#The Beer Thrillers | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

peterthepark · 2 years

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little witch

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

tags: 18+ graphic smut, rough sex, outdoor/public sex, blowjobs, dirty talk, weed, parties, unprotected piv, creampie, squirting, orgasm denial, dom!eddie

summary: a slutty witch costume combined with eddie’s determination to live up to his devilish attire creates a night that both of you are sure to remember.

a/n: definitely going 2 hell for this one. enjoy! recommend listening to tear u apart by she wants revenge or this season of the witch song :)

‘It’s gonna be fun,’ they told him. ‘Why would we pass up an invitation to the coolest party of the year when we never get these opportunities anyways?’ they said.

Jeff and Gareth are fucking idiots. Eddie doesn’t fit in here. None of them do. They stick out like terribly sore thumbs, and it’s nearly comical how obviously misplaced they are amongst this adolescent swarm of boring costumes.

Eddie looks like he walked straight out of the D&D dungeon master’s guide: devil-like horns attached to a flimsy headband that he had stolen from little Erica Sinclair, a red cape tucked into the collar of his signature Hellfire t-shirt, because — of course — how could he ever go a day without it? All of this coupled with a leather jacket, distressed denim and dark liner smudged around his eyes.

What is he exactly? It’s hard to say. His best description is: Izzy Stradlin of Guns N’ Roses meets the baatezu from the Nine Hells of Baator.

Or simply put – a sexy, red gothic devil.

Hawkins High’s infamous Halloween party sits right on the edge of a woodsy Indiana forest, nothing but oddly cut jack-o-lanterns and wax candles decorating the tops of tattered picnic tables. Hard soil and autumn leaves crunch beneath Eddie’s combat boots as he nurses his third solo cup of the night, already seeking for something stronger when he sees Jeff and Gareth being chatted up by a couple eager girls from the debate team.

Goddamn, do they really have more game than him?

He winces, lips curling into a distasteful frown as he busies himself by the candy table and slips a purple lollipop into his mouth with raised brows. In the corner of the crowd, Eddie glances at a couple making out by the beer keg that seem to be quite literally jumping at each other’s bones in public. Boo. He groans in annoyance, looking over his shoulder to find a classic blonde-brunette combo eating each other’s faces just as passionately.

Must be fucking nice.

Yeah, no. He’s going for a walk. Fuck this party and fuck everyone here, including Jeff and Gareth.

Never liked Halloween anyways. Always been more of a Valentine’s Day kind-of-guy.

Eddie crushes his solo cup and chucks it onto a random table, ignoring the protests of his classmates when he displays no intention of stopping or apologizing as he cooly saunters past. The silver chains strung across his belt loops jingle whilst he takes swift strides into the forest; the ruckus of the party fades behind him with each firm step he takes, the prominent wrinkles in his forehead softening as his ears free from a looping mixtape of Thriller.

He continues suckling on his lollipop, a stormy purple staining his tongue as he ventures deeper into the forest and away from that godforsaken, amateur highschool party. Whatever that fucking was, he’s over it. Completely and utterly over it.

That’s when he stumbles onto a clearing in the middle of the woods, surrounded by looming trees circling an old picnic table and…

You. Alone.

Eddie comes to a halt as soon as he sees the faint flickering of orange. Heavy curses fall from your lips as you tend to the tightly-rolled blunt between your fingers, a flame failing to ignite as a result of the cheap Zippo lighter in your opposite hand.

“Goddammit… shit… motherfucking…” You grunt, hurling the lighter in Eddie’s direction. He ducks immediately, eyes bulging out of his head like deer-in-headlights when you finally lock stares. Your childish gaze bounces from the discarded lighter to Eddie’s face. “I… um…”

He definitely knows you, even under the darkness of a haunting midnight sky. Definitely. He’s instantly taken back to the fall semester of his (second attempt) of senior year, having had you in a previous class where he often wondered what the pretty girl’s name who sat in the front was.

And said pretty girl is blinking at him expectantly.

Anyday now. Anyday. Say something, fucker.

“Need, uh, a light?”

Eddie digs his hand into the pocket of his leather jacket, fumbling with the boxy metal before you’re nodding at him with curious eyes and a soft smile. He quickly meets you halfway, feeling his heartbeat stutter when your manicured fingers brush against his palm and your warmth lingers upon his skin.

He takes in the sight of the witch hat resting atop your head, a classic black one that slopes into a swirl at the tip. Your lips are blood-red, almost complimenting the shade of Eddie’s cape and devil horns. A short, raven-colored dress hugs your body perfectly, the flowing sleeves flaring out by your hands as you successfully ignite the joint hanging from your faint smirk.

“Thanks.” You mumble, taking a heavy drag with an appreciative hum before you’re handing back his lighter and sitting down on the wooden bench. He follows suit, whispering a resigned ‘No problem’ as he plops himself onto the opposite end and tosses his lollipop stick to the side. “Party sucked?”

“Yeah, always does.”

“Oh, that’s never good.”

A pause.

“I like your costume…”

“Your costume is…”

The sentences fill the silence simultaneously, causing sincere laughter to follow suit on both parts as you sneakily glance at each other with wide grins. You lean over, sticking out your smaller palm with outstretched fingers. “Alright, I’m Y/N.”

Y/N, he repeats to himself.

Eddie doesn’t hesitate, gingerly enveloping his hand overs yours as he gives it a gentle squeeze. “And I’m—“

“Eddie.” You smile brightly, flicking the blunt against the edge of the table. “I know you. Hellfire himself, right?”

You know him. As if his stomach wasn’t churning with excitement already… you know him — not as the long-haired freak walking the hallways of Hawkins High, but as Eddie “Hellfire Himself” Munson. He can’t fight off the blood that rushes to his face; pink spreads across the bridge of his nose and cheeks as he catches your intent gaze accompanied by that enticing curl of your red lips.

“Yes, it is I… in the flesh.” He chuckles. “And Y/N,” Your name is sweet on his tongue, the name he’d finally come to learn after many months of pointless pining in history class back then. The name that he can’t help but play over and over again in his head, a melody of syllables too gentle for someone of his candor. He points at you, stressing each word with gaiety. “Miss top of the class, graduating senior president, is that right?”

You shrug casually. “In the flesh.”

He huffs in amusement, scratching his neck before he shamelessly watches you finger the thick layering of necklaces swooping into the fleshy valley of your breasts. You clear your throat, hiding your own pleased expression as his eyes helplessly bounce back up to your face with that boyish fear of having been caught looking at places he shouldn’t have been looking at.

Fuck, is it getting hot or is it just him? Awkwardly, he shrugs off his leather jacket, haphazardly laying it over the bench.

Okay, could Eddie seriously blame himself? He’s respectful. He is. Believe him when he says he loves women, and men. Yet it’s almost as if you’re letting him look, angling your hips towards him and parting your knees ever-so-slightly so that your short dress strategically rides up the expanse of your thighs. If you hike your leg up just a little bit higher, he’d see… fuck, he doesn’t know you like that. Stop it.

Does it matter, though?

“So, Eddie, what’s the reasoning behind…” You shift closer to his side of the table. Eddie’s gaze follows the way your fingers dart for the collar of his cape, thumb and forefinger rubbing the fabric purposefully. Your eyes lock, the corners of your lips tugging into a contagious line that Eddie can’t help but mirror. “... this bold choice of costume? A red devil is never good news.”

He wants to wipe that smirk clean off of your mouth. Maybe take some of your lipstick with it, too.

“I’m a good boy today, Y/N. Promise.” He smiles, swearing that he feels your body stiffen against him. “But I mean… it is Halloween, of course. Everyone’s on their worst behavior, pissing their own pants, ready to rob kids for candy…” If he hadn’t been so glued to the glittery shadow around your lids and the smudged mascara under your lower lashes, he wouldn’t have seen your not-so-subtle attempt at glancing at his lap. “... making out in… haunted places. You know, the usual.”

You squint. “Right.”

“Mhm.”

The bench creaks as you stand up, fingers tugging the length of your minidress back over your ass as you kick one boot in front of the other. Eddie remains frozen in his place, reddish leaves trailing past his line of sight while you lean yourself against a tall tree trunk.

You’re teasing him.

He doesn't even fully know you, and he’s already hoping for certain ways this could go.

If you wanted to play that game, you could’ve just asked.

“You know people say these woods are haunted?” Crossing your ankles, your newfound companion doesn’t tear his eyes off of your ripped fishnets, savouring your generous display of cleavage and gorgeous hips as you pull your blunt away from your lips with a hiss and wave it around. “Back in the 1700s, after the Salem witch trials… there were actually rumors that there had been some runaway witches in Hawkins. Didn’t turn out too well for them in the end.”

“Yeah? What happened?” You push off of the tree with the heel of your boot, slowly pacing your way back towards Eddie.

His thighs are spread apart widely, ringed hands drumming patiently against the tattoos on his forearms.

Fuck, he looks good.

“Whatever happens to all witches, I suppose.” You grin mischievously with enthusiastic eyes. “But I’ve always heard these parts are… full of spirits because of the… well, y’know.” A beat, then your knee is slowly pressing up against Eddie’s as you stare at the ground shyly with fluttering lashes. “Shame no one’s living up to Halloween tradition and making out — like you said — in… such a haunted place like this one.”

He exhales shakily, clenching his jaw when you curiously peer at him. “Most definitely.”

“I mean…” You giggle and turn your back to him, unable to see Eddie’s face contort into one of disappointment from the loss of physical contact. “I’m certain there’s an adorable, lovesick couple just bound to show up and fulfill…”

When you twirl around to teasingly look at Eddie, you nearly gasp out of surprise when you collide roughly with his chest. Your balance nearly gives way, but not before his pale hands grip onto your wrists and hold you upright. His knuckles are prominent, eyebrows pulled into a deep furrow and lips parted as his lust-blown pupils eagerly search yours.

He’s struggling.

And you think… this is finally it. Eddie Munson, the guy from the back of class who you’ve always kinda had a thing for, is gonna actually kiss you. Halloween night. 1986. Your peak.

But what he does next is almost as jarring as a kiss.

He carefully takes the blunt between your fingers, almost assessing the image of your lipstick stain on the end before he’s shamelessly putting his own mouth on it without hesitation. His eyes. His fucking eyes. They never leave yours, even when he inhales the joint deeply and quickly lets out an experienced exhale into your embarrassingly stunned face.

Whatever confidence you had going diminishes into a tangled ball of nothingness when Eddie holds the roll in front of your mouth, gaze half-lidded and tongue poking out from between his teeth.

“Open,” He says. And so you follow without protest, unblinking and suddenly submissive as he slips the joint back into its original place between your lips with a devilish chuckle. “Atta girl. Does what she’s told, doesn’t she?”

You gulp, only focusing on the taste of Eddie amongst the rolling paper. “Depends on who’s telling me.”

“Right, right. So, if I posed an idea… like well, fulfilling that very special tradition of… say, I don’t know, making out in a haunted place… just to make sure we’re really nailing the Halloween festivities here, little witch…” He humorously flicks at your hat, costumed horns bouncing while he begins to back you up against a tree. Eddie’s grin somehow widens even more, pearly-white canines on display as you slowly take a step back with each step he takes forward. “You definitely, definitely wouldn’t help me fulfill it, would you? Since it… after all, depends. And I’m sure the senior class president doesn’t take orders from… student delinquents like me.”

“Eddie…” You manage to breathe out, joint falling from your mouth as your back presses against the rough texture of tree bark.

“I mean, honestly, what are you doing all alone back here? Just… waiting for someone to stumble upon you and… what? What then, Y/N?” He laughs innocently, and you instinctively squeeze your thighs together as his fingers toy with the chains decorating his belt loops.

“Honestly?” You gaze up at him from beneath the black rim of your witch hat, mascara delicately framing the whites of your eyes. “Saw a tempting, red devil on the way here — thought he looked a little too lonely for a night like this one, especially when he just looked so good in such a simple costume. ‘Was hoping he’d find me… all alone, like you said.” You bite your lip. Eddie tilts his chin up and pins you with his eyes. “Was hoping that you’d find me all alone, and that I could… fuck, you looked bored at — at the party, and I figured you’d…”

“Come out and meet you…” Eddie finishes. You nod slowly.

“Halloween festivities, you know.”

He hums. “Right.” It’s silent for a good minute, until you feel Eddie’s hand ghost over your arm, trailing up your shoulder with such gentleness, you wouldn’t have even realized he had been touching you in the first place. “Well, I guess… if this place is haunted like you said, and if we’re the only two people out here…”

“Yeah?” Your voice comes out as a hushed whimper.

Eddie’s ears perk up at the sound. He pauses to catch his breath, desperately holding onto the remnants of his self-control.

“Then maybe, just maybe, we could always follow tradition. Is that… is that what you wanted, Y/N? For me to come out here just so we could make-out in the dark, away from the noise, tucked away deep in the forest where… no one can hear us? No matter how loud we’ll get?” A breathy moan escapes from the back of your throat, and Eddie realizes that he’s broken past whatever act you had going on. “That’s it, isn’t it? Hey, come on. Look at me, Y/N.” You raise your chin from your chest, meeting Eddie’s now softer eyes. “What do you want from me?”

He reaches for your hat, pulling it up and away from your face before his palms are resting against your cheeks. “Um, want you to…”

“To…” He spurs you on, stroking your skin with his thumbs.

In the shadows, Eddie’s face is so desperately close to yours that you can just smell the strong fragrance of his earthy cologne and the faint lingering taste of whatever he had been drinking.

All or nothing.

“To kiss me.” You swallow loudly, forcing the words out of your mouth. “Kiss me and… and don’t stop, please? Eddie?”

His eyes bore deep into yours, nothing but a lustful twinkle in his near-black pupils as he inhales deeply.

“Damn it, Y/N. All you had to do was fucking ask from the start.”

By the time the words finally leave him, Eddie’s lips are on you. It’s far from sweet, aching with a clandestine fervor as his mouth moves harshly against yours. Hot. Searing. Wet. Your fists are woven tightly amongst the cotton of his Hellfire shirt, and you kiss him helplessly with eyes clenched-shut, the sensation of his warm tongue keeping you in a trance.

Overpowering. Imperfect. Messy.

Yet, you want more of him.

You feel the soft tickle of his breath beneath your nose, fingers rustling through his hair as you cave into one another with unrestrained motion. Warmth blossoms in Eddie’s stomach as you lean back against the tree trunk to pull away, the fresh memory of your moans dancing against his pillowy lips while you stumble for air.

“Was that okay?” He whispers tenderly. You could almost burst out in laughter. How could his tone be so patient and friendly when his kiss had been nothing but wanton and needy? Slowly, a smile spreads across your cheeks, a weak nod following. “Can I do it again?”

“You can do anything you want.” You answer, brushing his hair away from his face before his hands drift down to your waist.

The action is suggestive, fingers leaving deep indents in the supple flesh of where hip-meets-thigh as he slips his knee between your legs. Then his mouth is on your body again. He’s more adventurous this second time around, letting his lips trail over your shoulder and the conch of your ear before he’s kissing his way down your outstretched throat — biting, licking, sucking.

He’s hard. Really hard.

“Fuck, Y/N…” His voice is whiny, nothing but a simple rasp filling the air as you sensually tend to his pale neck, teeth nibbling the skin until porcelain turns to a blooming red. “S-Sweetheart, hey… I don’t… fucking hell, don’t wanna make you do anything you don’t want to—“

“But I want to. I’m okay if you’re okay.”

“Shit, okay. Okay. I… fuck, I wasn’t expecting more than a kiss, but…” He moans embarrassingly loud when you tug at the curls of his hair, tilting his chin back so that you have more access to his throat. “Fuck, I hope you don’t think I’m like — like any of those assholes back there… just… looking for a quick fuck or anything….”

“Were you not?”

“Fine, maybe I was. Maybe I wanted to — to run into a… pretty girl like you… sitting alone out here, all dressed up with a shitty fucking lighter, by the way. Bet that was part of your plan too, huh? Reel me in and smoke that pathetic joint like you’re all tough?” Eddie cradles the back of your neck with his hand, whispering lewdly against your lips as he searches for another kiss. “God, you’re so hot. So hot.”

“You didn’t even k-know my name…”

“Shut it. I do now, and I want nothing more than — fuck, than to just say it over and over again until you get tired of hearing it.”

“Yeah?” You smirk against Eddie’s skin, glancing up at his beat-red face and the lopsided devil horns on his head before gingerly reaching up to toss them aside.

He’s a devil, alright.

Eddie nods eagerly, eyes cracking open when he feels your mouth leave him and the familiar clicking sound of his belt buckle. Holy fucking shit. “Oh, here? Like right here f-for real?” He gapes at you as you unbutton his jeans, slipping your hand into his pants to palm at the hard front of his boxers.

“Having second thoughts?”

“You’re… you’re fucking insane.” He chuckles in disbelief, groaning quietly when you rest your forehead against his shoulder and free his cock from his clothing. Glancing up at the sky, Eddie humorously whispers to himself. “Oh, crazy girls will just be the death of me.”

“Eddie, you’re so big…” You wrap your fingers around his swollen tip, moaning as you collect the pre-cum leaking from his slit. You pump him a couple times in your hand, grinning as Eddie’s face falls into the crook of your neck. “Dunno if it’ll fit me.”

“Mmm… oh, Y/N — fuck…”

“Feels good?” You lick at his earlobe, purring as you run your digits across the two veins on either side of the base.

Eddie’s weight against you is nearly crushing, but you can only pay attention to the feeling of his hard, heavy cock twitching in your grasp as you stroke him.

“Christ, feels amazing. Fuck, baby…” The pet name leaves him without hesitation. He chokes on his own moans, incoherent praises falling from his lips as he desperately splays his palm against the tree for leverage. His eyes follow the motion of you spitting into your hand, before you’re covering his dick in bubbly spit. “O-Oh, shit… that’s hot. Motherfuckin’ Ozzy… m’fuck, you’re jerking me off s-so well. God, I wonder how — wonder how tight you are…”

“Want you…” You confess, mewling in pleasure as his other palm kneads at your ass. “I bet you taste so good, Eddie.”

“Fuck yeah, I do.” He groans needily, breaths stuttering in his throat as you sink to your knees. Leaves crunch beneath your limbs, sharp twigs digging into your calves as Eddie watches you tug his jeans lower down his hips. “Listen, o-once you put your mouth on me… I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop.”

“Mmm, stop what?” You innocently bat your lashes at him, gently flicking your tongue against his reddened head.

“To stop fucking your throat.” Eddie’s mouth falls ajar as soon as he feels you take him in. “I just… crap, I can’t help it. Just no self-control… please, let me fuck it? Yeah? Is that okay?” He whimpers. “Oh, you’re such a good girl, Y/N. Giving me all I-I want… fuck, can’t wait to get my hands on you…” Spit dribbles from your chin as you gag around him, feeling his dick poke against the back of your throat while he places his hands on either side of your head. “Look at you, baby. On your knees in the middle of t-the fucking forest… patiently waiting to have your entire mouth stuffed… s’what good girls do, don’t they?”

You scratch at the tattoos on his thighs as he gives one hard thrust into your face, nearly doubling back from the sudden force. Breathe. Just breathe through it. His cock isn’t necessarily too thick, but the length — god, he could split you open.

Eight inches, curve angling to the left, you can literally feel him prodding and poking at the inside of your cheek. Your fingers are curling against his skin, pornographic sounds erupting from the both of you as Eddie guides your head up and down his dick.

“Oh… little witch,” He chuckles devilishly, wiping the tears away from your eyes as he gently inches his cock further into your mouth. Sadist. “Don’t cry, it’s supposed to feel good. You like this, don’t you? God, what would all our classmates say if they walked in on this right now?” You nearly yelp as he pushes himself deeper into you, your knees giving out from under you so that you’re sat upright against the tree. “The super intelligent, super hot, senior class president… getting her mouth f-fucked by the resident freak… oh, just imagine the drama.”

Your legs are crudely spread open, dress covered in dirt and leaves as Eddie continues thrusting into your throat. All you can smell is him. All you can think about is Eddie Munson. How embarrassingly satisfying this all feels �� just as much for you as for him.

“Fuck, Y/N. Your mouth is just… Christ, you’re perfect, aren’t you? Perfect thing. Perfect throat. Probably with an even better pussy… the things I wanna do to you. F-Fuck’s sake, you’re gonna make me cum if you keep looking at me like that, sweetheart.” He quickly pulls away, and it’s absolutely pathetic how you instinctively chase after his cock with your tongue until he’s tugging you up onto your feet. “Pretty girl, oh, look at you… wish you could see how messy you look right now. So fucking hot, so fucking dirty, you are.”

“E-Eddie…” You whimper as his teeth pinch at your collarbones, marking the tops of your breasts until he’s grown feral at the sight of his hickies on your skin. His dick is hard against your thigh, and only then are you reminded of how your cunt is helplessly throbbing at the sight of it. “Please, I… please, need you inside m-me…”

His hand roughly grasps at your chin.

“Yeah? Aw, you’re a needy thing, aren’t you? Such a filthy mouth for a good little slut…” He chuckles, mirroring your pout as his grip tightens. “Maybe we should wash it out, hm? All this flattery is just getting to my head. Come on. Say, ah.”

“Ah…” You moan as he spits onto your tongue, a string of saliva connecting your bottom lips together before he’s pulling you in for another heated kiss. His hands are bruising, his fingers cruel, his touch burning. “Please, Eddie…”

“Please what?”

“Please touch my — my…”

He smirks lustfully, brushing the moisture away from your lashes. “Oh, your pussy? Anything for you, sweetheart.” You yelp as he suddenly turns you around, cock twitching against your clothed ass. He pushes against you, walking you over to the rickety picnic table until you’re bent over the edge. “Boutta treat you so well, Y/N. Just relax for me. Gonna put my fingers inside you, is that cool?” You nod wordlessly, splinters digging into your palms as Eddie flips up your dress, hissing at the sight of your exposed cunt. “No… no panties, huh? Seriously? Fuck, you’re gonna kill me. Such a pretty ass… pretty holes…” He groans, swiping his thumb over your clit. You jolt at the sensation, shoulders heaving as he quickly swirls it over your entrance. “You’re so wet and already so sensitive… s’driving me insane. How am I ever gonna last?”

You cry out when he pushes his middle finger into you, juices squelching around his rings as he slowly fucks the nimble digit in and out of your sopping pussy. “F-Fuck, Eddie… I… feels so g-good, baby.”

“Yeah? Baby, huh? Love hearing you talk me through it. Tell me, have you always fantasized getting fingered out here? That’s a little sick in the head, don’t you think? And they call me a freak…” You glance at him over your shoulder, moaning unapologetically as he adds another finger. “Mmm, alright, you’re getting a bit loud. Fuck, you want that party to catch us? Catch us making a mess of each other back here… making each other feel so, so good?”

You knew Eddie had a dark, dirty side to him. There was no way he didn't have one, especially when he’d come to school dressed like that — chains on display for girls and guys to gawk at, rings decorating his fingers like they were his favorite asset.

Yeah. He’s just as fucked in the head, maybe even more.

You’re just glad you get to be the one to experience it.

“I don’t care. Let them hear us… fuck — it’s just…. oh, god… your fingers are just… they fill me so well. Just imagine your… your cock inside me, just wrecking my cunt, until I can’t take it anymore.” Eddie grabs you by the throat, letting his hand fall to your breasts and stomach as you fuck yourself on his fingers. “Oh, please, please, please!”

“Are you gonna cum? God, you’re having so much fun right now, you can’t even speak. Answer me, baby.” He cooes, the tip of his cock pressing against the sore cheek of your ass.

You screw your eyes shut, zeroing in on the pulsing pressure in your cunt. “Y-Yes! If you keep — if you keep touching me like that, I’m gonna…”

“No, you aren’t. You’re not gonna cum for me just yet.”

“But…”

“Nu-uh, no, no cumming.” Eddie’s mouth hovers over your ear. “Good girls cum when they're supposed to. Don’t change up on me now, Y/N. You’ve been doing so well.”

“I’m s-sorry, I can’t… can’t hold it…” You let out a strangled grunt when his fingers dig into your pulse points, fully constricting your airway as he hooks an arm around your stomach and pulls you to his chest. “Eddie, please. Wanna — wanna cum for you, just this once, an exception…”

“An exception? Sweetheart, I don’t even know you.” His eyes nearly roll back into his skull when your ass desperately grinds against him, your hand coming to rest back on his thigh as he subconsciously rocks against your shivering frame. “Fuck, but I guess I-I can try to get to know you, make it worth my while… an exception, tonight only. S’okay, Y/N. You can cum for me. Cum all you want, as hard as you need to.”

As soon as your thighs quiver around his hand, he lets go of your throat, using his now-free one to circle over your clit. You hadn’t even realized he’d been using three fingers to fuck your cunt — shit, when did that ever happen?

His mouth is hot against the slope of your shoulder, mirroring your mewls as you come undone all over his rings and knuckles. The heavy silver drips with your juices, slick coating the soft heel of his palm and the shuddering tip of Eddie’s aching cock. Your face is glazed over, chest rising and falling deeply as you collapse over the edge of the table in pure bliss.

