance and not like you were talking to your best friend of many, many years. “Why did you ask if I was really awake this time?” 

Eddie bit his lip, staring down at where your hand fit into his. His thumb swiped a few times against the back of your hand and the gesture made you lower your guard slightly. 

“You’ve done this a few times. You’ll wake up some and try to get out of bed or cuss me out.” Eddie smiled at what you were assuming was your choice of colorful language to throw at him. “But then you’d go back to sleep again for a while.”

“How long is a while?” You questioned, trying to push yourself up in the bed with the hand Eddie wasn’t holding onto. Your muscles trembled and protested, weak, so you gave up and laid your head back down on the pillow, turned to look at Eddie who was perched on the side of your bed. 

Eddie and Wayne shared a look before Wayne spoke, “about three days.” 

“Three days?” You repeated, shocked. 

Eddie nodded slowly. 

“Is he-,” you started but needed to swallow a bit before you could get the words out. Your mouth was horrendously dry, it felt like sandpaper and it wasn’t helping the heavy load of the words you were about to say. “Is Collin dead?” 

Eddie gripped your hand a little tighter before letting it go. He ran a shaky hand through hair, not once but twice before he stood up and walked across the room. 

“No. He’s not dead,” Wayne drawled from beside your bed, a concerned eye kept on you to judge your reaction. 

“But he fucking should be,” Eddie scoffed from across the room, fists clenched in his side. “I wish I was able to get in that fucking place. I swear I would-” 

“Eddie, that is enough,” Wayne demanded sternly, sending him a look that was silently telling him to shut up. 

“Wait.” You tried to sit up again and Eddie was immediately at your side, setting the head of the bed up slightly and adjusting the pillows behind your back to make it easier for you. 

“What do you mean? Where is he?” 

“I’m gonna give y’all two a minute. This old man is gonna go get himself a cup of coffee,” Wayne said as he pushed himself up from the chair, grimacing from the pain in his knees from sitting for too long. “I’ll be back,” he said with a wave before walking out the door.

“Eddie,” you begged. “Please. Tell me.” 

“He’s in jail,” he said carefully after he took the spot Wayne was in beside your bed. He reached for your hand again but you jerked away, trying to comprehend the words that were coming out of his full lips. 

When you didn’t say anything, he kept going, “They took him for reckless driving, possession, driving under the influence and evading the police. I’m sure there will be more charges by the time it is all said and done.” 

Your stomach turned. He had to be so mad, so mad at you. You had to get away. You couldn’t let him think that you had any part in this. 

Eddie saw the panic clear on your face. 

“Look at me,” Eddie demanded, voice frantic. “Has he been hurting you? Has this been going on the whole goddamn time?” 

You looked at him, unsure if you should tell him the truth. It was obvious by the way you had reacted right? This wasn’t normal, none of it was. It felt strange for Eddie to not know what had been happening to you. It felt like everyone else in your circle knew but were bound not to say anything. But Eddie really hadn’t been a part of your circle in a long, long time. 

It felt wrong to confirm it, fear gnawed in your gut that Collin would find out. That he would know that you had told and that your punishment would be severe. 

He might really kill you this time. 

Eddie knew what you were thinking. You knew he knew just by the look on your face and the fear in your eyes from being trapped in a body that was too weak to flee for safety. 

He just wanted to hear you say it. He needed the confirmation to further torture himself. 

Eddie could read you. He always had. Lying would be so pointless at this point. 

“He left you there. Did you know that? He got out the fucking car with only a few scratches and ran. He didn’t care if the car was on fire or if you were inside. He didn’t care if he killed someone that night because he fucking ran. So don’t bother protecting him.” 

“I’m not protecting him, Eddie. I’m trying to protect myself.” Your voice cracked at your admission, tears streaming down your cheeks. 

Eddie was closer to you in an instant, hands wrapping around you as he pulled in close to him. 

“I’m so fucking sorry,” Eddie said, his own voice cracking and tears wetting your hair. “No one is ever going to hurt you again. I promise.” 

“What are we going to do?” You asked, pulling away and looking into his tear soaked face. Your best friend looked like he had aged a lifetime from the worrying you had put him through. You had a feeling he had some stories of his own to tell from the time you had been apart. “I can’t go out there anymore. Everyone is going to know and I can’t take the way everyone is going to look at me or what everyone is going to say,” you were going frantic, realization setting in at what this meant for you, your image, and your career. 

“I know what we’re gonna do. It’s not going to fix everything but it’s going to give everything time to calm down and give you time to heal,” Eddie told you, wide eyed. 

“What?” 

“We’re going to get out of LA. Just me and you.”

[lincolndjarin]

Oh Honey. ✩ Chapter 5

chapter five : i'll decide where to go from here

series masterlist ao3 kofi main masterlist

a/n : happy last chapter of oh honey!!!! took a while to get out bc i was briefly on hiatus and then was in a slump (whoops) but here it is. this is another case of me writing an ending before the story so this has been the intended ending since i started and i hope you all like it as much as i do

pairing : monster!joel miller x mortician!reader

rating : 18+ mdni - explicit content, read all warnings

word count : 6.4k

summary : a look into the past and present of life in honey, west virginia

warnings, etc. : language, allusions to sex, angst & fluff, complicated relationships and people who are trying to handle them, an obscene amount of flashbacks, reader has hair and is carried by Joel, several timelines in no particular order.

“C’mere, bunny.” His stubble brushes against the back of your neck, his mouth is warm as you feel a kiss placed against your spine. 

“Mmm, what’s on the agenda for today?” You hum, pushing back against him a bit, the camper’s freezing in the winter, your heater broke a week ago and the parts Joel ordered to fix it won’t be in for a week. So you’re stuck with a little space heater you’d bought at the hardware store. 

“I was thinkin’ we’d just do this for a while.” His arms tighten around your waist and stomach with a sigh. “We could just stay in today, order food, watch a movie on your laptop.” He yawns before nestling close against you. 

“It’s too cold to stay here, it’s supposed to snow all weekend, it’s only gonna get worse. Maria even closed the home early yesterday” You groan, rolling over in his arms to press your face into his neck. The tips of your nose and ears are freezing, the two of you are under all the blankets you own, bundled up, when you peer out the window you can see the snow falling and settling on the trees. 

Joel mumbles into your hair, deeply inhaling. “Why don’t you pack a bag and we can head back to the house then. You can stay until Monday and can fix the heat while you’re at work.” 

“I hate staying at your place, all of my shit is here.” You spend most weekends at Joel’s, it’s easiest that way, but packing up all of your things and bringing them back and forth is getting tiring. 

“Just bring it with you.” 

“I think you underestimate how much stuff I need for four days.” You’re already giving yourself a headache trying to make a mental list of everything you’ll need. 

“Why don’t you just move in.” He mumbles with another yawn. “It would make it easier for both of us if all your stuff was there.” It isn’t until he realizes that you’re frozen in place that he opens his eyes. “Or not, just a thought.” 

You stammer an excuse, hoping to alleviate the tension that’s suddenly lingering between you. “I just- I don’t know if we’re there yet.”

“I didn’t mean to rush you, just thought I’d offer.” He shrugs before pulling you close again.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper into his chest.

