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#it's easier to pretend they're right

luveline · 2 years

Text

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

summary eddie munson is super weird. he holds your hand too tight, he has a fascination with your neck, and he can’t give a hickey to save his life. good thing you’re super weird, too. [20k]

warnings two losers falling in love!! vampire!eddie munson, ditzy!reader (kind of), fem!reader, smut mdni (p in v, unprotected sex, oral fem receiving, general heavy petting and kissing, praise), fluff, hurt/comfort, angst (eddie struggling with guilt and grief). canon divergent (the events of volume 2 take place but there’s a mostly happy ending i.e. everyone good lives and everyone bad dies) TW eddie doesn't have suicidal thoughts, but he does think about it briefly. not with intent or anything like that though. requested here for my halloween party <3

(㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Eddie Munson never wanted to be a vampire, and he wants that on the record.

It's a ridiculous existence. It's embarrassing. It's nothing like all the movies and books promised him.

He's looking at you, Bram Stoker.

In Eddie's mind, Stoker’s nothing less than a liar and a sycophant.

"Who's dick were you bouncing on, Stoker?" he demands to know, kicking fallen leaf mulch under his feet angrily. "Need'ta fucking impress some vampire lover with your over-exaggerated, over-powered, ridiculous descriptions? Great. Hope it was worth it. Meanwhile I'm here, self-esteem half the size of a grain of rice because I can't scale a building with my bare hands."

Eddie would know. He's tried.

He's not genuinely angry with Bram Stoker, but he'd rather take his frustrations out on a guy who's been dead for a hundred years than take them out on the demobats, because he doesn't want to even think about the demobats. They're all dead too. Not before they'd had (see: devoured) their pound of flesh and changed his life for the worse, though.

He shakes his head to drive out the memory like water in his ears. It's easier to pretend none of that shit in the upside down ever happened. (Impossible to pretend. He begs himself to try anyway.)

He’s pissed because science fiction has promised him a lot of things and reality has delivered on none of them. No super strength, no impermeable skin. He is faster, but that's more a reflexive thing than anything else. And being faster doesn't make running fun. That’s impossible.

Sunlight breaks through the treeline and his skin crawls. Science fiction didn't get that right, either. The sun doesn't hurt. It's just really, really annoying.

He covers his eyes, winces at his itchy hand, pulls his sleeve over his fingers and covers his eyes again. "This blows," he says, and means it.

In Dracula, the sun nulls Dracula’s supernatural abilities. Eddie doesn’t have any abilities worth nulling, unless you count echolocation.

He doesn’t.

He walks another five minutes up the road toward Forest Hills when he realises you're behind him. His senses are enhanced now as a bat’s might be, hearing fine-tuned and dialled up every second of the day — which makes living in a trailer park where everyone thinks he's a murderer an acute misery — but he's as prone to distraction as anyone else. Especially when he gets stuck in a memory.

Eddie throws his gaze over his shoulder and finds you thirty or forty feet away, talking to yourself under your breath. He knows you more for your sounds than your appearance. To be able to put a face to your mindless babbling is a mystery solved. Of course you look like that. A skirt made of soft looking fabric bounces over two cute thighs, a pretty lacy corset type of thing that isn't too tight outfits your top half. You look more like a vampire than he does.

"Hi, Eddie," you call.

His eyes widen, a deer-in-the-headlights kind of surprise. If you notice how he's frozen you don't show it, continuing to push your bike toward him. The tick of the wheels grows louder as you get closer, two hands on the handlebars with wrists draped in bracelets, both silver and fabric.

Besides your jewellery, your arms are bare. You must be freezing.

"Hey," he says.

He doesn't know your name. He doesn't know how you know his, and he’s too awkward to ask.

Your sounds peak as you close the gap. The wet scrape of your dirty black canvas shoes over shining asphalt, the soft puff of your breath, the clinking sounds of whatever trinkets you have in your bag. If he focuses, he can make out the tiniest pinches of fabric. Your short sleeves rubbing against your arms, your bra straps stretching over your shoulders.

Eddie takes a deep breath and tries to diminish his senses.

"Where's your van?" you ask curiously.

"Piece of shit kicked it in the middle of town. Just my luck."

You pause at his side, looking him up and down obviously but without the judgement or irreverent disgust he's come to expect from near about everybody in Hawkins.

"That's not good," you say succinctly.

It's such a genuine response that Eddie can't find it in himself to be sarcastic.

"God awful," he agrees sullenly.

You nod and start to walk again. Eddie falls naturally into step beside you, matching your pace without thinking.

"You should get a bike."

He laughs. Coughs to cover it up. "Yeah?"

"They're way more reliable than a car, and it doesn't hurt the zone."

Eddie squints. "The o-zone?"

"Is there another one?"

You're still so serious that he spares you the ridicule he might dole out to anyone else. If Dustin had said something like that he would've ripped the kid a new one, but you're rather sweet in an odd way. You have a soft manner of talking — each word sounds like you've thought its pronunciation through meticulously beforehand.

He ignores your question and points at your bike, ring catching the sun. "Why aren't you riding it?"

"My chain slipped."

"So much for reliable."

That makes you smile. Eddie feels it like a punch, a flat palm slapped into his chest.

"You can't put the chain on yourself?"

A brisk breeze whips your hair, your earrings. The left kisses your cheek, a silver heart-shaped hoop with pink beads that click together. You lean into it, face tilted to one side as a perplexed smile plays on your sticky lips. "You can do that?"

"Sure, you pull it back around the gear. It's easy." He hesitates for a moment, and then feels guilty about hesitating. "I'll do it for you, if you want."

"The guy in no. 62 has been charging me ten dollars." You don't sound as angry as you should, in Eddie's opinion.

"I'll do it for nothing."

You beam at him. His chest feels like a bruise.

Pretty girls don't like Eddie. Not before Chrissy, not after. He's trying to work out your angle, what it is that you want.

Or maybe you don't know.

As soon as you find out who he is, you'll turn your pretty nose up at him and walk the other way. He shouldn't smile at you, he definitely shouldn't fix your bike.

He can't help it. He's so starved for positive attention that he follows you all the way through the park, westside to east.

He checks the driveway of his own home and smiles mildly when he spots Wayne's new car. It's new in the sense that it's different. It's actually way older than the one he'd had before, the one he'd pawned to pay for Eddie's — well, Eddie's everything. His check-ups, his court dates, his goddamn bail. In the same way that this trailer isn't the trailer, but an older, smaller one as far away from their first as possible.

Kid, if I had the money…

Wayne hadn't needed to finish. If he had the money, they'd leave. Leave Hawkins, leave Indiana. Settle down in some other mediocre Midwestern state with all the same creature comforts and none of the "You were acquitted but literally none of us believe you didn't kill someone," motif.

All they have now is debt, each other, and the Great Munson mug collection.

Eddie keeps his head down as they pass the old trailer. Nobody lives inside now. Only termites.

He can taste blood by the time they reach your home. Far from the metallicity of his human blood, Eddie's blood now harbours a bitter taste. Not quite like coffee but with that same overwhelming earthiness. He pulls his teeth from the bitten flesh of his bottom lip and quickly raises a hand to his teeth, alarmed.

No knife-like points. Normal teeth.

"Are you thirsty?" you ask him.

Eddie flinches and drops his hand. You've parked your bike against the wooden lifts of your porch and are halfway up the steps to your front door, hand clasped loosely on the railing.

His heart fucking pounds.

"I have grape juice?"

"Right," he says hurriedly, "right. Yeah, that would be awesome."

Duh, you meant juice.

You send him another endearing smile and pop up the last of your steps and into the front door. It's not locked. He doesn't follow, thinking you must live with somebody (who's gonna know exactly who he is and tell him to get lost).

He turns his attention to your bike instead. It's easy enough to fix. He rolls the bike so its handlebars are resting against your concrete driveway and covers the top bar of the metal body with his sneaker to stop it from toppling. He rolls up his sleeves and bares his arms, but pulls them back down immediately when he remembers the white-purple whorls of scar tissue lurking underneath.

"Fuck," he mutters. Everything is a reminder, all of the time. He can't escape what happened.

It's everywhere.

He's getting his fingers under the chain when you reappear. You've layered up, bracelets and naked arms hidden by a black hoodie.

The wind blows and your skirt shifts. From his position he can see a ladder hiding in your tights where your inner thighs are pressed together. He whips his gaze up like a high-school perv caught sneaking peeks in the girls locker room and notices the stitching on your chest for the first time.

"You like Dio?" he asks excitedly.

"Who?"

He wilts. "Uh, your hoodie. Dio."

"I got it for three dollars in the bargain bins," you supply helpfully, all pep as you climb down the stairs and offer him a glass cup adorned in dainty enamel flowers. "Is Dio good?"

He waves his hand at the glass apologetically. "Two seconds…" Lifting the chain with the second hand, Eddie tugs and then feeds until the links are lined up with the bumps on the big chainring. The skin on his fingertips get pinched and his eyebrows pull together in pain, but it's a mild irritant at worst and after a moment the chain is back in place.

He pulls his hand away and wipes dark grease down the front of his jacket. "I think I did it."

You're glowing, earrings like a metronome as you ask, "That fast? You're awesome."

He turns the pedal and your back wheel spins in time with his heart. You're awesome. When was the last time somebody who wasn't Wayne said anything like that?

Although Dustin had told him he thought Eddie was a much cooler, more fucked up version of the guy from Van Halen the other day.

You're just saying that 'cos we're both called Eddie, Eddie had said morosely.

Learn to take a compliment, dude.

When they aren't pity compliments, he might.

Eddie lifts your bike back onto the wheels to show you that it's working perfectly. You giggle your evident pleasure. "Oh, thank you, thank you!" you say, super sweet even as grape juice sloshes over the rims of your flowered glasses and drips down your fingers.

"Here, let me," he says, taking the glasses from your purple-stained hands.

You kiss your hands clean which is a thing, a lot to watch. Eddie admits to himself that he thinks you're really pretty, recognises that that is a bad thing to think considering the likely very short life span of your acquaintance. God knows you won't be saying anything as friendly when you find out who he is.

"You're so nice," you say. It feels like you're talking more to yourself than him. "Thank you. It's slipped off three times this month, and ten dollars is ten dollars. Wait, do you want ten dollars?"

"My services were administered charitably.”

Your smile grows. You accept your glass and take a small sip, eyes lit up as Eddie steers your bike one-handed to rest against the porch.

"Do you wanna come inside? I don't have any of the Dio, but I have Blondie."

He holds in a throwaway comment about real rock and roll, astounded that you’d ask him. "Your folks aren't home?"

"I'm twenty-two."

Eddie squints at you. "Seriously?"

"You didn't think so?"

He shrugs. It's not that you don't look twenty two. Or even that you don't act twenty two. But it's been a long time since he met somebody living alone in the park. Forest Hills is where poverty comes to settle.

"A boyfriend?"

"Just me and mister Porterson."

"That your grandpa?"

"That's my pet fish."

He smiles. It's his first real, authentic smile in days. He's genuinely elated by your offer and your attitude, but he doesn't know how to handle it, struck with a sudden nightmare of you, afterward, telling somebody you'd invited him in and he'd tried to hurt you. It isn't fair of him to assume you'd do anything like that. You've been nothing but sweet and sincere this whole time.

Eddie hasn't let his guard down in a long time.

You're giving him this wide-eyed, imploring look that promptly suffocates any fear.

And in a week, when she finds out who you are and feels betrayed, feels tricked? What then, Munson?

"You know what happened?" he asks.

"What happened?"

"Two years ago. Chrissy… Chrissy Cunningham?"

Don't say her fucking name.

Your expression clears as clarity blooms. You take a step. He needs a second to realise you've come forward rather than away, fingers twitching toward his hand.

"I know about it. I'm sorry that happened to you."

He stares.

This is a trick. Two years and he can count the amount of people who believe him on his two hands, and only because they'd all gone through it with him. Sometimes there are outliers, logical people who seem to realise Eddie couldn't have killed all those people, couldn't have been in all those different places without leaving any evidence behind. And sometimes there are people who agree he didn't kill Chrissy, but he's a coward for leaving her to die. (She’d already been dead.)

Eddie doesn't know what he thinks. Wayne sets the record straight every now and then with a clap on the shoulder. You did what every parent wants their kid to do. You lived. I can't ask for more than that.

"You don't believe it?"

"That you hurt her?" You hold his gaze, face practically impassive. "No, I don't believe it."

He pulls in a breath that fills every inch of his chest. "I could learn to like Blondie," he says.

—

You're standing in the driveway of Eddie's trailer with a heavy bag over your shoulder, face to face with a man who kind of looks like him but not really. You assume it's his uncle because who else could he be? If you hadn't seen him here you'd never guess.

"Eddie's mom must've had strong genes," you say. You bring your shoulder up toward your cheek thoughtfully. "He didn't get any of your face. Was she pretty? Eddie's really pretty."

"She was," he says, peering down his nose at you.

"I got sandwiches. Do you want one?"

"What kind?"

"I have ham and cheese, or ham and lettuce and tomato, or I have pumpernickel cookies. Is Eddie a vegetarian?"

"Why?"

"'Cause I only brought one cheese and cucumber, and I have dibs."

He climbs down the last couple of steps and is still taller but definitely less imposing, face covered in scratchy salt and pepper stubble and crows feet deeply embedded into the corners of his eyes. He looks like a man who has been tired for a very long time. You make a mental note to bring him some lavender for his pillow on your next visit.

"You're Eddie's new friend?"

You nod your head briskly. "Yes, sir. I'm Y/N."

He opens his box of camels like a pro, bottom pressed to his chest. He tucks a cigarette between his lips and pulls his lighter out. He doesn't light it.

"It's nice to meet you," he says eventually, voice warming.

You search through the mess of your skirt for the zipper on your bag and peel it open, pulling out your tupperware of cookies and cracking them open to release the fragrant smell of cinnamon and almonds. It's a heady scent, fitting for the holiday season approaching.

You offer Eddie’s uncle a cookie.

"Thought pumpernickel was bread," he says gruffly, taking one.

"It is, but there's this little town in France that makes these every year at Christmas and they call them pumpernickel biscuits," — he takes a bite and winces at the hard snap — "you're s'posed to dip them in hot chocolate."

"You don't say."

You nod happily and he moves aside to let you pass.

"Thanks, kid."

You turn back to him with your fingers curled around the door handle. "Of course! It's really nice to meet you, Mr. Munson, sir."

"Wayne is fine."

You laugh and repeat his name in a similarly rough voice, letting yourself in as Eddie had told you to do. You find him immediately in a man-made corner of the living room, pale and in his pyjamas. The trailer is open planned, a living room they’ve divided by propping a couch against the kitchen counter, a slim hallway leading to a cramped bathroom and the single bedroom. It's exactly like in your home.

You're somewhat surprised to see him in pyjamas. Eddie doesn't wear comfy looking clothes out of the house — you've only ever seen him in jeans and jackets like a real rockstar.

"Are you ready?" you ask.

You've invited him to come and search for bugs with you. Catching any kind of bug, whether beetle or butterfly or spider, is really scary, but you need to be able to catch them to draw them.

You'd expressed this to him over the phone and he'd said, "I can come and help. I have good reflexes."

He rubs his hands over his knees. There's a blanket pooled around his feet, a quilt he must sleep with, and the room is decorated with not a whole lot of stuff but enough to make you take a step back.

"Is this your room?" you ask, enchanted.

"Kind of." He pulls his hair from behind his ear, obscuring a pale cheek. "I don't think I can come with you today, I'm sorry. I meant to call you."

You toy with a dark thigh high sock as you ease out of your shoes, height drastically decreasing. "That's okay, we can stay here. I brought you a sandwich. I brought you two sandwiches," you correct.

He nods. Rather sadly, in your opinion. "Alright. Thanks."

You step over a tented paperback and hand off the cookies before sitting down beside him on the couch he's occupying. It's smaller than the one against the wall and round like a clam, lots of room for your legs to stretch out.

"I feel like a pearl," you say.

You and Eddie have been friends for a little while now. Long enough for you to realise he's either depressed or mentally unwell in some way. You hardly mind keeping him company on his bad days if he needs somebody, so drawing bugs will have to wait.

His hair is limp, not totally greasy but not super clean either. His face looks fresh enough, though the bags under his eyes make you frown.

You pull your purse into your lap, thighs covered by the thin layers of your midi skirt. "I have just the thing for you," you murmur.

"Yeah? Bring me another bracelet?"

You like that he sounds eager. Making his bracelet had been a challenge, lots of knotting and double knotting, three restarts and one small under the breath tantrum. It's not anything special, black and white hearts seven strands wide, but he'd been very appreciative.

"No, but I can make you another one if you want. I mastered the inverse chevron last night."

He hums. You pull a saran wrapped sandwich from the depths of your crowded bag, glad to see it's mostly intact. When you open it up you find that it's the ham and lettuce and tomato one, so you drop it into his lap haphazardly and move onto the next.

"Aha! Here," you pull a cucumber from your sandwich. "For you."