“Fuck… fuck, that was so… good…” Eddie turns you in your hands, hoisting you up on the surface and barely giving you time to recover before you feel something slip between your folds. “Oh!” His thick head splits you open, a satisfying sting running through your body as he bottoms out and molds himself against your front. “E-Eddie!”

“I’m sorry. I know, I know it’s a lot for you, sweetheart…” He cups his hand over your mouth, muffling your sobs as he stills inside you. “Feels good though, yeah? Fuck, I can feel you squeezin’ me — holy shit, baby. Is this what you wanted? Is this your — your definition of Halloween tradition… getting your pussy filled up with my cock? You love it. You fucking love it, I can tell. I just couldn’t wait to have you… and it’s everything I-I could’ve ever dreamed of.”

“S’big, s’too big, Eds…”

“Hey, I got you…” He whispers, cradling your jaw in his palm. His warm, big eyes meet yours, a comforting brown lulling you into a trance as he thumbs at your lip. He leans in to kiss you, mouth slow and patient against yours as you gasp into him. “Gonna t-take care of you, promise. You’re gonna look so… so fucking hot with my… cum just drippin’ out…”

Eddie jerks his cock into you, before thrusting the rest of his length inside without forewarning. You cry out, vision blurring as he picks your witch hat off of the empty bench and places it on your head. “There we go, little witch… scream all you want, cry all you want… they won’t h-hear you…” Eddie pants out, purring as you reach under his shirt and run your nails down his toned stomach. “Not when they’re — fuck, blasting that awful fucking music…

“E-Eddie! Holy f-fucking shit!”

“Oh, such a shame they won’t hear all the pretty noises we make together.”

Your legs wrap around his hips, boots digging into the fabric of his cape as he fucks you hard into the creaking table. He rests his forehead to yours, nudging your nose with a sudden and sweet tenderness that has your walls fluttering around his prick.

Eddie Munson is ruthlessly fucking you in the forest.

And he’s fucking you hard.

Your hat is falling into your face. His lean arms are the only thing keeping you upright, the lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin and pornographic moans filling the woodsy atmosphere. His cock pounds into your g-spot over and over again, thrusts sloppy and amateur as Eddie rests your ankles onto his shoulders for better access to your cunt.

Sure, you got up to bad things on Halloween… but this? This certainly takes the cake.

It’s absolute filth — with his long hair sticking to your sweaty skin, the stench of wet soil fighting Eddie’s musky cologne, the slick between your thighs as you cum for a second time around his length, milking him to his very-much-needed orgasm.

You can’t tell if it’s a grunt or a sob or a moan, but Eddie buries the noises against your tender neck, hips bucking lazily as he finally releases his spill into your pussy. He stutters and pulsates inside you, the angry head of his cock throbbing as he comes down from his high.

“Jesus, M-Mary, and Ozzy…” Eddie sighs out, whimpering while you lay back against the table and wipe the runny mascara away from your eyes. His own eyeliner is smudged too — almost a little too racoon-y for his liking — but it doesn’t matter.

Doesn’t matter when his cum is seeping out of your cunt and onto the wooden tabletop beneath you. Doesn’t matter when he watches you physically shake from your orgasm and takes in the sight of your bloodied knees.

Definitely doesn’t matter when you glance down at him and give him the prettiest fucked-out smile he’s ever seen.

Yeah, that’s for sure staying ingrained in his head.

“Fucking hell.” You breathe out, biting the nail of your thumb as Eddie gently nudges his seed back into your pussy with his fingers, obviously distracted. “Hey.”

How could he make such a dirty act seem absolutely innocent?

He shyly returns the grin, pulling his boxers and jeans up before he’s wrestling with the chains around his belt buckle. “Hey, you.”

“Help me up?” You stick your palm out, mirroring the same manner of the handshake you had given him in your first twenty seconds of speaking to each other. Eddie effortlessly pulls you off of the table, keeping a cautious arm around your waist when your legs start to wobble beneath you. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

You take note of the way his nose lingers by the top of your head, inhaling your scent with a sudden yearning that makes your heart quicken when you bump against his chest.

Awkward clearings of throats, shy double takes and silent gazes at each other as you fix your wild appearances. Eddie’s unsure of what to say — goodbye? Farewell? Thank you? See you again?

God, would it be so lame if he wanted the last option?

But you beat him to it, syllables nervously strung together as you toy with his devil-horn headband in your hands. “Well, you, um, definitely lived up to tradition.”

“Did I now? Honestly just wondering how no one heard us.”

“Come on, it’s Halloween night in the middle of a haunted forest.” You blink up at him, fixing the rim of your witch hat as he peers down at you. “Have you ever seen a horror movie? You never go towards the screaming. It’s like the number one, all-time logical rule.”

Eddie waves a hand around, laughing comfortably at your presence of lightheartedness. “Oh, yeah. Never. For sure.” He huffs, glancing at his shoes before locking onto your soft eyes. His brain haywires at the sight of your doting expression, a contrast to the filthy-mouthed girl he had just been dealing with earlier. “Never.”

Snap out of it.

You clear your throat, dusting the front of your dress off as Eddie squares his shoulders and straightens his back. “So… then… I guess…”

He points at the dirt path leading to the party. “Right…”

“I’ll…”

“See you around?” He coughs out in a hopeful tone.

You don’t answer, just slowly stride past him with crunchy footsteps and a youthful smirk.

Then you’re suddenly turning on your heels and barrelling back to him, a warm hand cupping his jaw as you press a chaste kiss to his cheekbone. Eddie savors the moment, refusing to shut his eyes when you reach up on your tippy-toes and slip his horned headband back onto his mess of curls.

He looks at you as if you’ve just killed him. “You’re really something, you know that?”

Your stomach flutters. “Look, I enjoyed… tonight. And I… if ever you… you wanted to continue tradition…”

“Yeah?” He raises a brow.

“I mean, like… it doesn’t have to be yearly and it doesn’t have to be Halloween, but I…” You take a deep breath, letting your fingers trail down his jaw before your hand falls limp at your side. “I enjoyed. That’s it. And whenever you feel a bit… festive…” You exhale loudly, glancing away as Eddie tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “Just come looking for me.”

You’re being absolutely serious with him.

“Okay.”

“Good.” You turn back and make a beeline for the party, unable to hide the blossoming smile on your face when you hear the familiar hymn of Eddie’s voice abruptly calling out your name. “Yes?”

A glimmering object is tossed in your direction, landing in your palms as you instinctively reach out to catch it.

His lighter.

“Keep it. It’s all yours.”

Somehow, your grin widens even more. “I’ll see you around, then.”

Maybe Eddie Munson is a Halloween kind-of-guy. So, fuck Valentine’s, because he could get used to this. Used to you. Either way, he’s glad that he’s still got more game than Jeff and Gareth — not that he seriously doubted it in the first place, but the assurance is there.

Turns out the sexy, red gothic devil worked out for him in the end, anyways.

“See you around, little witch.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #stranger things #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things imagine #stranger things oneshot

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cillianmesoftlyyy · 3 months

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As You Wish Pt. 2 | Neil Lewis x fem!reader

Summary| Neil, still thinking about the other day, invites y/n to Gumshoe Video's movie night. The theme (besides vampires) is the 1960s and so she dresses for the part. And like any good vampire thriller- only the good stuff happens after dark...

Warnings| age gap- reader (19) Neil Lewis (27), cursing, kissing, groping, teasing, unprotected sex, penetration, no fore-play.

word count: 4261K

Midnight City- M83 🎶

Our Swords- Band of Horses 🎵

Shout out to the lovely reader who requested a part 2! This is for you!

Please read warnings and continue at your own discretion, thanks!

She can hear the chatter from outside as rain plasters the wide display windows. She stops outside Gumshoe Video and peeks her head inside, sparing her hairdo from the storm outside. Her hair was pinned into a half-beehive and curled up around her shoulders like a young Pattie Boyd. The guests inside turn when the bells above the door announce her presence. They cheer and raise their red plastic cups in greeting and she laughs back, her smile dragging widely across her face. And there he is: Neil Lewis. He’s standing beside the box tv set with a bottle of cheap beer in his hand. He’s wearing a powder blue dress shirt from the seventies and a dark blue suit. His longish hair is swept out of his face and he smiles at something someone has said. When he looks over, he sees her, and his mouth falls open.

“Oh my God! Where did you get this?” A woman swoops in from the side and admires her dress.

“It’s a replica mod dress from the 60s. I made it,” she answered with a polite smile and allowed the woman to inspect the stitching. As she raised her eyes, they met Neil’s. His eyes widened slightly as he dropped them down to her thighs before traveling back up to her face. Her dress was boxy, like that of a mod dancer, and so short that it was barely fingertip length (to use school-girl terminology). She was dressed up as a gogo dancer, red vinyl boots and all, for the showing of Gumshoe Video’s The Kiss of the Vampire. Neil bit his tongue as his eyes crawled down her body. Her dark red dress had a high modest neckline but was sleeveless and short. The fabric was a tautly starched linen that didn’t move much as she walked. It hugged her waist with a thick belt but fared out around her thighs in a fixed shape. Her makeup was a copy of one of Twiggy’s famous looks with the exaggerated eyelashes and dark eyeliner. Her eyelids were a bright blue that clashed with her red clothing, a mixing of primary colors. When the woman stepped away, she advanced shyly, resisting the urge to bite her lip and ruin her lipstick. Neil cleared his throat and nodded quickly at Lucien whom he was talking to when she had come in. His eyes darted back and forth, between her and Lucien’s prop pipe. His long eyelashes fluttered as he stole glances at her between pretending to listen to Lucien.

“Hey! Nice of you to join, I’m Jonathan.” Jonathan appeared beside her and offered his hand not holding a beer. She shook it and smiled.

“Y/N, I tried to dress for the theme.” She looked down at her costume and he nodded emphatically.

“I did too. I was going for Ringo Starr.” Jonathan twirled, showing off his bright pink military costume like the one Ringo wore for Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. She nodded and smiled.

“I see the resemblance. Who is Neil supposed to be?” She jerked her head at Neil and Jonathan sighed.

“He said that he was going as one of the Monkees but personally, I don’t see it.”

“He must have run out of costumes,” she laughed and Jonathan shrugged dramatically. As she finished that sentence, Neil broke away from Lucien, slightly breathless and placed a hand on her back in greeting. She looked up at him, curling her toes inside her shoes.

“You’re one of the Monkees?” She teased him lightly and Neil chuckled and shook his head.

“I did have a hat on, it made more sense when I was wearing the hat.”

“So you were Micheal?” She asked and he gestured wildly at her for Jonathan, “See I told you someone would get it.”

“That’s only because you both have weird niche knowledge,” Jonathan wrinkled his nose. “Uh oh, Lucien is talking to two strange women. I’m going to swoop in before he says something weird,” he hurried over to Lucien and patted him playfully on the head. Neil immediately looked down at her, his cool resolve slipping slightly. He was flustered.

“Wow,” he gestured with both hands at her costume and she blushed self-consciously. He stuttered as he tried to say something coherent. “I’m uh, just uh… wow.” He scratched the back of his head and shoved his hands into his pockets, glancing around quickly before leaning in close to her ear. “Jesus Christ you smell good too.” He shook his head, forgetting what he was originally going to say. She smiled giddily.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Do you want to see my office?” Neil cleared his throat as he looked around, trying to look natural to everyone else in the store. His slumped posture and darting eyes would betray him if anyone cared to look at him long enough. He replaced his hand on the small of her back and swirled a finger across the fabric. She played with the hem of his blazer, blushing hard.

“Hey, Neil!” A couple stopped in front of them and Neil jumped back to attention, his arm flying back behind his head and off of her body. He coughed briefly and cleared his throat.

“Hey- hey! How’s it going?” He smiled distractedly and greeted his friends. They waited expectantly to be introduced to the girl and Neil gasped slightly, remembering. “Oh sorry, this is Y/N and Y/N, this is Buddy and Marcia.” He waved between them and they all nodded at each other politely, exchanging handshakes and smiles. “Enjoy the movie!” Neil said a little over enthusiastically and Buddy furrowed his brow, slightly concerned as they walked away. Jonathan found them at the makeshift bar and chuckled.

“That’s the new girl,” he gestured with his cup and Marsha pursed her lip approvingly.

On the other side of the room, Neil turned back to her and licked his lips. “So… my office?” He raised his eyebrows and jerked his thumbs at the separate office space in the back of the store. She giggled as she dug her toe into the ground and swayed slightly against him. Neil’s smile grew as he led her from the main store area and back into the office. When she passed through the door after him, Neil closed it and lowered himself slightly, his arms going out wide as he looked her up and down again mouthing, “oh my god.”

“So you like it?” She ran her hands down the front of her dress and shifted the weight on her feet proudly.

“I mean, just look at you!” He ran his hand over his mouth and stepped in closer. The desk knocked softly into her tailbone as she retreated. “I love it,” he emphasized and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She was leaning back against the desk, her legs spread and her weight evenly distributed. Neil stepped closer, his body firmly between her legs. She worked up the courage to touch him, sliding her palms around his waist beneath his blazer.

“Your fucking thighs,” Neil whispered breathlessly as his index fingers traced around the small hairs on her upper thighs. “God…” he gasped softly, already feeling himself get hot under the collar. She rubbed her nose against his and gave him a soft peck on the mouth.

“Is that all I get?” He whispered with a furrowed brow. He ran his knuckles down her neck and tried not to gasp when he found her breasts. She kissed him again, pulling herself up higher by his shoulders. Her fingers dug into the plush fabric of his jacket’s shoulder pads. He responded immediately, shoving his tongue into her mouth. Neil pawed desperately at her, his hands grabbing at her thighs, her breasts, and her head. He pushed her up onto the desk and she whined in protest as he now towered above her. He chuckled breathlessly and dragged his hands up the inside of her thighs.

“Shh,” he smiled when she glowered, wanting to cling to him as she kissed him. When she stopped wiggling, he leaned down and kissed her slowly. She held onto his hips by hooking her fingers in his belt loops. His hands prodded further, stroking the elastic band of her underwear around her pelvis. She was wearing cotton underwear and Neil could feel the wetness pooling at her opening through the fabric. He started to fall apart as he stroked her clothed cunt with his long fingers. She squirmed on the desk in front of her and the heels of her gogo boots knocked against the desk, her back arched into him. She moved his hands beneath her skirt, looking up at him with wide suggestive eyes.

“Here? Now?” Neil whispered, slightly shocked at the girl’s suggestion. “Are you insane?” He whispered beside her ear, his voice laced with perverted desire though he tried to shake it from his voice, still wanting to be the voice of reason.

“Neil…” she muttered at him and petted his crotch with slow, heavy moves.

“What?” He whispered, an edge in his voice. His forehead was still creased and he tried to even out his breath as his cock pushed against every touch of her hand.

“You’re supposed to say, As. You. Wish.” She squeezed her thighs around his legs, just below his hips and wrapped her hands around his hips. Neil raised an eyebrow and laughed lightly. He watched her as she bore into his eyes, thick with desire. He looked her up and down and reached both hands beneath her skirt again, pulling her underwear down over her butt. She had to lean back slightly as he dragged the cotton wad down over her gogo boots. He looked down at the underwear in his palm and trilled his lips lowly.

“This is a bit more involved than I was expecting but I’m all for it,” he shrugged with a loose smirk and put the underwear on the desk beside them. She smiled and pulled on his dress shirt, prompting him to give her a satisfying kiss.

“You were the one who suggested that I see your office,” she giggled quietly.

“I needed a sense of adventure.” He muttered against her lips, his eyes closed.

“Neil… Adventure?” She smiled lazily and stroked his jaw, her short nails running dully down his neck.

“I like the sound of that,” he continued to kiss her, his nose crushing against her cheek. A knock at the door made them both jump and Neil turned around quickly, shielding her from the view of whomever was at the door.

“Neil! We’re starting the movie now and Jonathan doesn’t know how to work the player. You gotta fix it.” Lucien yelled through the door. His silhouette showed through the frosted glass.

“Fuuuuuck,” he groaned quietly and rubbed his face. His erection fell slightly at the interruption and he sighed. “Ok, Lucien. I’m coming!” He smiled falsely as he yelled back his response.

“Oh, I’m sure you are,” Lucien mumbled beneath his breath and hurried back into the store area.

“I’ll see you out there,” Neil cringed and fixed his suit as much as he could.

“Break a leg,” she smiled and hopped off of the desk, her underwear still sitting on the desk. She pulled them back on over her gogo boots and followed him out. Neil walked around to the back of the tv and checked the cables. She watched from the back of the room, a deep blush spreading across her face as she noticed the places where her red lipstick had left smudges around his mouth. She smiled down at her boots and bit her lip, trying to compose herself. Neil stepped back in front of the tv with Jonathan and announced the movie, lipstick still smudged around his wide lips.

“And now, Gumshoe Video presents the 1963 The Kiss of the Vampire,” he extended his hands to the small square tv and waggled his fingers. The audience laughed and hooted. Some glanced over at her and smiled, she blushed deeper.

“Nice touch,” one guy called from the couches and Neil stared at him blankly, his eyes then slowly drifting to her. She pointed at her mouth and rested her chin on her fist. Neil laughed it off and winked as he stepped aside and the movie started. She sat down on the couch in the back and scooted to the side as Neil joined her, collapsing with an anxious exhale.

“Kissed by a vampire,” he shook his head, “why didn’t I think of that? That would have been a perfect costume.” He spoke with his hands, and shrugged his shoulders. She hid her face in her hands to hide her smile. “Was it really that noticeable?” He whispered and she nodded, embarrassed.

“Sorry,” she giggled quietly and wiped the lipstick smudges from his face with her thumb. Jonathan moved around the spread of couches and perched on the edge of the couch beside them.

“Nice touch, Neil. I think it makes the viewing experience more realistic.” Jonathan snarked and Neil rolled his eyes.

“Shut up, Jonathan.” Neil sighed and massaged his face, pulling down on the skin. Jonathan winked at her and she smiled. Jonathan drifted off as the movie started and the title card appeared. As Neil relaxed into the couch, his hand found her thigh and rubbed his knuckles across her thigh. She leaned against him, her head resting against the wing of his shoulder as he moved his arm around her.

…

“What’d you think of the movie?” Neil shoved his hands into his pockets as they locked up Gumshoe Video, the store now completely dark.

“It’s a classic vampire movie,” she shrugged and smiled, “no notes,” she added.

It had stopped raining but the sidewalks were littered with shallow puddles of dark water. Neil chuckled and placed one hand on the small of her back as they turned away from the store.

“I thought you’d like it,” Neil smirked and she raised her eyebrow.

“Why?”

“You would 100% be the kind of girl to get abducted by an insanely attractive vampire and fall in love with him.”

“Well would he suck my blood at the end and kill me?” She pretended to consider the universe that Neil was suggesting.

“Oh of course,” Neil shrugged his shoulders up to his ears and furrowed his brows playfully.

“I can’t see it,” she shook her head and clasped her hands behind her back as they walked. She looked down at her shoes and smiled. Neil fell silent for a moment, his eyes once again trailing her up and down.

“Have I told you how amazing you look?” Neil cleared his throat.

“Yes, but I wouldn’t mind hearing it again,” she blushed and cocked her head to the side, looking into his eyes as they walked. Neil wet his lips and stopped, looking her up and down once again.

“You look amazing.” He said seriously and she looked away, self-conscious. They were stopped in front of Neil’s house, a two-story craftsman in a dark green color that looked dark blue in the darkness. She looked from the house to Neil’s face, the front porch light reflecting in his bright blue eyes. Neil laughed awkwardly when he realized that they had stopped at his house.

“Will you come inside?” He twisted his hips casually, jerking his head once at the front door. The girl exhaled shakily and nodded.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She answered with a nervous smile.

Neil broke into a large smile, the lines of his cheekbones stretching down to the edge of his jaw beside his pink lips. They climbed the stairs to the house and Neil let her inside, his eyes traveling up the length of her body as she stepped into the house in front of him. Neil closed the door behind him, exhaling slowly. She met his eyes when she turned back and smiled shyly when she noticed how he stared at her.

“Do you want to kiss me?” She asked him quietly. Neil nodded emphatically, his hand still on the doorknob behind him.

“Then come here and kiss me,” she whispered and turned fully to face him. She felt her cunt grow hot and heat billowed down her thighs. Neil clenched his jaw and swallowed, his eyes now fixed on the girl’s mouth. He pushed himself off of the door and approached her, his hips swaying slightly as he walked. She kept her arms by her side as Neil wrapped gentle fingers around her upper arms, right above her elbows, and held his lips within inches of hers. She savored the way he smelled, like laundry detergent and mouthwash. He smelled like what she imagined domestic masculinity would smell like if it could be bottled. She sighed softly before he kissed her, his lips drawing hers between his. He held her in place, not aggressively, and kissed her, moving his head occasionally to taste her from different angles.

When he broke away she took a step back and clasped her hands behind her back girlishly. Neil laughed like a schoolboy, shocked by the surge of desire and energy he felt just from the kiss.

“Can I take you upstairs?” He leaned his arm against the wall and pointed to the staircase in front of them. She bit her lip, trying to stop from laughing hysterically from nerves. She took a step backwards and stepped onto the bottom step, facing Neil.

“Ask me again,” she teased and bit her lip harder. Neil exhaled sharply as he felt his cock twitch aggressively in his pants. The dark room threw her body into shadow and the windows above the stairs illuminated her silhouette. He wet his lips and asked again.

“Can I take you upstairs?”

She could still make out his blue eyes in the dark as the windows provided enough light to catch their color. She took a few more steps up, still facing him.

“As you wish,” she whispered. Neil laughed, thrilled by her little game. He hurried up the stairs but she kept a few steps between them at all times until she reached the top of the stairs. She backed up into the wall beside the window and allowed Neil to close in on her. Neil held her hips in his large hands and kissed her again, this time snaking his tongue into her mouth, testing the waters. They stumbled away from the stairs and rushed into a doorway, Neil catching himself on the doorframe with both arms so that he could turn her around. He twisted her around so that her back was to his bed.

Neil’s room was exactly as one would expect. His walls were decorated with movie posters with the addition of a few select female movie stars that he had the hots for. He helped the girl back onto the bed and leaned over her on the bed. She weaved her fingers through the hair on the back of his neck and traced his jaw with her palms. He worked quickly to pull off her gogo boots and slipped off his suit jacket. She moved onto her knees on the edge of the mattress and slid each button out of its eyelet on his power blue shirt. Neil shrugged it off and pulled each sleeve over his wrists, dropping it to the floor. She pressed her hands against his chest and placed a few shaky kisses against his warm skin. Neil sighed pleasurably and swept her hair over her shoulders to lie flat down her back. Looking up at him, she moved her hand down to the zipper at his crotch. Neil’s eye widened as she unzipped his fly and slid her hand down into the front of his hands, beneath his underwear. She cupped his erection in her hand and rubbed her hand down the hot and trembling length. Neil sputtered as she stroked him, his hands returned to the bed on either side of her body. She leaned down so that she could kiss the side of his neck while she jerked him off. Precum coated his cock so her hand slid easily over him and she shivered when she heard Neil gasp softly beside her ear.

“Fuck, you’re full of fucking suprises,” he panted and squeezed his eyes shut. She exhaled against his neck and left a fresh hickey before responding.

“This isn’t a movie, Neil. You can’t predict the ending.”

She pulled her hand out of his pants and kissed his briefly as she scooted farther into the bed. Neil watched her breathlessly, his face hot. He watched her as she unzipped the side of her dress and pulled it over her head. Her bare breasts confronted the cold air by hardening. Neil’s jaw nearly fell open when he saw her, exposed like that. All that remained on her body was the cotton underwear which he allowed his gaze to linger on, camouflage by her thighs. She laid back on the bed and propped herself up on her elbows, her stomach trembling with nerves and desire. Neil’s erection pushed noticeably against his boxers. With his eyes still trained on the girl, he pushed down his pants and crawled onto the bed, stopping over her. He lowered his mouth to her neck and kissed the soft flesh there, savoring how warm she was against his mouth. She worked her underwear down and he could feel her hips shift on the mattress which thrilled him. He sat back to look at her, fully nude now. He raised her leg into the air and kissed down her calf, stopping at the underside of her knee.

“I want to fuck you,” Neil saidbreathlessly as he moved his fingers down her thigh. She smiled darkly, her bow mouth drawn up into a smirk. His cock throbbed in his underwear and hovered above her navel.

“Say it again,” she whispered. Neil raised an eyebrow and exhaled anxiously.

“I want to fuck you.”

“Again.”

“I want,” he leaned down to her ear and shoved a finger inside her gently, “to fuck you.” She whimpered and bit her lip.

“Again,” she struggled to say the words, her cheeks flushed.

“No, honey. You’re supposed to say, as you wish.” Neil whispered against her skin, his finger curling inside her. He smiled when she squirmed and moaned.

“Ah, fuck- fuck me,” she gasped before Neil crushed his mouth against hers. He pulled down his boxers just enough to free his erection and centered himself at her cunt which was throbbing as much as he was.

“As you wish,” he chuckled and removed his finger, swapping it out for his cock. He pushed in gently, working his tip inside her slowly as she squirmed needily beneath him. She was tight from nerves and inexperience and he whined despite himself as he went deeper. Her hands found his back and gripped into his flesh. He watched as his cock struggled to fit all the way inside her and moaned loudly when he saw her mouth held open in pleasurable shock.