“Don’t be. You’re right, it’s too soon for that.” 

You’ve been together for a year now, you almost never sleep apart, if anything you should have moved in six months ago. 

What’s stopping you? 

You’ve been distancing yourself from any concrete commitments for sometime now and even if he never says it you know it bothers him. When do you stop punishing him for something you claim you’ve forgiven him for? He doesn’t hurt people as often anymore, at least he’s trying harder not to. But it’s getting hard for the both of you to keep up this system of locking yourselves in his room for a week every month. 

Sometimes your cycle syncs with Maria and Sarah has to drive in from out of town to watch Ellie, it’s just generally become harder to manage. 

But you can’t leave him when he’s like that. 

On the rare occasion that you’re too exhausted to stay awake and entertain him he’ll end up in the woods and a massacred corpse ends up on your table when you return to work. 

Everytime you think you’ve found forgiveness and acceptance you’re reminded of the fact that you love a monster. A selfish choice that you make every day. And everytime you tell him you can’t live with the guilt he gives you the same option. 

Kill him. 

You’re sure he doesn’t mean to make it sound so grim, each of you have complicated relationships with death. You just don’t think you’ll be able to live without him, and it’s not like he expects you to kill him yourself, he always tells you he’ll handle it with Tommy but you always shoot the idea down and you’re back to square one. 

“I just need a little more time, I promise this isn’t forever.” You mumble as you sit up.

“I’d do anything for you, anything at all. Just tell me what to do.” 

You don’t doubt that. But he still doesn’t give you what you actually want, all you ask of him is options that don’t involve him, or any more innocent people, on your cadaver cart.

The bed is empty when you wake up. 

You knew it would be when you went to bed alone last night but a part of you, after all this time, still feels incomplete when the sheets beside you are cold. The creaking under the floorboards is the only noise in the house. 

Your alarm clock reads 6:58 a.m. and you know it’s only a matter of minutes before you need to be up so you throw the blankets aside, stretch your arms above your head, and stand. Right on cue you hear the familiar stomping down the hall before your door swings open, Ellie rubs her eyes before scurrying over to you. Her hair’s in disarray, having fallen out of the braid you put it in last night, you scoop her up into your arms, trying to smooth the mess down. 

“Good morning, little monster.” You mumble, kissing her cheek before carrying her down the hall and into the kitchen. You can’t help but wonder how much longer she’ll be small enough to hold like this. She’s already almost too heavy for you to lift for this long, and the living room and kitchen are still decorated with banners and deflating balloons from her sixth birthday party yesterday. 

Kids birthdays, elementary school, home owning? 

Even after a couple years it’s still a little dizzying that this is your life now. You set her down at the table, retrieving the generic sugary cereal you’ve grown fond of from the cabinet along with bowls, spoons, and milk, setting them down on the table in front of her. 

“Can I feed the sheep before we go?” She says before reaching for her spoon, you nod.

“If you brush your teeth without giving me a hard time.” You fill your bowls, you have to remind her to slow down a few times as she shovels cereal into her mouth, eager to go out to the barn. You’re only halfway through your bowl when she runs off in the direction of her room.   

You hear the telltale sounds of her pushing her step stool across the tile of the bathroom as she rummages through the cabinet. As you finish up your own food and tidy up you make a mental list of everything you need to do today. 

Get Ellie ready for school. 

Tend to the sheep. 

Drive Ellie to school. 

You take your phone out of your sweatpants pocket, 7:16, and text Maria to make sure they’re still good to take her this weekend. Ellie hums as she brushes her teeth when you peer into the bathroom before making your way into your own room, changing quickly, you’ve got about an hour before you need to leave. 

Drive Ellie to daycare. 

Grocery shopping. 

Oil change. 

Making lists helps. You like knowing what you’re going to do and when you’re going to do it, you’ve had enough surprises in your life, you don’t like when the routine changes. Without your routine you’d lose yourself entirely. Ellie helps, she likes structure as much as you do, you stand behind her in the bathroom now watching her finish up and making sure she did a good job. The sparkling stone on the counter catches your eye, a reminder that you’re constantly forgetting your ring. It’s a bit much for your taste but it’s a family heirloom and Joel insisted. Sliding it onto your finger as Ellie hands it to you.

Check on Ellie.

Clean the house. 

Make dinner. 

Before she can run back to her room you gently pull her back by the collar of her shirt, grabbing a hair tie off the counter you tie her hair in a ponytail before letting her go get dressed. By the time she’s ready you’ve got your jacket on, holding Ellie’s coat out for her to stick her arms through the sleeves. She already has a toothy grin plastered on her face as you both step out of the sliding doors leading to the backyard. You take her hand, knowing she’ll run ahead if given the chance, you know better than to let her out of her sight.

Dangerous things live in the woods of Honey. 

She’s pulling you along through the short path between the trees leading to the barn with a fence surrounding it. Once you’re in the clearing you let her run ahead, once you’re able to see everything around you. The air is icy and damp as you follow after her, opening the gate as she slips under the fence. The sun is just starting to break through the trees, it’s still too cold for the sheep to be out, there isn’t much exposed grass for them to eat anyway. You’ve been keeping them in the barn most days unless it warms up, today isn’t one of those days. With a high pitched giggle Ellie rushes inside, you hear the familiar sounds of bleating as she greets all of them by name. 

You watch in momentary silence as you make your own way into the barn, enjoying her little smile that warms up the freezing barn. 

“Did you turn in your project yesterday?” You sit on a hay bale, watching her run amongst the sheep before turning to you, nose red from the chill. You hadn’t gotten to ask her about it since you’d been so busy with her party, it wasn’t really a “project.” Just a little assignment for the kids in her class, to draw something important to them. 

Of course Ellie had wanted to draw her father, something you were happy to help with until she held the crayon in her fist and began to draw the sharp angles and pointed claws that you realized she couldn’t show it off to her class. You let her finish the drawing. It’s remarkable really, how someone so small and vulnerable can portray such a frightening creature without fear. 

She loves him, that’s why. 

You love him too but that doesn’t mean he didn’t terrify you. No amount of strange magical connection was going to change the fact that he scared you. The difference of course is that Ellie doesn’t know what he’s done. You had encouraged her to draw a background, concealing the mass of flesh and teeth in darkness and trees until only the two of you knew what hid behind the blue and green. Together you decided that it was a drawing of her favorite place. The national forest on the edge of town. 

“Good, Riley guessed what it was though.” She says as she pats one of the lambs gently on the back. 

“She guessed it was the Manangahela National Forest?” You give her a skeptical smile as she fills a bucket with feed before emptying it into the trough. 

“Monongahela.” She corrects you proudly. 

After all this time, you still never get it right. 

“Smart ass.” You grumble under your breath as she carefully lifts the hose, filling the water buckets. 

“Ass.” She says with a grin. 

“Don’t say that.” You point at her sternly, stifling a laugh. 

With a small huff she turns the hose off and rushes over to sit beside you and watch them. 

“She said the forest was my favorite so it was easy.” She mumbles, briefly captivated by the sheep. 