He takes it between two tentative fingers. "Thank you?"

"For your eyes."

"There's cheese on it."

"I'll still work," you assure him.

"M'not putting cheese on my eyes."

You laugh because he probably shouldn't put cheese on his eyes, cucumber adjacent or otherwise. "Okay, don't. I'll make you a hot towel."

He drops his hand on your arm as you go to stand. You like how he touches you, soft but not scared. "You just got here. Stay here." He pats you nicely. "Tell me about work last night."

You settle heavily into the seat beside him, your thigh to his thigh, your hip squished against his hip, doughy flesh separated by nothing more than a strappy tank top and a cotton long-sleeve t-shirt. His heat quickly becomes yours, a sinking transference of warmth.

"Well," you begin, cheek turning into the couch to face him. "It was mostly okay. I dropped another plate, but this time it didn't have a stack of waffles on it."

He smiles ruefully and sinks back as you had. Neither of you eat your sandwiches. "Progress. Taking it out of your pay?"

"Yes, definitely."

"Discrimination."

"That's what I said! I said, Sarah, I was born with butterfingers and you know that."

"She didn't budge?"

"Dishwashing all week next week. Whatever, though, 'cause it's Saturday."

He laughs and shakes his head, his gaze dropping to your neck. He does that sometimes. You can't blame him; you wear a varying assortment of necklaces because you think they're pretty, and you're glad he likes them too.

"See my new one?"

"What?"

"New necklace." You look down at your chest and pull the newest addition from between the cups of your bra. "It's real silver."

"It's nice."

"It's surprisingly heavy. Wanna feel?"

"That's okay," he says, slightly strained.

Right, you think. I'm talking a lot.

You press your lips together in a mild pout and look at him through appreciative eyes. He's a very pretty boy, all soft and pale and sweet dark curls.

"Do you want me to put your hair up?"

His lips part before he talks. "I don't know if you should."

"Sure I should. It's getting in your eyes, right?" You take his hand where it's laid unsuspectingly in his lap and slip the hair tie from around his wrist, his fingertips tickling the inside of your palm. "Sit forward, Eddie."

He takes a deep breath, holds it, and sits up. You twist and then realise you need some more height, pushing a leg under yourself to kneel next to his lap.

You weave our fingers softly into the hair at the front of his face and rake away in lieu of a brush. After it's mostly tamed you pull it all into one hand and wrap the tie at the base of his head. You hum to yourself as you go, pleased when his lovely curls behave.

"Voilà," you announce, moving back on your haunches.

He breathes out. "Thank you."

You reach for a curl you'd missed at the very front and encourage it behind his ear. He has subtle indents in his cheeks today like he's in need of a good meal, and his skin is colder than it should be when you flatten your palm.

"You need something to eat," you fret. Your fingertips stroke under his eye, your thumb his smile lines.

He moves away slowly.

You pull your hand back into your lap. "Maybe we can go out and get something, if you don't like the sandwich?"

"What?" he asks, pale lips taut as he simpers at you. "Are you kidding? This is about to fix everything that's wrong with me."

His enthusiasm emboldens you. "It so will! There's ham and cheese too, if you prefer that one."

"Get it! I'm gonna eat both of them." S

Eddie eats both of his sandwiches and you eat your own, the two of you with your heads dropped back against the couch as you watch TV. There's a guy you've never seen before running around the streets of Chicago city centre looking for people to be in his play. Eddie's seen it before. He repeats dialogue in time with the characters, performing each line. Impressive, what with how tired he looks.

"What did he just say?" you ask, mouth full of cucumber.

"He said he's gonna throw himself off a bridge," Eddie informs. "Poor guy. I know the feeling."

You swallow harshly.

"Seriously?"

Your sad tone surprises him.

"I- No, I'm kidding," he says, scratching the base of his throat, friendship bracelet his only adornment.

His nervous itching makes you even more worried.

"If you did wanna do that, you can talk to me-"

He baulks, tongue poking out past his lips as he licks the corner of his mouth. "Thanks, sweetheart," he says, pet name like a kiss. It sounds silly but it really feels like one, right in the centre of your chest. "But I'm fine. Promise. It was a bad joke."

"Okay," you say, letting your suspicion shine through. You hold his eyes.

You haven't known Eddie long. It feels like you met yesterday, though really it's been two or three weeks. You fit together in a way you hadn't expected and adore more than you can articulate, two funny puzzle pieces.

"Well, I just wanted you to know. I like being your friend, I don't want you to disappear."

He laughs and licks his lips, a rough, chesty sound. "I don't want you to disappear either."

Tires crunch outside, a shushing sound and then the sharp shriek of a jeep being put into park. Eddie perks up considerably, his shoulders straightening.

"Hey, Chief," Wayne calls.

Trailer walls. Basically made of cardboard.

"Hey, Wayne. Where's the kid?"

You can't hear what Wayne says after that, words stolen by the TV.

"Is that Chief Hopper?" you ask, trying to catch a glimpse of him through the mostly shuttered blinds.

"Yeah, he- He's friends with Wayne."

"Why's he wanna know where you are?"

"'Cause I got into so much trouble."

You bite your tongue. His tone is hard, not stern but almost, and you realise you've overstepped as you usually do. You want to apologise but you don't want to pick the wound, eager to gloss over and make him smile again.

"It's pretty cool, isn't it?" you ask him.

"What?"

You spread your legs wider to slide onto your thighs and make him the taller one again, legs bent in a 'W' shape. "Coming back from the dead! First Will Byers, then Hopper."

Something surfaces in his expression. An irony.

"The undead," you croon, aiming for a smile, a laugh.

He cracks. "The undead," he agrees, smiling in bemusement. His eyes are a funny shade of brown.

—

Eddie shoo’s you home early that night but tries to do it kindly. He feigns exhaustion, a facade that's difficult to uphold when his entire body is thrumming with want. If there's one thing Eddie hates about being a vampire (there are literally hundreds of things he hates, but this one's special) it's that he wants to hurt the people he likes a thousand times more than the people he doesn't.

He can't explain it. Your blood is more appealing than any lonesome stranger's. Your pulse is practically music to his ears when you sit beside him. He'd kill himself before he ever hurt you, though. Or that's what he likes to think. Whether he has that amount of control is debatable.

No. He would kill himself before he hurt you, or Wayne, or any of his friends.

Steve can see the way that he's feeling on his face.

Hopper's delivery set to one side, a tall glass with blood congealed in a sticky ring at the bottom, Eddie curls under his huge quilt and tries not to pass out. Blood sate feels the same as a thanksgiving food coma. It's awesome.

He hates how good it feels.

"Stop feeling guilty," Steve says.

"He doesn't look guilty to me," Dustin says beside him, taller than the last time Eddie had seen him but still miles off of Steve's tall stature. He's changed his hat again, this one a garish green. It's not a good look.

"He looks like he's napping," Robin says, delighted.

"Can you guys go home?" Eddie asks.

"Shithead."

"What Steve means to say," Robin corrects, grinning her huge, catching smile, "is that no, we aren't going home. We brought games."

"I don't wanna play games." He does. Eddie needs the distraction, because eventually the blood sate will fade and all that will remain will be self-revulsion and a cruel desire to do something awful.

"I do not care even slightly," Steve says, deadpan, as he sits right there next to Eddie where you'd been sitting before. Steve's nowhere near as soft and he doesn't smell as nice, but Eddie's honestly glad someone is willing to sit next to him at all.

"Ouch, what the fuck?"

Dustin looks up from where he's sat himself on the floor. Robin giggles in her seat on the coffee table.

"Munson, are you fucking shedding? I just got stabbed."

"They don't work like that. They retract."

Eddie feels at his broken gums with his tongue. There's a clean incision where his fangs come out and then snap back inside after a time. They're remarkably thin, fitting in front of his natural incisors neatly.

Steve grumbles, hips lifted and hand searching under his butt for whatever it is that jabbed him. He retrieves exactly what Eddie had been expecting but hadn't had the forethought to prepare a lie about with a shocked gasp.

"Is this an earring? You don't have your ears pierced."

He swallows, knowing it's a very guilty gesture, and meets Steve's eyes straight on.

Funny how Steve's hair speaks as much as his expression, bobbing as he nods his head to emphasise each word, "Munson, do you have a girlfriend?"

Silence.

"...Not really."

"Holy shit," Dustin says, sounding extremely pleased. "No way."

Robin tucks her short hair behind her ears, hands paused in disbelief at her neck. "Actually?"

"I have a friend," Eddie admits.

"Thank god," Steve says, dropping your heart earring onto Eddie's thigh. The silver feels extremely hot over his pyjamas, like it's been held in the centre of a blistering hearth.

"I really thought Steve was gonna have to take one for the team and give you a pity handie," Robin says agreeably, scratchy voice coloured by genuine awe.

Eddie groans, "Harrington, get this shit off of me. You know I can't touch that."

"I forgot," Steve lies. "Can you wait? My hands are busy."

—

He has Steve put your earring between two pieces of kitchen towel and holds onto it. He doesn't see you for a week, and he keeps your damn earring in his pocket that entire time worried it's gonna slip out and brand him at any second.

Finally, you call him. He pretends he wasn't waiting.

"Hello," you say, like you're announcing something.

"Hey. How are you?"

"Eddie, I need your help. Badly."

He flinches up where he'd been leaning casually, hard enough to make Wayne jump. Eddie smiles at him placatingly and mouths a poor sorry, turning away to pretend there's a semblance of privacy to be found in such close quarters.

"Are you okay?"

"I gotta find a rainbow leaf beetle. Do you have a torch?"

"...What?"

"They only come out at night, so I'm gonna go look but I don't have a torch that works."

He relaxes, the lilting cadence of your voice enough to make his whole night. You sound so pretty even through the phone. He suspects you could hold any pitch, deep or high, and you'd still sound nice.

It's all in the way you — he says this with love — perform the words. You speak like each word you're saying has equal importance, and it's calming.

Even when you say stuff that's nonsense to him.

Right now, you don't sound upset or even worried about not having a torch, simply curious to know if he has one. If he focuses hard (and he's been trying not to, as you deserve your privacy) he can hear you all the way across the park, shifting from foot to foot in your bedroom, carpet crushed under your heels.

The action makes him think this might be more urgent to you than you'd first admitted.

"I have a torch." He also has amazing night vision. Like, impeccable. "Can I come help?"

"You want to?"

"I'd love to. Are you going out tonight?" He leans back to glance out the window. "The rain is finally stopping."

"Yeah, tonight! Is that okay for you? We could go tomorrow if you can't."

You're willing to change your plans now that he's asked to go with you. It's a gesture as lovely as you are. Eddie doesn't think you'd ever think it of yourself; your kindness is so intrinsic you don't notice it, like the fine stitching of a leather bound book. Integral and widely unappreciated.

"That's perfect."

Wayne raises an eyebrow when Eddie relays the conversation. "You're going out in the middle of the night with this girl to… look for bugs."

Eddie crosses his arms over his chest. "I swear."

"Be honest with me, kid."

"I am!"

Wayne swirls his coke can around in his hand as he thinks, a reluctance evident in his scowl. Eddie knows he's way too old for a guardian's oversight like this but he lets Wayne have a say because Wayne loves him, and Eddie doesn't ever want to put his old man through the turmoil he went through when he ran away. If that means a curfew in his twenties, Eddie's okay with that.

"If you're going to have sex with this girl, I'd prefer you did it here. You have to treat women with respect."

Eddie shivers, full body. "Wayne," he groans, covering his face. He can feel his cheeks pink under his palms, that's how quickly his embarrassment rises.

"I know you're more responsible these days, and you're a grown up. If you want a girlfriend and you want to do adult things with her-"

"Jesus Christ."

"- then that's alright. You don't have to fool around outside."

He drags his hands down on his face, pained. "It's not like that. You met her, you know she's…"

"Strange?"

"Alternative."

"No, you're alternative. She's cooky."

"Don't," he says. He knows his uncle isn't actually being cruel, so he lets it lie and fights for his own cause. "We aren't messing around. She genuinely wants me to go find these bugs with her. And…" He hates himself. "She has her own place, you know? If we were going to-"

Wayne seems stricken by the same mortified embarrassment as Eddie, raising a calloused hand in surrender. "Spare me."

"Thank you," Eddie says, spinning on his heel to hide in the bathroom for a while. It's only when he's sitting on the closed toilet does he realise Wayne hadn't mentioned his more dangerous ailment. For a time, he'd been a normal (debatable) person having a normal (horrifying) conversation with his dad. Not a vampire. Not somebody who ruins everything he touches.

—

"It's so quiet," you whisper.

For you, Eddie thinks.

You're in the forest surrounding the aptly named Forest Hills trailer park, wielding your borrowed torch carefully into the dark. Eddie's following in your footsteps, trying not to smell everything that's on you today and failing.

You smell like a person as everybody does. Over that is your soap, a faint hint of milk and honey that sticks to your skin even after you've washed it away. Over that is your deodorant, 'unscented', and over that is your perfume, which he likes most. It's a mix of smells, some Eddie doesn't know and some he does. There's lavender, though that might be down to the bunch you'd brought for his uncle wrapped in newspaper, and there's something fruity he can't quite put his finger on, all of it wrapped up in a cloying pairing of vanilla and coconut.

"Eddie?"

"What?"

"Are you okay? You're almost as quiet as the trees."

If only you knew the trees aren't quiet.

"I'm alright," he says quickly, catching up to you where you stand a few feet ahead. "What are we looking for?"

Best change the subject. How to explain he'd been smelling the notes of your perfume?

"They rest on tree trunks. You have to be careful, any sudden sound or light will scare them away. But if you flash the torch on them, they shine like oil stains."

He loves when you talk. "Where'd they come from?"

"Place called Snowdon. They're so rare, they think there's only about a thousand alive there."

"Well, how did they get here?"

You laugh under your breath, so quiet he would've missed it if he wasn't enhanced. "I don't know. How do beetles get to different places?"

"They fly?"

A twig crunches under your shoe.

Eddie tips his head to the side, thinking. "If there's only a thousand, how-" He stops, your circle of torch light growing further and further away. "Are you sure that they live here?"

"No, but if they do we'll be the first to find them."

"So they've never found any out here? In- In the midwest?"

"Not yet. Where'd you go?"

He shakes his head in an affectionate disbelief. "Right behind you."

You search in silence for a while. Eddie wishes he could say he was mad, or even mildly annoyed, wishes he had even the slightest regard for his own time, but really he thinks any time with you is time well spent. Especially if it's helping you do something you want to do. Whether you find your rainbow leaf beetle or not, he feels better knowing he's out here with you to keep you safe and in company.

Conversation is sparing. He doesn't mind. Your footsteps fill the sound and he finds even that stupid detail charming, the crunch, the pick up. His own are silent, a rare advantage to his terrible affliction.

"Any other beetles you want me to keep an eye out for?" he whispers.

"I'm not sure…" You turn to face him, torch pointed at your shoes. Rubber toes touched together, you lean in until you're all he can smell. Perfume. Blood. "If you see any cool spiders, too."

"You have the mason jar?"

"You know I do."

More than you realise, he thinks. The glass clicks in your bag.

There's enough light reflected to see the most minute details of your face. Your nose, the circle of your irises but not their colour. He suspects Eddie from early '86 wouldn't have been able to see hide nor hair, and it wouldn't shock him if you were technically blind right now.

"Thanks for coming out with me. I was gonna ask you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, but I didn't want to come on too strong." He can sense your smile even though he can't see it. It's in the way your breathing deepens. "I know I can be a lot to deal with."

"Who told you that?"

"What?"

Eddie doubles down.. "Who told you that?" he sounds heartbroken.

He kind of is. Yeah, you're weird — Who cares? Who isn't? — but you're not a lot to deal with. He doesn't 'deal' with you.

"Everybody tells me that. All the time."

"Everybody's stupid." To say it so loudly, scathingly, is sweet. It's therapeutic. "They are. This whole town is stupid."

Your fingertips touch his thigh. He's willing you to turn the torch up and see his face, because he has a lot of feelings on display that he isn't brave enough to say out loud.

"You never make me feel stupid," you say softly.

"You're not."

You giggle breathily at his vehemence, fingertips pressing in with a touch more pressure before you pull away and shine the torch deep into the trees.

"This whole town is stupid," you mumble. "But not you."

He thinks of his friends who are definitely stupid, but he loves anyways. He's about to add them to the not-stupid (subjectively) list when he remembers Steve's discovery: your earring burning a hole in his pocket. He'd been carrying it for long enough now to forget all about it.

"Hey, I have something for you."

"You do?"

"Don't get too excited. It's not a gift."

He digs in his pocket for the tissue paper wrapping and hisses in shock as the silver plating of your hoop graces his index finger. You shine the torch at him. His eyes ache like he's been stabbed and he slams them closed, hand pulled to his chest.

How embarrassing.

"Eddie, what happened?" you question loudly.

He winces at the sudden overstimulation. Slowly, he blinks, and finds you staring at him in a worry that softens every feature, even your nose. He doesn't know the logistics.