“Is it ok?” He groaned and stroked her flushed cheek. Her red lipstick was smudged again on her chin and he swiped his thumb across it.

“Mmhm, yes.” She nodded and bit her lip as he thrusted in farther. Once her body got used to his length, he was able to pull out and thrust back in. It took only seconds but the sensations felt as though they were happening over hours. He fucked her gently but fast, his hips rocking against hers and shaking the mattress. She pushed her heels into the mattress and arched her hips up into his pelvis. Neil found it delightfully needy and thrusted deeper, eliciting a loud gasp from the girl.

“Do you like that?” Neil smiled and cupped her chin with his hand.

“Uh huh, yeah.” She panted as her eyes rolled back into her head.

“You’re being such a good girl,” Neil praised her and cussed beneath his breath as he felt her walls tighten around him. His hips bucked aggressively into her over and over again and she yelled and gasped in pleasure. He looked down at his cock, slick with her precum, sliding in and out of her. He held her thighs and coaxed her deeper onto his cock, she gasped and bit her lip, her breasts bouncing against her chest. Neil groaned at the sight and fucked her messily, lossing control as he felt how wet she and tight she was getting as she neared her orgasm.

“Good girl! I’m so close.” He panted quietly and she wrapped her fingers loosely around the nape of his neck.

“Cum inside me,” she pleaded.

“What?”

“Cum inside me,” she repeated, more delirious with pleasure.

“Say it again,” he smirked, playing her at her own game.

“Cum. in. me.” Her words tumbled out in a jumbled mess as she started to climax. Her thighs were tightening and her muscles flexed. He groaned helplessly as she came around him.

“As you wish,” he managed to answer as he buckled his hips against her and prompted himself to finish inside, spilling cum into her. He thrusted as he finished and exhaled when he finally pulled out. She worked to catch her breath as he collapsed beside her on the bed.

“Fuck.” He sighed and rubbed his face.

“Yeah.” She laughed lightly and cupped her cunt, still riding out the lasting waves of climax.

#cillian murphy #fanfiction #cillian x reader #cillian x fem!reader #neil lewis x fem!reader #neil lewis x y/n #neil lewis smut #neil lewis x reader #neil lewis #watching the detectives #young cillian murphy #fem!reader #y/n

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pearlprincess02 · 27 days

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playlist for: ARIES EDITION

part 1 for more artist

BY ARIES MOONS

"ambitionz az a ridah" - tupac / "scream & shout" - will.i.am (feat. britney spears) / "bitch better have my money" - rihanna / "see you again" - wiz khalifa feat. charlie puth / "queen of the night" - whitney houston / "dear mama" - tupac / "drip" - cardi b (feat. migos) / "work" - rihanna (feat. drake) / "so emotional" - whitney houston / "money" - cardi b / "just like a pill" - pink / "come & get it" - selena gomez / "ring" - cardi b (feat. kehlani) / "i needed you" - blackbear / "where have you been" - rihanna / "young, wild & free" - snoop dogg & wiz khalifa (feat. bruno mars) / "bodak yellow" - cardi b / "on my own" - ross lynch / "raise your glass" - p!nk / "exchange" - bryson tiller / "love you like a love song" - selena gomez / "california love" - tupac / "hot girl bummer" - blackbear / "diamonds" - rihanna / blow me (one last kiss) - p!nk / "don't" - bryson tiller / "idfc" - blackbear / "feelin' myself" - will.i.am (feat. miley cyrus, wiz khalifa, french montana)

MORE SONGS (JUST VIBES)

"roar" - katy perry /"run the world (girls)" - beyoncé / "uptown funk" - mark ronson (feat. bruno mars) / "stronger" - kanye west / "don't stop believin'" by journey / "fighter" - christina aguilera / "eye of the tiger" - survivor / "i will survive" - gloria gaynor / "can't hold us" - macklemore & ryan lewis (feat. ray dalton)

BY 1ST HOUSE MOONS

"i wanna dance with somebody (who loves me)" - whitney houston / "thriller" - michael jackson / "kill bill" - sza / "chained to the rhythm" - katy perry (feat. skip marley) / "big pimpin'" - jay-z (feat. UGK) / "i like it" - cardi b (feat. bad bunny, j balvin) / "breaking the habit" - linkin park / "sex" - the 1975 / "greatest love of all" - whitney houston / "firework" - katy perry / "black or white" - michael jackson / "robbers" - the 1975 / "broken clocks" - sza / "bartier cardi" - cardi b (feat. 21 savage) / "i will always love you" - whitney houston / "unconditionally" - katy perry "run this town" - jay-z (feat. rihanna & kanye west) / "i'm every woman" - whitney houston /"don't stop 'til you get enough" - michael jackson / "the weekend" - sza / "numb" - linkin park / "WAP" - cardi b (feat. megan thee stallion) / "california gurls"- katy perry (feat. snoop dogg) / "empire state of mind" - jay-z (feat. alicia keys) / "good days" - sza / "material girl" - madonna

MORE SONGS (JUST VIBES)

"stronger (what doesn't kill you)" - kelly clarkson / "unwritten" - natasha bedingfield / "titanium" - david guetta feat. sia / "eye of the tiger" - survivor / "brave" - sara bareilles / "shake it out" - florence + the machine / "the middle" - jimmy eat world

aries moon playlist (honorable mention : moon - mars aspects)

BY ARIES VENUSES

"home with you" - madison beer / "alejandro" - lady gaga / "american idiot" - green day / "consideration" - rihanna (feat. sza) / "fantasy" - mariah carey / "pretty savage"- blackpink / "born this way" - lady gaga / "BOYSHIT" - madison beer / "EARFQUAKE" - tyler, the creator / "feel special" - twice / "obsessed" - mariah carey / "judas" - lady gaga / "hips don't lie" - shakira (feat. wyclef jean) / "needed me" - rihanna / "911 / mr. lonely" - tyler, the creator (feat. frank ocean and steve lacy) / "FANCY" - twice "baby" - madison beer / "it's not living (if it's not with you)" - the 1975 / "DDU-DU DDU-DU" - blackpink / "bad romance" - lady gaga / "when i come around" - green day / "rude boy" - rihanna / "see you again"- tyler, the creator (feat. kali uchis) / "selfish" - madison beer / "what is love?" - twice / "robbers" - the 1975 / "holiday" - green day / "is this love" - bob marley & the wailers / "IFHY" - tyler, the creator (feat. pharrell williams) / "I CAN'T STOP ME" - twice / "reckless" - madison beer / "girls" - the 1975 /

MORE SONGS (JUST VIBES)

"can't be tamed" - miley cyrus / "S&M" - rihanna / "womanizer" - britney spears / "i will always love you" - whitney houston / "love me harder" - ariana grande (feat. the weeknd) / "break free" - ariana grande (feat. zedd) / "we found love" - rihanna (feat. calvin harris) / "heart attack" - demi lovato

BY 1ST HOUSE VENUSES

"hot n cold" - katy perry / "pillowtalk" - zayn / "girlfriend" - avril lavigne / "formation" - beyoncé / "boss bitch" - doja cat / "good 4 u" - olivia rodrigo / "last friday night (T.G.I.F.)" - katy perry / "entertainer" - zayn / "déjà vu" - beyoncé (feat. jay-z) / "hurricane" - halsey / "favorite crime" - olivia rodrigo / "dark horse" - katy perry (feat. juicy j) / "dusk till dawn" - zayn (feat. sia) / "irreplaceable" - beyoncé / "now or never" - halsey / "complicated" - avril lavigne / "best friend" - saweetie (feat. doja cat) / "teenage dream" - katy perry / "drunk in love" - beyoncé (feat. jay-z) / "without me" - halsey / "chanel" - frank ocean / "juicy" - doja cat / "flawless" - beyoncé (remix feat. nicki minaj) / "my type" - saweetie / traitor"- olivia rodrigo / "self control" - frank ocean / "streets" - doja cat / "good years" - zayn / "partition" - beyoncé / "control" - halsey / "sk8er boi" - avril lavigne / "rare" - selena gomez / "pyramids" - frank ocean / "graveyard" - halsey / "single ladies (put a ring on it)" - beyoncé / "hands to myself" - selena gomez / "tap in" - saweetie / "woman" - doja cat / "bad idea right?" - olivia rodrigo / "my happy ending" - avril lavigne / "nights" - frank ocean / "who says" - selena gomez / "better" - zayn / "ghost" - halsey / "say so" - doja cat / "moon river" - frank ocean / "obsessed" - olivia rodrigo / "when you're gone" - avril lavigne / "love you like a love song" - selena gomez / "gasoline" - halsey

MORE SONGS (JUST VIBES)

"feelin' myself" - nicki minaj (feat. beyoncé) / "fancy" - iggy azalea (feat. charli xcx) / "confident" - demi lovato / "glamorous" - fergie ft. ludacris / "love myself" - hailee steinfeld / "me too" - meghan trainor / "beautiful" - christina aguilera / "pretty hurts" - beyoncé /

aries venus playlist (honorable mention : venus - mars aspects)

OTHER ARIES PLAYLIST

aries sun playlist (honorable mention : sun in 1st house, sun - mars aspects)

aries rising playlist (honorable mention : mars in 1st house, mars - asc aspects , mars dominants)

main masterlist

©pearlprincess0

#aries moon #aries venus #astrology #astro notes #astro community #astro observations #astrology observations #astro placements #astro tumblr #astroblr #astrology notes #playlist #spotify playlist #venus in 1st house #moon in 1st house #aries sun #aries rising #aries

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octuscle · 19 days

Note

I like to be a fighter from Albania, Serbia or another country like these: good looking, strong and proud and producing at least 12 sons as little fighters too. Dream or reality? you choose, chronivac

Strange wish for a 45-year-old administrative employee at Swiss Post. This is not exactly the place for fighters…

When you finish work, your body feels exhausted. Not like after a physically strenuous day… More like after hard work. Or after a visit to the gym. Not that you've ever been to a gym… Or ever worked hard physically… It's a strange feeling. And it doesn't go away when you enjoy the end of the day with a beer in front of the TV as usual. Actually, you should have been watching a thriller right now. But you're watching the Serbian soccer league. One hand on the beer bottle. One always on your cock and your balls…

Something is different the next morning… You have a lot more beard than usual. Looks good. Why do you always go to the office clean-shaven? You trim the beard a little. Feels very normal. Where's your deodorant? Never mind, I'll have to go without it today… You grab your briefcase, pack your breakfast sandwich and set off for work on your bike. You sit down at your desk. You start working on files. You have trouble sitting still. Shit, you need to move! During your lunch break, you go to the Balkan grill. And you don't realize that you're talking in Serbian to the other men who are taking their break standing up. After your lunch break, you make your rounds through the building. Your job at the in-house post office is not particularly demanding. But you can't imagine working at a desk. You need to get moving. That's why you can't wait to go to the gym after work. Get your muscles burning first. And then train your skills as a street fighter in the ring.

It's a long streetcar ride to the council housing estate on the outskirts of the city. It's one of the first warm evenings. A few of your neighbors are sitting with a beer at the playground in front of one of the run-down apartment blocks. You join them. You don't feel like going back to the small apartment you share with your siblings.

You share your room with two of your brothers. They both work on the assembly line and are on the late shift this week. You try not to wake anyone when you get up at 4:30 am. The garbage collection job is hard work, but it pays well. You can save a lot of money so that you can soon afford your own little house in Belgrade. Zurich is a good city to earn money. But not to live here.

You are a man's household. You can see that. Your bathroom is pretty filthy. Well, you don't really hit the toilet bowl yourself when you piss. Apart from that, just a bit of washing up. What's the point of more? You'll start sweating faster than you'd like.

Most of the guys who work with you are from the Balkans. Many from Croatia and Bosnia. Their parents often fled from your parents during the civil war. But you don't give a damn. The Balkans are the Balkans. In a foreign country with the snooty Swiss, that welds you together. You are a close-knit community. A community of real men. Not wimps like the locals. You are brothers. You have more brothers than the six men you share the apartment with. And you all meet up at the gym in the evenings. The only place where you spend a few of your hard-earned Swiss francs. The rest is saved for a better future.

There is no better place than the gym. Hard training, hard fights, hard sex. Yes, sometimes you also have to bang a woman. So as not to get out of practice. And Swiss whores are easy to come by. You're all real guys who look and smell like men. The whores don't find anything like that among their fellow countrymen. But it's even better if one of your compatriots or an inferior Christian from the Balkans loses to you in a boxing match. The loser gets fucked. And you fuck a lot!

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #tank top #age reduction #ai image #race change

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phillippadgettwrites · 4 months

Note

Could you write a pre x-files hook up please? 🙈

December 31, 1984

Rated X / 3599 words / Posted on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

December 31, 1984

College Park, MD

10:38 pm

The air is so thick with cigarette smoke and Drakkar Noir that it’s starting to give Mulder a headache. Or perhaps his headache is from the blare of highly synthesized music pounding against his eardrums, though at least the music serves to drown out his miserable thoughts. He swallows the last of his beer, wincing at how warm and sour it’s become as he nursed it over the course of at least ninety minutes.

“You wanna another?” Adam slurs from beside him.

Mulder turns to look at his friend, who is red-faced and glassy-eyed. He’s never understood how people can drink so heavily night after night and still manage to function, though he supposes that Adam might have lower standards of living than he does.

“Nah, I’m good,” he says, leaning back and slinging his arm across the top of the cushioned bench on which he and Adam are seated.

He surveys the room, which is packed shoulder-to-shoulder with sweaty twentysomethings in various stages of carnal pursuit. In a corner near the bathrooms, he spots a woman with her skirt hiked up around her hips and a man in a cheap flashy suit unmistakably working his dick through his open zipper in preparation to fuck her. Mulder looks away instinctively, but within seconds his eyes wander back over to them. They can’t reasonably be expecting privacy, can they? The man steps up close and bends his knees a little, and Mulder watches the woman’s face raptly as her mouth falls open before her eyes roll back in her head. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat as his cock stirs, threatening an unwelcome erection.

“Betcha don’t see that at Oxford,” Adam says loudly, jabbing Mulder in the ribs with his elbow.

Mulder follows his line of sight to the very same couple he’d been watching. The woman now has her legs wrapped around the man’s hips and her arms around his neck, and he’s slamming into her sharply over and over.

“No, can’t say that I do,” Mulder says dryly.

Truthfully, he’d rather be back at Oxford than here in this smoky club with a childhood friend he now wonders what he ever had in common with. The invitation to spend Christmas break on Adam’s couch instead of on the Vineyard making awkward conversation with his mother sounded too good to be true, and so far it’s been exactly that. He feels lonely and homesick, and wildly out of place.

“Fuck, I need to get some of that,” Adam says, openly gawking at the live pornography occurring in the corner of the room.

“Well, the night is young,” Mulder says encouragingly, clapping his friend on the shoulder. “But I think you’re going to have to actually talk to someone if you want to be getting laid by midnight.”

Adam heaves a blustering sigh.

“You’re right. I’m gonna go find my girl,” he says with a cheesy but hopeful smile.

Adam disappears into the sea of bodies and Mulder heads for the bar. It’s so crowded he has to elbow his way to the rail, then squeeze in sideways behind a man in a Thriller-esque red leather jacket.

“What’ll it be?” the bartender asks brusquely, barely looking at him.

“Just water, please.”

The bartender makes a disapproving face before pouring a half-full glass of tepid water, no ice, and pushing it unceremoniously across the counter at him.

“Thanks a lot,” Mulder says under his breath, but the bartender has already moved on.

He sips at his water and tunes into the conversations occurring around him. Women laugh at decidedly unfunny jokes while men talk up their expensive degrees and trust funds, and Mulder shakes his head at how performative it all is.

“My DeLorean is right outside, you know,” Red Leather Jacket is saying. “We could get outta here.”

“No thank you,” says a female voice from beside him.

“Awe, come on! I bet you’ve never seen gull-wing doors on a car before, have you?” Red Leather says insistently.

“I don’t think my boyfriend would approve,” the woman says. “In fact, I bet he’s looking for me.”

“Now you’re making up a boyfriend?” Red Leather scoffs.

Mulder leans back and peeks around Red Leather Jacket’s shoulder to see the woman he’s addressing. She’s petite and looks quite young, though her sequined blue minidress and heavy makeup are a clear attempt to appear older. Her cinnamon hair is piled up on top of her head, and she’s nervously chewing on the straw in her glass as Red Leather Jacket berates her. Mulder gets the impression that this has been going on since long before he showed up.

“I’m not making anything up,” she insists, but it’s as clear to Mulder as it is to Red Leather Jacket that she’s lying.

“Listen, I get it,” Red Leather says to her, leaning in. “You don’t want me to think you’re easy. I’m willing to work for it, sweetheart.” He reaches out and lays his massive hand on her tiny shoulder, and the woman visibly recoils.

Mulder takes two steps into the crowd and then turns back, forcing his way into the space beside the woman. When he reaches her, he slides his arm across the tops of her shoulders, knocking Red Leather’s hand away. The woman looks up at him sharply, and is opening her mouth to speak when he interrupts her.

“Hey honey, I’ve been looking all over for you,” he says warmly, leaning down to drop a kiss to her cheek. She’s short as shit and she smells amazing, and when a confused smile blooms on her pouty mouth his heart skips two beats.

“I thought you might be,” she says, catching on and threading her arm around his waist.

Red Leather Jacket gapes at them for a beat, then turns on his heel and bulldozes his way through the crowd angrily. Mulder watches him go, his arm still around the woman’s shoulders and hers still around his waist.

“Thank you,” the woman says, withdrawing her arm.

Mulder follows suit reluctantly, stepping away from her and into the space vacated by Red Leather Jacket.

“Happy to help,” he says lightly. “Didn’t seem like he was going to take ‘no’ for an answer.”

“No, it didn’t,” the woman says sadly, her eyes on the bartop.

“I’m Fox, by the way,” he says, offering his hand.

She lifts her eyes, which are incredibly blue, and looks him over dubiously before slipping her slender hand into his. Her palm is smooth and cold from her glass, and a little shiver runs up his spine.

“Dana,” she says.

“Dana,” he repeats, testing out the weight of it on his tongue. Under the flashing lights he can see freckles on the bridge of her nose, and there’s something both incredibly youthful and incredibly sage about her. “I hope you don’t take offense to this, but are you…allowed to be in here?” he asks with a little cringe.

She blinks at him, her expression unreadable.

“I’m in here, aren’t I?” she finally says, quite haughtily, and he’s immediately smitten.

“That you are,” he agrees. “Can I buy you a drink?”

Dana pivots her body away from the bar and towards him, which his behaviorist’s mind picks up on as a good sign. She tilts her face up and considers him openly, not at all disguising her skepticism.

“That depends,” she says. “Does the drink come with strings attached? Explicit or otherwise?”

Mulder feels his cheeks warm.

“No, not at all,” he says emphatically. “I mean, I was hoping for a conversation, but it’s not requisite. You can take the drink to go if you want.”

A tiny sliver of a smile teases one corner of her mouth, and she looks away.

“Okay then,” she says. “Gin and tonic.”

“I have something to confess,” she shouts loudly in his ear to be heard over the music. Her tongue is thick in her mouth, adding emphasis to her already sibilant S’s.

“I won’t tell anybody,” Mulder shouts back, equally inebriated.

They’ve migrated to a table and she’s sitting so close to him she’s practically in his lap, which he keeps telling himself it’s just because the music is so loud and not because she’s interested in him. He also keeps reminding himself that she lives over 3,000 miles away and he’ll likely never see her again. Dana. Navy brat. Pre-med. Five feet and three inches of sass and intellect. He’s known her for a little over an hour and it feels like a year. He even met her sister, for Christ’s sake.

“I’m not actually allowed to be in here,” she tells him, her lips grazing the shell of his ear and her hot breath sending shockwaves straight to his groin.

His stomach drops out a little. Not that he’s done anything untoward beyond buying her alcohol, but he’s certainly had a series of indecent thoughts about her that he wouldn’t have indulged in had he known she was underage.

She leans away and, seeing the look on his face, grabs his forearm and smiles a megawatt, dazzling smile.

“My twenty-first birthday is in less than two months,” she explains, and he blows out a stream of air through pursed lips.

“You scared me for a second there,” he says, noting that her hand is still on his arm.

“Why, were you hoping to take me home?” she asks.

He slowly lifts his eyes to hers. She’s smiling, though not in a way that makes him think the question was meant to be taken as a joke. Perhaps she was testing the waters to see how he’d react.

“No,” he says, and a flash of embarrassment crosses her face. “But only because I’m crashing on my buddy’s couch, so I don’t really have a home to take you to.”

She laughs loudly, and his heart clutches.

TEN! NINE! EIGHT! SEVEN! SIX!

They both startle and look around as the entire room begins to shout in unison.

FIVE! FOUR! THREE! TWO! ONE!

They’ve been so engrossed in conversation he hadn’t even realized it was almost midnight.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Her mouth is a hot, wet surprise. Her tongue, her teeth, the evergreen bite of gin on her breath, her hands possessively cupping his jaw. He’s startled, and then delighted, and then enamored because she kisses like it’s the main event. They keep kissing long after the rest of the room has moved on, long enough that his hands are drifting up her pantyhose-covered thighs and under the hem of her dress, and he’s no longer trying to hide the erection tenting the front of his slacks.

Dana pulls away from him abruptly and his mouth hangs open, stupefied. Her lipstick is smeared all around her mouth and her pupils are wide and dark.

“My apartment is a five minute walk from here and my roommate went home for break,” she says breathlessly, and Mulder nods.

The walk is actually only three minutes if you’re drunk, horny, and highly motivated. By the fifth minute he’s already inside her living room, scraping his arms to shit on her sequined dress as he wrestles it off her. Pantyhose, bra, some seriously sexy little black panties that he might take more time to appreciate were his balls not about to explode. All are tossed to the floor en route to her bedroom, and his cock is in her mouth shortly thereafter.

Thank god he’s drunk. Thank god, because her mouth is like a siphon and she keeps looking up at him, those brilliant blue eyes so full of lust he wishes he could come twice. She doesn’t seem inclined to stop, so he finally begs for mercy and asks if he can return the favor. She’s reluctant, bashful all of a sudden, and he doesn’t push. Instead he slips his hand between her thighs and audibly groans at how wet she is.

“Is this okay?” he asks, teasing the pad of his middle finger around her opening. He feels her flutter against him and she lets out a ragged sigh.

“Okay,” she says breathily, momentarily confusing him. “You can if you want. But you don’t have to.”

Approximately three minutes later she’s coming in his mouth, her fingers twisted up so tightly in his hair it actually hurts.

“Oh god, oh god,” she keeps saying over and over, and he’s so pleased with himself he smiles right against her cunt.

He isn’t expecting to get laid. This is partly because he doesn’t get the sense that she has a lot of casual sex, and partly because of the way her eyes widened when she pulled his cock out of his slacks—not impressed, but intimidated. He can’t blame her; she’s probably ninety-five pounds soaking wet and he’s aware that he’s well above average. If she’s courteous enough to finish him off with a handjob, he’ll consider himself one lucky S.O.B.

His chin is still wet from her slippery cunt when she pushes his shoulder back and climbs on top of him. She’s surprisingly strong, as small as she is, and there’s a condom in her hand that he doesn’t remember her retrieving. She sits proudly in his lap, his cock standing at attention in front of the patch of ginger curls between her legs, and casts him a drunkenly nervous glance.

“I’ve never—” she starts, and he feels a flash of adrenaline.

“We don’t have to,” he interjects, and she quirks her head at him.

“I’m not a virgin,” she corrects him, clearly mildly offended, and he breathes a sigh of relief. “But I’ve never…I’m honestly not sure it’s gonna fit,” she finally says, deadpan, and he laughs.

“Valid concern,” he says. He reaches up to push her hair behind her ear and she briefly closes her eyes. “Whatever you wanna do, I’m game. You’re the boss.”

She nods, considering him for a moment, and then unwraps the condom.

Even through his drunken haze, he’s touched by how much she seems to trust him. He lies perfectly still, feasting with his eyes as she lifts her hips and reaches between her legs to line him up. Slowly, slowly, slowly she sinks down on him, inch by delicious inch, pausing now and then to kiss him while her body adjusts. Finally, he feels the slight weight of her settle fully against his pelvis, and she sighs contentedly.

“Ta da,” she says in a singsong voice, and he looks up at her sweetly smiling face.

“Congratulations,” he says tightly.

She laughs and her cunt laughs too, quivering around him and making him moan. She leans forward and her entire demeanor shifts, her girlish smile giving way to a decidedly naughty smirk as she draws her hips up a little and then sinks back down.

“Jesus Christ,” Mulder hisses, his hands on her hips and his fingers digging desperately into the flesh there.

“I don’t think he’d approve of this,” Dana says, her voice high and syrupy.

They don’t speak any more after that. The slow rise and fall of her hips steadily increases in pace until she’s slipping haphazardly forward and back, eyes closed, mouth open, eyebrows drawn together in an expression of pure bliss. Mulder tries to think about absolutely anything but the strangling grip she has on him, how wet she is, how tight, how beautiful. He’s not sure if she can come again, not sure if she even wants to, he just knows he doesn’t want this to end.