“She’s a good friend for knowing that.” You like Riley, you’ve watched the two girls play together several times before, she’s a good influence on Ellie as far as you can tell. 

“Mhmm.” She hums, the silence returning between the two of you as you both watch the sheep.

You don’t tell her that you’re going to butcher one of them tonight. 

You know that she can handle it. At this point in her life she can handle much more than any other six year old you’ve ever met but you just aren’t ready for that sort of thing yet. You haven’t been a parent long enough to know the proper way to go about that sort of thing. 

“Time for school, kiddo.” You stand up abruptly and take her hand again, watching as she yells back to the sheep, saying goodbye to each and everyone of them. 

The truck sits idly in the driveway but you ignore it, opening the door of your own car, Ellie throws her backpack in before climbing in herself. It was the first thing you’d bought with Darlene’s money. (The second thing you did was help Sarah with her student loans and put aside some for Ellie.) You hated driving the truck, it was too big and too loud, this just felt safer for driving Ellie around. Once she’s buckled into her seat you make your way over to the driver's side. The radio plays some rock song that immediately has her squealing in the backseat, with a grin you turn it up as you pull out of the driveway. 

“Is she my mom now?” 

You had been walking past Ellie’s room after your shower, wearing one of Joel’s flannels with the towel wrapped around your hair when her voice froze you in place, her bedroom door cracked open. 

“That’s not exactly how that works, kiddo.” His voice has a nervous lilt to it you don’t often hear from him. 

“Then why is she always here?” She sits up a bit and you hold your breath as Joel’s brow furrows. 

“Is that a problem?” God you hope not. 

“No, I like her.” The tension in his face relaxes with your own. 

“I’m glad you do. I like her too.” 

“So when will she become my mom?” Her persistence on the issue makes you feel as awkward as he currently looks. 

“She’ll become your mom if she wants that. But that probably won’t happen until we’re married, and I don’t know if she wants that yet either.” There’s a beat of silence, you’re heart skipping a beat at the earnestness of the conversation. The silence is quickly interrupted by the little one screaming your name as you rush back to the bathroom, opening and shutting the door to try and make it seem like you hadn’t been listening. 

“Yes, little monster?” You make a real show of stepping loudly down the hall as you push the door open. You’re greeted by the sight of Ellie trying to wriggle out of a rather flustered Joel’s arms, face red and flushed as he tries to shove her under her blankets. 

“She’s just messin’ around.” He grumbles before throwing a pillow at the giggling mess. 

Her voice calling your name from the backseat snaps you out of your thoughts. 

“What’s up?” You turn the music down as you glance at her in the rearview mirror. 

“Can Riley come over today after school if her mom says it’s okay?” 

“You’re going to Uncle Tommy’s tonight, love. I’ll text her mom and see if she’s okay with picking her up from there if he gets you guys after school. Does that sound okay?” She nods happily when you look in the mirror before going back to singing along with the radio. When you pull up to the parent drop off you get out of the car to unbuckle her, kneeling down in front of her as she pulls her backpack straps over shoulders. 

“Can we have a birthday party with Dad when he gets back?” She tilts her head to the side as she asks, you lean forward and kiss her on the cheek before pulling her into a hug. 

“Absolutely we can.” You give her a soft smile before her attention is diverted towards a group of her friends. “Be good today, I love you.” 

“Love you, bye!” She leans in to give you a kiss on your own cheek before rushing off, you watch her go, waiting until she’s in the building before getting back in the car. You send a quick text to Riley’s mom and Maria, scheduling plans for the girls before putting the car in drive as you head off towards a neighboring town. Honey has a grocery store but on days like this where you have so much free time you like to go to the nicer ones out of town. 

You turn the radio off now that it’s just you, cranking the heat to keep warm as you drive in silence. 

“We should get married.” You had brought the idea up, much to his surprise. About a year ago, as you were setting up for Ellie’s fifth birthday party, a year after you’d finally moved in. 

“Are you serious?” He had been laying on his back, under the camper, working on the more technical aspects of the project. In his shock he’d rolled himself back out to stare at you. 

Why wouldn’t you be? Sure, it took a lot of effort on his part but you finally feel like you’ve stopped holding everything against him. You had hoped that he knew that by now. 

“Why not? Everyone already thinks we are, everyone at Ellie’s school calls her my daughter, Tommy’s been teasing me about it for ages-” He pulls himself to his feet, quickly putting his hands on your shoulders. 

“Bunny, slow down.” He’s getting flustered, you swear his drawl is thicker when he gets like this.

“You’re the one who always says I take things too slow.” You frown, turning back to the flowers you’d been planting in the boxes under the window but he turns you back around to face him.

“You mean it?” His voice is a whisper and you quickly realize how much this means to him.

“Of course, I mean, we’re going to spend our lives together anyway, why wait.” You give him a reassuring smile as you tilt your head to kiss his cheek, briefly letting yourself indulge in the taste of his skin before pulling back. “As much as I’d love to talk about this more, we should get back to work if we want to finish this before she’s home.” 

He doesn’t say anything else about it as he goes back to running the electrical under the camper and you can’t help but wonder if you crossed a line. Thankfully you’re on a time crunch to finish this and your mind is kept busy. 

The two of you work in silence, almost synchronized as you move from task to task. He brings the cinder blocks out and lines the camper, creating a semi-permanent foundation as you string fairy lights along the outside and finish up planting flowers around the entire thing. Joel attaches the small porch he and Tommy made a few weeks ago that you had painted as you step inside. It’s unrecognizable after all the work the two of you put into it. The ceiling now painted a dark blue, glow in the dark paint dotted along the entire thing, when the sun goes down she’ll be able to see the stars from inside the camper. You painted the walls and changed out the curtains and sheets more to Ellie’s tastes. She’d always loved it here, when Joel was actually busy with work trips she’d stay with you in the camper. Even nowadays with you living with her and Joel she still often asks if she can play in the camper. 

Just as you’re finishing up Joel steps inside as well, testing all of the faucets while wiping a bit of sweat from his brow. 

“Think she’ll like it?” You ask, your fingers nervously twitch as you roll the hem of your shirt between them, he laughs as he leans back against the counter. 

“She’s gonna love it, s’better than any gift I’ve ever gotten her.” You can’t help but smile as he holds his arms out towards you, you quickly step into them, leaning against his chest and taking a deep breath. 

You open your mouth to speak, wanting to address your proposition from earlier quickly so it doesn’t hang in the air for too long but you hear the familiar rumble of Tommy’s truck pulling into the driveway and the two of you quickly rush out of the camper and down the steps. You straighten the bow on the door and quickly lock it. You hear Ellie’s laughter as she runs around the side of the house, Tommy and Maria walking up behind her. 

She’s excited to see both of you, a paper crown announcing her birthday adorns her head as she runs up to hug her father. The second she sees the camper though she darts right past him. 

“Why’s this here?” She yells excitedly, she knows exactly why it’s here instead of sitting stagnant on the piece of property you sold just a few days ago. You smile at Joel, nodding towards her as he leans down to pick her up. 

“She got you a little birthday present, since you’ve been so nice to her and let her come live with us.” He points at you as she immediately starts squirming out of his grasp, tossing her backpack aside as she runs up the little porch steps. She turns around to look at you with a huge smile on her face.