"It's okay. Stabbed a paper cut on the back. Your earring's in my pocket, the heart?"

"The hoop? I thought I lost it." Your worry turns to confusion and then melds into joy. You step forward and fish in his jacket pocket for your earring.

"Steve found it."

"'The hair'?"

"Yeah, the hair."

You both laugh and yours heightens when you find the earring, pulling it out like a knife to be brandished. "Yes."

"I meant to tell you a dozen times that I had it."

"You're the best."

There's a crunch of wood somewhere to the left like something heavy falling over.

The forest sprawls in every direction and the trees tower, their presence looming as skyscrapers. The wind ruffles the topmost branches and their trunks groan with pressure. It's enough to freak Eddie out super sense or not, feeling suddenly like he couldn't protect you. He could hear the individual droplets of drool dripping from a lynx's bloody maw, and he can sense each twig underfoot before he takes his next step, but none of that is going to keep you safe in the face of real danger.

"Maybe we should head back," he says tentatively.

"Okay. Do you want to come over?"

His breath catches. "You want me to?"

"Yeah, we can watch movies, I have leftover pasta."

That sounds more like what he should've been thinking. "I don't wanna keep you up."

"What kind of pasta?" he asks.

The torch flickers. "With the tiny tomatoes. You'll like it, super creamy."

"How do you know?"

"You like Alfredo," you say astutely, hitting the torch into the palm of your hand. It flashes weakly, the shadow of the trees flickering and so dark they're violet.

"Try tightening the handle."

You turn the barrel of the torch and the light switches off completely. You try to undo what you've done to no success, the sound of plastic rubbing plastic almost as loud as your heartbeat. Your pulse falters and then grows to racing when the light fails to come back on.

"Eddie," you say, sounding unsure. It's a new sound on you. "I don't know where we are. How are we gonna get home?"

Your admission is like a dousing of ice water over his head. "You don't know what direction we came from?"

"No, do you?"

Eddie wouldn't know if he couldn't hear the sound of the electricity pylon buzzing somewhere to the right. But how can he explain that? "Uh, we were turned around."

You creep to his side and grab his arm with both hands. "Are you sure?"

"Hey," he says gently. "Hey, it's okay. I know where we are. We'll be fine."

"Are you sure?" you ask again.

"I'm positive."

You take a deep breath that doesn't erase your shakiness, a failed attempt at self-soothing. "I really don't know where we are."

"You're not afraid of the dark, are you?"

"Not really… I don't wanna get lost out here."

"You won't. I know how to get back. C'mon," he prompts, pulling his arm to encourage you forward.

You let go of him and navigate a few steps by yourself. He weaves through the trees, waiting for your heartbeat to slow.

It doesn't. He opens his mouth to reassure you again when you gasp, kicking your foot against a root and tripping. You barely fall, catching yourself on the trunk of a tree, and Eddie remembers himself. You can't see the trees. That's why you're worried. You can't see anything.

Then the smell of blood hits him like a freight train.

—

Your hand stings where you caught yourself, palm scraped down against harsh bark.

"Shit," you mumble.

You're panicking badly, and you're confused as to why Eddie isn't. Not only was it fucking stupid of you to come out here with only one torch, it was stupid of you to assume you'd remember what way was home. It was stupid of you to come here tonight for that stupid beetle, and stupid of you to drag Eddie along. You're an idiot, and now you're bleeding.

Your eyes sting with tears, pain like a popped seal. I'm so stupid.

"Hey," Eddie says, his tone silky soft, "you're okay. Let me help you up."

You hold your hands out.

"Eddie, this is weird." Hopefully he understands that weird means scary.

He takes your hands, fingers closing slowly over your bloody palm. His breath is loud as he pulls you up toward him like he's panicked but his grip stays kind, and you abandon the notion when he rubs over your knuckles with his thumb. "It's alright."

He doesn't sound the same.

"Eddie, we can't see."

"We'll go slowly, okay? I'll put my hand out and we'll walk around anything that gets in the way."

"Yeah," you say hurriedly, heart bump-bump-bumping against your ribcage.

He keeps one hand, the injured one, and starts to drag you slowly through the trees. His grip tightens as you go until it starts to ache, until it feels like it might bruise.

"Ouch, Eds. You're hurting me," you say, going for a lightly teasing tone and missing the mark.

Instantly, he eases off. "Sorry, sweetheart. You hold onto me, alright?"

You do as he'd asked, hand clinging to him as he leads. He doesn't squeeze you again, walking slowly as he'd promised, and the closer you get to the edge of the forest the clearer it becomes. Light pollution from the centre of town leaches through the trees like water trickling from an overflowing basin.

His second hand is in his pocket.

"Here," he says after you've traversed to the very edge of the forest. "There's the park. We're bona fide explorers."

He looks out toward the park and you look at the side of his face. Something isn't right. Something uncanny.

You drop your gaze from his face to your joined hands. They come apart, blood smeared in both your palms like two halves of a dripping heart.

—

There is something weird about Eddie. As a residential freak of Hawkins you think you're an authority in this, and you don't feel guilty for judging him. Your brain can't stop going over your night in the forest. For days you play the scenes back and for days you lose the details. You forget how the wind had tousled his hair, how he'd smelled, what he'd said.

You remember the way he'd squeezed your bloody hand. You remember the way he'd spoken, strained.

Not strained like he didn't want to comfort you, he had, but strained.

Restrained.

You're poking at the shallow cut half-healed now in your palm at work when a dude walks in, very tall, handsome, and gunning straight for you.

You straighten your badge and hide your bracelet heavy wrists behind your back, receding slightly as he approaches. He slows in front of you.

You have a light bulb moment.

"The hair," you say.

He scowls. "He told you that, huh. Typical."

"You're Steve?"

"That's me." Steve crosses his arms across his chest, his back to a booth, your back to the diner bar. "You're Eddie's new friend."

"What counts as new?" A month and a half doesn't feel so new to you.

"Trust me, you're new."

He has the strangest patch covering the outside of his left wrist, the same peculiar scarring that you can see on Eddie's waist when he reaches for a glass out of the kitchen cabinet. You don't ask because you're not a dick no matter how curious you find yourself, but it makes your heart skip. What is that? You'd assumed Eddie's was road rash. Now you're not so sure.

He tucks it under his arm.

You meet his suspicious gaze.

"You want coffee?"

"No."

You kick your foot, shoe sliding over the shiny waxed floor with a squeal. "Is Eddie okay?"

"Did you want to come to a party next Friday?"

"No," you say honestly. "Like a cult?"

"What?"

"Are you initiating me into your cult?"

He finally smiles, eyes creased with amusement. "I'm inviting you to our club."

"Club where you chew on each other?"

You look pointedly at Steve's wrist.

"No. Club where we play board games and drink jiffy pop. Come or don't, doesn't matter."

"If it doesn't matter, why are you asking me?"

It's a strangely intense conversation to have this early in the morning. Patrons chatter about work, coffee gets poured. The diner smells of syrup and sugar and bitter cold-press. You're both in work apparel, both refusing to move back. If this is some kind of shovel talk then that's fine, and if it's a test you're determined to pass, even if Eddie's been super weird lately.

"I'll come if you promise not to eat me," you say.

"It's really not that kind of club."

—

"I had the weirdest visit in the entire world today," you declare, stopping in front of Eddie's porch with a smile.

"Yeah?" he asks without looking up, guitar in his lap and pen scribbling over a lined notebook.

You wait for him to stop before you continue, leaning forward with both arms braced on the porch by his feet. "Steve Harrington came to see me, and he was super mean. You said he was nice."

He frowns at you. "I told you he was a dick."

"You like him when you tell me stories."

"How mean?" Eddie asks, patting the seat beside him.

You climb up onto the porch and plop down onto the couch, worn leather cold with the weather and damp in the seams.

You take a strand of his hair and curl it around your finger. "Not really super mean, but he was, like, acting like I killed a baby."

"He's like that."

You sigh and lean your cheek against the couch cushion, watching Eddie's stubble move as he tamps down a teasing smile. "He invited me to a party next weekr."

"It's not a party- Sweetheart, what are you doing?"

You tickle his cheek with the end of his hair. "Nothing."

"M'gonna sneeze."

You tickle him again, fine dark strands brushing over his pale cheek. He's a very ashen guy, you've found. Likely because he barely goes out in the sun and he doesn't eat enough. You draw circles around the apple of his cheek and grin softly at his growing smile, a sweet, silly thing.

"I'll tickle you back," he warns.

"Promise?"

He steals the curl back and tucks it behind his ear.

"You're not a cannibal, are you?"

Eddie chokes on air. You startle at his coughing and move to pat his back, palm slapping a steady rhythm into his shoulder. When he calms down you run your hand down the length of his arm, long sleeve t-shirt soft beneath your touch. You linger at his wrist and decide to hold it.

He drops his pen and your hand travels until he's caught your thumb. He kneads it in his fingers.

"I'm not a cannibal. Why would you think that?"

"I don't, but you and Steve are in your club, right?"

"Hellfire wasn't like that," he says heatedly.

"No, not- Not that one."

He doesn't say anything.

"You have… He has this scar, on his wrist. Like something bit him, or-" He turns to you and he looks formidable and upset and himself, not mad at you but raw emotion in his expression anyhow. It's gone as quick as it came.

"When all that… stuff happened," he begins quietly, "we got hurt. A couple of us."

You drop your head, ashamed at having pried. "I'm sorry, you don't have to tell me anything else."

"Don't be sorry…" He squeezes your hand and lets it go. "Don't worry about it."

"Okay."

"We usually call ourselves a party, these days. Not a club."

"Do you really play board games and drink jiffy pop?"

"Sometimes we get really crazy and order a pizza. You should come."

You realise as he says it how much his wanting you to go had mattered to you. Eddie's your friend, and you don't think that you're going to stay friends much longer.

"You think your friends will like me?" you ask, voice descending to a new kind of gentle.

He puts down his guitar and his notebook. His full attention is something you've come to really enjoy, not because of the hunger you often see flitting across his face — though that's neat —, but because of the inklings of adoration clinging to his smile when he looks at you. His blinking lashes. He smiles at you and just slows. A usually frenetic boy calmed.

"Maybe not Mike. Mike doesn't like anybody. Except for Will," he muses.

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Who do you like?"

"I like all of them." He juts his cheek toward his shoulder, conceding, " I think Dustin's my favourite. He's funny. He's funnier than I am, and he's the smartest kid I've ever met. And he knows it."

Your eyes focus on the pink outline of his upper lip as he speaks. It's a pleasure to be this close, and see him in this kind of crazy detail. When you go home tonight you might try to draw him. You'll probably forget.

It's the kind of smile that deserves to be immortalised.

"I really like your smile," you tell him, hoping it'll last a little longer.

It stretches. The pink outline turns white. "Shut up."

"I do. I've seen a thousand different smiles but I've never met someone who smiles like you do."

"How's that?" he asks, edging toward you, face a mirror in which you can see your own charmed expression.

"Like you," — you shake your head with your lips parted — "know a secret. Something you won't tell anybody."

His smile abruptly ends.

You've nothing if not a talent for saying the wrong thing.

"A good secret," you amend.

He picks up his acoustic and gives it an experimental strum. "Maybe one or two," he agrees.

Relief catches you. You nibble at the inside of your lip and watch his fingers work over the neck of his guitar, tipping your head so you can read the words he's markered over the body.

"This machine slays dragons," you murmur to yourself. "Yeah? How many?"

"Just the one."

"Save any princesses?"

"Not yet." He plucks at the strings, lost in thought, before turning to you with eyebrows raised. "Can you play?"

You exhale out of the corner of your mouth as he pushes the guitar into your lap, an arm coming around your shoulder, the other reaching to guide your curled forefinger to the strings. You turn to face him, watching him talk with a growing fondness.

"It's easy, I swear. We'll do Call Me. Blondie's basic, even a baby could play it."

He realises you aren't listening and raises his gaze, shiny brown irises stuck on your lips. This close, it would be worse if he didn't look at them.

You glance at his, an obvious thing, half a wish. If he only lifted his chin.

Your breath mingles.

"It's easy," he says again, a murmur of his usual volume as his gaze pulls back up to yours. "I'll show you."

You wonder if he can hear your heart pounding; it's deafening. You wait, and you wait, and you turn your eyes back to his guitar and clamp your fingers down against the struts so he can't see them shaking with adrenaline.

—

Eddie sits beside Steve and tries not to admit to himself that Steve Harrington is, horrifyingly, his best friend (along with the rest of the party, obviously). Steve is the closest in age and Eddie can't make excuses (though he tries and tries and tries), Steve understands how much Eddie doesn't ever want to talk about anything that's happened to them, so he talks about literally everything else instead.

"It was the weirdest pawn shop I've ever been in. They had, like, a wall of combi's playing the same video at the same time but all slightly delayed."

Eddie blinks.

Steve turns his head from the TV, having expected a response. "Did you say something?"

"No." Then, because he's not a dick. "Sorry, Harrington. Want me to sit on your other side?"

"What for?" Steve says. Not because he denies how he's hard of hearing, but because he denies having conversations with Eddie.

He does end up moving to Steve's other side with a pathetic excuse. "I can't see the TV."

Steve doesn't say a word until he's sat down again. "Sorry I was mean to your girlfriend."

"Yeah, what was that about?"

"I was cranky because it was early and I don't want her to damage the integrity of the party." He gives equal weight to both reasons.

Eddie snorts at him. "Since when do you care about the integrity of the party?" Steve barely acknowledges that they are a party. He thinks that's a very nerdy way to say friends.

"Since always, dipshit."

"And inviting her to join the party was the solution because…?"

Steve drinks the rest of his coke and pretends to really care about what's on TV. "If," he begins after a minute, refusing to look at Eddie, "something happens with her, and something happens to you, that damages the integrity of the party."

"Steve," Eddie says, jaw dropped down to his chest, "do you have a crush on me?"

"Oh my god," Steve mutters. "Oh my god," he says louder. "I can't stand you."

To prove his point, he gets up from the couch with a wrinkled nose, stops to tap his shoe gently against Max's where she's sitting in the armchair across from the coffee table, and disappears into his kitchen.

Steve Harrington cares about me enough to give Y/N the shovel talk.

He feels kind of great about it.

But he's not sure your the one who needs warning.

That night in the forest, Eddie had almost snapped. There are rules to follow if he wants to keep people safe, self-imposed, Hopper-imposed, and he's broken too many with you already, the most important being no close proximity when he's hungry. Eddie doesn't even realise he is hungry half the time. He'll be standing by you and he'll want to touch you, and suddenly it's like he's three weeks in to the month without sating.

He thinks about kissing you and suddenly he's thinking about biting you, and hurting you, and it's literally tearing him up from the inside out.

How can he want to do that to you?

"You look so depressed and pathetic," Dustin says out of the blue.

Eddie pouts and falls back into the couch, Steve's fancy throw falling onto his shoulder. "I used to like you," he says, taking in Dustin's outfit with a kind of parental approval. He's getting older and it shows, slightly more handsome than he had been — he's kept all his baby weight and it suits him, his full cheeks surrounded by the softest brown curls Eddie has ever seen. The outfit stays immature, a funny t-shirt and ill-fitting pants.

"Sad. You have a sad face," Dustin says.

"Go play with your nerd squad, please."

He doesn't listen, collapsing in Steve's still-warm seat like a cheap tent and crossing longer, thicker arms over his chest. He smiles at Eddie genuinely. "Where's your girlfriend?"

"No."

"Where's Y/N?"

Eddie tips his head so he can see past the coffee table and points to where you're almost hidden, sitting with Robin on the floor by Steve's sideboard. You have a basket of tapes in front of you, the two of you trying to choose what's going in the stereo. Eddie prays for anything but Blondie.

You will most likely choose Blondie.

"What does she like?" Dustin asks curiously.

"Everything, kind of. Why?"

"I wanna know what to say when I talk to her."

Eddie smiles at his friend's face, a soft, surprised thing. "I don't know if she knows anything about the radio but if you're happy about it she'll be happy too. She's a good listener."

Dustin picks at a piece of lint on his t-shirt bearing a white and black print of a dog wearing sunglasses. "So you talk to her?" he asks without looking up.

"I mean, yeah. What else do you do?"

"With a girl that likes you? Huh, let me think." Dustin laughs and ruins his own sarcasm, pointer finger laid against his chin in a show of thoughtfulness.

"It's not like that," Eddie says lightly.

"It could be."

"Could it? I mean… I don't even know if she'll stick around. And I feel bad 'cos I can't be honest with her."

"Why not?"

"Hopper said he would literally put me in the hole if I even thought about it." There's no need to expand. Dustin would know better than anyone what he's talking about.

He cringes at the thought, self hatred a hot poker down his throat. He must've said it to Dustin a hundred times when he finally came around from his coma (that wasn't a coma, but a death, and then a rebirth). I can't believe I put you through that. I can't believe I put you through that. I'm so sorry.