“Oh, I’m coming,” she says suddenly, seeming surprised, and he is gone before he has a split second to consider otherwise. His shoulders lurch up off the mattress, every muscle in his body contracts, and feeling her coming around him while he is also coming is one of the most intense sexual experiences of his life to date.

She collapses against him, their hammering hearts pounding at each other through their respective rib cages, and he rubs one hand over her back as he fights to stay awake in his drunken, post-orgasmic state.

“That was incredible,” he remembers hearing her mumble, and then nothing.

He wakes up disoriented and with a pounding headache. It’s not that he doesn’t remember it—thankfully, he remembers everything—but that it feels like a dream.

He’s naked, which is to be expected, and the mattress beside him is empty and cold. When he throws back the covers to begin the search for his underwear, he finds that the condom is still snugly wrapped around his flaccid cock, the tip of it heavy with congealing semen. This he finds borderline disgusting, and immediately he wonders if Dana woke to the image of him splayed out naked on her bed with a spent condom hanging off his dick, which makes his cheeks warm with embarrassment. He finds a tissue and removes the offending item, then slowly gets dressed as nausea begins to creep in.

When he opens the bedroom door he finds the apartment quiet, though if he strains his ears he can hear the ruffle of a newspaper. He darts into the bathroom to splash water on his face and use some of her toothpaste as makeshift mouthwash before he finds her in the kitchen.

She’s seated on a stool at the counter, her posture ramrod straight and a pair of gold rimmed glasses perched on her nose. She looks up when she hears his footsteps and he’s struck by how different she looks. There isn’t a stitch of makeup on her face, which is much more freckled than he realized last night at the bar, and her mouth devoid of lipstick is still tantalizingly pink and plump. She has a decidedly “girl next door” quality about her, and a wide grin breaks out over his face.

“Hi,” he says, and she folds up the newspaper and removes her glasses before she replies.

“Good morning,” she says, meeting his eye in short bursts. “There’s coffee, if you’d like some. Mugs are in the cabinet above the pot.”

“Thanks,” he says with a bob of his head, but makes no move to take her up on the offer.

There’s an awkward silence wherein he tries to make eye contact and she diligently avoids it. Eventually she clears her throat and forces herself to look at him.

“I…” she starts, then pauses and runs her tongue across her bottom lip. “I know this sounds cliche, but I feel like I should tell you that I really don’t do…that. Or at least I never have before.”

He understands what she means, but can’t resist the urge to try and get a laugh out of her.

“So you were a virgin, then?” he asks, and she snaps her head up to look at him, her expression of alarm fading into one of feigned irritation when she sees the smile on his face. She rolls her eyes and it feels like a victory.

“I’ve never slept with someone I just met,” she clarifies.

Mulder shrugs.

“Neither have I,” he says.

She narrows her eyes at him skeptically.

“Why do I find that hard to believe?” she asks.

Mulder crosses the rest of the room and perches on the stool beside her.

“I don’t know, why do you?” he asks.

She gives him a long look with her blonde eyelashes and the bluest irises he’s ever seen up close.

“I guess…” she begins, then looks at her lap. “I guess I figured if it was that easy for you to get me into bed, it must be something you do often,” she admits.

For a fraction of a second he worries that he pressured her into something she didn’t want, but his memory is sharp enough to quickly correct him.

“I know I was pretty hammered last night, but I could have sworn it was you who got me into bed,” he chides her gently, being careful to keep any judgment out of his voice.

She peeks up at him from beneath those blonde lashes, and he honestly can’t tell whether she’s proud or ashamed. Maybe both.

“I can only imagine what you must think of me,” she says, her tone unreadable.

She’s so fascinating to him, though he can’t quite pin down why. He wants to know her, but suspects that knowing her isn’t easy to do.

“I think you’re smart, and beautiful, and I wish I didn’t live on the other side of the Atlantic,” he says, quite plainly, and while she does not look at him he can see that she’s smiling.

“Thank you,” she says quietly.

He doesn’t stay long, not wanting to put her in the position of having to ask him to go. Before he leaves, he writes his mother’s address on the back cover of a Glamour magazine and tells her he’ll likely be moving back to The States after he graduates this spring. He doesn’t ask her to contact him, and she doesn’t make any empty promises that she will.

She walks him to the door and she’s even shorter than she’d been the night before without her heels on. He lingers at the threshold, not feeling quite ready to say goodbye.

“Would it be okay if I kissed you?” he asks, and her mouth quirks with an almost-smile.

She nods, and they share a chaste but lingering kiss before he walks back to the club where his car is parked, a shit-eating grin plastered to his face every step of the way.

#x files fanfic #the x files #xf fic #xf fanfic

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whatsaninterestingplacethisis · 5 months

Text

Hot Stuff

Imagine

Nico Hischier x Latina!Reader

Synop: y/n and friends go out to a 80s theme night club because why not.

cw: drinking

a/n: this is very “cheesy”, very movie magic, does not happen in real life

+++

You were dressed in boot cut jeans with black booties and a satin button up blouse, with the top buttons unbuttoned.

“Do I or do I not look hot?” Your friend walks into your room posing in her 80s themed skimpy outfit.

“You look hot.” You say with lack of emotion as you zipped up your boots.

“Wow thanks I really believed you there.” She nudges your shoulder and looks at both of your reflections in the mirror.

“I look hot. You look hot. So cheer up and let’s go to the kitchen, everyone is taking pre gamers!” She hugs your shoulders tightly before joining the rest outside.

“I’m not drinking tonight!” she was long gone to hear. You weren’t much the drinker, other nights you would participate but tonight seemed better sober.

You walk out to the kitchen to see everyone in their get up and truth be told everyone did look hot.

“Cmon y/n/n! Take at least one shot!”

“Yeah how do you expect to dance tonight without being intoxicated?”

One of your friends was right, to dance to 80s jams without any alcohol in your system seemed futile.

“Alright,” You swished the drink down and the Uber was ready to pick you guys up.

+++

To your surprise the club had a lot more people than first to be expected. There were many madona blondes and Michael Jackson thrillers. It was the month of October, so in a way tonight was kind of a Halloween celebration.

As soon as you and your friends walked in, one dragged all of you to the bar, swiftly ordering tonight’s meal.

So much for not drinking, because before you knew it you’re three beers in, starting to feel inebriated, dancing your heart out with friends to Hot Stuff by Donna Summers.

“I need some hot stuff baby tonight!” Your friend screams.

“I need some hot stuff baby this evening!” You scream.

Screaming horribly pitched singing and dancing but having the time of your life in this moment. You and your friend laugh at your guy’s antics.

“I’m gonna get a beer! You want something?” You yell

“I’m good!”

As much fun and liberating dancing is, it’s a goddam workout. Surely alcohol will keep you hydrated.

+++

“I’ve never seen Top Gun.” Nico stares at Jack whose holding a green aviator jumpsuit for him. An exact replica of what’s he’s wearing with a white t-shirt under and sunglasses propped on his head.

“I know but we will look cool together, like maverick and goose.”

“What the hell is a maverick?”

“Just put the suit on.” Jack throws the suit towards Nico and pushes him to change.

Nico walks out twining like his teammate, with his sunglasses on.

“Hell yeah, I’m maverick and your goose.” Jack says all excited.

“Okay.” Nico states blandly.

“We’ll watch the movie after tonight so you can understand. Now let’s go and boogie.”

“Should’ve watched it before tonight” Nico murmured.

+++

Nico wasn’t one to go out and dance, especially not a decades theme dance. But here he is standing in the corner of the club because his friend dragged him to dress up as pilots. When he first walked in he admired everyone’s costumes and understood most 80s references, the music on the other hand was interesting to say the least

It’s 80s music, it’s hard to not stomp to the beat. Jack was somewhere else, probably talking to one of the madonas in the building, and Nico just people watching while sipping his drink.

Then the beat of the music started to kick up and his eyes caught on two girls dancing and singing the lyrics of the song. He couldn’t help but laugh at the site, not in a bad way but in awe as he saw people having fun. Maybe he should have fun tonight too.

+++

As the bartender brings you another beer, Donna’s melody comes to an end and the classic slow song of the 80s begins.

“…my foolish lover's game,” you mouth to sing along right before you take a swig.

You turn to see couple gathered at the floor swaying to the music and you couldn’t help to sway as well, it really is something about 80s music!

Watching in slow motion as you turn around and say

You decide to people watch as you cater your glass bottle and your eyes land a pair of brown eyes across the room as the chorus lands.

Take my breath away

You and this annoyingly handsome man who is ironically dressed in an aviator outfit, hold eye contact as the chorus ends.

You being the first to break eye contact, turn to the bar and talk to yourself, “what the hell was that.”

+++

That was weird, Nico thinks to himself. He didn’t notice as he was people watching, his eyes followed on one of the girls that were dancing to the bar.

They held eye contact what seemed like forever with the slow song blasting through the room. Nico hiccups his beverage and looks to find Jack.

+++

One of your friends finds you at the bar,

“All these couples make me gross and sad for being single.” She leans her head on your shoulder.

“I think I fell in love with an aviator.” You yell calmly.

“Huh?” You’re drunken friend asks

“Like from Top Gun, I don’t know if he was maverick or goose but what just happened was too real to ignore.” You say looking forward replaying the moment back and forth in your head.

“We’ll where is he!?”

You quickly turn around to see if he’s still there but he’s gone now. You scan the dark room for his green jumpsuit but to no avail.

“He’s gone now.” You thought to yourself maybe you imagined things.

“Wait I see him!” Your petite friend points out an aviator but it’s not him.

“That’s not him, he was taller.” You sulk

Then the other half pops into view, the maverick you held eyes with taps on goose’s shoulder to talk with and again makes eye contact with you and they both look in your direction.

“They’re looking at you.” You’re friend whispers as if they could heard across the loud room.

“I know.” You grit and make a gesture to the boys to follow you off side the dance floor.

“Follow me,” you demand as you drag your short friend to meet the men.

+++

“Hi ladies” the shorter aviator says as he styles his sunglasses on top his hair.

You and your maverick still continue this unofficial game of holding eye contact and observing one another’s style and presence.

“Yours guy’s costumes are so cute.” You drunken-tired friend says, making you lose this round of the game.

“Yeah let me guess, are you goose and he’s maverick?” You ask the dark blonde

He’s taken back as he stutters to correct you, “actually I’m mav and he’s goose, it’s not oficial or anything.” He mutters the last part.

Your mouth makes an O shape to understand but kept to yourself that the man directly in front of you looked more like a maverick than a goose.

“Y/n Im gonna find the girls, I think the night is coming to an end, at least for me.” She covers up her yawn

“Okay I’ll be there in a bit.” She leaves you with the duo

“I’m y/n by the way” you extend your hand to your maverick, curious of his name.

“I’m Nico” he shook your hand softly but noticed your strong grip.

Both of you stand in awe in one another, rethinking of the eye contact and the tension across the busy room.

A forced cough could be heard, “yeah I’m Jack.” A quick second passed before you turned to acknowledge the blonde, “hi” you swiftly say before locking eyes again with Nico.

Jack stands beside you two with googling eyes, “Okay then, I’m gonna go back to the dance floor.”

No one heard Jack’s dismissal.

“That song, the song we made eye contact with, a bit ironic isn’t it?” You ask looking up at the gorgeous man.

“Why is it ironic?”

You started to slightly panic, “because you’re dressed as a pilot from Top Gun, are you not?”

“Oh yeah I guess I am. Is the song in the movie?” Nico tilted his head in curiosity

“The song is the movie. You never seen Top Gun?” You ask in bewilderment

“No, jack made me dress like this to match him. I still don’t know what a maverick is.” He laughs nervously

“Maverick is the nickname for the main character, essentially. You should watch the movie, it’s good.”

“Maybe we could watch it together” Nico shyly but boldly says as he scratches the back of his neck

You were stunned at his boldness but didn’t let it show. A smile crept up on your face and you nod your head, “I would love to see it with you.”

a/n: lazy ending but I tried.

#nico hischier x reader #nico hischier imagine #latina!reader #jells🪼imagines #nhl imagine

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meantaylorsversion · 6 months

Text

Thriller

pairing; Ghostface!Yandere!Dick Grayson x Naive!Fem!Reader

warnings; death, murder, alcohol, obsession, normal yandere things

notes; this has been in my drafts for so long

Dick watched you from afar, he was holding a beer while standing in the corner. He didn’t even want to come this stupid Halloween party, bur when he heard you were coming Dick jumped at the chance of ‘bumping’ into you. The man had it all planned out, but of course he couldn’t let anyone mess up his plan, so one by one anyone he deemed competition in his head was eliminated. Gotham was terrified, they could deal with regular criminals but a serial killer? Ghostface was terrorizing the city and he had no intention of stopping, not if it meant he could have you.

He downed the beer he held in his hand, and moved to mess up his hair, carefully missing the devil horns that adorned his head. Dick Grayson thought it was perfect, you were dressed up as an angel and he was dressed up as a devil. He stalked forward towards you, like how a predator stalks its prey. You looked away from your friends and turned to Dick smiling, “Hey! We match!” You exclaim with a bright look in your eyes. Dick chuckles lowly, finding your smile enchanting.

“I can see that, you look so pretty in your angel costume, I would’ve been fooled by it,” He jokes, moving closer to you, completely ignoring your friends and everyone else around you. His devil costume seems to fit him well, in his eyes you can see there something dark underneath his happy go-lucky exterior but in the moment you choose to ignore it. You grab his hand lightly, trying to entice him to dance with you in the middle of the room. The music is booming around you both, but to Dick, the only thing that matters is you. He lets you lead him into the ‘dance floor’ and placed his hands on your hips, swaying with the music.

He leans down to you ear, whispering, “C’mon angel, why don’t we go somewhere more quiet?” You nod for a second before remembering you had to go talk to a friend of yours before they left.

“Sorry! I have to go say hi to someone first!” Dick smiled tightly, the smile not coming up to his eyes. Your ‘friend’ had disrupted his plan. You gave him a quick smile before running off to see your friend. He of course followed you, but you didn’t realize it.

You had a blinding smile on your face, as you ran over to give your friend a hug and chat with them for a few minutes. Dick watched from afar, jaw clenched. He couldn’t believe it. How was his plan so easily foiled? The brunette man shook his head and walked over to the two of you. His stance was inching towards outwardly aggressive, but Dick kept his cool and put the mask on like he always did. Like nothing was bothering him. At all. He came to stand by your side, his arm sliding your angel wings to reach your shoulder, pulling you closer to him. A smirk appeared on Dick’s face, to anyone else it looked threatening, but you, in your naivety thought he looked so gleeful.

"Y/N! Who's this?" He asks, Dick truly wants to know, but not for the reasons you think. All he can think of when he looks at your friend, is the satisfaction he knows he will get when he kills them, watching the life drain out of their eyes. You hurriedly introduced the two, the glare your friend was giving Dick Grayson was unbelievable. They hadn't even met the guy! Dick was a sweet and caring guy to everyone, you didn't understand why your friend was glaring at him. "This my friend—F/N!" Your friend gave him a sickly sweet smile, that didn't quite reach their eyes.

"It's a pleasure to meet you F/N," He stuck his hand, tightening the grip as they shook hands. F/N's eyes narrowed as he looked into Dick's blue eyes, they looked stormy like a storm was brewing and it was finally ready to be released.

"Likewise, how did you meet Y/N?" Your friend, turning their head towards you who completely missed the whole interaction. They knew you wouldn't catch it, you missed things a lot particularly social cues. Or how anyone you talk to and tell Dick about suddenly dissappear without a trace. Dick chuckles, his arm reaching around your shoulders carefully missing the angel wings. "Well, we met during a forensic science class in freshman year!"

Dick found it ironic, here he was causing terror across town and the campus and no one had even questioned him! Not even his pretty angel, who he did this for, you just couldn't figure it out!

#ghostface!dick grayson x reader #yandere!dick grayson x reader #yandere!dick grayson x you #yandere!dick grayson x y/n #ghostface!dick grayson x you #ghostface!dick grayson x y/n #yandere dc #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson

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ultralightpoe · 6 months

Text

Thriller - Steve Harrington

Authors Note: HAPPY HALLOWEEN

Word Count: 675

Warnings: none- just a small blurb

Description: Small halloween blurb.

This is apart of my Halloween event, stay tuned for a new story every hour!

Happy Halloween!

“Okay, wait. Wait wait wait. WAIT!” Steve gasps, reaching over and hitting the brakes with his hand before Robin could kill everyone in the car. “Get out. You are done. You are entirely done-”

“You are being so over dramatic right now Steven.” She snaps, turning back to glare at you and Eddie which makes you both jump back.

“The fuck did I do?” You blurt, and Eddie shakes his head, leaning back so she can’t hit him.

“Tell Steve he is being dramatic. Right. Now.”

“Why me? Eddie tell Steve he is being dramatic-”

“You are boinking him!” Eddie glares and Steve whirls around, bumping his forehead with Robins and groaning in pain.

“Did you really just say the word boinking to my girlfriend?”

“What? WHAT? IS BOINKING A BAD WORD?! IS IT STEVEN?!”

“YEAH! IS IT, STEVEN?!” Robin joins in, and you are doing everything you can to not laugh right now, hands covering your face. You imagined how you must look to people passing by and you truly could not contain the laughter anymore.

The scooby gang, arguing in a car loudly. What an image.

“What’s so funny over there, daphne?” Eddie asks, glaring at you as Steve turns to smile at you.

“Oh nothing Shaggy, it’s just you guys are so-”

“If you say dramatic right now I will kill you.” Robin mumbles, pulling at the orange turtleneck.

“Don’t yell at my girlfriend, Velma.”

“Shut up Steven.”

“Okay why does everyone else get nicknames and I am stuck with-” Before he can finish his sentence Robin lets off the brake, her foot accidentally landing on the gas and the car launches forward.

Everyone yells as it hits a light pole, Eddie gasping out dramatically as Steve tears out of the car. You move to follow and Robin does too, until Eddie yells. “VELMA THE BRAKE!”

“WHAT?!”

“PUT THE CAR INTO PARK-”

He leans across the console, putting the car into Park which ends up killing it.

“You guys….” Steve sighs, decked out in a fred costume, both hands on the hood as he tries to keep his composure. “Just… lets just…. Oh my god.”

“Do you think we are gonna make it to the party in time?” Eddie asks, obviously trying to piss Steve off.

The glare that he gets is worth it.

Three hours later and you are all still waiting by the car. Robin is using a stick to draw in the dirt as Eddie is in the field to pee. You, however, are huddled with Steve in the backseat of his car.

“This is… jesus this sucks.”

“Why is that?” You ask, playing with the green scarf, staring up at him when he looks down at you.

“This is our first halloween as an actual couple, I wanted us to go out and have fun. Party and make it a memorable night.” He blushes.

“I can assure you, Harrington, this night is anything by forgettable.” You smile, leaning up to kiss him. “Besides, I love our friends.”

“Love you too!” Robin calls and Steve groans.

“Some privacy would be great!”

“Come on, you said the tow trucks were gonna take forever and I think we still have the supplies from the camping trip in the back.” You whisper, hopping out of the car and moving to open the trunk.

Sure enough there is a radio and a pack of beer, with a couple blankets.

“Let’s have our own party!” Eddie whoops, snatching the radio to find a station as Robin snatches the beer.

Steve pulls you into his arms, kissing the top of your head before the beginning of Thriller comes on and you all gasp loudly.

The rest of the night is spent drinking the beer, and dancing. Finally you all end up passed out in the car, Robin in the passenger seat with Eddie in the driver seat. You and Steve curled up into the back.

It isn’t until you all wake up the next morning that Eddie asks. “Did anyone actually call the tow truck?”

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rebelfell · 6 months

Text

One last Halloween blurb inspired by @superblysubpar and her unbelievable series We’ll Call it Love. I’m convinced that modern!Eddie would be a punny Halloween guy without fail (assuming he wasn’t dressing up with you 😘) 18+ MDNI

“Wait, you’re a what? I don’t get it.”

Eddie sighed heavily at Jeff’s blank stare as he plopped down his guitar case, the last bit of what all he and the band had to lug into the bar. The opener was on now, which meant they only had maybe thirty minutes before they had to be ready to haul their equipment out on stage and get set up. Four bands were playing at this party tonight, but Corroded Coffin was slated to go on third—which basically meant they were headlining.

Or at least headlining adjacent.

The band, much like the rest of his friends, much like the rest of this damn city, didn’t “get” his costume. So far tonight, he’d been met with nothing but a string of perplexed expressions, furrowed brows and pursed lips and slow blinks as they tried to decipher what he was going for.

At least he had a real costume and hadn’t gone along with the rest of the band’s plan to hit up a Spirit Halloween and overpay for shitty grease paint and rubbery prosthetics. Gareth’s face was streaked green and his hair was slicked back so he looked like something that vaguely resembled a zombie. Or a very, very discounted Elphaba.

Jeff was just “guy with a knife in his head” and Lloyd was fucking late—which was the exact same costume he wore almost every day.

Eddie’s outfit might have been confusing, but at least it wasn’t boring. And, yeah, maybe it was kind of a reach. But he didn’t think it was that much of a head scratcher.

He’d teased up his hair so it was bigger and more wild than normal, and he’d added a pair of fake wolf ears he had from…a different costume. From a very different party. He’d let his beard grow out until it was short and scruffy and then whitened it with baby powder, which was also gonna be real nice when he started sweating buckets under those stage lights.

For clothes, he’d borrowed Steve’s letterman jacket under which he wore a white dress shirt and a blue tie, and topped it off with square black rimmed glasses. He’d also dappled some brown eyeshadow from Nancy on the backs of his hands to make it look like they were hairy. The effect was pretty impressive, especially coupled with some beige press-on nails he used for claws.

He looked fucking great and it had yet to be acknowledged by anyone. Philistines.

“Whatever, man,” Eddie groaned. “I’m gonna get a beer and maybe you guys will have found some damn culture by the time I get back!”

He pushed through the curtain blocking off the area behind the stage from the rest of the bar and jumped down off the low platform, still calling out to Jeff over his shoulder.

“And text Lloyd, tell him I’m gonna wring his—”

Eddie’s threat dwindled into a grunt as he banged into someone. Hard. So hard that he stumbled and only just barely managed to stay upright. Unfortunately, he couldn’t say the same for his target. They were off to the side of the stage, at least. No chance of being trampled. Most of the crowd was still milling around the bar and only a handful were actually up front already. Probably friends or family members of the band currently screaming their way through a cover of Thriller.

A flurry of shapes and color blurred his vision as he whipped his head around upon colliding with whoever had the bad luck to step in his path. Glass shattered and the sound made him wince as he looked down at the heap of limbs in front of him. Rather nice looking limbs, he noted.

“Fuck, fuck. Are you okay? I’m so sorry—shit.”

He quickly knelt down and scrambled to help the poor girl back on her feet. She was in a shiny red velvet cape draped over a dress with a black satin skirt and Eddie had to tear his eyes away from staring at the expanse of her fishnet-covered thighs revealed by her costume riding up. As she stood, his eyes went wide at the sight of her and not just because she was kiiiiiiind of a total smoke show. In addition to bright eyes and a nice smile, there was a massive gash on her face with blood dribbling down her temple. This was no Spirit Halloween bullshit—this looked real.

Painfully real.

“Oh, shit! Fuck me, did I do that?” he asked, panic rising in his voice.

“Huh? Oh! No, no, not at all!”

She laughed and the sound came out pretty melodious considering she was hemorrhaging. Eddie watched in horror as she reached up a hand and touched it to the gooey looking wound, only to reveal her fingers were sparkling clean when she pulled them away.

“It’s not real, I did it myself,” she said. “I take it as a compliment you thought it was, though.”

“Shit, yeah—you should, sweetheart!”

He stared blatantly at the wound, partlybecause it was fascinating and partly because he was afraid if he looked in her eyes for too long he might drown in them.

“You did that yourself?” he whistled. “It looks disgusting.”

Her lips twitched slightly as she tried (and failed) not to smirk at him. Eddie pinched the bridge of his nose as he registered what he had just said. Smooth, Munson. Smooth as cottage cheese.

“I, uh, I meant…it’s impressive, you know? It’s really good. That’s no Spirit Halloween bullshit.”

She grinned at that and tilted her head to the side. “Thanks,” she said, a little pride rising in her voice. “I do special effects make-up for a living. I did this as a test for this indie horror flick and I liked how it came out, so I wanted to reuse it.”

“Holy shit,” Eddie breathed. “That’s pretty fucking metal. It looks so real. Can I, uh…”

He trailed off, realizing just a second too late how awkward what he’d been about to ask was. He didn’t know of any hard and fast rule about this, but he kind of figured asking to fondle a perfect stranger's fake wound was verboten by the Miss Manners Guide to Halloween.

This girl didn’t seem phased in the least, though. She smiled again and tipped her chin up, staring boldly into his eyes. “It’s okay,” she said softly. “You can touch it. I won’t bite.”

You won’t, but I sure might.

Eddie had to swallow hard to stop the line from bursting from his lips. He carefully reached out his hand to brush it along her forehead. Ugh, it even felt real. That was sick. He loved it.