“Are you fucking serious?” She screams. You can’t help it as a laugh slips out of you, thankfully Tommy can’t hold it together either as Joel immediately breaks into a lecture you nudge his shoulder as you hand her the key.

“It’s her birthday, she’s allowed to say it on her birthday.” You murmur through your continued laughter. She wraps her arms around your legs, hugging you tightly before turning around and unlocking the door. “Happy birthday, Ellie.” 

She had loved her party, thankfully. And she loved her new playhouse much to your relief. 

You and Joel laid on opposite sides of her as her little snores filled the camper, she had wanted a campout as a birthday treat and you were both more than willing to oblige. You’re staring up at the faintly glowing stars painted on the ceiling when he sets the box down next to you. You grab it, wanting to ask him more but not wanting to wake Ellie up you open it. 

And you’re met with a ridiculously gorgeous ring. 

Clearly an heirloom but he’s recently had it polished, one large diamond framed by two smaller ones on either side of it. Your eyes are wide as you stare down at it, shimmering in the moon light before sharply turning your head to the man with a dopey smile lying across from you.

“Been carrying that around for a while now, if I’d known you were ready I would’a asked sooner.” His voice is low as Ellie stirs a bit and you both freeze as she rolls over closer to her father. 

Neither one of you speaks again, but the look on your face as you put the ring on was answer enough. 

The beeping brings you back to reality as you scan every item in the self checkout lane. 

You’re only feeding yourself while Ellie’s with Maria and Tommy, so you keep it simple. Another box of cereal, milk, an apple, a loaf of bread and deli meats. You’re pretty sure you have enough cheese and other essentials to get you through the rest of the weekend. On your way up to the checkout counter you grab a bag of dark roast coffee beans and a box of tampons. 

You’re out of both. 

You know you live in memories too often, especially without Joel to keep you in reality. You find him in the past when he isn’t beside you because something needs to fill the aching void that yearns for his smell, his taste, and his touch. And echoes of Joel are almost as good as the real thing. There’s a funny comfort you find in memories. Even unhappy ones. There’s no surprises in memories, you know what’s going to happen and you know you survived it.

Even the bad memories bring you comfort when he isn’t around to do it himself. 

You pay quickly, loading everything into the cooler in the car as you head off in the direction of your mechanic. When you park you’re told it’ll take about fifteen minutes, nodding as you sit in the waiting room, where your mind inevitably wanders to one of the worst memories in the hours following your meeting in the Applebees that has since closed. 

You didn’t pay attention to the road. 

Instead you stared at your hands in your lap as he drove, not bothering with the radio, the two of you stewing in your silence as he pulled into the driveway. You didn’t even unbuckle your seatbelt, he had come around the truck and done that for you, pulling you into his arms and carrying you bridal style up the porch steps and into the house, only stopping to kick the door shut before bringing you to his room, clicking on the lamp he hadn’t bothered to remove, and setting you on the mattress. 

He lays down beside you, taking your face in his hands but you immediately recoil, pushing him away. 

“What do I have to do to earn your forgiveness? To show you I’m sorry? Cause I don’t see a point to any of this if it’s never going to happen, it’ll be better for both of us if we know where we stand.” He’s right, unfortunately. Neither one of you deserves to waste the other's time if this is going to mean nothing. 

If you can’t forgive him.

“Can you at least let me love you? Do you think you can manage that?” His voice is dangerously close to cracking and you have to pray that he doesn’t break. If he can’t hold it together you know you won’t be able to either. “Neither one of us wants to deal with this but we don’t have a choice.” 

“I don’t know.” You mumble, you really don’t know so why answer with anything else? 

“I don’t even need a concrete answer, bunny. I just need to know if someday you’re going to be able to forgive me. I can’t live a life where you keep me at arms length.” 

You hadn’t responded. Just slid closer to him. 

And you let him hold you until you fell asleep, hoping that would be enough. 

Your phone buzzing is what snaps you out of your empty thoughts this time. When you open the notification you’re met with a message from Maria, a photo of Tommy sleeping in the recliner, Ellie sitting in his lap, and Riley sitting on the arm of the chair, watching whatever movie they put on the T.V. 

[ Made it back from school. Watching Treasure Planet. ] 

[ love it ] [ thanks again for taking them ] 

The mechanic returns shortly after, handing you your keys and telling you you’re good to go. The hour drive back isn’t terrible, you opt to listen to music on the way back. It’s quiet when you return home. Putting away the groceries and making yourself a sandwich as you look around the cluttering remnants of the party yesterday, the only sounds are your chewing and the soft creaking and scratching from under the floorboards.

Joel has so much pride for your home. He would hate it if he knew how dirty it was currently, the thought alone has you reaching for an empty trash bag once you’re finished eating. 

You turn all the lights on as the sun starts to set, how much time did you spend daydreaming today? You try not to think too hard about it as you start cleaning up the plastic cups and paper plates that litter every surface of the living room, popping deflating balloons and sweeping up discarded streamers and confetti. There’s a feeling of solace that comes with cleaning the house, making it feel like home once more. 

This isn’t just Joel’s house now, it’s yours as well, even if you thought this would never be the case. 

“I know that you shot down the idea last time but I want to show you something.”

“Joel, I just don’t think…” Your voice trails off as you stare at the key ring he’s holding out towards you. If you can’t guarantee that he won’t hurt people you can’t share a home with him, it’s stupid and it makes you feel childish but you can’t come home to him knowing people are still dying, even if you can’t stay away from him. 

“Just give me a chance to show you.” He puts the keys back into his pocket before taking your hand. Walking you down the hall towards his room, he stops briefly to check in on Ellie, still tucked into her own bed as you peer into her room before he closes her door quietly. “I don’t want you to think that a life with me is going to be only horrors, and I know that a part of you has already resigned yourself to such a thing but you don’t deserve that.” You’re about to interrupt him, tell him that’s not true despite the ache in your chest that tells you he’s right but he’s opening his own bedroom door and you’re too busy staring slack jawed inside. 

It’s unrecognizable from the monster cage he’d created for himself. 

Instead of resting bare and on the floor, the mattress has sheets and now rests on a low to the ground metal frame. The photos that were once taped to the wall are now in frames or pinned to a bulletin board he hung up. 

He put a rug down that covers any claw marks on the floor and he’s done his best to hang up photos and paintings over the scratches on the walls. There’s even furniture now, a nightstand on either side of the bed with a matching dresser, lamps scattered around the room make the space feel warm and lived in. 

“You- you did all this?”

“If you live with me I don’t want you to have to sleep in some sort of creepy homemade dungeon, you deserve an actual bedroom.” He whispers as you look at the paintings on the wall, all of them are Alice in Wonderland themed. “I borrowed those from Sarah’s room, we can change them out when- if you move in.” He quickly mumbles as you look up at a painting of Alice staring into a lake, her own image being reflected back up at her. 

“It’s lovely, it’s perfect Joel.” You turn back to him as he rubs the back of his neck bashfully. 

“This ain’t it, there's a few more surprises for you.” The shocked look remains on your face as he takes your hand once more, bringing you back into the kitchen and out the sliding glass door. 