I'm just glad you're alive, Eddie.

And for a while, Eddie hadn't felt the same. The world he'd woken up to was hard. There had been lawyers and grief and guilt and becoming. He doesn't have the words to describe how it feels to become something new, something that needs to hurt people to live, something that will hurt people to live, whether Eddie wants to or not.

The loss of choice is suffocating.

Though moments like this with his friends– they don't make it 'worth it', they're just how it had to happen. There isn't a scenario where Eddie could give up. He can't leave Wayne, and he can't leave Dustin. He can live with the grief of what he is if it means other people don't have to live with grief of what he isn't.

"Eddie, are you okay?"

He's missed something. Dustin isn't the only one looking at him.

He curls a hand around his forearm subconsciously. "I'm fine. I think I'm gonna go to the bathroom, actually. Gotta piss real bad."

"Eddie-"

"I'm fine, Henderson." He puts on a good show, patting Dustin's arm. His heart, usually so slow these days, has enough life in it to ache.

He can't have been in the bathroom for five minutes when somebody knocks on the door aggressively. He's expecting Steve, pissed at his disappearance and likely preparing a speech on attention seeking behaviours and how they're hurting the youth of America, so he opens the door with a tired glare.

He finds you, beaming and pretty, dressed ridiculously nicely for his idiot friends.

"Hi," you say. He can hear something from Blondie's Parallel Lines playing from the living room, familiar because it's your favourite album. "Any room for me?"

Eddie moves back. You close the door behind you. The bathroom becomes a vacuum of your sounds and smells.

"They didn't have any Dio," you say with a smile.

"I honestly wouldn't expect any different."

"You could've brought some tapes, your mix from the van," you suggest. "I love that one."

"Which one?" he asks, and he can't help it, whenever he's with you his voice crops to a dulcet murmur. The urge to speak to you as you speak to him is unconquerable.

"One with the winking smile on the slipcase. I really like it."

"You can have it."

You lean against the sink. "I can?"

"Mm. Whatever you want." Especially when you look like this.

You smile at him, your 'thank you' smile, all sticky fondness and mischievousness. He has no idea what you're thinking.

"'S a small bathroom in a huge house," you marvel. Your voice echoes "Where does he shower?"

"There's an upstairs bathroom."

"Two bathrooms? That's-"

"Audacious?"

"I was gonna say overkill."

Your candidness has him shaking with laughter. He clutches at his sides, arms crossed and leaning forward. You visibly take in his appearance, eyes panning slowly over his clean hair. He'd taken care to look like somebody you might want to look at tonight.

"Why don't you sit down, Eds?" you ask, eyes creased with an unreadable emotion.

Eddie feels blindly for the toilet lid and pushes it down so he can do as you ask, wondering why you're asking.

"You look very handsome today."

He hugs himself. "As opposed to every other day, when I don't?"

You take a step forward, a second, hands playing with the hem of your shirt. Your outfit today is delightfully simple, a pressed black t-shirt long enough to cover the waistband of your pleated skirt. There's an expanse of thigh that makes his heart beat spin out, one longer than the other where your thigh-high is falling down.

He wants to pull it up.

"C'mere," he says.

You take that last step between his shoes and he reaches out, getting his fingertips under the elastic of your sock and tugging it upward over the soft fat of your leg. Your hands come up to his shoulders for balance, and you say, "No, you look handsome every day. Today you look very handsome. I made the distinction."

He covers your thigh with both hands, looking up into your face as you look down. "You look really pretty today," he says boldly, fingers spreading behind your knee.

"Thank you. Do you like my t-shirt?"

It's a screen print of Debbie Harry. Eddie tries not to roll his eyes. "I love it, but your dedication to Blondie is seriously worrying, sweetheart." He gives your leg a short squeeze and pulls the most giggly smile out of you yet.

"Like Madonna."

"No!" he bemoans.

You laugh and grow closer, arms on his shoulder, a hand threaded into his hair. "Cyndi Lauper?" you suggest.

He puts a hand on your waist as you move in for a hug. Your arms wrap around his neck and the tops of his shoulders, cheek crushed to the top of his head.

He'd ask if you were okay if he thought you weren't. You're not upset or seeking comfort. You're affectionate. You've been getting more and more touchy for weeks, as he has. Stolen touches, your almost-kiss on the porch last week.

"No, not Cyndi Lauper," he says, his hand skirting around your back to pull you in properly.

"R.E.M?"

"God, no. Where are you hearing all this junk?"

"The radio."

"Tuned into the wrong station."

You pet the back of his head. "Yeah," you say softly, "I think I was."

The hug is shorter than Eddie wants it to be. You make one of your happy sounds and pull away to get your hands on his face, stroking curls from his cheeks with a protective touch. "Handsome," you say, turning your hand to stroke his cheek with your knuckles. "Pretty. You have really big eyes, Eddie, so brown, and so…" You tilt your head to one side, face inching forward.

He turns his face to suit, to fit, breath held as you close the gap.

"So pretty," you murmur, and kiss him.

His hands are limp and then alive, one clutching your hip, one splaying against your chest. He can hear the thud of your heart clear as day — you're bumping with excitement as you kiss him. It's a delicate, tender thing, the party suddenly far away, the music drowned by the sounds of your breathing. You kiss as you talk, as you move, gentle but with bursts of ardency. Your lips are a blissful heat, the tip of your nose smushing into his as you part your lips over his.

He lifts his chin higher, his neck craned to receive you. He's savouring every movement. Each pause for breath that you take. The feeling of your inhales over his quick-bruising lips.

Your hands play in his hair so sweetly it makes his eyes burn with an embarrassing amount of emotion. He screws them closed and squeezes up your waist, steadying himself as you feel along his bottom lip with the tip of your tongue.

You don't get much further than that, seemingly pleased with your own brazeness or perhaps his touch, eyes glowing with mirth as you pull away.

"Sorry," you breathe, not sorry at all. "You just really looked like someone should be kissing you."

You're flushed. Eddie can practically see the heat emanating off of your cheeks. He can feel it.

He stands up, your pulse a ringing in his ears. The wet valves of your heart opening and closing.

"Eddie?" you ask quietly, lifting your head to meet his eyes as he walks you back into the door.

His gums sting. A click.

It's a compulsion.

His hands curl around your elbows, holding you in place. Your eyes are wide with confusion, your lightly swollen lips parted. He can see the tiniest slip of your pink tongue.

He holds your gaze as he leans in. Your eyelids flutter closed. You wrap your arms around him as he descends, totally trusting.

He's a meaner kiss than you are. He starts slow but swiftly loses a handle on it, kisses short but insistent, hot presses like little crescent moons against your barely open mouth.

His hands move up your arms, a near vice-like grip until he finds your sleeves. His fingers slip underneath, hands hungry for your warmth.

You make the worst sound anyone has ever made as he moves back, like something has been ripped from you. A gutted gasp, near silent.

He placates as he wades back in. Thumbs rubbing your arms, lips mouthing damp kisses down your face. The corner of your pout, the hill of your chin, the skin under your jaw. Your head tips back against the door with an audible thud. You exhale hard.

Eddie can't feel his hands.

Your pulse hammers under his lips. He kisses it once. He can't think. He can't breathe.

"You're always cold," you whisper, your hands drifting lazily under the fabric of his t-shirt. Your fingertips trail up his spine. "But your lips are warm."

He kisses your neck, his lips parting slowly, a hair's width a second as he sucks your skin into his mouth gently. It's barely a kiss. He does it a second time. A third. You start to laugh, a golden sound.

The point of his fangs touch your skin and you stop.

Eddie closes his mouth abruptly. His hand leaps to your neck and he feels your heart skip as he holds you still. "I'm sorry," he says, nose rubbing over the damp spot he's left behind, your teased skin.

Your heart hikes again.

"I'm sorry," he repeats. He pulls away, an agony.

"It's okay," you say. Your breathlessness says otherwise.

Eddie takes as many deep breaths as he can stand, wanting to clear his head and filling it with you instead. Your everything; your smell, your skin. Your limp hands against his back.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asks when he gets a look at you, your unreadable expression. He takes care to keep his head angled down so you can't see the lower half of his face.

"I don't think you could."

You cup his cheek in your hand and he leans into it, his weight against yours.

"I wanted to tell you something," you confess.

"What-" He licks his lips, wincing when his fangs slide into his tongue and scrape grooves across his taste buds. "What was that?"

"I know you…" You pause, fingertips rubbing at his cheek.

Does she know? Eddie thinks, horrified. He hadn't realised how scary waiting could be. A thousand worries condensed into a handful of seconds. Does she know?

How could she not?

You press your palm to his cheek with more insistence. "I don't want you to think you have to hide anything from me. I know you have scars," you say, fingers sliding into the soft baby hair at the back of his neck. "You don't have to cover up. You don't have to cover any of it."

"I won't hurt you," he says, trying to convince himself.

"I know."

You stay a while longer. Eddie's friends pretend that you hadn't been alone in the bathroom for an inordinate amount of time together. You thank them all silently and less so, trying to talk to as many of them as you can.

There's Lucas, who's really, really nice, and his girlfriend Max, who's less so. She gives you an unimpressed look through her thick-lensed glasses, but you compliment her crutches and she comes around.

There's Mike, who actually isn't anywhere as bad as Eddie had described him. He's not frosty or standoffish, he's sweet and he asks questions. There's a girl with him that you don't catch the name of, and a boy on her other side.

There's Dustin, who you adore immediately, Robin, who you adore more, and then there's Steve.

Steve offers you a pretzel like you're more than familiar. He strolls right up to you with a bowl of them in hand and doesn't leave until you've eaten half of them.

There's a couple of people you don't manage to talk to at all, and you feel guilty about it all the way home.

"What if they think I'm rude?" you ask, tired eyes locking onto the stereo system. The time blinks analog in the dark, 12:59AM.

"They don't, don't worry about it. You have lots of time to get to know them, anyway."

You hum and turn to his face, indulgent because you know he can't look back. "You're not too tired to drive, are you?" He's spent. Yesterday had been one of his bad days.

"I'm fine."

"You say that all the time," you observe, dropping your cheek into the passenger seat's headrest.

"I'm fine all the time."

"Liar."

"Nuisance."

You huff a laugh through your nose. The strands of his friendship bracelet, the small beads at the ends, swing like pendulums in the gap between his arm and the steering wheel. You can see the rough skin of a scar creeping out from under his sleeve.

"Mike was really nice," you say.

"He has a bleeding heart."

That feels accurate. "He reminds me of you."

Eddie rolls his eyes. You feel for every detail, the strange tension between you like a gaussian filter over everything. He's gorgeous in a horrific way, heartbreakingly pale, eyes dark as pitch, hands restless. They squeeze alone the wheel, thick fingers curling tight until his knuckles are stark white. Running down the back of his hands are veins like rivers. They're more purple than green.

"Eddie," you say, playful, a tiny bit insecure.

"What?"

"Wanna stay the night?"

His hand moves forward on the wheel like he's revving a motorcycle, the tendon in his wrist rising to the surface. He clenches. "Not sure it's a good idea."

"Just to sleep. It's late."

"I don't know if I can sleep next to you."

You don't wanna say please. You don't want to ask Eddie to do anything he can't or doesn't wanna do.

He pulls up outside of your house with his mind already made up. He gets out of the car and you follow his lead. He locks it, shoves the keys in his pocket as you join him on the path up to your porch.

He's been in here enough times to know what it looks like, but for some reason you find yourself checking his face, worried about what it is he thinks of your things, all your mismatched trinkets, your stained glass lamps, your life as you let yourselves in. He ducks through the beeded curtain into your bedroom wary that they'll get tangled in his hair like they sometimes do.

"Do you wanna call Wayne?" you ask, gesturing to your telephone on the right hand side, nestled between a stack of books and a cup full of coloured pencils.

You pull your knee up to your chest and unlace your shoes one at a time. Eddie punches the number into the phone and holds the receiver to his shoulder to do as you're doing. It takes him less time to pop his sneakers off than for you to get out of yours. He's just taken the phone back into his hand when Wayne picks up.

"Wayne?" he asks softly. "Didn't wake you up, did I?"

You can't hear his response.

"I'm gonna stay with Y/N tonight. Yeah, we had a good time. Yeah…" His eyes drift to you as you peel out of your thigh highs.

"Yeah, I'm still here. What?" He meets your eyes and it feels accidental, because he throws his eyes to your bedsheets and turns his face to the wall. "No," he says firmly.

You scrape together something to wear for bed and some fresh underwear and leave for the bathroom, telling yourself that nothing is gonna happen so don't get your hopes up but not wanting to get caught out if it does. You freshen up, brushing your teeth and washing your face.

You stare at yourself in the mirror and wonder if you should've left your face-powder and your mascara on. Maybe even the skirt. You'd looked nice and pretty for the party. Now you look like yourself, still pretty but without those extra touches. Will he care? Does it matter?

You debate your pyjama pants considerably.

There's a lot happening.

Eddie is… Eddie is something else. He's different, you'd known that for a long time, and his kiss had confirmed it.

He's something out of a science fiction book.

Well, nobody's perfect.

Whatever he is, he'd kissed you. You'd kissed him and he'd responded, he'd come back for more, and now he's sitting in your bed when he could've gone home. You bring your hand to your neck and crane to one side, fingertips poking at your unbroken skin. His hickey's haven't even bruised.

You screw the pants up and drop them into your laundry basket. You take off every piece of jewellery on your person.

"Do you wanna use the bathroom?" you ask from behind the beaded curtain. "I left a new toothbrush for you on the sink."

"Yeah, desperately, I…" He takes you in as you emerge. Fresh-faced, bare-legged. As naked as you've ever been in front of him, physically and otherwise.

Eddie meets you where you're standing. He's ditched his jacket, and for the first time since you met him you can see the full length of his arms.

"You're not wearing your bracelets," he says, looking between your bodies. His hand twitches toward yours.

"You have tattoos," you say.

"They were better, before."

There's a misshapen mess of black splodges near the crook of his elbow broken up by scar tissue. One arm is less scarred than the other, an almost perfect flank of white skin.

"Is that a puppet? He's super spooky."

"Mh-hm."

You bring your hand to his tattoo and feel over the skin. It doesn't feel like it's there. Eddie holds your wrist and the two of you move together, your fingertips stroking up until you're wrapped around his bicep.

Eddie brings his free hand to your collar. His index finger straightens, encouraging your chin up so he can ease forward and kiss you. He's firm, eager, and your lips curl up into a smile underneath it. He turns his head to the right and you fall left, smile worsened when you feel his own start to form.

He nudges your nose. You take it for a telling off and laugh. "Sorry," you apologise, kissing his top lip.

"You're making this difficult," he chides.

Despite any sternness, Eddie loosens his grip on your wrists to slide his fingers between yours, pressing your joined hands to your chest. He leans back down and he's careful, almost methodical in the way he kisses. Chaste pecks, hot and precious as tiny stars.

You reach for his waist.

Eddie kisses you a final time and steps back. "I'll be back," he promises.

You lower your chin, flustered and perplexed by his sudden departure.

Walking around to the right side of the bed, you click on your bedside lamp — a beautiful glass and foiled contraption that throws dainty stripes of stars and hearts over everything close in the dark — before climbing in. You sniff one of your pillows experimentally, trying to remember when you last changed the bed. You decide they're acceptable even if they really smell like your hair oil and flip them around to be safe, plumping them up with your hands.

You've curled up on your side and almost succumb to your fatigue when Eddie returns, bringing with him the smell of spearmint and a fuzzy feeling in your stomach as he shuts off the light and sits on the opposite side of the bed, facing you. The hair around his face is damp with water, baby hair's limp.

"I'm sorry I don't have anything for you to wear, I-" Youre cut off by your own gasp as Eddie kisses you, his hand on your neck, his nose bridge sliding into your own. You hadn't been expecting it, and it's no less dizzying than any other kiss he's given you today.

"It's okay," he murmurs lowly, lips pressed to your lips, "have to wear you, is all."

You huff a laugh into his mouth. "I swear I'm always laughing when I'm with you," you muse as Eddie dedicates himself to your bottom lip. You cup the back of his head. "You're amazing."

Eddie groans and eases back. "I'm not good with words, sweetheart. To tell you how I feel about you."

You push one of your legs toward his knee. "...You can show me."

He shifts in the bed until he can lean over the entirety of your chest, hands cupping your face and lips poised hovering over your own, a millimetre of space between your mouth and his. "Okay," he says quietly.

He dips down. You can feel his bottom lip tremble, and then he's kissing you too hard to feel it anymore. You wrap loose arms around his back.

"Are you sure?" you whisper to him.

He rests his nose against your cheek, eyes closed, drawing the tiniest left to right. "I want you," he reassures.

"And you're okay?"

"Yeah, sweetheart. I'm okay. Do you want to?"

"Yeah. More than anything."

Another loving kiss against your cheek, Eddie moves down, down, down. "Tell me if I do something you don't like," he murmurs, top lip dragging and leaving a line of dampness to the base of your throat.