Heart hammering in his chest, he traced the shape of the gash with his fingertips and let them trail gently down the side of her face as he followed a rivulet of fake blood that dripped down to her chin. His fingers tingled wherever they met her skin and he was so caught up in the feeling, he forgot for a second he was wearing press-on nails and was now stroking her face with them. Cheeks tinged fiercely pink, he retracted his hand and cleared his throat nervously.

“So you’re…Red Riding Hood?”

“Yeah,” she nodded. “After the wolf got me.”

Eddie chanced a glance down at the rest of her costume, hoping it didn’t look like he was ogling her. He was, a little, but only like 20%.

Okay, 30%.

It appeared she’d taken the basic outfit and accessories from a party store and modified them—adding rips and tears to her clothes, streaking them with dirt and fake blood, even placing a couple twigs in her hair like she’d just been chased through the woods. There was some bruising painted on her and another impressively realistic looking set of claw marks raked across her chest. Her rather lovely chest…

He jerked his head up, cheeks even more flushed after realizing his eyes had lingered just a little too long. She didn’t seem to mind though.

“So…are you here with someone?” she asked with a quick glance around. Her voice was low and heady, there was no mistaking her intentions.

“No, no one,” Eddie said hurriedly. “Just friends, I mean.”

And in probably the worst show of judgment since that double shot of tequila he'd done at Nancy’s, Eddie chose that exact moment to look up and search for his friends in the crowd. It was easy to do, he could see Robin at the bar waiting for a drink. And when he glanced further back, he was pretty sure that was Steve making his way over dressed as…oh no. Oh no, no no.

Ozzy help him, this was gonna be a long night.

Eddie brought his gaze back to Red, his eyes now big and round with worry. “I, ahhh…shit, I have to go?” he said. “I can’t really explain right now. But my band is playing later—are you staying?”

He prayed to the Halloween gods and all that was unholy she was. She nodded, giving him a little wink that actually made his knees shake.

“I’ll be here,” she said. “Unless another big bad wolf gets me.”

“Okay…good.”

Eddie’s voice deepened and he flashed a sly smile, channeling all the wolfish energy he could from his costume. With a decisive nod, he jumped into action, hoping he wouldn’t have to do too much damage control. And concerned as he was, he couldn’t help beaming at the last words called out to him as he made his way through the crowd.

“See you around, Teen Wolf Blitzer!”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie stranger things #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fluff

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bangchanbabygurl · 6 months

Text

01: Loathe {In The Eyes Of Love }

Genre: Dark Romance/Smut/Angsty/Thriller/CEO HEIR

Warnings: Explicit language/mention of domestic violence/mention of violence/alcohol abuse/mention of death/stalker/mentions of blood/drug abuse/smut scenes/dark mature themes/triggering scenes/traumatic experiences

“Has it ever occurred to you that maybe life is how it is because of your past lives before this one?” I said, staring at the bottle of Soju, “Yah, stop thinking and enjoy this night, Y/N.” Chan slurred out as he took a sip of Soju. A sigh escaped my lips as I flicked the bottle cap off and poured Soju into the shot glasses, “Chan is right Y/N, you gotta live a little,” Nayeon said with a smile as she threw her arm over my shoulder. I forced a smile and clinked our glasses together before drinking, “I need a beer with this BBQ,” Joshua said as he turned to look for the waiter.

I bit my lip and looked at the time: 8:30 PM. “When are your other friends getting here?” I asked, turning the meat on the grill, “Oh, they should be here any minute,” Chan said, stealing a piece from the grill. “You might wanna order more meat, Shua,” I said, Joshua sighs and nods. “Roger that,” He said before getting up, “Anything else, birthday girl?” Joshua asked with a smirk. I rolled my eyes, “See if they have champagne or wine,” I said. Joshua smiles and walks out of the booth Chan had rented for tonight’s ‘special day.’ Nayeon pours more Soju for Chan, “Tonight it's all about Y/N, so no one is allowed to make this about them,” Chan said with a grin. I shook my head, “Don’t make it a big deal. Besides, you better have not gone overboard this time.” I warned him. Chan smirks and takes his last sip of Soju.

The door slid open, revealing Joshua with a tray of marinated meat and a bottle of wine; I could see some people following behind him. “They’re here,” Joshua said with a smile and handed me the bottle of wine; I smiled. “Thank you, Shua,” I said; he winked. “Yah! Seungcheol, why don't you ever answer my calls.” Nayeon nags; Chan nudges my shoulder as I try to open the bottle of wine. I glared at him, “Can't you see I'm busy,” I said. “Y/N! I thought you were going to stop drinking,” Jihoon teases, and the screw of the wine popped off. “When did I say that?” I asked with a smirk. Jihoon pats my head and sits down, “Tired of Soju?” He asked. “You and I know that I don't drink beer or Soju,” I said, pouring myself a glass of wine. “Right, you're a woman of whiskey, wine, tequila, and cocktails,” Jihoon said with a smile.

“Seungcheol, this is Y/N the birthday girl…Y/N Seungcheol,” Chan said as he handed his friend a beer; I forced a smile and gave a small wave. “You’ve never met Seungcheol?” Jihoon whispers. I look at him and shake my head. “No, Chan has tried to, but he’s always rejecting,” I gossiped and sipped on the wine. Jihoon smirks and glances at Seungcheol, “So what's your impression of him?” Joshua whispered as he hurried in between me and Jihoon. I raised a brow at him, “Hello darling, this was all Chan’s idea.” Joshua said, nudging my side with his fingers. I swatted them away, “Chan’s idea? What was it?” I asked. Joshua looked scared and glanced at Chan, “He didn't tell you…” Joshua whispers. I gulped down the remaining wine in my glass, “I’m gonna murder him,” I said.

Jihoon shakes his head, “Maybe whatever it is isn't that bad? Right, Shua?” Jihoon asked. Joshua remains silent and gives me an apologetic gaze, “What exactly was Chan’s idea?” Jihoon asked. I pour more wine into the glass, “Look, Chan thought maybe you should expand on your dating options.” Joshua whispers. I might’ve gripped the glass too tight; Jihoon grabs napkins. “Oh my god, are you okay Y/N?” Nayeon asks as she brings over more napkins; I force a smile. “If you excuse me,” I said and left the booth.

Walking into the bathroom, I let my hand sit under the cold water as the blood gets washed away. I carefully remove the small piece of glass lunged into my palm. I exhaled softly and relax my body, unsensing my muscles. A knock on the door made my breath hitch, “Y/N…” Chan calls out softly. I sighed and unlocked the door, “Are you okay?” He asked upon entering. I look at him through the mirror, “Why are you trying to set me up with your friend?” I asked. Chan had that guilty look in his eyes, “I’m sorry, I know I shouldn't, but I only want you to befriend him, nothing else.” Chan implies. I turn the faucet off; I wrap the towel around my palm. “It better be Chan. You know very well I don't want to get into something serious.” I said.

Chan nods and looks at my palm, “I promise, I only want you and Seungcheol to befriend each other.” He states. I hold some pressure on the bleeding palm, “I’m gonna need a few stitches.” I slurred out. Chan grabs my shoulder and leads me out of the bathroom, “Let’s go and get you stitched up,” He said.

Chan opened the booth door; Jihoon was cleaning up my mess. “Y/N needs stitches, I’m going to go and take her to the ER. We’ll meet you guys at Joshua’s and Jackson’s place.” Chan said as he grabbed his jacket and phone; Jihoon looked at me worriedly. “Are you gonna be okay?” He asked. I smiled and nodded. “it’s only a few stitches. It's nothing,” I said. Jihoon smiled faintly. “See you at Joshua’s,” He said, I nodded. “We’ll take my car,” Seungcheol said, looking at Chan, “I’m sober, and you’re not,” He said, slipping on his blazer. Chan was indeed not sober, “You’re right,” Chan said as we followed Seungcheol out of the bar and grill. I loathe the idea of being in the same car as him; Seungcheol gives me this strange vibe. A vibe that doesn't match mine, a vibe that makes me feel weird.

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sailoryooons · 1 year

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Mine | One Shot | myg (m)

☾ Pairing: Yoongi x Succubus F. Reader

☾ Summary: Yoongi lives a quiet life. His days are organized neatly, and every week he can expect the same results. Then he meets you. Hypnotizing. Otherworldly. Strange. And his life never goes back to the way it was before.

☾ Word Count: 14,864

☾ Genre: Smut, Horror, Thriller

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

☾ Warnings: Buckle up bitches this list of warnings is going to exhaust even me. Overall creepiness, descriptions of liminal spaces, tons of mentions of subspace-like trances, Yoongi's mind is not always his own, unexplained happenings, Yoongi being manipulated subtly, written jump scares (like three of them?), nightmares, hallucinations, the cutest and also creepiest fucking little succubus you'll ever see, Succy (succubus reader) really likes Tokyo Ghoul that should be a hint, hints at eating raw meat (bleh), Yoongi turning against his friends, Yoongi feeling sick/depressed in a couple of scenes, Yoongi is literally addicted to eating reader out soiejijrghij, explicit sexual content including, spit play, nipple play, oral (f. and m. receiving), grinding, unprotected sex in multiple positions, cum eating, switch dynamics between the two of them often, subspace mentions, fingering, ass play (m. receiving), just.... so many bodily fluids all the time, mentions of animal death (it is a cat and it's dead body is briefly described), a lot of confusion and pace changes as a style choice, Succy is literally obsessed with Yoongi so a lot of the pet name Kitty, very cringe behavior for some rando Yoongi met at a bar, ambiguous ending. I think that covers it idk this is almost 15k of pure nightmare fuel I will send you my therapists number alright

☾ Published: October 30, 2022

☾ A/N: If I have to write this authors note one more time because 'a wild tumbeast ate my fucking post I will scream. Do better Tumblr please stop eating my content over and over lmao. ANYWAY. SURPRISE THIS IS HERE A DAY EARLY. I have zero self-control and @gimmethatagustd told me to post it now so I really said fuck it we ball. I didn't use a beta for this one because I'm insane but I did edit it myself.... so if you see errors..... no you didn't. This one was so much fun to write and I hope you all love Succy as much as I do. She deserves the world she is very... scary and cute.

HAPPY HALIWEEN!!!

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Masterlist | Ask

Friday nights are spent blowing off steam from work with friends. Yoongi has always lived a simple life, and he likes his Fridays like this: second person to the bar after Taehyung, a quick shot of whisky to take the edge off the day, followed by a whiskey neat and some fries from the kitchen that will still be a little unthawed in the middle.

Yoongi loves his Fridays at Serendipity.

The name is a bit of a joke, Jimin says. He inherited the old, rundown bar under another name from his abusive father after he passed away. Mysterious circumstances, the long-term patrons mutter into darkened ale and frosted mugs. Still, they come despite Jimin flipping the name. It was the only thing Jimin could afford to flip, the floors still the same sticky concrete that collect vomit, spilled beer, whiskey, and perhaps a little piss.

It's an ugly thing, with the vinyl stool covers splitting open to reveal guts of yellow foam, and countertops that need another layer of lacquer to fight the chipping from heavy mugs being slammed down every time Seokjin gets into an argument with one of the regulars. Yoongi tries to avoid the bathroom as much as he can. Jimin spent two weeks cleaning it and stocking it with a nice care basket with sprays, cotton rounds, and other products, only to have someone puke in it on the first night.

Yoongi doesn’t care that Jimin named the bar as a bit of an inside joke. Yoongi knows in his heart of hearts when he sees you that this moment is serendipitous.

Because when Yoongi sees you for the first time, the world ends.

Not really. But it feels that way the moment he turns at the bar. Perhaps he’s meant to see you – or perhaps it was by your design. He tilts backward when the door opens, searching for any sign of Seokjin who said he would be there in a few minutes.

And there you are.

Lights dim. The world takes on a muted feeling, like the two of you exist between murky, brackish water with something lurking just beyond the clouded space that he can’t quite make out. The roaring voices of the bar fade softly into the background until it’s just a buzz of pressure between Yoongi’s ears - or maybe that’s not right. Maybe it’s the buzzing pressure of awareness pressing on his spine and eardrums.

It isn’t pleasant but it’s not… uncomfortable.

It’s impossible to look away from you. He tries - tries to remember where he is. A bar, perhaps? Not this weird, opaque space where the only thing he can make out is the rogue on your lips, a spark in your eye, and the way you walk forward. No. Walk isn’t the right word. Glide might be more appropriate, he thinks.

As you near him, Yoongi breathes in sharply. Something like cedar mixed with jasmine and amber makes his head spin. The world tilts and Yoongi begins to slide on its new axis until suddenly, the mist surrounding him shatters as his foot comes into contact with the ground, knee buckling under his weight as his hand flies to the bar to hold himself up.

He fell off of his stool.

Yoongi almost doesn’t believe it, except Taehyung is laughing so hard next to him that Yoongi flushes furiously. He slides back onto the stool, brows furrowed and head ducked down to hide his rapidly glowing red ears and face from you.

But then you speak, and Yoongi cannot fight the urge to look at you once more. It’s an instinct pulling him from blushing furiously in his lap to stare at you.

“Hi,” you murmur. Yoongi is a fish out of water, mouth parted slightly, heart racing. Jasmine. Cedar. Amber. It’s all he can smell. His head swims, mind foggy as he tries to string together words. “Is this seat next to you taken? It’s the only one empty.”

Is it? Yoongi can’t tear his eyes from you, but he could swear Old Ass Han had been sitting there before you walked in.

Old Ass Han is the least annoying of Jimin’s customers and sometimes Yoongi doesn’t mind when Old Ass Han rambles about his late wife. Yoongi has no idea how old Old Ass Han is, he just knows that he was ancient even when Yoongi studied as a high school student tucked in the far corner of the bar.

“Um, yes?” Yoongi says and it comes out like a question.

You grin at him and the world ends a second time.

Pleasure-laced fear shoots down his spine. Your teeth are white and straight, but he swears for a split second they were razor sharp. He shakes his head, dispelling a little of the floating feeling as he says, “Of course. Yes. Please sit.”

Yoongi holds his breath and averts his eyes as you slide onto the stool next to him.

It’s suddenly too loud in the bar, a cacophony of voices and chairs scraping against concrete. Yoongi can still smell you, making the world rotate awkwardly as he spins on his stool to find Taehyung staring at him, brows raise and barely concealing his laughter.

“I don’t think I have ever seen you fumble like that,” Taehyung murmurs. He loses control of his laughter and tries to hide it in his cup of cider. Yoongi flushes and angrily stares into his whiskey, hyperaware of you leaning on the bar to call the bartender’s attention. “I mean – she is – holy shit I never believed in faeries or witches before but there's no way she’s human.”

Yoongi opens and closes his mouth. He tries to find a response to Taehyung, but his tongue feels heavy in his mouth and something tingles along every hair on his arm and neck, a sense of awareness as you lean on the bar, speaking to the bartender.

Again, your voice haunts Yoongi in a matter of seconds. He feels the need to turn and look at you again, but he doesn’t want to be weird. He’s already fallen off the stool once, and he doesn’t plan on further exacerbating his humiliation.

So, Yoongi remains facing Taehyung. Clutches his whiskey glass with shaking hands. Tries to take a breath – it comes out shaky – to calm himself. He has no idea what kind of delirium is threatening him every moment you’re next to him, but he wants to fight it - tries to fight it.

“Are you okay?” Taehyung’s brows twitch, mouth pouting. He ducks his head slightly, trying to find Yoongi’s gaze, but the older keeps his eyes fixed on the wood grain bar. Yoongi wants to look at you again. So bad. Wants to ask you your name. Wants to memorize the curves of your mouth. Wants to memorize every stroke of color in your eyes.

Want want want want.

A sudden throb pulses in Yoongi. He doesn’t know where it comes from, but he feels it bloom inside of him, unfurling with warm petals of want want want want.

The urge to turn and look at you gets stronger.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck –

Yoongi grits his teeth. Feels pressure at the back of his head, like there are featherlight fingers pressing into the base of his skull to urge him to turn around and look at you again. His muscles constrict and he feels himself start to turn, hips beginning to swivel in your direction, arms rigidly placed on the bar as if to fight his lower half.

When he doesn’t turn to look at you, Yoongi swears he imagines the light press of fingers turning into a steel grip. His eyes start to water and he clenches his teeth, feeling an immovable force on him pulling, dragging, tearing - and he lets out a small gasp, the grip on him so strong that he -

“Yoongi,” Taehyung says again, voice firmer. Yoongi looks up this time, eyes soft and round, face flushed. There’s a little sweat collected on his brow, and Yoongi feels a dull throb at the back of his head like a fading migraine. “What’s wrong?”

“Um-“ he cuts himself off and clears his throat. The pressure on his head is gone, but the menthol-cool, awareness of you is not. “Maybe too much to drink? It’s been a stressful week, I think I knocked these back too quickly.

“You do look sort of flushed.” Taehyung raises his brows. “Maybe water?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Water, please.”

Taehyung asks for water when the bartender returns with your drink. Yoongi doesn’t look at you, though he can see from the corner of his eye you’re looking at him. He grits his teeth and stares at the mismatched, colored bottles behind the bar. None of its top-shelf – Jimin certainly cannot afford it – but it doesn’t need to be.

A glass of water appears in front of Yoongi in time for Seokjin’s arrival. The pressure in Yoongi’s skull doesn’t return, and the tingling along his nerves like an electric current dies down a little. He still feels shaken as he sips the water, freeing up the dry feeling on his tongue.

Seokjin nestles between Yoongi and Taehyung, ordering himself a drink. Jimin appears around the bar this time, finally done with his bookkeeping in the back, and slides a beer over to Seokjin. Yoongi watches the way Jimin smiles at them before his attention falters and slides to you sitting next to Yoongi, making Jimin blink rapidly a few times.

Irrational irritation flares in Yoongi for a split second. Though his attention is on his friend and watching Jimin reacts to you sitting in Old Ass Han’s place, it occurs to Yoongi that he doesn’t want anyone else to compete with him.

Not that he stands a chance. But for once in his life, Yoongi wouldn’t mind being the one to take someone home. Why can’t it be him? He saw you first. You’re sitting next to him.

Just as Jimin’s eyes glitter, turning to half-moons as he smiles at you, Yoongi spins in the chair, giving you his full attention. Your eyes turn to meet his and Yoongi is falling into them, no end in sight.

“Hi again,” you greet, voice velvet. “You have pretty eyes.”

“All right, hyung,” Jimin murmurs. Yoongi isn’t looking at Jimin, but he can hear the smirk in his voice as Jimin retreats to their friends.

“Thanks,” Yoongi murmurs. He allows himself to drink you in. His head begins to buzz like he’s had too much whiskey, his tongue heavy and cotton-fuzzed in his mouth. “You have a pretty… everything.”

You have to know how beautiful you are. A deity beneath silk-smooth skin. But you duck your head, a shy giggle leaving your lips. You have the decency to look shy, averting your eyes, lip tucked between teeth.

Perhaps later Yoongi will be embarrassed by the honesty. But right now, it’s all he can do to keep his heart rate normal. You are incredible to look at. Taehyung was right – perhaps not human.

An unnatural glow hums under your skin. Your eyes are vivid, drinking him in with a spark that Yoongi swears echoes a deep flame in the pit of his stomach. He wrestles with himself, his hands fighting a magnetic pull to reach over and brush his fingers across the canvas of your skin.

Yoongi won’t be able to stop if he touches you. His thoughts repulse him – you’re a stranger. Someone he doesn’t know. Someone his mind is begging to violate. He fists his pants, flexing the muscles of his hands and willing the strange pull toward you to go away.

He doesn’t even know your name and Yoongi feels like Pandora, watching you with coveted desire and shaking, greedy hands. Fuck he wants to pry you open and see what treasure lurks beneath the surface.

“What’s your name?” You ask him. You stir a beverage straw in your drink – an Old Fashioned. His lips twitch in a smile at your taste in drinks as he offers you his name. “Yoongi,” you repeat back. The way his name melts in your mouth like sugar entices him. “Cute. You’re cute.”

Yoongi flashes you a shy smile, echoing yours. You share a laugh, his rough and scratchy as he chews the inside of his cheek nervously, yours light and floating. It echoes in his ears and Yoongi loses his sense of self, thoughts drug-laced with only you.

And then your lips are on him and once again, Yoongi swears the world around him has fallen to destruction.

It’s hard to remember the order of events. Yoongi doesn’t care. Your mouth is sugar-sweet and hungry, licking into Yoongi’s open-mouthed kisses as he presses you against something firm. He wants to melt into you, your skin like fire under his seeking hands, your breath delicate and soft against the empty air of what he thinks is his apartment as his lips attached to your neck.

Even your skin tastes sugared. A delicacy for him. For his mouth only.

Mine. The word echoes across his mind, but not in is own voice.

You writhe underneath Yoongi’s hands. He squeezes the flesh of your lips, tongue snaking out to lick a broad stripe of skin up your neck. Your fingers card through his hair, tugging slightly, just enough to make him groan against your skin.

Yoongi is painfully hard. His cock throbs in his pants, the material restrictive and making the ache so much worse. He grinds his hips against yours, mouth sucking viciously at your collarbone, the top of your cleavage, anywhere he can taste you.

“Fuck,” you whisper, your head thudding against the wall behind you. Panting, you hike up one of your legs, wrapping it against his waist to pull him in tighter to you. Yoongi whines as you connect your mouths again, tongue and teeth, and spit as you grind against him. “I want you so fucking bad.”

“Have me,” he mumbles sucking your tongue into his mouth. You moan, deep in your chest. He swears for a second it’s like a growl. Thinks nothing of it. Just pushes against you hard, cock pulsing. “Whatever you want.”

“Please.”

Yoongi never wants to hear you beg again. Or maybe he doesn’t want you to stop begging. He can’t make up his mind as he pulls you toward a room – his room. Yes, you’re both in his apartment. That’s his slate grey couch that you’re stumbling past and that’s his sheets that you fall backward against.

Licking his lips, Yoongi takes a moment to look down at you. You’re splayed out for him, unfurling in his sheets. He knows tomorrow morning they’ll still smell like you – jasmine, cedar, amber. You look divine, a flower unfolding delicate petals, open for him.

Only for him. Mine.

You wrap your legs around Yoongi, pulling him flush to the edge of the bed. You release him and press your feet to the bed, knees resting against his hips. You blink at him through fluttering lashes and starry eyes. He’s never seen anything like you. He never will again. He knows it.

“God damn you’re beautiful,” Yoongi murmurs, the words slipping through his lips, unrelenting.

The stars in your eyes vanish. Yoongi recoils, seeing the fathomless black threatening to eat him alive. He begins to pull away, terror shooting through his chest, sharp and angry. You squeeze your knees against his hips, nearly shattering him. Your mouth is a gash of red with rows and rows of black teeth, churning and churning.

“Don’t speak his name here,” you hiss, words slithering in layers of many different voices. “Never again.”

Yoongi blinks and you’re blushing as you look up at him, knees splayed like butterfly wings, open for him. Just for him. He smiles at the way you giggle and hide behind a hand. “You’re so sweet.”

“You are beautiful. I swear it.”

“Touch me.” Your voice drips honey-sweet on his senses. “I want to feel you, Yoongi. Please.”

There is a prickling sensation like fear at the base of his spine but Yoongi can’t remember why as he smiles at you lazily, dipping down between your legs. He props himself above you, hands planted on the mattress on either side of your head to cage you in.

“Ask me again.”

“Please. Please please please-“

Yoongi swallows your begging tongue first, delving into your luscious mouth.

It’s been a long time since he’s been in his room like this with a partner, much less with someone who looks the way you do, but Yoongi’s hands are confident as they sweep up your sides, pulling the fabric of your shirt up with his hands as they go. You lean upward, letting him pull it off you before it flies from his hand somewhere in the room.

The lights are off in his room, but a silver shaft of moonlight spills through the window to paint you silver. Your eyes reflect the light as you drink him in, his hands brushing up your arms, warming your skin as he traces them to your tits, palming them generously over your bra.

A sigh escapes through your parted lips, red lipstick smeared artfully from the clash of mouths and tongues. He dips back down, tongue hungry for your sugar-warm taste and the liquid heat of your mouth.

Yoongi is dizzy. He’s a little off balance as he breathes you in. Your fingers pull through the strands of his hair, hips canting upward as he reaches around to unclasp your bra, peeling the unwanted layer from you.

Heated, shameless eyes meet his. You tilt your chest toward him, eager for his mouth. He doesn’t miss a beat, placing wet kisses over the tops of your breasts, more tongue and spit than lips, leaving a slick trail to your right nipple. Yoongi’s mouth is possessive, sucking your pert but between his lips and flicking it lightly with his tongue, looking up where your lips part in the moonlight to let out a soft moan.

It spurs him further, plucking your nipple with his teeth, pulling any sound he can from you. He gets a loud whine then and you wiggle your hips under the weight of where his waist is pressed into yours. Grinning, Yoongi repeats the motion, giving a generous suck before pulling away with his teeth, gentling scrapping your peak.

“Fuck,” you whisper. “Feels so good.”

Yoongi trails chaste kisses from one nipple to the other, giving it the same attention. He snakes a hand down your body, fingers dancing across heated skin to pull at the zipper on your jeans. His hands tremble, making it difficult to free the first button.