You had run outside without shoes on and took down the banner hanging on the camper before rushing back in and tossing it in the trash bag. When you look at the clock it’s just a couple minutes from 7:00 p.m. You bring the bag out to the porch before washing your hands. 

You don’t bother taking a shower as you change into your pajamas, setting your ring on your nightstand, not wanting to risk damaging it as you pull up a pair of sweats you don’t care about being ruined and an old shirt you wore when you painted the bathroom a month ago. Grabbing the apple off the counter you shove it into your sweatpants pocket. Shooting Maria one last text and turning your phone on do not disturb, you tell her to say goodnight to Ellie for you before slipping your sneakers on and heading out the back door once more. 

You don’t like going to the barn alone, and you should have put on a proper jacket, without the sun to warm you, your skin prickles with goosebumps. The dark doesn’t frighten you very much anymore, and it’s easy to follow the familiar path even in the dark. Your phone flashlight illuminates the ground in front of you as you walk, you’re trying to remember if there is a specific sheep Ellie isn’t attached to.

Most of the flock is sleeping save for a few stragglers, you decide not to overthink it, grabbing a lead and putting it over the head of the first sheep that’s brave enough to greet you. The unlucky winner is one of the older sheep, making its way over to you the second you open the gate. You reward her bravery with the apple in your pocket, the only sounds in the quiet night are those of chewing as you walk her back towards the house. 

You swung your intertwined hands between the two of you as you walked through the trees behind his house. He must have worked startlingly fast to do that for you, no ones ever put in that sort of effort for you before. 

The sun is just starting to set behind you as he takes a step back and covers your eyes.

“Hey-” You start to object with a giggle as he continues walking you forward. 

“Oh hush, let this be a surprise.” He chuckles as he leads you further down the path before stopping abruptly and lifting his hands. “Surprise.” He whispers, taking a step back.

“Woah.” You exhale in shock as you stare at the barn in front of you. A white fence surrounding it. 

It’s beautiful. 

“Tommy and I grew up on a farm, we can raise whatever you want, pigs, sheep, chickens, anything you want.” He mumbles as he wraps his arms around you from behind, kissing your cheek. 

“I love that idea, but can I ask why?” You let out a nervous laugh as you turn to raise an eyebrow at him.

“That’s actually a part of your last surprise.” 

“Another?” Your voice pitches up, he built you a fucking barn, what else could he have done for you?

“I want you to know how serious I am about you moving in, I don’t want you to have any doubt.” He mumbles against your temple, inhaling deeply before pulling away and taking your hand one more time. “Come on.” He pulls you back towards the house as the sun sets for good, you walk in the darkness until he brings you to the basement entrance and pulls out the keys he’d offered you. 

Several locks adorn the basement entrance, you sift through your key ring until you find each lock's respective key, letting them drop into the grass as you remove each one. When you swing the heavy metal doors open you’re met with the welcoming warmth that comes from below. Several lamps and space heaters create a warm glow that beckons you down the steps. Almost immediately the sheep pulls away, bleating fearfully. Animals are far more intelligent than anyone gives them credit for, they know when something is wrong. 

You pull her down with you then reach up and let the doors slam down, sealing the poor thing in its tomb with you. 

You drop the lead once the doors are closed, there’s no point in leading the lamb any closer to the inevitable slaughter. 

“I have loved you since I first saw you in that bar. I have loved you every moment since, you could be cruel and terrible and I’d love you still and I’d probably deserve it. But you aren’t. You’re smart, and you care about everything, and you love everyone even if they aren’t worthy of it.” His hands caress your face as he whispers into the night air. “And you feel so much guilt for the things I do even though you shouldn’t. You can forgive me for all that I’ve done but it won’t change the fact that I’m still doing terrible things. I’ve done terrible things for so long that I didn’t really consider any other options, but you deserve other options.” 

He pulls open the basement doors once all the locks are undone, and offers his hand to you. 

“I want to show you that I can change, that I would do anything you need me to do, be anything you need me to be.” 

It’s your choice, take it or leave, he won’t hold it against you if you crack and can’t handle it anymore. But you need him to keep yourself together in the first place so you take his calloused hand in yours and let him lead you down into the darkness. 

The smell of vanilla and pine is dense down here. 

As you descend further down the steps you see the familiar set up, a few lamps and lanterns are scattered throughout the darkness as well as a couple space heaters that are only there for your benefit. A mattress you insist on putting sheets on is pushed against one of the scratched up walls, the blankets and pillows scattered about the space, you walk over to the mess, picking up the scattered quilts as you throw everything back down on the mattress. You can feel the movement behind you, the scratching against the cement as you lay down, even with the heaters it’s cold. Thankfully you know you’ll be warm enough soon.

The panicked baa’s of the sheep are swiftly silenced, replaced with the wet tearing sound that once would have filled you with dread. It’s a bit morbid how comforting you now find them, you roll over as you pull another blanket up over yourself, watching the iron chains drag across the floor as the unseen figure pulls them in different directions. 

You can see movement dancing on the edges of the lamp light, the smell of blood is almost as prominent now as the suffocating sweetness. A smile begins to tease the corners of your mouth as you hear him moving closer, the familiar, gravely voice that calls out from the dark recesses of the basement fills your ears like warm honey. 

“C’mere, bunny.”

a/n : that's a wrap on oh honey folks, once again im sorry i made yall wait so long, i hope it was worth it <3

i no longer have a tag list but for fic updates follow @lincolndjarinnotifs !!

[ghulehunknown]

Mistletoe’d: Papa Emeritus III x F Reader

“Papa’s going to be coming down your chimney tonight.”

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 (coming soon!)

**WARNING - NSFW CONTENT - MDNI**

Summary: After the Ministry Christmas party, you join Terzo in his bedchamber for some festive activities.

CW/Tags: characters drinking alcohol, established relationship, clothed female nude male, blowjob, penetrative sex (P in V), condom use, cunnilingus, face-sitting, face fucking

Word Count: 4381

Available on AO3! Primo | Secondo | Terzo | Copia

Author’s Note: This is the third day of the four-part series XXXmas at the Ministry, a collaboration with @copias-sewer-rat, @molly-ghuleh, and @bupia - please read their works too!

Happy Hornidays! ❄️

xoxo, the Naughty Ghulehs 💋

Primo | Secondo | Copia

A HUGE thank you to AlexandrMcQueer on Twitter for the accompanying artwork! Check out the full NSFW version on her account.

Tonight was finally the night of the annual Ministry Christmas party, and Christmas Eve. Papa needed your help to pull everything off, so all week you were scheduling with the bakers, the cooks, the cleaning crew, and decorating.

But after this evening, you could relax. Well, aside from tending to Papa’s needs and making sure the ghouls didn’t get too soused that it ruined their unholiday in the morning. But after the party, you could enjoy the festivities.

Everyone began milling about and socializing in the main hall, picking at the large charcuterie spread and ladling punch or eggnog into glasses. It looked like everyone from the Clergy was there. Even Imperator and Nihil showed up, though they did not seem too sociable, seating themselves at a table in the corner. Primo immediately sat himself in one of the few chairs scattered around the hall with a large mug of something warm.