He adorns the canvas of your neck in half-moon contusions, big hands caressing your shoulders, your chest. You hold your breath as his fingers pass over your nipple, fighting to keep in any embarrassing sounds.

Eddie disagrees with his plan of action. You shiver as he brings his lips to a close and his bottom teeth scrape upward, as he pulls his head up and says, "C'mon, angel, breathe."

He follows his command with a manipulative touch, a circle over your nipple that makes you shudder. He kisses you and it feels like a thank you, pressure, a heat as his palm smooths over the bump of your tummy to your thighs. He squeezes the outside of one and for a while you can kiss him back, and then he pulls your thighs apart and you break away. Eddie follows, kisses you even when your reciprocation is weak.

He pushes your thigh flat to the bed.

You feel the heat of your excitement start to grow. Your stomach aches with the want to be touched.

"You're like a space heater, you're that warm," Eddie says, hand coasting down the inside of your thigh. He squeezes until fat melds under his fingers. "Are you scared?"

His whispering in your ear, his hand as close as it is to where you want it, it winds you up like a coil. You sigh as his thumb strokes the edge of your panties, sound coloured by an awful, devouring desire.

His face presses further into yours in reaction.

His touch is like the tide. He wades in, away. His thumb strokes inward over something soft and then his whole hand moves back to your thigh.

"Teasing," you utter.

"A little… Why, is there something you want me to do?"

His clueless whispering is infuriating and exciting at the same time. Your heart races and you can't discern if it's more lust or love.

"Touch me," you plead, pouting, knowing he's a pushover.

Anticipation stabs like a needle in your tummy as he slides his palm over your cunt completely. He rubs a careful, almost casual rhythm into your panties with the breadth of his fingers, lips kissing a lazy stripe up to your forehead, where he rests his face. You both watch his hand move past the valley of your rising chest.

"M'gonna pull these off, yeah?" He sits up, fingers pushing under the sides. "Lift your- yeah, thank you, sweetheart."

You buzz with his pet names, his soft voice, the feeling of your panties sliding up to your knees and his gentle exhale. You swear you can feel it fan over your slit. "Shit…" he moan, pulling at your spread cunt.

He looks like he's in pain, eyebrows pinched together and murmuring curses as he circles the wetness gathered at your entrance. You turn your head searchingly as he starts to ease his index finger inside your heat, a gentle probing.

One becomes two. He muffles your sighing with firm kisses, amorous praises, "That's it, baby, relax," as he works you open, fingers wet with slickness but not enough. He changes his position, pushing his middle and marriage finger inside and curving as his thumb slides up your slit looking for the bead of your clit.

Slow, slow circles. "There, huh?"

You shiver as he pushes in deeper, fingers as far as they can go. He spreads them wide, drops reassuring kisses all over your face when you keen. It's so new to have him kiss you at all, and to have him touching you — you're melting into nothing right there in his hold.

"I got you. Tell me if it hurts, okay?"

"Want you to- I want you to fuck me," you murmur, arms wrapping around him so you can hide your face in his neck.

"Fuck. Fuck, baby. Gonna fuck you just as soon as I can fit," he murmurs back, sinking three of his thick fingers into your snug cunt. He pulls wetness out with every thrust, a line of slick dribbling down onto the sheets underneath. He wipes it upward and pushes it back inside, his chest heaving. "Y'so tight, gotta take my time. Take our time." He rubs his nose against your head until he can kiss the highest point of your cheek. "Make sure you can take it."

"I can."

It doesn't bear repeating how quietly you're speaking, a mouthing inaudible under the wet, rhythmic thud of Eddie's pinky finger slapping your sticky cunt as he ups the pace of his finger-fucking.

"I don't think so," he coos, pulling his fingers from your cunt and making a show of spreading them wide. Your slick ribbons between them, almost invisible in the dark. "Ruin your sheets before any of that, maybe."

Eddie sits up and gets his hands under your armpits. You laugh as he tugs you up so your shoulders are on top of the pillows, but you don't have time to be confused. He quickly moves to kneel at your feet and pulls your leg over his shoulder, your back lifting unevenly from the sheets.

He starts with a sweet kiss pressed to the skin closest to his mouth, your lower thigh, and then works his way up, open mouthed, barely kisses at all until his hair whispers against your sensitive cunt and he's nipping at the stripe of skin between your thigh and the place where you most want his attention.

"Pretty," he says into your damp skin, lips shining. You reach down to stroke his hair behind his ears, worried he's gonna get it dirty.

He looks at you from between your thighs, his eyes dark in the dim light, their lashes long and soft where the outermost flutter into your skin. He's lovely.

He holds your gaze as he pulls back to your inner thigh. "Pretty everywhere," he says salaciously.

His lips part over your skin and you think he might bite you, a bruising hickey, but he pushes you down flat to the bed by your hips and kisses your clit, a simple kiss. Your fingers weave deeper into his hair. Your fingernails scratch lightly against his scalp, every tiny lick or kiss reflected in the minute tightening of your hands.

He goes slow, mouths down, kisses wetter and wetter as he reaches your entrance. "Poor girl," he murmurs, hands pulled down to further scandalise. He sinks two fingers inside and laughs into your cunt. You squirm.

"What happened? You're dripping on my fingers." Your thighs draw closed around his head as he curls his fingers against a soft spot.

"Eddie, can you-" You swallow. "Please. Please."

He pries your thighs open and rubs them soothingly, lapping at the heat of your cunt in face of your pleading. His tongue appears broad and flat up the centre of you until he's kissing on your clit, fingers pumping in rhythm. Your fingers work into his hair and he groans, the vibration enough to make you whimper under his mouth.

He laps at your clit messily and you tip your head back, breath coming in tight pants. You don't know what you say, only how you say it, desperate "please,"s and keening "Eddie,"s.

His thrusts grow in enthusiasm, fingers rubbing eagerly against something sweet. You pull your legs up and nudge his face to your cunt insistently, thigh shaking as you hold it up. Eddie doesn't need any more encouragement, his pretty pink lips suckling at your clit until you see stars. You make a pained little sound and try to move away from his kissing, startled at the intensity of your high.

Eddie lets your clit pop out of his mouth with a lewd, slick sound, his hands moving under your thighs and pulling you closer. "Good girl," he says, rubbing his wet face against the inside of your thigh. He inhales hard as you are, though he pauses to kiss your kneecap and pat your leg. "Good girl, sweetheart."

"I'm sorry," you say breathlessly, hands pulling his hair from his face. Pleasure rolls through you in hot waves.

"For what?"

"Tugging on your hair," you explain, shoulder pulled up to your cheek.

Eddie kisses your tummy lovingly and climbs on top of you to do the same just under your chin. "It’s okay, sweetheart, I like that shit. That was good, huh?" he asks, lips dropping down to yours all wet and warm.

He's not bragging, he's genuinely asking.

You nod into his kiss, your hands coming up to his sides. You swear your ears perk up as he unzips his jeans and eases them down, a hand disappearing into the mess of fabric. He moans quietly at the first touch.

You move his hair out of the way to watch. Eddie tugs at the length of his cock with a cruel hand, a short dribble of pearly precum sobbing down the tip and under his fingers. He spreads it as it goes, the slickness emphasising the ridges and veins of his cock. You can see it throb, if you look close enough.

He sits back and eases his jeans and boxers down enough to reveal a thatch of curls that brush his hand with every pump downward.

"You okay?" he asks, smirking.

You pull your shirt over your head and your chest warms at his adoring smile. "Will you take off yours?"

He doesn't hesitate like you worried he might. He sheds his t-shirt, pulling the fabric over the back of his head and dumping it off the side of the bed.

You take in his chest and it's abundance of ragged scarring still purpled with newness. He has a tattoo over his heart, a black whorl of legs and eyes. Fine dark hair crawls from the middle of his chest down his navel, joining with the thatch of coiled hair surrounding his aching cock. You shuffle forward and wait with two tentative hands held aloft until he says, "It's okay," before you touch him. You run your hands down the soft slopes of his waist.

"Does it hurt?"

"Not anymore."

"Can I kiss it?"

He snorts. "Prefer you kiss something else."

That really makes you laugh. You dot a kiss against his jaw and can't make yourself stop, dropping them all the way to the skin behind his ear. Your hand creeps lower as you go, held to the curve of his tummy. His skin is hot to touch the lower you go, and his stomach feels solid, a heaviness you know all too well.

"Can I touch you?" you whisper into his ear.

"Please."

You drop your forehead against his chest and he brings his hand up to cup the back of your head. His cock pulses as you wrap your hand around it, skin smooth and slick as you palm slowly up and down. You watch in awe as a bead of precum wells at the tip, Eddie's rough breathing loud overhead.

"Lie down, Y/N," he says, hand moving behind your naked shoulders.

"What way?"

"How do you want it, sweetheart? We'll do it whatever way you want."

You think about it. Whatever way you want. No matter how indulgent, you know he means it.

"Will you spoon me?"

He pushes you gently and follows behind, dragging your body into his front and angling your hips, cock hot and prodding your back. He gets his hand under your knee and pulls it up, splaying your cunt. You jump in surprise as he pushes his cock through your folds, tip rubbing against the still sensitive bead of your clit.

Eddie wraps his arms around you, hugging you from behind. "You wanna put it in for me, baby?"

You reach between your bodies and take his sticky cock into your hand, shifting until the head nudges against your hole. He sinks in inch by inch, arms tightening around your waist and grinding you down onto his cock until you're whimpering.

You grab at his arms with your hands and tether yourself to him as he starts to rock his hips, his thrusting tender and his face turned into your neck.

He presses his hand flat to your abdomen, an anchoring point as he moulds your weepy cunt around his length, each slovenly movement into your heat spreading you that little bit wider.

"Fuck," he says finally, sounding seconds from a black out. "Oh, fuck- You're tight. Gonna fuck you open slow, okay?"

You're pretty sure you'd let him do just about anything. You bring his hand to your mouth and kiss every white knuckle, every freckle you can see on the back, and when he bottoms out your cover your lips with his stolen hand to smother a tearful gasp.

Eddie's thrusts are spearing in their steady rhythm, a dirty slap ringing with every punching thrust forward. You curl in on yourself and hide your mouth in the sheets, wet pants smothered by fabric. Eddie's grip falls to your hip, where he pulls your body back and forces your cunt open even deeper.

His cock pushes into your sweet spot sudden and emphatic. You moan and he stills, rutting into that same space without pulling out until you're babbling his name, body knocked forward with every thrust.

Eddie turns your face toward him as much as he can without hurting your neck, your moans echoing in time with each thrust. "There you go," he says, "wanna hear how good it feels."

If he cares that you can't answer him he doesn't show it, arm coming up under you arm to grasp at your chest, your breaststroke soft and aching under his hand as he squeezes tenderly. His cock kisses at the sweet spot inside you intermittently; you're dizzy with it.

Eddie can't keep quiet either, his moans breathy, his breath hissing between his teeth when you clamp down around him. "Fuck," he begs, dragging his cock out of your heat, "fuck, Y/N."

He says your name like the syllables alone are appraising.

You can tell when it gets too much for him. He slows. His face drops into your shoulder, and he matches his pace to the wet kisses he leaves behind. Your wetness feels stickying, each of his thrusts snug.

His breath hitches, ragged pants accompanying every slow push of his hips. "Where's my girl?" he asks, eyes still closed as his hand abandons where it'd been squeezing the bump of your tummy to search further downward, fingers disappearing into your folds, short curls wet with slick. He can't find any purchase. You roll your hips, chase his touch and the pleasure that comes with it.

He groans into your shoulder. It sounds more pain than pleasure.

"Are you okay?" you ask, trying to turn in his arms. He holds you in place. "Eddie?"

"Yeah, fuck, I'm okay." He grinds up into your cunt. "Fuck, you're perfect."

"Will you kiss me?"

He does. It's nowhere near the bruising press you'd wanted. It's too careful.

"Listen," he murmurs, "I'm gonna get you on your front, okay? Gonna make you feel so good," he promises, waiting for you to nod before he pushes your shoulder away from him and climbs up behind you. You lay flat on your stomach and Eddie settles on your thighs, a heavy weight.

He pushes into your cunt with two fingers first, the new position allowing for a new pleasure. He pumps in and out and swaps his fingers for his cock quickly after, bearing the full weight of his body into your back as sinks to the hilt.

You both moan in time, hands fisted in the sheets.

He kisses your neck, lips parted, and his teeth feel so sharp that your heart sinks as it had in the bathroom.

"Eddie-" you start.

He pulls away, stops every movement.

"Eddie," you say again. What are you supposed to say? You both know what he is.

There's a lull where neither of you knows what to do filled by your too-fast breathing.

"I won't hurt you," he says, hands rubbing up the length of your back and then under. He holds a hand over your heart. He drops his lips to your back. "Do you want me to stop?"

He must feel your pulse calm under his touch, but he still asks again when you don't answer. "Do you want me to stop? It's okay if you do. You're okay, baby, I promise."

You steal a pillow from against the headboard and rise up on elbows. Your admission comes weak but completely honest. "Fuck me, Eddie, please... I want you. I want you-" Your murmuring's interrupted by a sharp breath as Eddie starts to move again, the head of his cock pushing into your cunt, a slick, perfect feeling.

He moans from the back of his throat as his cock pushes into you again and again, hips smacking the dough of your ass as his pace quickens. You hug your pillow tightly, tears popping up in the corners as he ruts deep.

"Being so good for me," he groans, clamped down on your hip with a vice-like grip. "Fuck, you feel so good. Fucking clinging to me every time I pull out, baby, Christ." His blasphemy is punctuated by a thrust that has you sliding up the bed, sheets wrinkling under your arms. You spread your thighs and wetness pools at your clit as his pelvis thrusts into you, driving pleasure so deeply it aches in your hips.

You moan pathetically and reach back to hold his hand, wiggling your fingers. He takes it in one and presses your arm against your lower back with the other, struggling to maintain a steady pace as he gets close to cumming. You're a babbling stream of sounds as he fucks in deep, swollen sweet spot tapped against mercilessly.

He throws himself back on his haunches, cock dragged out of your heat.

You pull your legs out from underneath him and curl onto your side to watch, eyes wide as white spurts of pearlescence jump out of the head of his reddened cock and drip down the bumps of his fingers. He leans back, his stomach and thighs tensed with every pump.

He groans through a smile, moan's coloured by a happy, relieved laughter. "F-uck," he drags, fisting his cock dry.

He meets your eyes as the last of it slides down onto his stomach.

You smile softly. "Fuck," you mumble.

Eddie wipes his hand in his jeans like a fucking hooligan and tucks his cock back into his boxers with a wince, and then he collapses on top of you. He's sort of nice about it, his arm over your shoulder and his face behind your ear.

"Fucking beautiful," he praises, dropping his head back on the bed so you're face to face. "You're so fucking pretty. So perfect." He kisses you. "You're perfect," he repeats, staring intently into your eyes.

You pull a hand from between your legs, smelling of sex. Eddie literally couldn't care less if he tried, and he lets you take his face into your hand without complaint.

He gets his arm under your arm and starts to rub your back. "You want me to take care of you again?" he asks, eyebrows raised gently. "Yeah?"

And you would let him, you would, but you need to see them for yourself.

You touch your index fingertip to his lip.

"Can I see?" you ask.

He loses his boisterous joy, tamps it down. He realises that he can't lie, that he hasn't been lying, and he nods. You tremble as you pull his lip up over his canine tooth, excited and scared.

A sharp, exceptionally white tooth pokes out of Eddie's gums. You're taken aback, though you'd known exactly what you'd find.

A fang.

Blood oozes at the gums.

"You're bleeding," you worry aloud, touching your finger to the dark beading at the base of his tooth.

Eddie's eyes rove over your face thoughtfully. He pulls your hand away from his lip and sets it on his neck instead. "They always do that. The gum heals, breaks when they wanna come out."

"How often do they come out?"

"A lot more since I met you. Whenever my adrenaline spikes, they seem to think it's… feeding time."

That is a dizzying thing to learn.

You're not sure how you feel, but you know one thing: he's Eddie. "It's too bad," you say, forcing a lightness that turns real more easily than you expect. "I really want to kiss you right now."

He strokes your cheek with his thumb. "I really wanna kiss you too. Maybe a small one?"

You find yourself leaning forward, unafraid.

He kisses you once, twice, three times, the two of you holding each other's faces and covered in mess. Slick and sweat and blood. The hearts and stars from your lamp spray over his hip and paint him with pinks, greens, oranges, a rainbow cutting over his trim waist. You rest your hand overtop, feel his keloid scars like hills under your fingers.

"My boyfriend's a vampire," you mutter, bemused at fate.

Eddie blinks at you. "I'm your boyfriend?"

"Yeah, I think so. Don't you?"

Eddie pulls you into his chest and doesn't let you go for a long, long time.

Your first time watching a blood sate is weird.

For one, Chief Hopper is firmly against it. He's got his kid with him, the boy from the party that Mike had been so heavily doting on, and if he didn't you might think he was a pretty scary guy.