Reluctantly, Yoongi pulls his mouth away from your breast, a glossy strand of spit connecting his mouth to your swollen skin as he looks down, using both hands to pop the button on your pants and tug violently at them.

“These jeans are the fucking devil.”

“Yes,” you murmur, so quietly that he can barely hear you. He gets them to your ankle, yanking one more time and tossing them. He loses your hushed words in the rustle of clothes hitting the floor when you whisper, “I am.”

“Hmm?” he asks.

You silence his question by pulling his shirt over his head, leaning to capture his exposed chest with your tongue and teeth. Yoongi stands between your legs, head falling tilting toward the heavens at the worship of your mouth.

Deep groans leave his mouth. You bite more than you kiss, but Yoongi likes the way your mouth leaves a trail of little teeth marks, your mouth pinching his flesh before your tongue soothes it. You have him trembling, nearly making him double over as your hand presses over his clothed cock firmly, applying the pressure he needs.

It’s not enough.

Every part of Yoongi feels exposed. Even half dressed, the world is brushing against him raw, every touch of your hands like pleasure and torture, every fan of your breath like the coldest breeze on a hot summer day.

None of the sensations make sense but he feels high – higher than that time he and Jimin took shrooms at that one festival in college where the lights had whispered secrets of the forest to Yoongi and where he had tasted something beyond what he could describe.

But under your carnal touch, Yoongi knows that is nothing compared to this. Nothing compares to the way you work his jeans down to his midthigh, too impatient for him to kick out of them before you’re dipping a hand in his briefs and taking his cock into your hand.

“Holy fuck,” Yoongi gasps, nearly toppling backward. Your grip is firm, strokes deft and confident and oh my god he might come like this.

You lean up to teeth at the pulse point of his neck as your tongue darts out to take a firm lick. “There is nothing holy about me, Min Yoongi,” you murmur against his neck. He shivers, eyes rolling behind closed lids as you speak. He can feel the trace of your incisors, sharper than he remembers against his skin.

Stars dance behind his eyes. You pull your hand away from his cock, making him protest. You hush him with a bite against his shoulder, sharp enough that he thinks you break skin. He doesn’t open his eyes, letting his world sweep from under his feet as you turn him and knock him onto the bed.

When the feeling of spinning stops a little, he blinks his eyes open to help you peel his clothes the rest of the way off. You’re fully naked and Yoongi doesn’t know where to keep his eyes. The swells of your breasts, marked with bite marks and spit from his mouth, the curves of your stomach and waist as you climb atop him, predatory and eager, or the glistening slick of your thighs where you’re dripping for him.

“Come here,” he demands. He’s dying to have you on his tongue, knows you’ll taste saccharine. He grabs your thighs harder than necessary, zeroing in on your pussy as he pulls you toward his mouth. “Wanna fucking taste. Bet you’re fucking delicious.”

You hum in delight, a lethal smile on your face as you crawl up to where he wants you, knees firmly on either side of his head. Yoongi lets out an appreciative noise. Your cunt is sticky and glossy for him, the perfect meal.

With gentle fingers, he parts your folds gently to reveal your slick, clenching hole and needy clit. Yoongi is eager, a finger trailing up and down your warm slit as he lets out a moan.

“Fucking wet,” he whispers before leaning up for a long, slow lick.

Stars explode behind his eyes. He hums in delight, shivering at the taste of you, heady on his tongue. He repeats the motion a few times, flattening his tongue for a slow-drag, appreciative lick up your cunt. He feels the way you drip into his mouth, spill on his chin and he can’t help but curse, at how addictive this feels.

You moan when he dips his tongue into your entrance, gathering your essence on the tip of his tongue before he drags it soft-slow up to your clit, circling your bundle of nerves lazily. Yoongi pulls your clit into his mouth with gentle lips, feeling the way it pulses as he sucks gently.

The sounds you make above him spur him further. He alternates between sucking your clit delicately and butterfly-soft tongue flutters, watching your mouth go slack as you watch him. The more you drip into his eager mouth, the greedier Yoongi gets, fastening his entire mouth on you and sucking harshly.

It becomes sloppy and imprecise. Yoongi can’t decide where he wants his mouth most. He can’t remember ever feeling this lightheaded from oral, much less giving. But he’s starstruck under you, sucking and sucking and sucking – fuck he doesn’t know if he’s even taking breaths.

“Feels so fucking good,” you whisper, a hand going to knot in his hair. His scalp tingles pleasantly where you hold onto him, his eyes fluttering shut. Your hips move slowly over his face. “Fuck keep going.”

Pride swells in his chest. Your voice is airy, breaths short and stilted and overwhelmed as he eats you vigorously. His fingers dimple your skin, pressing into the meat of your ass as he rocks you on his tongue, jaw slack, tongue flat for you to let you fuck yourself on his face the way you want.

Yoongi feels you drip down his face, hears the wet-smack of his mouth against your cunt. He moans. Buries his face further, letting you grind yourself on his nose, chin, mouth lips, anything. He doesn’t care, sticky-coated to the jaw, so fucked out from pleasing you that he almost blacks out when you cum.

Something happens.

He doesn’t know how to describe it – it’s like for a moment, everything goes dark. Perhaps he does blackout. Perhaps he wasn’t breathing. He can’t remember. All he knows is that between one heartbeat and the next, there’s a moment of pure darkness accompanied by a laugh that chills his spine.

And then your mouth is on him, spit and cum making the glide of your mouths sticky-sweet.

Yoongi sucks your tongue into his mouth, pressing his fingers gently to the back of your head, pulling you closer closer closer. He just wants you closer, his stomach burning with a sudden hunger for you. He feels on fire, skin too-warm where your chest slides against his, sweaty and flushed.

Sheets stick to every part of him. He’s aware of the sweat that slides down his neck, a cool finger of relief as you press him further and further into the mattress. He feels like he’s sinking, entering a new domain where he’s no longer in his room – he's just with you. Somewhere. Anywhere.

Your fingers claw at his hair, pulling the strands to pin him to the mattress as you lift yourself, looking down at Yoongi. He blinks, stars in his eyes as he starts up at you, looming. Glowing. Beautiful. His hands are on your hips, a sparking current humming just beneath the surface of your skin.

You feel alive and vibrant.

A moan escapes Yoongi’s mouth, pleasure rolling through him as you grind your cunt on his throbbing cock, warm and wet. His eyes flutter, Yoongi squirming under you, legs kicking and twitching as you tease him. Just the glide of you on his shaft makes him shiver, the pit of his stomach clenching.

“Please,” Yoongi rasps. His fingers dig into your hips, begging. Pleading. Desperate. “Please please please please.”

“You look so pretty when you beg.” Your grinding increases and the room spins. His hands fall from your hips to the sheets, fingers fisted tightly in the fabric. “You’re so beautiful, Yoongi. My Yoongi. Mine. Mine mine mine.”

Your words are lost on him. There’s only the firm touch of your hand against his cock, gripped tight at the base as you lift yourself. He feels his cockhead catch on your swollen entrance and he lets out a strangled noise. He doesn’t know if he can stop himself from cumming. He is bursting at the seams with heat, an inferno so intense he swears that the world catches fire as you slide down his cock, warm and tight.

“Shiiit,” Yoongi hisses. He takes a deep breath and holds it, hips twitching where you straddle his waist, letting him suffer beneath you.

“Feels good.” You lean forward, hands pressed to his chest to support your weight. Yoongi’s eyes flutter open. He blinks at you through wet lashes. The room is so dark he can only make out the barest features on your face, but he sees your eyes clearly. Looking at him. Watching. Hungry. “So good,” you repeat. “So fucking deep.”

Nails bite into the skin of his chest. He feels his skin smart. The hot bead of blood that forms. He doesn’t care, watching as slowly, you lift your hips, your walls hugging every inch of Yoongi. He lets out a shaky breath, hands settling on your waist. He plants his feet in the bed, angling himself better as you reach the tip of his cock before sinking back down.

Heaven and hell. Yoongi wavers between both, gritting his teeth to keep from coming, to keep the feeling of you gripping him tight going. He doesn’t want it to end, it feels so good but it’s wonderful agony, fighting the curl in his stomach, the twitching of his abs, the threat of exploding.

Yoongi's eyes are drawn to where you fuck yourself on him, sticky arousal turning silver in the single shaft of moonlight that spills across the bed where you’re joined. He can’t look away, entranced by the wet smack of your ass on his thighs, the way you just fucking take him.

It lights a fire in him more intensely than the solar flare that threatens to send him spinning into his orgasm. Yoongi growls, digging his nails into your skin, half-moons on smooth flesh as he grits his teeth and fucks up into you. You gasp, nails raking down his chest as he jostles you. His breath comes out as stilted hisses behind clenched teeth.

“Touch yourself for me,” he grits out. “Wanna feel you come all over me – please.”

“Gonna,” you pant, head falling to his chest, claws leaving pink lines on pale flesh. You slide one hand down his body, making him groan as he fucks you with abandon. You gasp, hand working your clit between your writhing bodies. “Gonna come.”

“Please - for me.” He thrusts hard, thighs trembling with the effort, holding his breath as his muscles squeeze. He can feel you tense, pussy clenching so tight he curses and stops, letting you pulse around him as you moan and an unintelligible string of curses that sounds... like another language. “Fuck, just like that.”

Yoongi feels himself come apart. His universe shatters and he floats among the stars. Weightless. Happy. Tired. He feels nothing and everything, a soft frequency of... something dancing along his skin. A soft buzz. Pleasant and warm.

He doesn’t know how long he exists in that space. He can still smell notes of cedar, jasmine and amber. It's stronger now, with a touch of something else... something burning. He leans into the smell and it wraps around him, soft hands around his middle and petal-soft lips against his cheek.

Yoongi becomes vaguely aware that it’s you curled into his side, nose hidden in his neck, chest rising and falling against his arm. It grounds him a little. Brings him back into a dark room that is too obscure to be sure it’s his bedroom at all.

As he drifts off into sleep, he remembers the feeling of your tongue against his neck and nothing more.

Cedar. Jasmine. Amber.

It wakes Yoongi up. His stomach feels empty. His hands seek your warmth, palming your ass, pulling your hips flush to his. He doesn’t open his eyes, content to feel your heat. Again, something like electricity thrums under your skin, tickling his wandering hands.

Your mouth catches his. Pulls him further from sleep. He feels his skin ache from your teeth and nails the night before. Feels the weight of something inside of him that wasn’t there before, although he cannot put into words what it is.

Even in the morning, your mouth is sweet. Gluttonous. You suck his bottom lip between your teeth, nibbling softly followed by a light giggle. He smiles into the next kiss, sloppy and filled with too much tongue but he lets you taste him.

Yoongi swears there is an echo of your taste from the night before. It’s enough to kickstart desire in him, detaching his mouth to plant kisses down your neck. Chest. Stomach. His tongue licks a trail down your velvet skin.

In a shuffle of sheets and skin, you lay back for him, pliant. He’s awake now, pressing your thighs open, teeth nipping the tender flesh. You giggle and the sound makes him pause, lips pressed to your leg, eyes looking up at you in the dim light of the morning. Or night. It’s hard to tell what time it is, here with you in this bed.

Glowing eyes look at him. Round. Soft. Curious. You watch Yoongi with rapt attention, lip pulled between your teeth. Spread. Eager. Ethereal.

Yoongi drops his gaze, groaning when he sees how fucking wet you are. He pulls you closer, sliding a hand under your ass to provide support. Curious, he brushes his thumb up and down your folds, collecting your essence as he does.

“So swollen and wet,” he mumbles, morning voice deep and scratchy. “You’re always so ready to be eaten, hmm?”

You nod. “Please, Kitty.”

The new nickname makes him pause, thumb resting on your clit. He can almost feel your cunt throb under the pad of his finger as he applies a little pressure, watching you whine and kick your legs a bit. He grins.

“Kitty?” he asks as he resumes playing with you. His thumb dips into your hole, ring of muscles clenching around him. His grin spreads as he pulls it away, watching you fight with the loss.

“You have- ughhh – cat eyes. Pretty. Soft. Smart. Kitty.”

He hums, dipping his head forward to give you a single kitten lick. He shuts his eyes and sighs heavily, your taste heavy on his tongue. You taste just as good as the night before. “Cute,” he murmurs, more to himself. “I like it, baby.”

Yoongi doesn’t wait for a response. He presses in, tongue lapping at you hungrily, refusing to let you drip without his mouth for another moment.

Greedy.

You’re greedy. You always are. Yoongi isn’t sure what day it is. It might be the same night as when he brought you home or it could be the weekend or it could be next week. He somewhat remembers the taste of a meal. Some cool water. But he doesn’t recall when he made it or when he showered.

He only knows he showered because he smelled the mint soap on your skin a few moments ago when you had your mouth attached to his throat.

Now, your mouth swallows his cock whole, throat pulsing around him. He curses, fingers twisting in your hair as he listens to you choke. Feels your drool dripping down his thighs. You relent, pulling back with a slick sound. He looks down at you between half-moon eyes, lashes fluttering.

You’re a vision: bruised lips smeared in spit and cum, chin covered in slick, watery, round eyes that blink up at him, innocent despite the fact that you rub the flushed tip of his cock against your abused mouth.

“Fuck,” he swears, watching your devilish tongue snake out to lap at his dark tip. “Fucking cock hungry, huh?”

You nod your head, trailing your tongue along the bottom of his shaft, taking time to suck slopping kisses to his skin. He can’t look away, even as you pump him lazily with your small hand, ravenous little mouth sucking coyly at his balls.

His fist tights in your hair. You look up, tears spilling over rounded cheeks. You look angelic at that moment, weeping before him. He nearly busts right there.

“Does Kitty like when I do that?” You ask softly, voice almost a whisper. Your voice changes, he’s noticed. Sometimes coming out dark velvet, other times tangerine-sweet. “Am I a good girl, Kitty?”

You always call him that. He wasn’t sure about it at first, but with a mouth full of his precum and neck covered in his teeth marks, Yoongi thinks you can call him whatever the fuck you want. He’s never seen a creature so drunk off fucking him before and he’s no better. All he wants to do is fucking live in you.

“Such a good girl,” Yoongi promises. He holds your head with one hand and your chin with the other, pulling your bottom lip down with one thumb. His touch is soft and reverent. You preen for him, smiling around his thumb as he slips it in your mouth and presses on your tongue. Feels the spit and god knows what else there. “Come on, baby. Suck.”

And you do. Yoongi’s eyes roll back in his head. He falls backward on his bed and it feels like he has passed through a portal to somewhere else. He floats. All he knows is your mouth, unforgiving. Your tongue, sinful.

And when Yoongi comes down your throat, and when you pull off of him and smile at him with the slow drip of it, Yoongi feels like he’s in fucking heaven.

Monday he calls out of work.

Crunching numbers at an accounting firm seems like hell in comparison to where he is now. You’re bent over the kitchen counter, drooling on the granite as he slowly drags his cock through your drenched heat. He ignores the spilled glass of water next to you. Instead, he watches himself disappear deep into your cunt, collecting cream on the base of his cock every time he pulls out.

Yoongi senses you looking at him. You are, eyes intense and heavy. Your gaze shifts so often he can barely keep up – thinks maybe he imagines the way you go from soft, round-eyed sweetheart to a siren-eyed vixen.

It’s the vixen look at him now. And as though you can read his mind, you slick your tongue out of your mouth, bubble gum pink and eager, eyes dragging down to where he works himself in and out.

Yoongi pulls out slowly, running a finger along your arousal smeared along his shaft, and leans forward, thrusting in hard. You pant, tongue still out and eyes focused on his as Yoongi delicately places his cum-slick finger in your mouth. Presses your cream on your tongue.

Your lips close around his finger, tongue swirling around the digit as you shut your eyes and hollow your cheek, gently sucking your arousal until there’s nothing left.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he whispers, in awe of you.

And you are. There’s nothing you won’t do for him. Nothing Yoongi won’t do for you. So he slams into you, deep deep deep, and grunts until you’re coming around him for what feels like the hundredth time since he’s met you.

Yoongi startles awake. He blinks away a dream that he immediately cannot remember. His skin is clammy and his sheets stick to him all over. He kicks them off, heart hammering as he jumps to his feet, trying to get away from the bed.

He doesn’t know why, but he feels danger near him with every slam of his heart.

For a few moments, he’s in total darkness. He can’t make out the shape of his dresser. Or the pile of clothes in the hamper. He can’t see any light filtering through the window. He knows there’s a streetlight out there – why isn’t the light streaming through his curtains?

Panic threatens to seize him. He takes a deep breath and presses the heels of his palms to his eyes, rubbing fiercely. He opens them, bursts of starlight blinding him until they fade finally and he can see.

There’s a shadow in front of him, all razor teeth and red eyes.

Yoongi screams, flinching backward. He topples over and feels weightless like he’s falling through time and space. The moment of fear stretches out long – too long – and for a second he thinks he will die. His heart is beating too hard in his chest, his mind is screaming too loud, and the adrenaline threatens to crack him open and spill out on the floor.

He hits the curtain behind him and fists the fabric, ripping the entire rod and holders down backward as he goes. Streetlight pours into the room. He thrashes, blind and screaming among the now ruined curtains, the curtain rod, and drywall dust.

Yoongi frees himself, grabbing the rod to defend himself against the creature in a last-ditch effort to live.

Grey light saturates the room. There’s no shadow creature with teeth and red eyes. There’s just you in the middle of his bed, the reflection of the street light turning your doe-eyes to glowing coins. You’re in a t-shirt of his, soft and crinkled, hair messy. Lip trembling.

“Kitty?” Your voice is small. Almost childlike. “Kitty are you okay?”

The panic beat of his heart slows. He swallows down nausea and realizes his shaking, the remaining waves of adrenaline taking their toll. Yoongi lets go of the curtain rod and nods, pressing his head into the wall.

“I’m sorry,” he rasps. Throat dry. You move on the bed – more of a prowl – and you flick the lamp light on. Warmth rushes into the room and with it, relief. “Thank you.”

“What happened, Kitty?”

“A nightmare. I got up and … I don’t know. I thought I saw something.”

You sit on your knees. Hands in your lap, one palm splayed on your thigh, the other lifted toward him. Beckoning. Open. Warm. Safe. He peels himself from the wreckage by the window and walks toward you, feeling as though there is a string between you and him, tethering you to him. Reeling him in.

When Yoongi’s hand touches yours, exhaustion bleeds into him. Safe. He is safe. You smile and there are no razor teeth. Just kiss-stained lips as you shuffle backward, pulling Yoongi back into the bed.

“Come sleep, Kitty.”

“Okay.”

Carefully, he turns off the lamp. The streetlight floods his room now, but it’s comforting, the grey wash of the world enough that he can see anything creeping in the shadows.

Eventually, he falls back asleep with the slow drag of your hand back and forth across his forehead, and your mouth pressing gentle sucks to the side of his throat.

“Where are you going?”

Yoongi almost smiles at the pout on your face. You stand in his kitchen, brows pinched, mouth furious. You’re in another one of his shirts – there is nothing else for you to wear. His grin spreads as he comes around the counter, placing his messenger bag down.

Somehow you seem so much smaller in the daylight. Yoongi swears when you’re riding him in the early hours of the morning or when he has you on all fours fucking you deep into his mattress, you’re a force to be reckoned with. A fierce creature feeds on carnal pleasure only.

But now in the light of day, with your bottom lip jutting out and scowling brows, Yoongi thinks there is nothing more adorable. His perfect baby. You reach out, opening and closing your hands and he laughs.

“Work,” he answers gently, pulling you toward him. You don’t fight him. You never fight him. Yoongi is always your top priority – you’ve made that obvious. He smells the cedar. Jasmine. Amber. His head swims and for a moment, he forgot what you asked.

Moments like this with your skin touching, that high-frequency current that is unfamiliar but feels so good – Yoongi forgets himself. Every time he touches you, he’s somewhere else.

His phone rings and he remembers he’s supposed to leave. “I have work.”

Your scowl gets worse. “What am I supposed to do?”

“Whatever you want.”

“I want to be with you.”

He laughs, pressing a kiss to your forehead. When he pulls away, you’re almost snarling, gripping him like iron. He sighs and squeezes your hips for reassurance. “I’ll leave a little early, yeah? For you.”

“Do you promise?”

“Of course, I promise.” Your lip wobbles and he leans forward again, nipping you. “Get some sleep. You woke me up very early this morning, hmm?”

You don’t answer, but you loosen your grip.

When he gets in the car, he sees the curtain in his living room shift and he grins. Cute.

Work drags. Yoongi’s in a bad mood. His coffee is extra bitter. The water tastes off. The fluorescents in his office are too bright, prompting him to turn them off. When he begins auditing his client’s monthly spending, the numbers swim on screen.

Yoongi takes his glasses off. Puts them back on. He swears that he sees symbols and that the screen glitches, flashing between letters and numbers and… something he’s unsure of. When he rubs his eyes, the screen is just numbers in an Excel sheet.

Sighing in defeat, he glances at the clock. It’s only been an hour.

“Fuck.”

He pulls his phone out, thumb hovering over the screen. Your contact information is in his phone, right? The silence in his office is deafening. It presses in on him as he stares at his phone, unseeing. Why didn’t he have your phone number? Shouldn’t a boyfriend have their-

A knock at the door startles him. He drops his phone, mumbling an apology as he bends down to get it before righting himself and looking at his director.

“How are you feeling?”

Yoongi shrugs. “A little off.”

And… it’s true. Yoongi’s head hurts suddenly, a migraine slamming on the confines of his skull. His too-bitter coffee burns in his stomach. The back of his neck feels too hot and his hands shake as he puts his phone on his desk.

“You don’t look too well. Maybe take the day?”

Yoongi nods. Sways a little when he stands up to retrieve his things and turns his computer off. On the drive home, the headache recedes a little. He grips the wheel tight, taking deep breaths as he tries to steady the feeling in the pit of his stomach.

In the drive, Yoongi takes a deep breath. The pressure in his head is gone and his stomach doesn’t feel as rotten as it did twenty minutes ago. He makes a mental note to look up his symptoms when he gets inside – perhaps he has the flu. It won’t do to feel this way before his client’s quarterly financial reports are due.

Thankfully, when Yoongi steps into his house, he feels much better.

Feels fine as he drops to his knees in the entryway, tongue buried hungrily in your cunt as he presses you hard against the door, drinking in every drop. Above him, you tremble and cry, begging him never to leave again.

When you cum on his tongue, creamsicle sweet, he thinks he never will.

Pain shoots up Yoongi’s foot as he stubs his toe making his way to the bathroom. He can barely see in his room now that he has fixed the curtains – and put blackout ones at your request – and the floor is covered with his shoes and chargers and boxes of snacks you keep in his bedroom like a nest.

He has never in his life seen someone with an appetite for junk food like you – especially sweets.

Yoongi opens the bathroom, the gentle, white glow of the night light casting a dull halo against the whitewash walls. He glances in the mirror and his heart launches into his throat. His hand slams against the door for balance and a moment of terror bleeds him dry when he sees the shadow behind him, white teeth flashing and red eyes.

Whirling around, Yoongi’s hand shoots for the light, painfully jamming fingers against stucco. He manages to flip the switch while his heart pulses in his throat, terror working its way through him like an injection straight into his cardiovascular system.

Light spills into the room, so bright that he flinches, closing his eyes for a second. When he opens them, there’s nothing. It’s just his messy room, covered in clothes, empty and half-full bottles of lube, a generous amount of junk food, and you.

Asleep. Soft against his pillows, lips parted slightly.

Breathing a huge sigh of relief, Yoongi chastises himself and shuts the bathroom door. A few splashes of cold water from the tap do the trick, calming him down and cooling the red splotches of anxiety blooming on his neck.

When he returns to bed, your hands seek his warmth, making grabbing motions even in sleep. He indulges you, sliding closer. Tucking you into his chest. You hum in your sleep, that vibrating feeling that lives just under your skin ever-present.

Gently you lean forward, mouth seeking as you press your lips against the soft spot under his ear. He shivers as the innocent kiss turns into a soft suckle, pulling skin between teeth your tongue pressed against his flesh. But you don’t wake up. You seem content to lay in his arms with the gentle pull of your mouth against his skin, smelling like cedar. Jasmine. Amber.

And he falls asleep, moment of terror forgotten.

Yoongi has a problem.

Time management was always one of his strong suits. As someone who lived an organized little life in an organized little home, he thrived on order, repetition of days, and knowing what to expect each day.

Except now Yoongi never remembers what day it is. He hardly remembers how he spends his day. But what he does remember are moments with you. Bodies against bodies. The press of his fingers in your sticky cunt. Your curious fingers, pressing into the tight rim of his ass, pulling out orgasms so deep that it takes him hours to move.

Now, you’re pressed against him on the couch, eyes fixed on the TV. He watches you and you watch the screen, completely focused on the world of Spirited Away. His lips twitch in a smile and he yawns. You snuggle closer to him, nearly attached. It’s second nature to you, to fasten yourself to him. He doesn’t mind, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

When Yoongi’s phone rings, it interrupts everything. You immediately hiss, looking toward the ringing device on the counter. He can’t remember the last time his phone rang but he begins to lift himself off of the couch.

Your fingers dig in. “Finish the movie.”