Suddenly the ghouls began whooping and you turned your head to see Terzo enter in a lavish looking Santa suit - it was made of crushed red velour with flecks of red sparkles and appeared to be trimmed with white feathers.

“Nice suit, Terzo,” you quipped, eyeing him up and down as he approached you.

“That’s Papa Claus to you, principessa,” he said with a snarky grin and giving you a smooch on the lips. “And you’re Santa’s little helper.”

That you were. He’d ordered you the shortest green elf dress, although the skirt was more like a tulle tutu. The outfit was a whole ensemble, complete with an elf hat with ears, pointy shoes with bells on the end, and candy cane patterned tights. You felt ridiculous, but ’tis the season.

Everyone was in their best holiday attire - anything from ugly Christmas sweaters to formal wear. The ghouls were all dressed in elf costumes, with the exception of Dew, who was dressed as Rudolph - an antler headband fitted over his mask and a red nose strapped to the front of his mask.

Cardinal Copia was wearing an old Saint Nick red and gold cloak over his red cassock, and a poorly made attachable white beard. Secondo was dressed in an all black 3 piece suit that had a subtle fleur de lis pattern, and was chatting with one of Primo’s ghouls.

The night went on, and you were actually managing to have fun. The ghouls turned one of the snack tables into a flip cup station (much to your dismay as you shuffled the catering staff carrying fresh trays of food back into the kitchen) and several of the Siblings started Christmas karaoke, with a very drunk-looking Copia taking the lead.

Terzo flitted between you and the rest of the guests, chatting with various Clergy members (and skillfully dodging Imperator each time). He snuck up behind you, squeezing your ass.

“Make sure these old fucks are having fun, eh?” he said lowly in your ear, nodding backwards to the senior members of the Clergy.

“And just how am I supposed to do that?” you said, one eyebrow raised, his hand still under your skirt.

He winked at you, handing you a bottle of opened bourbon before cupping your ass cheek in his hand and rubbing it. “We’ll cheers soon, then I can have you all to myself.” He leaned in closer to whisper in your ear. “Papa’s going to be coming down your chimney tonight.”

He clapped you on the ass then darted between people again. “Everybody - eggnog!” he shouted towards the crowd, raising his arms up. He was herding everyone to the center. You thought you might die on the spot from your cheeks burning red, but everyone was paying attention to him - thank Satan.

As everyone poured themselves another glass and gathered, you went around and splashed a bit of bourbon in everyone’s cup.

“Some bourbon for your eggnog, Cardinal?” you asked Copia, approaching him with the bottle.

“Eh, none for me,” he said, hiccuping and covering his glass. “It’s strong enough as it is! I’ve had th-three already.”

“It’s nonalcoholic, Cardinal,” you responded, blinking at him. He looked puzzled and walked away.

You made your way over to Primo who was almost snoozing in his chair. “Papa Primo?” you asked, holding the bottle out, gesturing towards his half empty mug. You weren’t sure if he was dressed like Scrooge on purpose or if those were just his pajamas but he mumbled something that sounded like “Bah,” and shook his head swiftly, the tassel at the end of his nightcap swinging around.

Everyone was standing in a semicircle around Terzo, who for once seemed just slightly lost for words. “Well, uh - shit,” he began, eliciting a few chuckles from the crowd. “I do not know what else to say, other than it’s been a fucking great year. We had two fantastic tours, and we’ll be continuing into next year… I, eh - met someone very dear.” He glanced at you briefly before continuing. “We won a motherfucking Grammy…!”

The ghouls whooped and cheered while the Siblings and other Clergy members clapped. You glanced over in the corner. Even Imperator seemed pleased - maybe.

“Sì, sì it has been phenomenal. You should all be very pleased with yourselves. So pleased in fact I think you should all celebrate, in eh, whatever means you choose to do. And if I do not see you all before the New Year, have an unblessed holiday. Now, we toast! Tomorrow morning we will celebrate our Savior’s birth. But for tonight, we sin.” He held up his glass and the others did the same. “To Lucifer!”

“To Lucifer,” you said, chiming in with a chorus of voices. You swallowed your bourbon-eggnog concoction - mostly bourbon by your heavy hand, you found as you winced slightly, the liquor burning down your throat. You didn’t drink much and this was your first holiday gathering at the Ministry. Next month would mark your first full year here, and the first time you laid eyes upon him - your Terzo.

“Eh, see you next year, Papa!” piped up Copia, still hiccuping as he nodded and ducked out of the crowd. You smiled at the Cardinal’s little joke. Terzo stopped in his tracks for just a moment and acknowledged Copia before walking away.

He rolled his eyes as he walked towards you then his face brightened. “Hello,” he said, standing very close to you.

“Hi, Papa,” you said, smiling at him and holding up the last bit of bourbon, swishing it in the bottle. “Saved the last for you.”

“Mmm,” he said, leaning in to kiss you. “How much? I need to keep my stamina for later.”

You took a swig and shuddered - Satanas, you still couldn’t drink straight liquor. “Not much now.” He chuckled at you and took the bottle from your hand, knocking back the rest. You coughed a couple of times and reached for some party punch, completely forgetting the one you reached for also had alcohol and coughed again.

He patted you soothingly on the back and asked, “Are you okay, tesorina?”

You nodded, finally grabbing the nonalcoholic punch and chugging some.

“Will Papa have to take care of his little elf this evening?” he said, trailing the back of his index finger over your cheek.

“No, Papa,” you said, clearing your throat. “I’ve barely had anything.”

“Good. I have a surprise for you tonight, amore.”

“Hm. Any hint?” you asked coyly.

“Not a fucking clue. Come to my room in five minutes just as you are.” He picked up a handful of hard candies from the snack table and popped a few in his mouth, staring at you while walking backwards a few paces before turning around and heading down the hall.

You continued to mingle with the other Siblings, trying hard to conceal your blushing cheeks but to no avail.

“Someone’s excited about something,” one said.

“It’s nothing,” you murmured.

“Come on - spill!”

“Well, Terzo and I -”

“Terzo?” said another.

“Oooooh!” the others said in a singsong tone almost in unison.

“He said he has a surprise for me, in his room.”

“So you graduated from office visits to home visits now?” asked the first Sibling, looking impressed.

“Well…I’ve seen his bedroom a few times,” you said, not willing to divulge the full truth just yet. You’d been spending most of your nights in his room and sneaking back into the Siblings’ quarters early in the morning. Even though each Sibling had their own room, you knew your Sisters would hear the door to the suite open.

“I think this is the most serious he’s been with anyone,” said the second Sibling. “I’ve been here a few years and usually he’s done with his fling after two months. But you’ve stuck around.” You shook your head, not willing to believe this hype only to be let down. You just wanted to live in the moment and enjoy what you had with Terzo. “You should go - you don’t want to keep him waiting.”

You smiled and bid your fellow Siblings goodbye as they all made lewd gestures to imitate various sex acts and waved you off, wishing you luck.