"I think this is stupid," the chief says plainly. "I think this is stupid, I think you're stupid," — he points at Eddie where he's sitting sickly in the round couch — "and I think you're plain crazy, kid." He points at you last.

You beam at him. "People have said that about me."

His kid laughs.

"Will," Hopper says tiredly, "go sit in the car."

"Look, Chief, I know I messed up, okay, but she kind of stuck her hand in my mouth and I didn't really have a choice."

Wayne looks at you with new eyes. "You did?"

You nod at him faux-seriously.

"And what gave her the inkling that you might have had something in your mouth worth looking at?" Hopper says, which is hilarious. You laugh behind your hand.

He gives you a disapproving look that you completely ignore. If you'd taken notice of disapproval you would've stopped having this much fun years ago.

"Uh, well, she might have… felt them?" His pitch rises.

Hopper looks like he's about to blow a gasket when Will says, "What was he supposed to do? Never talk to anyone new ever again?"

"He did a lot more than just talk to me," you say. There'd been a fixed bike, phone calls, lots of sandwiches, bug hunts, an entire sketchbook full of drawings.

"I told you to wait in the car," Hopper says.

Will grins and raises his hands in surrender. "Bye," he mouths. You wave.

Hopper waits for the door to close before he continues. "I get it, when you're a teenager you think your hormones are the end of the world-"

"I'm almost twenty three."

Hopper pinches his hand closed. "But you do not understand the danger that you are creating here."

"Like a stake-ing," you whisper, very very quietly. Eddie's the only one who can hear you, and he laughs so hard he snorts.

"I'm glad you find this funny." Hopper's tone could not imply the opposite any more.

He hands Wayne a paper bag that audibly sloshes and stalks out, his anger a palpable cloud of steam rising off of his shoulders. Eddie seizes up beside you at the sound, lips parting as his fangs come through. You don't touch him because you value your blood inside your body, only slide away from him and smile. "You okay, handsome?"

"Kid, maybe the chief is right. We don't know how Eds is gonna act with you here," Wayne says.

You nod respectfully. You like Wayne, and he knows about all of this stuff more than you ever could.

"No," Eddie mumbles, putting his hand out for you across the couch.

You take it without thinking.

Wayne sighs. You can hear him grumbling as he disappears from view into the kitchen and puts a pot on the stove. There's the sound of a bag being punctured with a knife, a wet slosh. Eddie's grip on your hand tightens.

You're still fascinated that he even drinks blood in the first place. That's wickedly sickening. Wicked, because it's cool that he's a vampire, with his impressive hearing, senses and smell. But sickening, because if you had to drink a pint of blood every couple of weeks you'd throw up.

"I read about a new blood-sucker."

Eddie raises his heavy head. "Another bug?"

"No, a finch! A vampire finch. They're really pretty, Teddy. They're small and brown with long beaks and they drink blood because there's barely any water on their island." You give him a loving smile. "They aren't parasites. S'just how they had to change to survive."

He squeezes your hand, this time on purpose.

"Are you gonna come and have it in here, Eddie?" Wayne asks, one last shot at separating the two of you.

"I'm okay," he says loudly. His eyes trace your smile. "Really."

It can't be fun to have two people watch you drink a warm mug of blood, but Eddie finds it funny. He keeps laughing every time he brings the rim of the glass to his mouth.

"I can't do it if you're looking at me," he says.

Wayne rolls his eyes and looks away. You cover your face with both hands and part your fingers to spy on him through the gaps. He makes it look easy, draining the mug basically in one long pull, though his hunger turns violent as the cup empties. He chokes. Blood trickles down from one corner of his mouth.

You automatically want to reach over and wipe it away. Wayne grabs your arm before you can and gives you a fatherly look that says, I wouldn't do that if I were you.

"Shit," Eddie says, slamming his now empty mug down on the coffee table. It makes a grating sound like a ground mortar and pestle. He sits as far back on the couch cushions as he can, nausea clear on his face.

"Deep breath," Wayne says.

"Fuck, Wayne."

"You're aces. Deep breaths."

Your heart hurts watching Eddie like this. He covers his mouth with eyes closed tightly and breathes hard through his nose. Already there's colour coming back into his face, not a lot but anything is an improvement. He'd been practically grey.

When Eddie pulls his hand from his mouth blood has spread over his lips and jaw. Your eyes widen.

"I'll get the shower running," Wayne says, slapping his knees as he stands. He stops before the hallway. "Good job, Eddie."

The boy in question slouches into a ball on the sofa and nods into a cushion. You wait for the sound of Wayne pulling the shower cord that turns on the hot water before you stand up, head tipped to one side.

"You okay, handsome?".

"Tired."

"You want a hug from me?"

"Is anyone else offering?" He opens one eye to peek at you and grins at your distraught expression. "I'm joking, I'm kidding. C'mere, before I start bawling." You sit and then flop onto your side, pulling your legs up next to his. "Such a frowny face." His voice is adorably tired.

"Better than yours. You look like someone from Night of the Living Dead, baby."

Eddie's arm lies limp like a dead fish over your waist. "Lemme nibble on your brains," he says, words thick as dark honey, eyes closed. "Just a snack."

You're waiting for someone to pull the rug out from under your feet. No way your boyfriend, your cries at the end of every movie, brings you flowers because he felt like it, won't step on cracks in the sidewalk boyfriend just skulled a glass of O-negative like it was a milkshake.

You feel guilty as soon as you think about it. He's not confined to all his softest parts and he never will be. He's snarky and angry and loud. He plays guitar like a real rockstar and he doesn't take anyone's shit. He's a survivor. A glass of blood every now and then was never gonna stop him.

You keep wondering if you should let him suck your blood. It could be hot. It could also probably be the worst idea ever, a relationship faux pas up there with proposing after a month or saying I love you on the first date.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks.

You brush the hair out of his eyes with your ring finger. "Embarrassing relationship fumbles."

"Oh yeah? Like letting your girlfriend watch you drink human blood from a mug shaped like Woodstock?"

"Least it wasn't Snoopy."

"God forbid."

"Is it always like this?" You stroke your hand down his face and rub along his jaw with your thumb. "D'you always get sleepy?"

"Yeah." He turns his face so your hand covers his mouth.

You've stopped wearing silver jewellery, your wrists bare besides the endearingly awful friendship bracelet he's constructed for you. Not a friendship bracelet, he'd corrected. You're not kissing other friends, are you? Because that's really gonna put a downer on this whole thing.

You dip your forehead to his chin and the two of you lay there in silence. You can smell blood, a thick, metallic stick permeating every corner of the room. It's especially strong between the both of you.

"Do you wanna bite me right now?" you inquire without opening your eyes.

"Not really. Blood sate kicks in quickly. It's the worst for, like, the first ten seconds after. Now I wanna sleep, but Wayne's gonna make me shower."

"Maybe I can shower with you."

"I'm sure he'd jump for joy if you suggest it."

"Really?"

Eddie kisses your hand. "No," he says with a giddy laugh.

"I'll pretend I'm gonna sit on the toilet. Keep watch."

"How will you stop your hair from getting wet?"

"I'll lean out."

Eddie laughs even more than he had been, peeling laughter that warms you from the inside out as he kisses your hand again. "That'll definitely work."

Wayne clears his throat.

"Shower's hot. I'm going out. For an hour." Eddie perks up. His uncle looks him dead in the eye. "Don't make me regret this."

And while Wayne had been under the impression you and Eddie were gonna have some grown up fun together in the shower, what you really do is an innocent act of affection: you wash Eddie's hair.

"You have to lean your head back," you chide.

"I am."

"More than that."

"There's no room."

You're lucky you both fit. You're freezing standing behind Eddie, the only relief the warm water that trickles down from your hands to your elbows as you draw circles in his scalp, working the shampoo into a fine lather.

"How did you get blood here?" you ask, scratching rusty flakes from the hair behind his ear.

"I don't know. It gets everywhere. Like eyeshadow."

You push your chin over his shoulder. "You wear eyeshadow?"

"For shows."

"Really?"

"Is it hard to believe?"

You encourage his head under the water and rake your hands through his curls, encouraging the soapy water down to the ends with patient hands. "Lip gloss too? Hey, can I do your makeup?"

"Maybe tomorrow," he bargains. While the shower has helped to wake him up, lethargy remains thick and unshakeable as adamant.

You kiss the wet ridge of his shoulder blade, picturing his pretty face decked out in dark liners and sticky balm. "Thank you."

"I haven't worn any in a long time. Haven't played a show in a really long time."

You wring the water out of his hair and search in the steam for his conditioner. It's mostly empty. "You could put on a show for me. I never got to see you play," you say, shaking it really hard. A dollop collects in your hand and you work the dregs through the ends of his long hair.

"You want that?"

"I think you're the best guitar player in the world."

You're not joking. He's the best, and he plays guitar. And he's pretty good, semantics aside. You love sitting out on the porch with him and listening to him play old rock songs off the top of his head. You could watch his hands move over the strings for hours.

"If that's the case, I can definitely put on a show. Make-up, costume, stage dives. The whole nine yards. Anything for my girl."

You roll the ends of his hair between two coated palms and step back. "There. You have to let it soak in for a couple of minutes."

Eddie turns with a grin, angling his chest and hair forward, away from the stream.

"Whatever will we do?"

You wipe an escaped streak of blood off of his bottom lip and smile. "I have no idea."

You kiss. Eddie leans down and you move up, damp noses glancing off of each other. You're used to short kisses, never enough to make his heart race in case it prompts an unnecessary appearance of his fangs, so when Eddie encourages your lips apart to wade in deeper you pull back questioningly.

"Blood sate. I'm 'sated'. They won't come out."

Your jaw drops. "For real?"

He shakes his head with a pleased smile. "For real. Kiss me sick, sweetheart."

You throw your arm around his neck and drag his face to yours, kissing with an ardency that both surprises and amuses him. He laughs into your open mouth until suddenly he's not laughing at all, only breathing, pushing against you with the same urgent force and the same adoring smile.

"Does this mean you can give me a hickey?" you ask enthusiastically. Eddie has yet to give you a proper love bite.

He leans back under the show spray and pulls you in with him, laughing when you dissolve like rice paper in his arms, finally warm. There's never been a sweeter sound.

/\^._.^/\

thank you for reading! | my masterlist | my halloween party

if you enjoyed reading his, please consider reblogging. i promise it makes a huge difference

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inklore · 7 months

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I’ve seen your reblog ‘“i’ve been thinking about you all day” as they’re filling your pussy’ and I was wondering if it was okay to request this with Jordan Li (established relationship)

NIGHTS LIKE THESE

pairing: jordan li x (f)reader

contents: foreplay, p in v, oral, this is very soft, it’s basically fluff with smut, both of their presenting forms involved, everyone is love sick and clingy idk | wc: 860

note: they're everything to me!! i have something much longer in the works for them but i needed to write something quick and yearny.

Your wrists are pinned above your head, their fingers twined with yours as they hold you in place, as if you’d ever escape them, leave them, or try to.

As if you could go anywhere with their body pressed against yours and their hips moving between your thighs.

Slow thrusts that make you feel every inch of them moving inside of you. Fucking you at that languid pace that comes from the frustration of long days and the yearning that pricks at one’s heart from being separated for too long.

Course work and keeping your rankings are chores in and of themselves, but living up to the expectations it sets is even harder. So if a day goes by and Jordan can’t have you pressed up against them, at their side, or at the very least your nose in your test books laying against the other sprawled on their bed, each of you doing your own thing: their day just doesn't feel right.

Doesn’t feel normal if they can’t pull you to the side in the hall and press a kiss on your lips.

Can’t get the death glare you always give them when they forget to eat lunch because they were too busy helping Brink, and you surprise them with dinner and dessert—the dessert usually forgotten and turns into you between their legs or vice versa.

Their days aren’t normal unless you’re in them.

They haven’t felt normal since the two of you decided to try this. To be together.

“You’ve rewired me,” they mumble against your shoulder as the two of you try to fall asleep one night. The clock on your nightstand glowing 1:00AM in big, haunting letters. Your night supposed to be spent working, but there are only so many sneaking glances and innocent touches against skin before you are both done pretending you want to do anything besides have the other naked and against you all day.

And you know that they’ve rewired you too.

Made the fucked up in your life a little less fucked, made the days easier to endure when there’s the constant pressure of greatness looming over you.

You could crash and burn, and you know you’d still have their support, just as they would have yours. And that’s a higher score than rankings could ever give you.

It’s rare the two of you will go a day without seeing each other, without ending up pressed together in bed—weed filled lungs laughing until the haze lolls you to sleep and you’re waking the next morning to Jordan’s alarm clock and the shifting groan of both their forms pulling their pillow over their head. Pulling you back down into bed when you actually do something crazy like get up and not lay with them for five more minutes.

But nights like these make up for days when you are both swamped and Brink needs Jordan for something, and you are stuck alone with your nose in a book or forcing Marie and Emma to get Vought A Burger with you.

Nights where there’s no rush. No need to go fast and get off as many times as your body aches for—as many times as the other wants to swallow and taste the pleasure each time you come against them, on top of them, or inside of you. Like you’re both dying of thirst, and only the others come will do.

These nights are slow. Savored. Like you’ve been away at war rather than occupied over a span of twenty four hours.

Jordan kisses you achingly slowly these nights. Let’s their tongue linger in your mouth for longer than normal, nipping at your bottom lip with gentle teeth. Their fingers stripping you of your clothes like they need to press their lips to every bit of skin they free.

And when their tongue finally makes contact with your pussy it feels like you can finally breathe. Like you’ve been holding your breath for days—all night—for them to finally soothe the ache that they’ve caused.

Their hips buck against the air when you switch positions, and your tongue presses between their thighs. A slow tease of teeth and tongue tracing down their hip bones until you’ve reached where they’re soaked, or hard for you.

Neither of you letting the other come until Jordan is inside of you.

Until you’re both sighing from that first initial push inside, the head of their cock easily fills you with how wet you are—how wet they’ve made you. Gasps breathed into mouths from that first slow roll of their hips.

It’s heady and fucking torturous, and you love it.

You both do.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” they murmur against your lips. Their fingers flexing against yours as they keep them above your head, as they completely take control of your body and show you just what they’ve been thinking about. “You take up every part of my brain, and it’s a problem, but I fucking love it.” They moan into your mouth; roll their hips in that way that has air whooshing from your lungs and your pelvis pushing up to drive them deeper.

#jordan li x reader #jordan li x you #jordan li smut #gen v fic #jordan li imagine #gen v fanfic #jordan li fic #jordan li fanfic #jordan li x y/n #gen v smut #jordan li

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bruciemilf · 1 year

Text

Crying because I imagined Damian quietly observing Bruce with the other birds, -- who surpassed his Baba in height, -- and taking in what he's seeing.

Bruce picks Dick up, brows tied with effort. He doesn't miss the wince.

A part of him wants to wake his older brother up and tell him to get himself upstairs, but Dick clings to their father tight. Damian realizes how mean that'd be.

" I'm fine,'' Jason does this a lot; Pretending. They're a family of actors, after all. Blood or not. " I'm not 10, I'm perfectly capable of walking out of this car by myself."

Bruce nods, " Okay."

"...My ankle hurts, actually."

Damian noticed, more sorrow than envy, that Jason holds Baba tighter than all of them. And that Bruce holds him back tenfold tighter. They love Gofham, -- but they'll never trust her again.

Tim and Cass are easier to work around. They both get piggyback rides. He doesn't miss Jason and Dick being upset about that.

But He also doesn't miss the blurry sadness in Tim's eyes when Bruce needs a minute of rest after, or that he's looking Baba in the eye instead of up at him.

He doesn't miss Cass' joy dulling slightly when Bruce can't quite toss her in the air as easily as he used to.

" What are you doing, Habibi? It's bed time. We have to call mama for the goodnight call."

Damian nods. He makes grabby hands, an embarrassing habit he picked up from Dick, but not one he's willing to kill off from his system because it makes Bruce grin.

" I'd like to talk to her alone for a minute."

"Of course. I'll be right back, honey."

Damian's bedroom window gives him a clear view over the moon.

He sees the bat signal shining across the ashy Gotham skyline. He knows Bruce won't be right back until morning time, brusied and beat.

Damian says goodnight to his mother. He refuses to give any updates on Baba's dating life. No, mother, he won't skin Vicki Vale alive.

Damian googles How to stay small before going to sleep in Bruce's bedroom, where he finds the others already sleeping there

#wahhhh #just thinking abt them #batdad #bruce wayne is a good dad #soft bruce wayne #soft batfamily #fluff #dc #dcu #dc comics #batfam #batfamily #jason todd #dick grayson #damian wayne #bruce wayne #cassandra cain #tim drake

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all-purpose-dish-soap · 8 days

Note

lowkey I kinda wanna top gaz or ghost out of curiosity on how they would react 🤔

gaz or ghost? gaz AND ghost. ranked competitive sex. the ol' good cock/bad cock.

they're both confident almost cocky but they show it very differently.

you tell gaz you wanna be on top this time.