It’s a demand. He laughs as your brow pinches. “I’ll be right back, let me just see who it is.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?”

“Why don’t you want to watch the movie with me?”

Your voice has grown small again. Not the sultry purr he is used to in the middle of the night when you mouth at his cock, hard before he’s even awake. Not the demanding crack of a whip when you order him to come.

This voice is tiny, a soft thing that immediately draws him to look at you. He cradles your face, your big eyes looking at him with tears rimming them. His stomach drops and he hushes you, thumbs brushing back and forth.

“Fuck – baby why are you crying?”

“Why don’t you want to watch the movie, Kitty?”

“Hey, Kitty wants to watch the movie.” He croons and you pull yourself into his lap, arms going around his neck and winding in his hair. He keeps a soft grip on your face, eyes searching. That thrum is just beneath the surface, like a beating heart. “I just have to answer the phone, baby. I still want to watch the movie.”

You shake your head. “You don’t.”

“Of course I do.”

It isn’t often that Yoongi upsets you. He vaguely recalls one time when he left for work, you had been a bit sad. But ever since he’d started working from home – wait, he works from home? He shakes the question from his thoughts, saving it for later.

It isn’t often that Yoongi upsets you. He vaguely recalls one time when he left for work, you had been a bit sad. And now you sit on his lap and he hates himself for the way a tear slips down your face, turned into a diamond from the reflection of the TV.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, heart aching in his chest. He leans back. He pulls you flush against his chest. You tuck your face in his neck, your favorite spot to nuzzle and he feels the gentle tuck of your mouth, the tiny suckle of your teeth against his neck. Your comfort.

It isn’t often that Yoongi upsets you. He vaguely -

He doesn’t remember. What was he thinking about? He doesn’t know.

Yoongi loops his arms around you and squeezes you tight. And his eyes flutter shut, suddenly tired and lulled to sleep by the gentle pull of your mouth on his skin.

“Come look at this cat,” Yoongi laughs, crouching down on the back porch. The tabby rubs itself between his legs, purring as it twists figure eights. “It’s so friendly, baby. Come say hi.”

Night sky stretches over the city. It’s colder outside – almost Halloween, maybe. Yoongi lost the calendar in his house and he only turns the computer on if he has to sign on for work, which he rarely does these days.

You peek from the door, looking at the cat rubbing its face on Yoongi’s hand. He looks up at you and smiles. You’re swimming in a sweater of his, though your legs are bare. His mouth waters at the thought of tasting you again – he can’t ever get enough, licking the sweetness from between your thighs only to finish by fucking himself into you until he blacks out.

The blackouts happen more after sex now.

“He’s sweet,” Yoongi promises, holding out another hand to you. “Like you.”

Tentatively, you step outside of the door. The floorboard creaks under your step, drawing the cat’s attention. It happens so fast that Yoongi falls from his crouched position, sitting abruptly on the floor. The cat lets out a terrible sound, somewhere between a horrible yowl and a hair-raising hiss.

A blur of claws and teeth, Yoongi yells as the sharp talons catch him, letting the cat go. It becomes a streak of fur and screeching, vanishing from the yard.

You rush to him, dropping down to hold his scratched hands, blood surfacing.

“No!” You look up at him, holding his hand gently to your chest. He feels the strange hum, the heartbeat that… isn’t a beating heart as much as a constant buzz. “Are you okay, Kitty? You’re hurt.”

“It’s okay.” He smiles. The fear in your eyes is heartwarming. You love him – he knows this. He feels it. “Sorry it startled you.”

Autumn sun beats down on Yoongi as he goes to peel logs from the stack of firewood in the backyard. As he jogs down the steps, he slows, frowning. There’s a dead tabby at the foot of the stairs, broken body and dark blood smeared underneath.

“Weird,” he mutters, rushing to get some firewood. “I’ve never seen cats here before. Poor thing.”

When he goes back inside the house, he sees you sitting on the counter. Spread. Finger tracing up and down glistening folds, swollen cunt begging for his mouth. Yoongi drops the wood. He zeros in, licking his lips as you spread your legs a little wider.

“What a perfect fucking pussy,” Yoongi grins. “That for me?”

You nod. “Please, Kitty.”

Yoongi forgets about the dead cat.

“I want candy.” Yoongi looks up at you, brows raised. You’re standing in the middle of the aisle at the grocery store, chewing your bottom lip as you look at him with hopeful eyes. Yoongi immediately softens. Feels his heart flutter. “Is that okay?”

“Sure.” He looks up at the aisle names. “It’s three aisles over. Can you get what you want while I go back and get milk? I forgot.”

You hesitate for a moment, a moment of fear on your face. Before he can brush away your fears with a simple kiss, you take a deep breath and give him your bravest smile. He preens, proud as you give a confident nod and dart off in the direction of candy.

Yoongi is impressed by you. Leaving the house is hard for you – always has been. The two of you mostly stay inside, locked in your little world. Yoongi likes it that way. Loves knowing after dinner you’ll be nested on the couch, watching him with inquisitive eyes and asking him to put on a new show or to continue the anime you’ve been binging.

Every new experience for you brings stars to your eyes. He loves that about you – loves the way you go awestruck while watching old anime that Yoongi adores, or the way you hum and spin in circles to music he shows you.

Yoongi remembers hearing once that people live many lives. He thinks that if that’s true, you must be in your first life, curious about everything. Surprised by the world. And he gets to watch it over and over, the way you grin when something startles you or when you furiously pout because you don’t like something.

Grocery store trips are new for you. The first time, you’d been stitched to his side, refusing to separate from him. Cagey and flashing mean eyes at everyone. Now, though, Yoongi doesn’t worry as he pulls open one of the glass doors in the cold section, looking for milk.

“Yoongi?” He turns mid-reach for a carton of milk, the cold air hitting him in the face and turning his cheeks pink, glass frosting with the humidity rushing into the fridge. Taehyung is standing behind him, hands shoved into pockets. “Holy shit it is you.”

Yoongi gives Taehyung a funny smile, pulling the milk from the fridge and adding it to his cart. “Why wouldn’t it be? How are you?”

“Dude, how are you? You don’t answer anyone’s calls, I heard you started working at home from some sort of illness, and you refuse to answer your door when we come by.” Taehyung’s face is picture-perfect concern, brown eyes fixed on Yoongi, bottom lip pulled between his teeth. “Why can’t you tell us what’s going on? It’s been weeks.”

“What are you talking about? I talked to you two weeks ago.”

Taehyung cocks his head. His brows furrow and an unsettling feeling flips Yoongi’s stomach. He remembers the call exactly. Recites their conversation back to Taehyung, but before Yoongi can finish, his friend is shaking his head.

“We never had that conversation, Yoongi.”

Taehyung takes a step closer. Yoongi’s heart starts pounding. He remembers talking to Taehyung. He had been standing in the kitchen when his phone rang, and you had handed him his phone. Yoongi remembers because he had been half-paying attention to the conversation, transfixed by the way your eyes caught the light and the way you watched him catch up with Taehyung.

But… another thought swirls in Yoongi’s mind. A vision of you slamming the phone down on the counter, shattering it. Yoongi begging you to stop – stop something – and then your soft lips on him.

He shakes his head, setting the thoughts free.

“What’s going on?” Taehyung asks, moving past his cart to get closer. Yoongi backs up. He doesn’t know why, but it’s automatic. He feels panic surge as Taehyung pauses. “Are you sick or-“

Maybe he is. Yoongi knows he talked to Taehyung and yet… doubt wiggles into his mind. Eats at it like a worm. There feels like there is a box somewhere tucked in the recesses of his memory, shielded and without a key. If he applies pressure on it, he gets a headache.

Licking his lips, Yoongi places his trembling hands on the cart. Looks at Taehyung. Sees the pleading in his friend’s eyes. Yoongi opens his mouth to ask when Taehyung thinks they last spoke and -

“Kitty?”

Your soft voice cuts the anxiety in half. Yoongi’s thoughts ease as you appear a few feet away from them, bags of candy in hand. Your doll face morphs into unease when you look at Taehyung. Yoongi wonders why that is – you’ve talked to Taehyung plenty of times. You encourage Yoongi to call him.

“You?” Taehyung asks. The vehemence in his voice startles Yoongi. “You’re still around? Jesus Yoongi, have you been shacked up with some girl you met at a bar this entire time?”

Words have consequences. Taehyung’s immediately has an effect, your expression going from soft and sweet to something that makes Yoongi’s hands grip the push-bar on the cart tightly.

“He has nothing to do with it.” Your voice is a layered hiss. A tingle slides down Yoongi’s neck – familiar and dangerous. He has the sudden urge to bolt, but his feet are rooted to the ground as you advance, putting yourself between the two men. “Yoongi hasn’t been feeling well. I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

“I’m one of his best friends!”

Taehyung is one of his best friends. And Jimin. And Seokjin. Yoongi remembers sitting on a stool at Serendipity, listening to Old Ass Han tell him some superstition about female demons who snatched one of his sons in the middle of the night. Jimin had laughed so hard and made Old Ass Han so mad that Jimin covered his tab for the night.

It was such a funny memory that the next Halloween, Jimin had dressed up as a sultry, female demon. Yoongi vaguely recalls laughing with them into the night, especially when Jimin picked up a guy to go home with that night.

Yoongi is full of those memories – at least he was. He thinks he is.

The little place in his mind that feels inaccessible cracks a little and Yoongi winces, a headache splitting him open. He clutches his temple as a bolt of pain lances through his skull. Then your hands are on him, gentle and cradling his face. You’re saying something but he can’t hear you over the high-pitched ringing in his ears.

Colors dance across his vision as Yoongi squeezes his eyes shut, trying to pant through the pain. The pain doesn’t come from that tiny little box in his mind – it comes from somewhere else. Pulling him away from whatever is hidden there, in that dark little forgotten corner.

Suddenly, it becomes too much and darkness swallows him whole.

The last thing Yoongi remembers is the gentle kiss of your mouth on his neck.

Yoongi has a problem.

He’s getting headaches all the time. Sometimes he wakes up in the middle of the night with them, sharp pain digging behind his eyes. It always worsens when he tries to recall the dreams he has before he wakes up – he knows he has dreams. They’re on the tip of his tongue. But the more he thinks about them, the more he tries to draw up what he imagined, the more the pain grows.

The bed sinks as you crawl in next to him. It’s too hot in bed. Sheets cling to Yoongi’s skin. He feels like there’s a furnace under the mattress, burning through and making everything sweaty and sticky. He shifts a little away from you – your body is always warm, skin heated with the thrum of energy beneath the surface.

Cedar. Jasmine. Amber. Your scent swells as you tuck yourself close to him. Not touching, but Yoongi can sense you there, an awareness tingling along his skin. It’s happened a few times, where a second awareness blinks an eye open and Yoongi feels on edge. Like there is suddenly an instinct inside of him that has awakened, one he is unfamiliar with.

That awareness yawns. Blooms at the back of his mind, where that same throbbing ache has settled. Yoongi tries to steady his breathing, but he can feel his pulse against his pillow, thumping faster and faster as your cloying scent muddles his thoughts.

You don’t say anything. You don’t reach out and touch him. You just lay there, silent and omnipresent. Yoongi squeezes his eyes shut, and for the first time in a very long time, he wishes that you would go to the other room and watch TV. You love watching TV. Sometimes he finds you sitting in front of it on the floor, knees tucked to your chest, chin on top of your knees while you watch a variety of shows.

Though it seems you have settled on Tokyo Ghoul as your favorite.

“Kitty?” you whisper. He holds his breath. Perhaps if he pretends he is asleep, you’ll go to sleep too. Long beats of silence stretch between you, filled only with the sound of Yoongi’s measured breathing. “I’m sorry.”

He pauses. “Hmm?”

“I’m sorry.”

Yoongi swallows past a knot in his throat. Every muscle in his body is clenching. His fingers are fisted in his blankets, and he’s curled into a ball. He doesn’t remember feeling so braced. He tries to relax, letting himself melt in the bed a little.

“For what?”

“You… need space.”

He doesn’t need to turn around to hear the tremble in your voice. You sniffle a little. The lamp on his bed flickers, catching his attention. He watches the flicker of the bulb as you cry softly behind him. He wants to turn around – wants to gather you in his arms and tuck you into his chest and yet… he doesn’t.

“A little,” Yoongi admits softly.

“Okay.”

Licking his lips, Yoongi steels himself. He rolls over in bed to look at you. You’re buried in one of his hoodies and the blanket he likes to sleep with on the couch. He can barely make out your cherubic face. Your round eyes blink at him, pools of light in the darkness of the hoodie and blanket.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“Okay.”

He softens. It’s not so warm in the bed anymore, so he reaches across the space, finding your hand clutched in the blanket. You let him pry your fingers open and he traces your palm. “Just a little space, okay? I can sleep on the couch tonight.”

You shake your head. “No.”

“Baby-“

“I’m not tired.”

Your voice is firm. He knows that voice – it’s the one that precedes a tantrum if he’s not careful. He nods, pulling a hand away and sighing, closing his eyes. He is tired. He realizes just how tired he is.

“Good night, Kitty.”

Most days it’s easier to placate you.

Yoongi feels like he is worn at the edges. Hot water runs down his neck, his back. Relieves a deep ache that has begun to grow on his bones, pained turned lichen. He feels like a watercolor painting with too much liquid medium, running at the edges and blurring across a once-beautiful canvas.

Sleep comes every night, but Yoongi still wakes up tired. He misses meetings even though he has been working from home for… however long. He doesn’t know where his cell phone is. He lost it somewhere in the house – doesn’t need it much.

Water drips onto the floor as he steps out of the shower. He watches it run down milky legs, soaking into the towel. Steam permeates the air and slicks across the mirror, Yoongi’s reflection as opaque and bleary as he feels.

Yoongi heaves a heavy yawn, wiping a hand across the steam in preparation to shave. When his eyes look up at the three-paneled mirror, a shadowed creature with rows of gnashing teeth and red eyes is behind him.

A scream rips its way out of his throat, the terror is so awful that Yoongi’s knees buckles. He hits the tile hard, head smacking the cabinet. His world explodes into color as he blinks the stars from his eyes, scrambling with damp legs, slipping uselessly on the steamed tile as he backs himself into the corner of the wall and sink.

There’s nothing there. Just an open doorway.

For a few seconds, it’s just Yoongi’s heart pounding so hard that his stomach roils. He fumbles for the toilet, flipping the lid and rolling to his knees to heave the contents of dinner into the bowl. He gasps for air, stinging his vomit-burned throat as he throws up again. Stomach-churning. Lungs screaming.

When he flushes and settles against the bathtub, he hears the TV in the living room. Cool air drifts in from his bedroom. He closes his eyes and takes in deep breaths, counting in for seven and out for seven. There’s the soft patter of your feet on the carpet, and he can sense you in the doorway.

His spine always tingles when you’re around.

“Kitty? Are you okay?”

“Don’t feel good.”

“Oh kitty,” you whisper. He keeps his eyes closed. You slide closer to him and your hands are warm. When they touch his face, he feels a little energy pour back into him and he opens his eyes. You’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, still. “I’m sorry.”

“Why sorry?”

You chew on your lip. “I’m sorry.”

It feels like you say that a lot these days. Yoongi nods his head and closes his eyes again as you lean forward and press yourself to his side, giving him a gentle kiss.

The headache is bad. But he has to know. Lays in his bed writhing in the sheets.

Ithurtsithurtsithurtsithurts.

Memories crack across his mind, each one hurting more than the last.

A creature of shadow. Blacking out after sex. A dead cat that hadn’t always been dead. Your innocent eyes. Your angry eyes. You smashing his phone to pieces. A doctor forging him a medical note. Blood on your hands and face as you came out of the doctor’s office.

For the first time in a long time, Yoongi has energy. He feels more himself. Clearer. He gets up early in the morning and makes himself coffee. He sees you lurking near the fridge, throwing him wary glances. You’re a little more worn than usual: sallow cheeks, bags under your eyes. Your eyes are as starry.

When he asks you what’s wrong, you don’t answer. You duck into the bedroom and shut the door firmly behind you. He stares, a little confused and hurt before sighing. You’re touchy sometimes, and on the days like this where you’re more like a feral cat than a preening girlfriend, he knows to keep his distance.

Yoongi shrugs and tosses the sugar packet in the trash, frowning. There are empty bottoms of foam that are stained red - meat packages, he realizes. He doesn’t recall having steak at all this week, but perhaps you’re thawing it in the fridge for dinner.

He shrugs and goes to his office, leaving you to your devices.

A morning meeting kickstarts his day, and Yoongi forgets about it.

Yoongi has a problem.

You’re worse. You don’t want to come out of his room and you won’t go near the light. There are harsh lines around your eyes and he swears your teeth are sharper. More lethal. You won’t sleep in the same bed as he is.

Worst of all? Yoongi feels great. Feels like perhaps it was just a depressive episode he was in. He no longer feels like he is melted together at the edges, barely hanging on. But it does mean that he’s getting frustrated with you.

“Feral,” he mutters as he walks into his office after you snarled at him and then proceeded to cry because you wanted him to take the day off. “Sometimes I swear she is feral.”

Soft lips wake Yoongi up in the middle of the night. He stirs, feeling a tingle run down his spine. He can smell cedar, jasmine and amber and smiles. You’re pressed against him, mouth seeking his delicately, though there is some urgency behind your kisses.

Yoongi opens his mouth to you, an invitation. You suck his tongue into your mouth greedily and arousal shoots to his cock, your mouth doing wonders on his tongue. Fuck he knows you like to suck him off like that too, all greedy and sloppy and spit-slicked.

Your hands pull at his shirt and you kiss him with more fervor, lips becoming teeth, moans becoming hisses. When Yoongi rolls onto his back, pulling your hips on top of him, the dynamic changes.

A gasp escapes his kiss-bruised lips, eyes flying open as you mark his throat. Harsh stings of teeth followed quickly by lavish licks of your tongue. It’s messy and you leave a trail of spit dripping down his neck, making him squirm underneath you, cock tight against his pajama shorts.

“Fuck,” he moans when you suck that spot under his ear he loves. “Greedy devil.”

“Yes,” you shoot back, voice firm. Your hands seek his, pulling them from where they massage your ass to pin them above his head, your grip iron. “Please.”

There’s no way she’s human.

Taehyung’s words flash through Yoongi’s mind when he looks up at you. Your pupils are dilated, two black disks that absorb the barest hint of light in the room. He shivers, afraid of falling into your dark eyes and never finding his way back home.

Have your eyes always been that soulless? No, he thinks.

“Please,” you say again. “Please let me have you.”

He frowns. “You can always have me.”

You shake your head. “Not always. Too much. I take… I take too much. But now not enough. I just…” Your lip trembles and where you hold his wrist begins to ache. He whimpers and you hush him, your fingers loosening a little. “I just need some. Not a lot.”

It’s hard to understand what you’re asking for. Yoongi is lost in the sensation of fluttering in his stomach and the way blood rushes through his body. He feels high when you dip one of your hands below the waistband of his pajamas, taking a hold of his cock in your hand, thumb brushing precum from the tip.

You always take care of Yoongi. His eyes flutter shut as he feels a steady static build in his brain. Your touch is careful but deliberate, each stroke of your hand and squeeze of his shaft sending him spinning. His hips twitch under you.

When you shift down his body, he lifts his lower half off the bed, kicking at the sheets and letting you tug his bottoms down. He’s shaking and eager, unable to look down at you when you take him fully in your hand, tongue tasting the stickiness at his tip.

“Fuck,” he whispers. His hands are still above him, twisted in the pillowcase. He leaves them there, helpless as you tongue the head of his dick before sucking it into your mouth. Your tongue is gentle and your mouth is warm, the barest of sucks making him whine. “Don’t tease me.”

You hum and the vibrations make him speechless. His head rolls to the side, mouth parted, panting as he sees stars. You suck him eagerly, messily. He hears the wet pull of your mouth, the choked cough of your throat when you take him in deep and swallow.

Gentle nails scratch down his legs. He feels like he’s disconnected from the rest of the world, a single strand tethering him as he floats. He babbles as you take him in deep, a hand reaching down below his balls, a single, shy finger pressing against his tight rim.

Everything inside of Yoongi goes taught. He comes immediately and without warning. Spills in your mouth and the world fades away. There is nothing where he goes. No memories, no thoughts, no anxiety. It’s just Yoongi and he feels good – the kind of warm from a bubble bath laden with creams and salts.

Eventually, he comes back down. Opening his eyes, Yoongi sees you blink down at him. You smile, brushing light finger strokes over flushed cheeks. He grins up at you, elated. Hypnotized. You’re so… he doesn’t know the word.

There’s no way she’s human.

That phrase makes Yoongi’s smile falter. You are exquisite. Shrouded in darkness. Yoongi feels the press of unfamiliar air. When he looks beyond you, there’s just darkness. There is nothing. No light streams in from the window again. There is no soft hum of the nightlight in the bathroom where he usually leaves the door open now.

It’s just you.

Yoongi’s heart begins to speed up, panic rising.

You kiss him softly. It’s sweet and his anxiety melts away. Feels the weight of you on your hips, wet pussy dripping on his thigh. You’re being patient, which surprises him. Usually by now you’re needy, grinding your cunt on his thigh to seek friction.

“I want more,” you whisper against his mouth, fingers pressed into his cheeks. “Will you give me more?”

He nods. You lick his mouth, sighing contentedly as you roll your hips on his thigh. He moans, feeling the glide of your bare folds against his leg. You are always so ready for him, eager to take him. Easy to please. Excited to take what you want.

Shaking above him, you bury your face in his neck. Yoongi slides his hands from their position above his head, resting one hand on your thigh and sliding the other between your legs. Sticky arousal greets him, his fingers brushing up and down your cunt as you stop grinding, letting him take control.

“Kitty,” you beg, words muffle in his neck. He grins, eyes half-lidded as he plays with you. “Please, Kitty.”

Yoongi sinks two fingers in your greedy hole, feeling the way your walls flutter around him. It doesn’t matter how many times he buries his fingers, cock or tongue in you – every time is divine. Feels like something holy, taking him somewhere else.

“Fuck yourself on my fingers,” he murmurs, pressing a thumb to your clit. “Come on, baby. Wanna see you make a mess on my hands first.”

“Want your cock.”

“Fingers first, baby. Come on, you can do it.”

A growl rips through your frame. Yoongi stills under you for a moment, heart skipping. But then you move your hips and he hears your soft breath. Feels the drip down his hand. He grins, feeling you swallow his fingers as you work yourself on him, his thumb circling your clit lazily.

Nails dig into his thighs as you lean backward, spreading yourself for him. He can barely make out your figure in the darkness, but he can see the swell of your chest, the line of your neck as you toss your head back, his name falling from flushed lips and floating up to the ceiling.

When you come, it’s wet and loud. He hums, pulling drenched fingers from your legs. He surges forward, surprising you and moving you backward, letting your head bounce near the foot of the bed as he cages you in, stealing a kiss.

You wrap your arms and legs around him, clinging and whining and rubbing against his thigh again, begging sweetly. No one has ever wanted Yoongi the way you do. Ever. He cannot recall a single time someone has been as vigorous in their pursuit.

It makes him hard again, the rush in his veins igniting once more as he slides into you. He pushes in to the hilt, settling there for a moment. You clench around him, clawing at the back of his neck and thrashing under him. Begging for more. Always wanting more. Swearing you just need a little more.

Yoongi sets a slow pace, stroking deep with a purpose. You gasp every time he fucks all the way into you. He grins against your sweaty neck, tongue licking a stripe up your salty skin. You turn your face and catch his mouth with yours, swapping more spit than kissing, moaning into one another’s mouths.

An orgasm winds tightly in Yoongi’s stomach. He feels it at the base of his spine this time, a second sense tingling as he picks up speed, slamming into you until you’re crying under him, babbling again in something that sounds like a language but isn’t quite.

“Fuck, fuck fuck fuck –“ He grits his teeth and the moment he comes, you squeeze him like a vice, shouting and pulling him into an orgasm so hard that he feels himself fall on top of you, the energy leaving him as quickly as his orgasm had gathered.

At some point, he falls asleep.

Hell on earth is waking up battered and torn at the seams. You’re out in the living room, enjoying an early morning episode of Tokyo Ghoul again. He hears you giggle at the TV and he lifts his head in the shower. The rush of the hot water is loud, but the sound of you laughing is in his head.

It always feels like you’re in his head.

Yoongi stumbles when he gets out of the shower. His feet are heavy and there is pain behind his eyes. The throbbing kind that makes him turn the lights out and shoot a text to work telling them he needs a sick day. How many sick days has he had this year? He has no idea.

Yoongi stumbles to the mattress and collapses into the sheets. Everything feels heavy like he is made of glass bones with the weight of the world threatening to break him.

Sleep comes and goes. It doesn’t make him less tired. Yoongi places a hand on his forehead. He is not over-warm, but he wants to cry, the ache in every muscle so real that it takes him several tries to say your name.

You appear immediately, hovering at the edge of the bed in his hoodie, wrapped in a blanket.

“Are you feeling sick, Kitty?” He nods and you sniff. “I’m so sorry, Kitty… do you want some water?”