You walked down the silent and dark corridors, passing ghouls and Siblings alike shrouded in the shadows to have their midnight dalliances, no doubt egged on by the holiday cheer and the alcohol. You smiled, thinking about not having to hide in a hallway like when you first started dating him. Now you had his entire bedroom to have your sultry romps.

You opened his door and walked into his Papal suite, the familiar lush decor and smell of mahogany filling your senses. You passed by the small and elegantly decorated Christmas tree by the fireplace. You wondered just what his surprise might be when you saw him propped up against the wall, a rose in his mouth and —

What was that?

He was dressed in his Santa jacket and hat, with nothing else on - save one thing. Your eyes trailed along his upper body then snapped to what was in between his legs. On the end of his throbbing hard cock was some mistletoe, tied around his shaft by a red ribbon and a little gold bell below it. He waggled his eyebrows and at the same time isolated his pelvic muscles to make his cock bob up and down, tinkling the bell.

“How long have you just been standing there all hard waiting for me?”

His face fell momentarily and he took the rose out of his mouth. “I thought you would like it.”

“I do!” you said, suppressing laughter as best as you could while stepping towards him. You held onto the lapels of his jacket and leaned in. “I do.” He smiled again, a smug look of satisfaction washing over him.

“Good,” he said, handing you the rose. “Because you’re going to get stuffed and glazed just like Secondo’s honey ham.”

You bit your bottom lip, smiling. “But I don’t think it’ll be quite as delicious as you, amore.”

“It should be. I’ve been eating a lot of pineapple for this.”

“Really? Then I’ll have to taste it for myself,” you said, feeling the heat pool at your core.

He cupped your face in his hands, kissing you deeply, slipping his tongue in. You weren’t sure where to place your hands so you held onto the rose with one hand, the other in his hair. He swiftly brought you closer to him, his quivering cock poking at your thigh under your tulle skirt.

“Mm!” you said, surprised at feeling his hardness brush against you.

“Well,” he said, pulling away to look at you. “It’s not going to kiss itself, tesoro.” He twitched his cock again, making it bob up and down and wagged his hips side to side, making it shake the other direction and sounding the bell.

You eyed him slyly as you bent down, gently falling to your knees before him and placing the rose on the floor. You took his cock in your hand and began stroking his length, eyeing the perfect pink tip at the end. Each time you stroked him, the bell would chime.

“Oh cazzo,” he sighed, leaning his head back, his lips parted.

You flicked the tip of your tongue against the head of his cock and watched his abdominal muscles contract. He was like putty in your hands.

“You like that, amore?” you asked teasingly, his shaft in your palm.

He glared at you from the corner of his eye. “Stai zitto,” he said through moans as you continued to swirl your tongue around the head of his cock. But you could swear you saw a smirk pull at the corner of his mouth as he said this.

You closed your eyes as you took his entire length in your mouth, sliding him in and out and clutching onto his hips. The little leaves on the mistletoe tickled your nose each time the bottom of his cock reached your lips.

Clink! Clink! went the bell each time you slid him in and out of your mouth.

He started to whimper and moan quietly, his eyes closed in pleasure. His hand was on the back of your head, gripping your hair tighter the faster you went. At one point he began thrusting into your mouth, probably no longer able to contain himself.

Clink! Clink! ClinkClinkClinkClinkCLINKCLINK

“Mmm!” you mumbled around his cock as the greenery around his member assaulted your face over and over, scratching your nose and cheeks a little bit each time. CLINK.

Your eyes welled with tears as he hit the back of your throat repeatedly. CLINK. At this point you were hardly doing any work, just kneeling there and being used as a vessel. CLINKCLINK

“Satanas you’re going to make me cum like that,” he panted as he continued pushing his hips into your face.

You smiled around him - well as best as you could - and brought him closer by gripping his ass cheeks.

“Ah - cazzo!” he exclaimed, suddenly pulling out of your mouth and panting.

“Terzo?” you asked, trying to look up but you were unable to as his hand remained on your head as he used you to prop himself up and regain composure.

“I can’t cum too soon and ruin the evening, no?” he said, standing up straight and helping you up off the floor. “Not when I haven’t even taken care of you.”

You kissed his laughter lines around his mouth as he spoke, his Papal makeup smudged from your kisses earlier. “You always take such good care of me.”

He turned to face you and held you in an embrace, kissing you passionately again, his hands roaming all over your body. He began to massage your breasts through your costume, building the arousal between your legs even more. Your breathing quickened as you both moaned into each other’s mouths.

“Fuck this fucking blouse,” he said breathlessly, breaking away and tearing at the front of your green cardigan, the buttons flying across his floor - eliciting a ‘Shit!’ from you. “Mmm!” he mumbled, kissing you again, pawing at your chest.

He fumbled around your back at your bra clasp, unhooking it after a couple of tries. You urgently slid the straps off your shoulders and tossed the bra to the floor. He bent down to take your nipple in his mouth, circling his tongue around it and sucking. He alternated, pinching the other one between his fingers.

“Oh Terzo,” you sighed, running your hands through his hair, fiddling with the silver strands peppering his raven hair. He’d never admit to it, but you saw the box dye left on his bathroom counter.

Instinctively you squeezed your legs together, alleviating some of the need to touch yourself. You felt your heart race and a shiver run down your spine.

“Fuck me, please Papa,” you sighed, breath trembling.

“Mm?” he said, glancing up at you between your breasts with a glint in his eyes. He kissed all over your chest, up your neck and finally, your lips. “Is la mia principessa ready for her Papa to fuck her brains out, hm?”

“Yes Papa, please,” you said, still in a breathy whisper. “Fuck me.”

He nodded his head towards the bathroom and glanced over. “Go get a condom and meet me in bed. I’ll get the lube.”

“Why are there none in our nightstand drawer?”

“‘Our?’”

“Shit. You know what I meant.”

He grinned. “Ti stai dimenticando? We used them all last night and I didn’t have time to take some more out.”

Slightly embarrassed at your gaffe, you made your way into the bathroom and started opening drawers. “Where did you put the box?”

“Bottom drawer!” he called out.

Did he think differently of you now? Would he think you were too presumptuous and want to call the whole thing off? Or potentially, were you just overthinking things as usual? “Found it! Oh fuck, shit!”

“Sorella?” He sounded concerned and rushed over to find you on your hands and knees kneeling near the toilet.

“Almost got it!” You had dropped the roll of condom wrappers behind the toilet and had wedged yourself between it and the vanity. “Help me, Terzo!”

“Ah, I see now,” he said slyly. “Call for me in a panic just so you can entrap me.”

“What? Terzo, no, I really do need help, I drop- ”

“Sì, I can help,” he said, kneeling down behind you, his cock right up against your ass.

“It’s just, argh!”

“Argh!” he imitated you, running his hands all along your body.

“It’s right there I can’t - reach - !”

“Has anyone told you how sexy you look with your ass in the air in candy cane tights?”

You rolled your eyes but you knew he couldn’t see. “Er, no - um, thank you. But I dropped the condoms behind the toilet.”

He craned his neck to see. “Ah. This is quite the pickle we are in. You with your hand behind the toilet and your ass against my cock.”

“No, I believe it’s your cock against my ass.”