"i'm fine with that," he says.

cool cool cool. easy. too easy, in fact.

he's smiling at you. "you want to be on top, you're on top." he says. "easy as."

so... you get to be the dominant one this time. he knows that's what you mean. right?

mm, harder sell. you wanna do his job? you're gonna need to prove you have what it takes. you're gonna have to work for it. talk like you mean it. don't whine, don't ask, don't just tell him what to do. command him.

and don't mess up.

nsfw ⬇

order him to take his clothes off. top him like you mean it--bounce on him like you don't need any help, because he's not helping you. and control yourself. edge him. don't show weakness. make him keep his eyes on you. keep his interest with your body, your voice, your tone.

(it's tough for him, feigning such precarious half-interest. pretending like you don't have a visegrip on his every atom. pretending like he's not suddenly understanding how it might feel to be possessed by a succubus. it's tough, but he's soldiering through because he's a great fucking teacher. this is good for you, you just don't know it yet.)

he's teaching you to use your whole body to tell him you're in charge. you need to make the rules.

if you don't--if you slip up--he'll make you sorry. he'll give you a crash course in how a mean dom operates.

(you might be able to collar him, but god help you if you fumble. the second you do, that o-ring choker is going on your neck, and his thumb is already hooked in.)

ghost--

ghost is a little easier to entice. he's a visual guy. he's a little smitten with anyone who approaches him first. you're offering to top him? to put your whole damn body on display? that's an act of service, baby.

even if you're doing it because you want to control the pace and the position, even if you want to take your own pleasure and act like you don't give a damn about his... you're still giving him exactly what he wants. if all he needs to do is lay back and shut up, he'll play your game.

not a tough job, either. not half bad. he could get used to this. nope, he's already used to it. he's thinking ahead--wondering what other dirty fantasies in that pretty head he could help fulfill.

then he shifts his hips down an inch to hit your sweet spot. you snap at him not to move.

his eyes flick up--from your hole squeezing his cock--to your face. strange sense of whiplash you're giving him--the instant flip from almost ignoring him to focusing squarely on him. negative attention or not, it's arousing. you shouldn't have done that.

"yeah?" he replies, voice low and rough. "you gonna make me?"

you don't have time to reply before he's shoving his hips up into you hard. one stroke, then two, then more, so slow and hard and deep your vision threatens to go white.

he's challenging you to keep ignoring him now.

"say it again," he growls. "tell me what to do one more time."

he reaches for your clit, and you fight him, grabbing his wrist, using it as leverage to sink down on him again, redoubling your pace.

you're both fighting to stay in control. ghost could overpower you easily but he's having fun. and you're putting on a hell of a show for him.

he'll contend with your attitude later. for now he just wants to keep you pissed off and horny enough to keep riding him like you've got something to prove.

riding ghost and gaz together...

you just know they're both talking at you, trying to get your attention as you fight like hell not to fall apart.

gaz is instructing you to sit up straighter, to clench your thighs so they don't shake, to control your voice--or keep it up, sweetheart. keep moaning like a slut if you want to be treated like one.

ghost is egging you on, enjoying how furious you're getting, how it makes you clench up and stutter when gaz says something that really gets to you. he tosses in his lot every so often to keep things going. like throwing a lit match into a pit of black powder and lead azide.

you're doomed. until.

you tell ghost to move his hands already so gaz can maneuver you by the hips instead.

that turns them against one another in negative two seconds.

suddenly they're critiquing each other. gaz smugly insinuates you're enjoying his technique more. ghost replies smoothly that it hardly matters to him; it's his attention you're after.

their back-and-forth gives you the precious time you need to clear your head. once you can finally fucking concentrate, you can push past all this edging you've been put through by stupid competition they've been having on you.

they keep one-upping each other and only half-notice what you're up to--until you throw your head back and make a sound of pure rapture, riding them both to completion. you throw yourself into the best orgasm of your recent life.

they're dead silent as you come down, grinding your hips in bliss as the final sparks of pleasure fizzle under your skin.

it sort of humbles them. but then again, it also inflates both their egos just enough to keep them from learning their goddamn lesson.

...

more Gaz / more Ghost / more multi-141 and poly 141 / masterlist tag

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loveemagicpeace · 2 months

Text

🧃Astrology Things🍕

⚡️A lot of libra risings make changes for the sake of others and then regret them. For example: they buy a new house and later notice that they don't want to live in it, they buy a car that they didn't really want. Many times they take a life step too quickly, which they later regret.

🍕Mars in 11th house-it can mean that you have few friends. And that a lot of people don't suit you. Many times you can also fight with your friends. But you can also attract people who are rude to you or maybe jealous. And friends can compete with you. You can usually get along better with men than with women.

🥑Mercury in 12th house-A lot of people can say things about you behind your back. It can also be a lot of untruths that people make up about you. So here you can attract quiet gossip (which means that many people say something about you, but only when you are not around). You have to be careful what you say to whom, because many people can be insincere towards you and many times they just pretend that they love you or that they care about you.

💘Venus in the 11th house - people can find your beauty every unique and special. You can have different beauty than others and your beauty cannot be compared to others because it is special and different. Many things suit you and others don't. You can have your own style and wear clean clothes that look great on you. You know how to combine a style in such a way that it looks beautiful.

🔥One thing you should know about fire signs. They will not wait for you. If you're not here right now and you don't give them enough energy, they'll leave. Especially when someone has mars in fire sign- they are quick to resent when you do not fulfill their promises. They hate when you cancel something and sometimes they make one decision quickly.

🌿Aquarius often live alone because they find it easier. They like to have their own freedom and have their own way of doing certain things.

🥊Venus & Mars in Leo- I notice that they just have the energy of being in the spotlight but in a nice way. In a very nice way.

🔥Fire signs, especially for sagittarius (it doesn't matter to them how they get to the goal, just that they get to it). Which means that if they get their driving test illegally or, I don't know, earn money illegally, the method is not important to them, but the goal that is achieved (as long as they have it) haha.

🤍Your moon sign is your safe place. It also means how you feel emotionally safe. When you have a water moon, your first reaction is emotional and you have an emotional attachment to things, people, places. When you're with someone, emotional security means a lot. Someone with a fire moon is, for example, very open, active, independent and sees the world as full of opportunities and they don't look at things as if they have to always be safe. Therefore, such moons can encourage a sense of danger for water moons. And they make them feel like they're not there for them in the way they want them to be.

🔐Venus is feminine energy and Mars is masculine energy. When you look at beauty in a woman, you look at the sign of Venus - because Venus represents femininity, beauty, style. When you look at the beauty of a man, you are looking at the sign of Mars - because it represents masculinity, energy, a pronounced figure and appearance. Many times I notice that men who have Leo, Scorpio, and Mars have a nice figure and an attractive appearance.

🩵Pluto Trine Chiron- you can have a lot of pain, which is very deep and strong. But you don't show it on the outside. But you can transform your pain in a beautiful way. Your losses and grieving process help awaken you to dynamic energy. These people are not afraid to go deep into pain or face it. They can really talk more deeply about the pain.

🩶Mercury Sextile Chiron-You know how to express your pain and trauma through words. You can help people with your speech, writing or expression.

🩷Venus Trine Chiron-They can express their pain beautifully. People can find your pain helpful. Many times, these people can express pain beautifully through music or through any art. This aspect also have machine gun kelly- and he expresses his pain so beautifully through his music.

💙Mercury Opposition Pluto-whatever the connection with mercury and pluto, it is always seen that the person chooses deeper, harsh and difficult words. It can already be seen from the very expression that a person can talk about taboo topics and more difficult topics more openly. Person has a very deep mind.

😆Aries rising -I noticed that when they cancel the meeting with you, then everything is fine. But when you cancel the meeting with them, then they will be angry. Many times they do things to others that they do not approve of themselves.

🎧When you listen to someone's podcast, you only see their mercury. Because this is their way of thinking, observing, speaking and telling.

🦋North Node in 8th house- when you get rid of the past, people, things, only then will you be able to start anew and begin your transformation. It is very important to let go because when you let go you will see how different your life is. This is also good for the things you buy, for example if you buy a new car then you have to get rid of the old one. When they choose change they win; when they choose the old way of doing things they lose.

🌱North Node in 11th house- it is important to look at yourself and not at others. To create your own vibe and energy that you want to emit. You will gain the most if you stop looking at others.

☁️If you want to know what someone else likes u have to look at their venus sign. Because Venus represents love language and what a person values. For ex.: Scorpio Venus will appreciate the time alone the most. Some deep conversation or a secret you will tell them. Taurus Venus- good food, music or something to pamper them with , maybe luxurious vacations. Leo Venus- fun, playing, something that reminds them of childhood. Aries Venus- something bold, action, maybe danger.

🎑The IC and the 4th house describe home, both as a physical place and as an inner sense of roots, safety, and foundation. If you have Jupiter in the 4th, it might feel natural to you to travel around or you might even choose to live abroad. With Uranus here, you may experience many changes of home. With the Sun or Moon in the 4th, you might be so strongly connected to home and homeland that uprooting yourself will not be easy. Sun here suggests your life revolves around home in some way, the Moon that your emotional wellbeing is closely tied to it. With Mars or Pluto here you may feel that your home is a constant battle and that there are always new changes. With Neptune here can mean that your home is confusing and sometimes you feel like you're not there at all.

🧃The IC Sign here will reflect your experience of early home life and the kind of home you want to create for yourself. If you have Taurus on the IC for instance, moving might feel like a huge upheaval and one way to cope is to prepare yourself for the change as far in advance as possible. On the other hand, Aries here might see you acting like a bullet from a gun - keen to move on domestically and not look back.

🎸For personal readings u can sign up here: https://snipfeed.co/bekylibra 🎸

-Rebekah🦋🩵🧚🏼‍♀️

#astrology #energy #zodiac signs #planets #astrological houses #astrology observations

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borathae · 2 months

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↳ Index [Snippet #47 - Quiet]

"When you and Jungkook have to be quiet because you are at his parents' house."

Genre: married life!AU, Slice of Life Fluff, Smut

Warnings: toothrotting fluff, so much domestic loveliness, they're so married y'all, they're so annoying <3, sharing of his small childhood bed, a very mild fight about how little space they have (it's more marital bickering), naked cuddling, Koo gets horny from it, switch!Kook, switch!reader, he is so hot besties, like he such a safe Dom omfg, also a total cutie once he gets subby, good girl kink, good boy kink, having to stay quiet, making out, needy touches, nipple & breast sucking, nipple play, finger sucking, gentle choking (m.receiving), Koo has sensitive nipples, hair pulling, oral (f.receiving), pussy fingering, tiny spit kink, multiple orgasms (f.receiving), he treats her so well after making her cum with his mouth, the smallest strength kink, cowgirl position where he is sitting, loving dirty talk, he cries cause he loves her so much!, he keeps that he loves her as she rides him <3, creampies, some cute lil mess ups during sex <3, sweet aftercare, this is so wholesome and hot and cute, they're in love :(

Wordcount: 9.2k

a/n: this is inspired by anonie's idea 🧡 i'm so fucking obsessed with this couple and most importantly, with this Kook. you guys have no idea how much FUN i always have when i write for them :8 he is such a cutie and i need my future husband to be like him istfg have fun besties ily 🧡

You and Jungkook normally book a hotel room close by when you visit his parents. It is easier and more comfortable that way. However, this time around, the visit was quite spontaneous and your go-to-hotel was fully booked.

“No worries, you can stay with us”, his father assured you on the phone before calling over his wife to talk as well.

“Just tell us what you’ll eat for breakfast and I’ll pop right down to the store to get it”, she instantly said and then proceeded to ask if you and Jungkook were eating enough (you assured her that you were).

And so you agreed. Just a little shy about it, you agreed.

Jungkook’s childhood home was small yet homely. It was located at the border of where country life meets suburban life. A grocery store, drugstore and hardware store were close by, as well as the hotel you always stay at. The roads were well taken care of, but were never busy enough to be of annoyance volume-wise. The neighbours were also very nice and welcoming. The house had a good garden surrounding it and a shed his father uses as his man cave where he always works on his cars and bikes. There was only one floor and Jungkook’s bedroom was closest to the bathroom and office. His parents’ bedroom was on the opposite side of the hallway two doors down.

They welcomed you with loud voices and happy smiles, taking their son into their arms as tightly as they could.

They weren’t good parents when he was young, but you can see that they are really trying these days. You like that. He might not have had parents in his childhood, but at least in his adulthood he can.

They even sat down with him and apologised, which not many parents ever do. You know that it meant the world to Jungkook even if he always pretended that he didn't need his parents. Deep down, everyone needs their parents. So to know that your Jungkookie could hear the apology he needed and witness their growth really means the world to you. He deserves it, your love.

Like always, his mother drags you inside for food after hugging you as well. She chats and babbles excitedly, holding you and Jungkook by your arms. She is walking with a skip in her steps, looking oh so happy to have you with them. His father follows with the suitcases.

You left Bam with your parents for the weekend because the drive would have been too long for him. He will be happy and well taken care of, so you don’t worry too much.

Not that this stops his parents from asking for all the updates and pictures. For the majority of dinner, you have to tell them everything about Bam with pictures included of course. It meant a lot to you because Bam feels like your baby to you.

One thing you really like about his parents (and yours) is how they never pressured you to have children. They asked of course and tried to change your minds a few times, but when they finally realised that you and Jungkook truly don’t want to have children, they accepted it without any sort of retaliation. These days, they treat Bam like their grandson, cooing about your little fur baby as if it was your real son.

The hours after dinner are spent taking walks in the nearby forest and exchanging life stories and laughter. After the walk, Jungkook’s dad kidnaps him to the shed so they could tinker on bikes together, while his mother asks if you wanted to knit. You agreed and so you sat on the back porch in your rocking chairs as you each knitted something for your husbands.

The sun has already set when Jungkook and his dad join you as well.

“What are you making?” Jungkook asks, caressing the crown of your head.

“I don’t know. I tried making a bunny, but it looks like roadkill. It’s supposed to be for you, but it’s ugly. Sorry.”

Jungkook laughs, leaning down to peck your cheek.

“It’s not ugly. It’s unique. Thank you, my love”, he says and looks at his mom, “what are you making, eomma?”

“Just a scarf for appa. He is always cold in winter.”

“I am. It’s because winter is cold.”

She laughs. He grins.

He looks a little like Jungkook when he grins like that. It kind of makes sense that Jungkook is always trying to make you laugh. He must have learned from his father, because that man constantly tries to crack jokes to get his wife to laugh. It works most of the times.

“Oh jagi, you are too silly”, she says and stands up, “is it time for the bath already?”

“It is. Do you want wine?”

“Yes, that would be wonderful.”

They are conversing as they leave for inside. Apparently his parents share baths most nights.

Jungkook sits down on his mother’s rocking chair, running his eyes over the view.

“Did you have a good time with your dad?”

“Yeah. I did.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“Did you have a good time with eomma too?”

Jungkook grew up bilingual. So he told you very early in your relationship and that he is fluent in both languages, just as his parents are. When Jungkook is alone with his parents, he speaks Korean with them. When you are with them as well, they switch into your shared language so you wouldn’t feel left out. Small phrases and words still transcend languages however. You think that it is wonderful.

“I did have fun yeah. Except for my roadkill bunny.”

Jungkook laughs, “it doesn’t even look that bad. I don’t know what you’re on about.”

“Yeah, I guess. I don’t know, knitting’s hard.”

“Yeah, I never figured it out. Stuff’s too complicated”, Jungkook says and sighs deeply, sinking deeper into the chair, “yeah, that’s the good life. Crickets, a chilly night, the smell of hay and my beautiful wifey by my side.”

“You’re so sweet.”

“Mhm”, he hums, “wanna have a beer?”

“No thank you. I’m not in the mood for alcohol.”

“Okay, yeah I’m not taking one either then.”

“You can if you want to. I’m not stopping you.”

“No, no I’m good. I only would have taken one if you did. But it’s good, I’ve got everything I need right now”, he says and stretches his legs out.

You and Jungkook stay outside until it is time to say goodnight. His parents are in their bedroom watching telly when you and Jungkook officially go back inside.

Jungkook knocks on their doorframe.

They look at him and you standing in the door.

“Yes?”

“We’re gonna go to sleep now. Good night, eomma and appa”, Jungkook says.

“Good night, my son”, his father says.

“Sleep tight, my boy”, his mother says, “and you too, my daughter.”

“Thank you, sleep tight eomma and appa”, you say to which his father tells you to have a good night.

“I’m closing your door already, yeah?” Jungkook says.

“Thank you.”

The door closes with a soft click. Jungkook looks at you and smiles, placing his arm around your waist so he can pull you in for a temple kiss.

“It means a lot that you call them like this.”

“You’re sweet, my love”, you say and lean into him.

“I’m serious. I don’t have a lot of connection to my parents’ heritage, but it’s the little stuff like calling them eomma and appa or sharing traditional food which means a lot to me. I feel really loved by you when you participate as well.”