Yoongi nods again and you vanish. He rolls onto his back, groaning. He reaches for his phone. The screen is cracked from some incident or another, but it’s mildly legible as he searches his symptoms online.

When you come back with water, he thanks you with a sweet kiss and smiles when you lick his nose affectionately before darting out of the room again. He hears the show start again.

Carefully, Yoongi tries to sit up a bit. The water is cooled with two cubes – just the way he likes it – and it helps staunch the thirst. He drains the entire glass, but still, he aches with exhaustion that has no name.

Every combination he can think of brings Yoongi undesirable results. He has the fatigue of many different illnesses, but not any of the others. Mono seems the most likely, but still, it doesn’t feel right.

Yoongi considers and then types a new search: constant exhaustion after sex.

The results make him roll his eyes. He knows he’s going to get several ads for erectile dysfunction medication, but he scrolls anyways. Maybe he’s just fucking you that hard. But he does remember blacking out after sex and… well he never feels great the next day.

Slowly tapping through pages, Yoongi sighs. There’s nothing that provides much thought beyond Yoongi knowing he’s had too much sex. You’re a starving little thing, constantly wanting –

A word catches his attention: succubus.

Yoongi snorts when he opens the article. It’s a weird string of evangelical stories and musings, and overly sexualized depictions of female demons with generous breasts, shapely figures, and cute little bat wings.

The succubus needs sexual desire and energy to survive. He scoffs and wonders what heterosexual male wrote that dream.

Repeated sexual activity with a succubus will result in a bond being formed between the succubus and the host.

“Romantic,” Yoongi deadpans, scrolling up to close out the article. But a drawing catches Yoongi’s eye - a shadowy figure with rows and rows of teeth and red eyes. “Huh.”

Clicking on it, the page loads to a Reddit thread. Yoongi curses when he has to download the app, but his fingers move of their own volition, tapping across the screen as he creates a login and reopens the thread.

There are streams and streams of comments and links on the thread, a little overwhelming. As expected, it sounds like most heterosexual men overly-sexualizing women or asking about roleplaying – and yet, there’s a thread with a lot of upvotes that he clicks on.

Loss of time. Constantly exhausted. Nightmares of shadow creatures following me. Yoongi licks his lips, feeling his mouth go dry as he continues. Blackouts after sex. Not able to remember life before meeting entity. Dead animals –

“Kitty?” Yoongi flinches, dropping the phone on his stomach, hand covering his chest as his heart pounds in his ribcage. You blink in surprise, cocking your head where you stand in the doorway. A sense of dread draws a slow finger down Yoongi’s spine as he stares at you. “Do you want to come watch with me? We can put on Spirited Away.”

Loss of time. Constantly exhausted. Nightmares of shadow creatures-

“Kitty?” Yoongi has waited too long to reply. He nods his head and clears his throat. He wants to laugh at how ridiculous he’s being, shoving the phone away from him as he slowly peels himself out of bed. You grin and hold out a hand. “Thanks.”

Like a cat, you’re curled on the couch. Yoongi gives you a wide berth as he walks to his office. Night has passed into morning, and the flash of the screen lights the way as he opens the door, slipping through a tiny crack before he closes it softly and firmly behind him.

While watching movies, Yoongi could not help but think about the thread he had seen. He doesn’t turn the light on, too afraid of it showing under the door and tipping you off where he is.

Fear settles in the pit of his stomach. His hands are shaky as he wakes up the mouse, the computer light nearly blinding in the dark room. He jams the settings on the keyboard, turning it down a bit as he settles into the chair, taking a few breaths.

It feels ridiculous. You’re his girlfriend, not a sex-craving demon. But Yoongi finds the thread again anyways, clicking through and going back to that original subthread of people claiming to have survived an encounter with a succubus.

Time doesn’t seem to pass as Yoongi reads. He leans on his hand, eyes burning as he clicks through story after story.

Met at a bar – she was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. I never remember going home with her, but my life was suddenly consumed by her. I lost my job and my friends. Felt good at first, but started getting headaches any time I would try to remember something. And she was always around, always lurking around every corner.

Yoongi clicks on to the next one, stomach flipping nervously.

- I ran into a friend and she swore we hadn’t spoken in months. I remember talking to her but it felt like… they were false memories. Like I didn’t really do those things. It was strange, but I forgot again after a while.

Taehyung’s face flashes in Yoongi’s mind. His palms get sweaty as he navigates the mouse, leaning closer toward the screen. A nervous beat starts to drum up in his heart as he pours over the words and the accounts of others.

The evidence is damning, but it can’t be possible, right?

Yoongi thinks of Old Ass Han telling the story of his son being swept up by a she-demon. Yoongi doesn’t think the story is very funny anymore, and the thought of Jimin dressing up as one makes him nauseous.

Carefully, he navigates to another thread.

I was lucky. She didn’t want to kill me, but she was constantly hungry for more energy that I didn’t have. She would get cagey and feral, hissing at me and hiding in the dark, like she was weaker in the sun when she wasn’t fed. I would find packs and packs of meat rotting in the garbage like she was trying to get her fix elsewhere.

I hope that you take this thread seriously. They are real. And while they look and talk like people, they aren’t. They might grow attached to you, but they don’t love you. You are a meal – and if your succubus is only feeding off of sex, it’s only a matter of time before they need more.

Think Jennifer’s Body, people.

Yoongi has never seen that movie before. He clicks away from the thread and pulls up the trailer. It seems a little ridiculous, but he gets the idea. Sex, eat the guy, move on to the next. But you certainly have never tried to eat him.

So Yoongi clicks back to the thread and searches for something new. How to get rid of a succubus.

He leans back while the page loads, switching to a white screen. This bright, the monitor reflects what’s in front of it, Yoongi’s round and tired face, pale from lack of sleep, and a looming shadow behind him. His stomach plummets and he goes rigid in the chair, frozen with fear.

Yoongi smells cedar. Jasmine. Amber.

"Kitty is looking at bad things,” you sniffle. Your shadow grows in the computer monitor and Yoongi swears he sees the white flash of teeth before his world turns red. "I loved you, Kitty."

#yoongi smut #suga smut #min yoongi smut #suga bts #min yoongi fanfic #yoongi x reader #yoongi x demon reader #bts fanfic #bts smut #min yoongi #happy haliween #haliiimede writes #minors dni #minors do not interact #tw manipulation #tw supernatural #tw dead animal

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theloveoftoms · 1 year

Text

one hell of a pilot - maverick x reader

summary: after a recent breakup, your long-time friend goose suggests you join him and the others at a bar off base. maverick and you forge a meaningful connection <3

a/n: hello babes, guess who's back from her far too long hiatus, this girl! I started writing this a few weeks ago, and I finally finished it. I hope you all enjoy, I know writing it was a blast! I have my poetry final today, so wish me luck lolz. have a great day :)) - xoxo mac

wordcount: 4.3k

warnings: alcohol consumption, shitty ex-boyfriend, language ;0

Today had been a rough day. Training at Top Gun had increased to a new level of difficulty. With each new assignment and flight training demanding a new level of grit and determination to accomplish. And it certainly didn’t help that your heart was still in the process of mending from the pain caused by your most recent boyfriend, well, now I suppose, ex-boyfriend.

The day at Top Gun was finally over, and the thought of coming home to your single-unit pleased you in the moment, but you knew damn well, that the second you got back to your apartment, the dread of it all would sink in.

So, after a shower, and a luke-warm beer that you had forgotten to put in the refrigerator, you found yourself perched on the arm of your living room couch, fiddling with the remote that never seemed to work, but probably just needed batteries. You found some shitty action movie on tv and ate a plate of strawberries as the sound of fast cars and men with Floridan accents became a comforting lull in the background.

Your night, or at least how you had planned it, would consist of, 1) the second half of this shitty movie 2) the leftover chicken quesadilla you had waiting for you in the refrigerator and 3) the cheap thriller novel that you had found at the drugstore last week. What you didn’t anticipate happening, was the doorbell ringing promptly at nine, just after you had finished your dinner.

So, you pulled yourself up from the couch, and on the way to the door, when you passed a glimpse of your reflection in the hallway mirror, you debated grabbing a cardigan or a blanket or something to cover up your sloppy look. You were wearing a navy-branded t-shirt (courtesy of your days at the academy), and pair of biker shorts that appeared to be non-existent as they hid beneath the excess material of the mens tripple-XL shirt. But the closer you got to the door, the further that thought was in your mind, and you decided, that whoever was on the other side of the door would just have to deal with your post-work image.

“y/l/n,” Goose stated confidently, a hand resting on his hip, “you busy tonight?”

Your posture relaxed when you realized who it was; the man you practically grew up with.

You deadpanned and gestured to yourself, “does it look like I’m busy Bradshaw?”

Goose shrugged, not entirely sure how to reply to that retort of yours.

“What do you need Goose?” You asked nonchalantly, both wanting and not-wanting to get back inside to the comforts of your sofa.

“A couple of the guys and I are going to grab drinks at the Duke and I was wondering if you wanted to tag along?”

You gestured to yourself again, “Does it look like I’m fit to go to a bar Nick?”

“It looks like you need a pair of fuckin pants,” he said jokingly, which earned a slap to his bicep.

“I know things haven’t been great for you lately y/n,” Goose said, “with Brett and all.”

Brett. Just hearing his name brought an unwanted surge of pain through your chest. Specifically, the surge of pain that you had been trying to push away for the past couple of weeks. You didn’t cry about him anymore, in the daytime that is. But at night, when you would lie in bed beneath the darkness of the moon, missing the presence of having someone to curl into, the tears would come, and they would temporarily make an impression on your pillowcase. But as you slept it off, the tears would dry, and you would wake up the next morning feeling mostly okayish.

“And I think,” Goose said, bringing you back into reality from the facade of memories that you had been reminiscing upon within your mind just then, “if you came out with us tonight, you’d have more fun than you would here,” he said, gesturing to your townhome, “spilling a tub of ice cream all over yourself while you sit alone with the lights off.”

Way harsh Goose, you thought to yourself. But he did have a point. You hadn’t been out in forever. The last time you actually went and got drinks like a proper twenty-something-year-old was with your parents when you relocated to San Diego for your position in Top Gun. And that was just at some locally owned Mexican restaurant that happened to have a bar inside. Maybe it would be good to get back out there?

You rolled your eyes, “Give me ten minutes and I’ll be ready.”

So, as Goose, your childhood best friend stood in your kitchen, washing the plate you had used to eat your chicken quesadilla, you were busy in your room getting yourself ready for the evening. You dressed yourself in a lacey black tank top that looked only slightly like lingerie, but didn’t if you wore it tucked into a pair of straight-cut jeans and wore it alongside a pair of low beige heels. As you ran a comb through your wavy hair, you couldn’t help but stare at yourself in the mirror.

Sure, it was a pretty typical outfit that other young women of your age wore when they went out for drinks, but it was cute. And it did provide you with the security of looking just like every other woman. Thats exactly what you wanted to appear to be; just like every other woman. Brett had dumped you because you weren’t ready to settle down with him. You weren’t ready to move in, you weren’t ready for marriage, and you sure as hell weren’t ready for children. Brett wanted you to finish up Top Gun and then lie low for a while, putting your career aside. “Be realistic,” Brett had said, “This pilot shit can’t last forever. Maybe look at getting a different job, one thats more feminine?”

Your career was very important to you. You had worked so hard to climb the latter that that is the United States Navy. Your career was the highlight of your life. It was everything you had ever worked towards. And you weren’t going to give that up. And as much as you hated to admit, the reason of your recent break-up, had been affecting your ego ever so slightly.

So tonight, as you admired your curves in the mirror, and put on some mascara, you told yourself that you were just like every other woman.

…

“This better be worth it,” you grumbled, shutting the door to Goose’s Bronco, scanning the beach-side dive bar with your eyes.

Off in the distance, the evening tangerine hue was beginning to creep up and onto the horizon, putting the day to sleep in preparation for the night. And alongside the dimming of the evening, the neon lights of the dive bar became more welcoming.

The Duke, the off-base bar that Goose had insisted you join him and the others at, was the kind of place that had charm, but only if you knew where to look for it. It was the kind of place with neon lights and drinks that were both cheap and good. It was the kind of place that people came to forget about the day they had just had. Thats what you wanted. And the aura of the loud music coming from the bar would sure help with that.

“Trust me, y/n,” Goose reassured you, responding to your question, “it will be.”

You wanted to believe Goose, you really did. And the moment you saw the table of guys that you’ve began to come to know as your group of friends, the night already seemed better.

“Look who made it!” Iceman said as you approached the table, making you feel welcome, “Its good to see you Cobra,” he said, calling you by your call sign.

You smiled and as you took a seat at one of the empty chairs, saying your ‘hellos’ to the other classmates that were here. And at the end of the table was no other than Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell – perhaps, your greatest competitor – sitting laxly with a beer in his hands and his regular leather jacket draped around his chair.

Damn he had nice arms.

“Evening Cobra,” he said to you, leaning back ever so slightly in a way that seemed to be slightly too confident.

“Maverick,” you offered as a form of pleasantry.

Slider, who was busy looking at the drink menu slapped it down on the counter, pointing to one item in particular. “Now this,” he said, his finger drawn to a platter of five tequila shots, “this is what we need to get things going.”

So, as soon as a one of the circulating waitresses happened to be walking by your table, she wrote down, and then brought over the collective order of your table, the night certainly got a whole lot more exciting.

“Alright,” Goose said, handing you your stalky shot glass of 100% pure tequila, complete with a rim of salt and an accompanying lime, “To good times,” he said nodding.

“Good times,” you repeated along with the others, before drawing the glass to your mouth, tasting the dryness of the salt right before proceeding to take the shot.

The warmth of the alcohol tricked down your throat as you swallowed, and you forgot just how strong shots could be. You weren’t sure if swallowing it as quickly as possible made the uncomfortable sensation better or worse, but as soon as the clear liquid was all emptied from your glass, you jammed the lime into your mouth and squinted your eyes shut as a way to combat the sensation. You weren’t the only one. It seemed everyone at your table, was just to realizing how strong Slider’s chosen shots were.

“Shit,” Goose groaned, setting his glass down on the table, “And you enjoy these Slider?”

Slider shrugged, grinning, “Its awful right now, but hey, come ten minutes, you’ll feel real great.”

Opening one of the beers on the table, you rolled your eyes Sliders comment, “It’ll take more than that,” you sarcastically groaned to Goose who was seated beside you.

“What was that y/n?” Iceman asked.

You shook your head, “Ah, it was nothing.”

“Do I hear you wanting to go for a round two?”

Now, a sensible you would have said no. But since it was Friday night, you wouldn’t have to get up early tomorrow for class. And its not like you had any other plans for the day besides catching up on some paperwork and going on your usual walk. So for once in your life, you threw caution to the wind and agreed, “You got it Ice.”

So, naturally, when your platter of shots arrived, you passed them out, handing each one of the guys their respective glasses with a smirk.

“Maverick,” you said charmingly – gee, thanks alcohol – and you tried to avoid the warm feeling in your chest when your slender fingers skimmed against Maverick’s as you handed him the glass.

“Three, two, one,” you counted down, giving yourself, and possibly the rest of your group, the mental preparation prior to that same burning sensation that would wreak havoc in your mouth prior to swallowing and quickly placing the lime in your mouth.

There was a collective groan from your table as the five shot glasses returned to their small cedar serving plank.

You laughed, washing down the remaining remnants of the uncomfortable taste with the beer you had ordered. “I am not doing that again.”

So, for the next while, as the effects of the alcohol began to make itself present in your body, you sat at the table, just chatting and hanging out with your classmates, sharing stories from your lives before the navy. And while the five of you talked, you couldn’t help but stare at the opposite end of the table where Maverick was seated.

Sure, naturally, prior to this evening, you had realized that Maverick was attractive, but being in a relationship with someone didn’t really allow you to fully appreciate his beauty. With his dark hair, carelessly brushed in an effortlessly windswept way atop of his head, and his oceanic eyes, that in some lights appeared green, and in others, appeared to be almost blue.

Physically, he was gorgeous, but your past interactions with him intrigued you to what it would be like to know him. He had an ego, one that was strong and unaffected, but there was something about his drive, about his reach, about the passion he put into everything he did. You couldn’t help but wonder if one knew him intimately, if he would pursue them with the same passion and drive.

The thought cleared from your mind when his eyes met yours, making you look away, and ultimately force yourself to think of something other than the man that is Maverick.

You hadn’t noticed, but with the loss of your collective sobriety that each one of you can your friends had came in with, the music in the dive bar began to form a sound for itself. The radio collection, of rock, and pop, and some hard core groovy songs had elevated in loudness, so much so, that in a section of the bar a cluster of people had begun to dance among the cleared spot in the building.

“Do you guys see that?” Slider asked, his face drawn in a grin.

You turned in your chair, studying the dancers with your eyes, then turning back to face the table, “What?” You asked.

“That blonde over there,” Slider said, “She’s giving me some serious fuck me eyes.”

Hearing those words come out of your classmates mouth nearly made you choke on your beer, you weren’t expecting that.

“Wanna join me Ice?” Slider asked, “She’s got friends.”

You rolled your eyes as the two of them as they both threw themselves out of their seats and leisurely sauntered over to the dance floor.

“Anything to get laid,” Goose muttered jokingly when the two men began to sway to the beat of the music not quite beside, but very much near the two women.

“You could probably meet someone out there Cobra,” Goose said, more directly to you.

You scanned the crowd again, “I’m not too sure if I want to,” you gestured to the men, “they all look like their mothers still pick out their clothes for them.”

Maverick snorted from his spot over across the table, “She’s got a point Nick.”

You turned to face Maverick and flashed him a grin, “see, someone gets me!”

Goose shook his head, trying to hide his smile before saying, “I’m going to go give Carol a call, I promised I’d call her tonight. You two try and stay out of trouble,” he said, lecturing the two of you like children.

Seemingly the moment Goose left the table, Maverick’s gaze met yours. You were usually fine with eye connate, but there was something about the way that Maverick’s enchanting green eyes were staring into your own that made you feel both nervous and calm at the same time. You weren’t too sure what to say, or what the two of you could talk about, so as a way of diverting the imminence of your conversation, you took another drink of your beer, which only provided a moment relief where you weren’t required to think of what to say.

“You dance?” He asked you, the comment coming out of nowhere.

You shook your head, “I can sort-of dance, but I don’t that often,” you told him unsure of why you chose to tell him that. “And you?” You asked him back.

Maverick shook his head grinning, “not really my thing either.”

And then from across the room you heard a voice of familiarity, and right away you knew who it belonged to. Brett. Your ex-boyfriend Brett. The man who broke your heart Brett.

As much as you didn’t want to turn around, and face the man who had told you to take a step down from your career, your suspicions got the best of you, and as much as you didn’t wish to see him, there was some sort of burning panic in your chest that wouldn’t be fulfilled if you didn’t turn in your seat.

There he was. Standing tall, with his sandy hair, and well sculpted physique, whispering tiny inaudible thoughts into the ear of a woman with bleach blonde hair. Your eyes met his, and suddenly you wanted to leave. You wanted a sinkhole to come up into the bar and swallow you whole. And the moment Brett flashed you a grin, one that said, this is my new woman, you jealous? You felt the desire, no, the need to get out of the bar. You weren’t ready to face all of this just yet.

But time doesn’t always work in your favour. And so the moment Brett walked over to your table, his arm linked tightly around the slender waist of the bleach blonde woman, you weren’t too sure what to do.

Brett smiled in the kind of way that reminded you of what it was like to know him, before spewing out pleasantries and introducing the woman known as Crystal who was joined at his hip. “Its good to see you out y/n,” he said coyly, and in that moment, a ping of hatred found its way through your heart, how had you ever been with this man.

But instead of telling him off, as much as you wanted to, you smiled bluntly, your eyes revealing your true nature, “And its good to see you indulging in pleasures other than morning runs and cheap beer from the gas station.”

As Crystal gave you a dirty look, Maverick snorted before walking over to your end of the table and putting an arm around your chair, “I think its time for you to be on your way man,” he said to Brett.

Brett shrugged, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans, “I was just coming by to say hello,” before he walked away, his hand moving down from Crystals waist circulating above her ass. Good riddance Brett!

You turned to Maverick, flashing him a gentle smile, “thanks for that Mav,” before pausing and looking to the door, “if you don’t mind, I think I just need some air.”

And without protest, you pushed yourself up from your seat, and tried to compose yourself as the night time air hit your face. You felt warm – thanks to the alcohol – but the coldness felt lovely on your skin. You felt refreshed, cleansed almost.

On the opposite side of the Duke, was the sandy beach leading up to the ocean, which now, in the dark of night, was illumined by nearby houses and buildings, and the light of the moon reflected calmly on the waters. You decided to walk onto the sand, removing your heels from your feet and letting the now-cold sand wiggle around your toes as you walked, until you found a spot within the sand to take a seat.

Gosh, the one person you didn’t want to see tonight was Brett, and surely enough, he was there. You hated that you saw him, and you hated that you weren’t quite over him yet. Naturally, things would take time, you just wanted to get through that as quick as you could.

Behind you, you heard the sound of someone clearing their throat, which made you turn, your awareness of your surroundings coming into a fuller passage.

It was Maverick, waking slowly towards you through the sand. “Mind if I sit?” He asked.

You gestured to the available ground beside yourself, “by all means, be my guest.”

You didn’t really feel like you wanted company, but then again, it was Maverick, only Maverick, and you didn’t want to turn him away after he had stood up for you back there.

And as soon as Maverick sat down beside you, the warmth and familiarity of his scent filed your way through the air, a blend of sandalwood and citrus, and cedar, and near-summer nights, you found yourself relax a bit in his presence.

For a while, the two of you just sat there beneath the moonlight in one another's company, just listening to the sound of the waves upon the shore. It was peaceful.

“So that was him?” He finally asked you.

You nodded, turning your face ever so slightly to face him, “that was Brett, the Marine.”

Maverick nodded, “Goose told me about him,” he paused, “he seems like an ass.”

You chuckled, not too sure why, “you’re right about that.”

You weren't too sure how much of your failed relationship you wanted to share with your friend. You and Maverick weren't particularly close, but the two of you obviously cared about one another.

“I just hate,” you sighed, “I hate how when I was with him, I didn’t even realize how big of a dick he could be.”

Maverick looked over to you, as if he knew you were going to say more.

“He told me to give up my career after I’m done at Top Gun,” you said, feeling a sense of relief by telling someone else about the matter, “He wanted to get married, and have kids, and he wanted me to follow him wherever he went.”

Maverick scoffed.

“And its not that I even hate that that’s what he wanted, I hate that part of me, a very, very, small part of me, considered it. And sometimes, all I can do if worry about if I made the right decision, and walked away from him, from that life for the one Ive worked so hard for.”

Maverick shook his head, and in a more quiet tone, he turned to face you, “don't ever doubt yourself like that. Ever.”

You looked away from him, feeling some warm sensation in your chest, but when Maverick resumed to speak, you had no other choice but to turn back to face the brunette.

“You’re a pilot,” he said, “Its in your blood, its in your veins, its who you are. And you’re damn good at it. Hell, somedays I wish I was nearly as good as you. You fly with so much precision and drive and when you're up there, I only wish I could have a fraction of whatever it is that you do, because you are just so so good at it.”

You looked back to Maverick, noticing the soften in his usual expression. His moonlight eyes were on you, and only you.

“And if you ever think you would be better off with some dick like Brett, you’re wrong, because someone who loves you, shouldn’t hold you back from your potential, they should push you, they should inspire you to do better, to be better, to become better.”

For a while, the two of you just sat in silence, absorbing the pure intimacy of one another's gaze. You hadn’t realized how cold it was beginning to get because you were too busy thinking about what Maverick had just said. You didn’t realize the trail of goosebumps that had found their way across both of your arms, the cool night time air that brushed against them. But Maverick did.

Maverick slipped his arms out of his leather jacket, and draped it around your shoulders, a peaceful expression on his face. “Here,” he said, dawning the jacket, the very one that smelt so much like him it made you relax, “Its not super warm, but its better than nothing.”

When the warmth returned to your arms, almost the minute you gathered the material around yourself, your thoughts were finally gathered back into your head. You turned to Maverick, your knee brushing up against his faintly, but just enough that you were aware of its presence, and the way in which the faint warmth radiated through the fabric of both his jeans and yours, until you became hyperaware of its presence, and gave him a soft smile. “Thank you,” you told him.

“For the jacket,” you said, pulling the leather closer to your chest, “and for what you said. No one has ever told me that before.” You paused a moment, “it means a lot.”

Maverick’s expression softened and he looked at you contently, “its the truth,” he said softly.

You leaned into him, your head now resting on his shoulder, you felt a sense of peace, a sense of relief, you felt relaxed in Maverick’s presence. And when he leant his head, gently atop of yours, you knew that what Maverick had said was genuine.

And so, like you had initially thought, when Goose suggested the idea of going to a bar, you thought you would have maybe made one or two bad decisions, maybe choosing to kiss a man with far too much tongue, or follow him home. But what had ended up amounting from the evening was far better. You made a real connection, with someone who you would later find out, would become well worth you time.

That was the night you had met Maverick for the second time. The night when the two of you forged a connection one that even time wouldn’t be able to take away.

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