“What am I to do, tesorina? What should a Papa do when finding his lover in a compromising position, hm?” He leaned down and trailed kisses along your back, momentarily freezing your arm from the continued search of the condoms.

“Fuck…” you whispered, feeling his mouth move further south and his hands finding their way around your waist.

“What’s that, bella? You think Papa should fuck you? You called me in such a panic earlier that I did not bring the lube…mmm, what should we do?” he said, kissing you just above your ass. “Is la mia principessa ready?”

Your body ached with desire. You needed him inside you. He trailed his finger along your tights-covered behind, poking around where your entrance was. “Darling, I think your tights are just a little wet. Let’s see just how wet you are inside.” He gripped the fabric and you heard it ripping apart.

You let out a surprised gasp as the chill air hit your warm, now exposed nether regions. He entered you with a finger and your body shuddered against him as you whimpered quietly.

“Oh yes,” he said in an amused tone. “You are very ready.” He slid out and up to your clit, playing with it gently as you moaned and rocked your body back and forth to feel the friction against his fingers. “So responsive. Una così brava ragazza.”

“Please, Papa,” you said under your accelerated breath. “Please fuck me.”

“Don’t worry amore,” he said, reaching over you and grabbing the sleeve of condoms that you were having trouble getting just moments before. “I will.” He tore off one and ripped it open.

You readjusted yourself on the tile floor so you wouldn’t bang your head against the toilet or the side of the vanity as you heard the crinkle of the wrapper and the clinking of the little bell still attached to his dick.

“Oh FUCK!” you both said in unison as he entered you. He slammed into your dripping cunt with such ease, you felt him bottom out immediately. The tingle of the mistletoe against your clit heightened the sensation.

Clink! Clink! Clink! Clink! In and out, in and out. You both moaned each other’s names in pure, unadulterated passion.

“Ah - merda Sorella, you turn me into a teenager again. Fucking on the floor out of sheer desperation for one another.” Now he was so deep inside you the bell muffled against your body. CLUNK. CLUNK. CLUNK.

“So - mmm! - you’re d-desperate for me?” you said teasingly against the cold tile.

“La mia diavoletta pensa di essere così intelligente, eh? È ora che chiudi la bocca.” With that he fucked into you so hard, so fast, you couldn’t say another word. He pushed your head against the floor roughly, your cheek pressed against the cool marble so hard you could feel the grout indent. He nearly knocked the breath out of you as he hit your g-spot perfectly each time, a relentless grip on the back of your head.

“Ohhh - !” you moaned as he rammed into you over and over. CLUNKCLUNKCLUNKCLUNK. He was thrusting faster, riding out his orgasm, his nails digging deeper into your hips.

“Fuck - I’m going to - cum - Sorella - !” He pounded into you, tapering off his speed as he came, his cock twitching a final time before he slumped over your back, breathing heavily.

“Satanas,” he breathed, his chest heaving wildly as he pulled out, your body shuddering under him at the loss. You heard the snap of latex and the condom hitting the trash can liner.

You turned around and sat down, leaning against the toilet. You watched him untie the mistletoe and take it off, tossing it aside. “So how was it, with that?” you asked, nodding towards the discarded plant.

“Honestly? It was a little itchy. It might just be a novelty.” He tossed himself on his back against the floor. He looked at you, his chest still rising and falling from being out of breath. “How was it for you?”

“Honestly? It was a little itchy,” you repeated. You both smiled and laughed at the absurdity of the situation.

“Come here Sorella, I did not intend to leave you wanting. Hop onto Santa’s lap.”

You crawled over to him and straddled his lap, gazing into his eyes.

“What do you want this year for being such a good little girl?” He asked, caressing your arms and looking at your breasts before flicking his eyes up into yours.

“I want…endless kisses…and a mind-blowing orgasm,” you said, leaning down to kiss him.

He returned the smooch. “Mm, I did not know a present for you would also be a present for me. Come closer and sit on Santa’s face…that’s it, Satanas yes please.”

You moved up his body until you were straddling his face, then delicately lowered your body on him, doing your best to move your skirt out of the way.

He sputtered, spitting out the tulle from his mouth and pulling your hips towards his face again. He batted at the layers of fabric, cursing in Italian, before finding your cunt.

Your eyelids flitted closed as your lips parted in a silent “oh.” He took your clit in his mouth and sucked on it between his lips. He alternated between that and flicking your sensitive bud with the tip of his tongue. You looked down to gaze in his eyes but his face was completely hidden under a green tutu.

You began to buck your hips against his face as he used the flat of his tongue, building up the friction and feeling yourself closing in on orgasm. He switched up and deepened the suction on your clit, flicking his tongue against you simultaneously.

“Oh fuck Terzo - fuck, I’m so close!” You rocked back and forth as you pinched your nipples, heightening the sensation.

His fingernails dug into your hips again as he sped up his ministrations. Grabbing ahold of your waist, he slid you along his mouth faster and faster.

“Oh, Terzo!” you cried out in ecstasy, trembling on your knees above him as you came hard and fast in his mouth. He didn’t let up the motions or the intensity until you pulled away, giggling from the overstimulation. You climbed off of him and sat down next to him, both smiling at one another.

“How are you feeling? Good?” he asked, stroking your thigh.

You nodded your head. “Yes, very. But can I lay down next time? I’ve been on my knees an awful long time.” You both laughed.

“There’s Papa’s little hoe hoe hoe,” he said with a devilish grin. “Of course, amore mio. Anything for you.”

You held onto his hand, playfully caressing all his fingers. “It’s been a very good Christmas so far,” you remarked.

“Mmm. And you haven’t even opened your presents yet.”

“There’s more?”

“What, you thought this was it? No Sorella, go look under the tree.”

You eyed him suspiciously as you stood up, legs still a little shaky. You walked out of the bathroom and into the living room.

You hadn’t noticed the presents under the tree earlier, but there were a few. A lot, actually. Somehow even your gifts for him were under there. One of the ghouls or housekeeping staff must have moved them for you.

One caught your attention - a gold envelope poking out from the middle branches of the tree. You reached inside the tree, accidentally sending the package spilling onto the floor. Two plane tickets splayed out on the floor.

You picked them up in wonder - your name was at the top of one, and his on the other. You walked in a daze over to him.

“You did not truly think I would leave you with just my cock for Christmas, did you?” he said, following you out of the bathroom and now leaning against the wall. “I love you, principessa. I call you princess because to me you are. My sweet little thing. I want to give you the world, my world…would Italy be a good start?”

You flung your arms around him, tears in your eyes. “Yes, Terzo. I think that will be an amazing start.”

[Stay tuned for a continuation of this story!]

Italian to English Translations

(la mia) principessa ((my) princess)

tesorina (little treasure/darling)

amore (mio) ((my) love)

cazzo (fuck)

Stai zitto (Shut up)

Ti stai dimenticando? (Are you forgetting?)

Sorella (Sister/nun)

bella (beautiful)

Una così brava ragazza. (Such a good girl.)

merda (shit)

La mia diavoletta pensa di essere così intelligente, eh? È ora che chiudi la bocca. (My little devil girl thinks she’s so smart, eh? It’s time you shut your mouth.)

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in any of my future works!