You smile, stealing a kiss.

“I love you, you know?”

“I love you too”, Jungkook says and kisses your cheek, “also, I’m calling dips on the bathroom. Bye”, he says quickly and runs off.

“Hey, not cool. I wasn’t ready”, you call after him, but he merely snickers and disappears in the bathroom.

You wait in the living room for him to finish, watching some random show on the telly. It’s a stupid show, but still entertaining. You even find yourself snickering at some parts.

“Sweetie, the bathroom’s free now”, Jungkook announces himself once he finished his night routine. He is currently walking to the water dispenser on the kitchen counter for a glass of water.

“Nice. Finally”, you say, turning off the show to hurry to the bathroom as well.

He left the door closed so you would have it toasty. He really loves you, doesn’t he? He hates leaving the door closed because of potential mould, but for you he did. You would marry this man again and again if it was legally possible.

He isn’t in the living room once you finish your night routine and his closed bedroom door lets you know that he is already cozied up there.

After getting yourself a glass of water as well, you go to the bedroom.

You close the door and lock it. Jungkook is looking at you over the brim of his glasses, cocking his brow up in question.

“I feel better like this. At least we have a little bit of privacy this way”, you explain.

He nods in acknowledgement and looks back into his phone.

You love how the bedside lamp illuminates his features. He is such a beautiful person.

“You’re so handsome, my sweetheart”, you tell him, watching in delight as his face lights up.

“Thanks yeah”, he murmurs, wiggling his feet under the blanket.

Now feeling good, you make your way to his childhood bed. This weekend is going to be very interesting. Because it is a bed once meant to house a small preteen Jungkook, it is sized accordingly. It is going to be very interesting to share it now that you were both grown adults. You can already feel all his sleep flinching and your sleep twitches annoying the shit out of the other.

You climb over Jungkook. He lifts his arms and watches you with confusion as you scramble over his lap.

“What are you doing?”

“I want the wall side”, you say and grunt as you try to wiggle yourself into the small gap.

Jungkook scoots over a little. Groggily if one may add that little fact.

“Yeah sure, so you can kick me out of bed in your sleep”, he complains.

“I’m not gonna kick you out. I’m a plank once I sleep, you know that.”

“No you’re not. You twitch and kick your feet.”

“Only sometimes.”

“Still. Hey, stop that. You already have enough space. I only have a third left now. That’s unfair.”

“Lies. We’re equal”, you throw back and flip to your side so you are facing him. Your back is squished against the wall. It feels cold even through your pyjamas. You don’t mind because his room is very hot and his blanket very thick.

“Tch, whatever”, Jungkook murmurs and looks back into his phone. He looks a little annoyed, but won’t act on it.

But because you were feeling like a little shit, you want to annoy him more. You poke your finger into his side.

He writhes away, pressing out a quiet “stop that.”

You do it again.

“Stop”, he whines loudly.

One last time.

Jungkook drops the phone in the blanket and looks at you.

“Stop it”, his voice is raised in pitch, his lips pouty, “it hurts, don’t do that.”

“It hurts, really?” you snicker.

“Yeah, it’s uncomfy”, he mumbles, rubbing the spot you poked.

One more time.

“Stop it”, he grabs your wrist gently, “why are you being so annoying? Stop it.”

You break into giggles, gazing up at him.

“No, don’t laugh. You’re not funny right now.”

“Gosh, I’m sorry. You looked pokeable.”

“I’m gonna poke you if you do it again”, he murmurs and picks up his phone.

You touch his waist.

“___”, he whines, sagging his shoulders in defeat.

“I wasn’t tryna to do something. I just wanted to caress you”, you whine as well and rub his side softly, “like this.”

“Yeah good. Don’t do the other thing again”, he says and relaxes.

You won’t do it again. Being an annoying little shit is only this fun before it turns into being a bad spouse. You don’t want him to lose trust in you or feel uncomfortable. So you keep rubbing his side as he scrolls on his phone. Soon, you also incorporate his stomach, drawing little circles with your palm and fingertips.

“What are you looking at?” you ask him.

Jungkook flips the phone so you could see it.

“Just funny videos. That one’s not funny, but look at that”, he switches to his likes and shows you a video of two cats fighting. There are speech bubbles appearing on screen as if the cats were talking to each other. They contain silly and funny one liners which are exactly Jungkook’s humour.

He is snickering and laughing as he shows you the video, pointing out the funniest parts by going “and now look at this” before following it up with a laugh.

You have to laugh right with him. Soon you find yourself resting your head on his chest with his arm around you and his fingers scratching your scalp mindlessly as you both look into his phone to watch funny videos. He shows you his likes and together you snicker, laugh at silly stuff or gush over talented people.

You share quality time like this until you both are starting to get sleepy.

“I think I’m gonna pass out now”, you tell him, kissing his chest, “sleep tight, baby.”

“I’m gonna pass out too. The drive really fucked with me”, Jungkook says and places his phone and glasses on the bedside table. He turns off the lamp, then rolls to his side so he could spoon you.

You snuggle back into him, intertwining hands with him.

“It was really exhausting”, you agree, “this is nice by the way. Really snuggly.”

“Mhm yeah, so snuggly”, Jungkook agrees.

This is however, when the interesting part starts to happen. The cuddling is so nice and romantic at first. To be so close and cuddle is wonderful, but then your bodies begin heating up to uncomfortable levels and you can’t do your routine of breaking apart for sleep and the cuddling becomes one annoying thing. Bickering begins. You tell him to move back, while he insists that you could scoot closer to the wall. Jungkook is annoyed about his ass feeling the edge of the mattress and you are annoyed about his hot body boiling yours. Your knees are also hurting in the current position and you can’t move them because there is no space.

“I wanna move. Can you scoot back?” you ask him.

“I can’t, my love. I told you already. I’m literally hanging off the edge already”, Jungkook answers you with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

“Let’s just-”, you wiggle until Jungkook has no choice but to scoot back, “do that. That’s better.”

“No it’s not. I have no space on here”, Jungkook says and scoots closer. His nose is all up in the nape of your neck this way. He is burning you alive. He is so hot, it’s insane.

“God Kook, you’re literally breathing into my fucking spine. Can you not?” you hiss just a little snappishly.

“Excuse me? I need to breathe. You’re all in my face with your stupid pyjama collar. What should I say?” he throws back and flips it with his fingers

“Hey, don’t touch it.”

“Oh my god, I’m not even doing anything”, he says and moves just a little which ends in you accidentally knocking into the wall.

“Kook, stop that.”

“What did I do now?”

“You kicked me into the wall.”

“You wanted the wall side. I’m literally just moving, oh my god, I didn’t kick you.”

“Yeah you did. You went like this.”

“Hey, don’t kick me”, he says and pokes your side.

“Hey! Stop that”, you flip onto your side instantly, facing him this way.

Your breaths intermingle. Your noses brush against the other, ripping both of you back to reality enough that you just kind of freeze. The silence exists while you and Jungkook stare at where the other is hidden in darkness.

Suddenly you feel his sigh on your face.

“What are we doing? Why are we fighting?” he asks in a soft spoken voice.

“I don’t know”, you speak softly as well, “I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry. Let’s not fight anymore.”

“Yeah, let’s not fight”, you say and touch his chest, “sorry again.”

“Sorry too.”

“I think I’m so irritated because it’s so hot, I’m literally dying.”

“Same. Fuck, the blanket’s grilling me and my clothes are the devil”, he says and sits up to undress.

“Are you getting naked?”

“Yeah, I can’t do clothes. Seriously.”

“Actually, that’s a good idea. I’m stealing it”, you say and sit up to get naked as well.

You and he throw your clothes onto the floor, getting under the blanket again once naked.

“I’m keeping my ass out tough”, Jungkook says

“Really? Aren’t you scared that something’s gonna poke your hole?”

“Why would something poke my hole randomly?” he is snickering.

“I don’t know. You never know, sleep paralysis demons maybe.”

“I’m sure the demon is hot, so they can poke my hole if they want to.”

You slap his chest softly.

“That’s not funny.”

“Why not?” he is snickering.

“Cause I don’t want you fucking demons.”

“Not even if you could watch? Imagine waking up to me getting railed by a sexy, hot demon.”

“You’re not funny”, you murmur and huff out air.

“Are you jealous?”

“Yes.”

“Aww sweetie, don’t be. It’s just my sleep paralysis demon.”

“God, I regret this stupid joke. Whatever, good night I guess”, you say and turn your back to him.

Jungkook touches your waist instantly, whispering your name.

“What?”

“Don’t be jealous. You’re the only one I want poking my hole.”

You snort. He chuckles.

“Yeah good, whatever I guess.”

Jungkook trails soft kisses up your spine until he can kiss your shoulder. His arm is over your waist again.

“You know that you’re the only one, don’t you?” he whispers.

“Yeah, I do. Still, thank you for saying that”, you say.

Now reassured that you aren’t feeling insecure anymore, Jungkook relaxes into the pillow. His chest is pressed into your back, your butt is snug with his crotch.

“Can you feel my dick like this?”

“I can yeah.”

“Okay, good to know.”

You chuckle, “you’re a goof.”

Silence overcomes you and him afterwards. Sharing the small bed doesn’t feel awful anymore. Truly, getting naked took a lot of that heat away. Quite frankly, now you are glad that he is keeping you warm because the room finally feels chilly.

You could fall asleep like this and you probably would have if Jungkook hadn’t called your attention again.

“___?”

“Mhm?”

“Are you still awake?”

“Yeah, I guess. It’s only been a few.”

“Right yeah. Hey uhm”, he dances his hand over your waist and hip. You know exactly what this touch means, “I’m a little horny.”

“I know, your touch says enough.”

He kneads your thigh.

“Yeah well, you’re naked and soft, so yeah.”

“And we’re in the smallest bed ever.”

“I’ll be careful.”

“Quiet too?”

Jungkook doesn’t have an answer instantly and so you flip to your other side so you were facing him. You run your fingers up and down his pecs, drawing circles around his pierced nipples.

He shivers and shudders like crazy, sighing the softest moan.

“Mhm? Are you gonna manage to be quiet?” you stress.

“Why shouldn’t I?”

“Because I know you. You’re a whiny baby when my wet, soft pussy fucks your cock just right.”

“___, jesus fuck”, he gets out and squirms, pressing his legs together, “don’t say that, I’m gonna leak on the sheets.”

You chuckle, “I’m just stating the obvious. You’re not gonna be able to be quiet. Sorry Kookie, but because of this I can’t give you what you want.”

You flip to your other side, grinning to yourself when Jungkook grabs your hip desperately.

“___ baby…please”, he begs in a breathy voice and his thumb drawing swirls on your skin.

If you were being honest, you had been feeling a little horny yourself before Jungkook confessed. You are very down to mingle, but getting him to beg some more is way too much fun not to do it. He is so delicious when he is desperate.

“Sorry, the risk is too high.”

Jungkook lets out a dramatic little sob, following it up with a whiney “pleaseee” and his cheek rubbing against your shoulder. He is such a cutie.

“You can’t sway me. My decision is final”, you coo, grinning to yourself.

“Please, baby. I’ll be so, so quiet”, he pleads and begins kissing your neck.

It tingles, sending electricity to your core. You press into him, parting your lips in a silent gasp.

“Please baby, please I’ll be quiet”, Jungkook begs between kisses, upping the game by cradling your right breast in his strong hand. He kneads and massages it gently, rubbing his thumb over your nipple every chance he gets.

“Behave, Kook”, you sigh.

Jungkook purrs quietly, flicking his tongue over the piercings on your ear. He makes sure that it brushes your skin as well so you could feel the tongue he could put to good use.

“Please? I’ve been such a good boy today.”

A fond smile curls your lips.

“Have you?”

“Yeah, so good. Such a good boy. I filled up the gas for you when you went to pee, remember?”

“Mhm, I do remember.”

“And I let you squeeze my butt at the red light.”

“You did let me, yeah.”

“I was a good boy, please”, he begs and gives your nipple an especially good massage, “please can I have a reward, please?”

“Fine, fuck you’re too good”, you give up because you can’t deny him when he is hitting you with The Good Boy. He is too powerful and the goodest boy. You couldn’t possibly deny him.

“Thank you, god I’m gonna fuck you so good”, Jungkook says and rolls you to your back as best as the small bed allows.

His tits are pressing into your arm like this. Fuck, they are so huge. All this working out he is doing really pays off because his tits are gorgeous.

Jungkook pecks your lips before paying attention to your jawline instead. He runs his tattooed hand all over your torso and legs, reminding your skin why his touch will always be the best.

You enjoy the attention with closed eyes and your fingers feeling up his tits as best as possible. So squishy and soft when relaxed, but so hard and strong when flexed. Fuck, he could smother you with them and you would thank him.

“You really want this, don’t you? I’m not forcing you?” he makes sure in a whisper and his gentle fingers caressing your waist.

“Yes Kook, I want this. Just wanted to make you work for it.”

“Wah baby, so mean” he gasps.

You snicker.

“No, don’t laugh. Do you have any idea how awful blue balls are? I was fighting for my life and you were just being a tease? Wah so mean.”

You giggle, hooking your fingers behind his neck.

“I wasn’t being mean.”

“Yeah, you were. God, come here you”, he says and begins nibbling on your jawline, “I’ll eat you up, you tease.”

You laugh and squeak, scrunching your face in happiness. It tickles, but in a good way. A tingly way.

Jungkook hums, smiling against your skin. He loves hearing you laugh.

“Such a tease. My baby’s such a fucking tease”, he purrs, moving his lips to the most sensitive part of your neck while his tattooed, strong hand feels up your waist and hips.

You sigh, melting in his hands. You are still hot, but it feels nice. He is getting you all heated up and bothered. You love being like this because of him, breathing heavier because it is so exciting.

“Mhm? You’re a fucking tease. Making me beg and driving me crazy that way. Fuck”, he moans softly, squeezing your thigh. He slides his hand to your inner thigh afterwards, sending electricity through your veins.

You open your legs further, feeling heat pool where you need him most.

“I’m gonna eat you up”, he rasps and takes your earlobe between his teeth to tug on it gently.

“Kook, fuck”, you get out breathily, arching your back.

“And out”, he whispers, “get it? Gonna eat you up and out.”

“That’s not funny”, you whine, but laugh.

“Yeah it is, you’re laughing”, he snickers.

“Cause you’re silly, you goof.”

He smiles and kisses your cheek, pressing himself closer until his semi hard cock rubs against the side of your leg. He humps it slowly, feeling up your inner thighs with more vigor.

“I need you so bad, babygirl. I need you so fucking bad.”

“Take me. Please”, you beg in a sigh, feeling excitement leak out of you. You are aching. You need him to act soon or else you are going to be the one not staying quiet.

Jungkook presses a kiss to your cheek and whispers a needy curse, before finally breaking away from you to disappear under the blanket.

You feel him grab your hips and fix your position, opening your legs willingly. His head is hidden under the blanket, his strong hands hold your hips. His lips kiss down your inner thighs.

“My babygirl, my fucking queen, my everything”, he whispers and finally, fucking finally, you feel his wet, hot tongue against your pussy.

“Kook”, you get out at a normal volume before you remember where you are, “shit, sorry.”

“Ssh quiet, baby”, he is teasing, smiling against you, “you gotta be quiet.”

“Fuck…” you croak and throw your arm over your eyes, “ah, fuck. God, Kook.”

Jungkook chuckles, burying his mouth back in your pussy again to lap up the sweetness you offer him gladly. He purrs and hums, making it even harder for you to stay quiet.

But this is his plan. You want to tease him for being loud? You dare to call him a whiny baby? He is going to show you how easily he can make you struggle with your volume. The only whiney baby is going to be you and he is going to fucking make you shake on his tongue.

“You’ve got the best pussy”, he says and slurps deliciously, “the fucking best. You’re so sweet, so fucking sweet”, he adds between his hungry slurping. He rests two of his fingers against your pussy, wetting them with eager licks as he worships your clit. Once his digits are wet and slickened, he pushes them inside, forcing shakes through your legs.

“Hmhmn”, you let out, trying so so hard to keep your mouth shut. It’s difficult. His fingers are your ruin.

He has the longest fingers ever. You always forget how long they are until you have them inside you to his knuckles with your body feeling as if it is being consumed by electric flames.

“Kook”, you croak, arching your back as your fingers close around a bundle of his hair.

Jungkook purrs against you, flicking his tongue over your clit messily while his long digits fuck your puffy hole. Your walls are throbbing around him, your g-spot is swelling more and more. Jungkook fucks it out of hiding with how good he fingers your pretty pussy. Good. That’s what he wants. He needs you blissed out.

“Like it? You’re shaking”, he lulls against your clit, licking her eagerly afterwards.

“Like it”, you mewl, wiggling on the sheets before deciding to arch your back again.

“Mhhhm baby”, he lets you really feel his purr, taking your clit between his lips to give her a good, long suck. And as he sucks on your bundle of nerves, he drags his slickened tongue over it in languid, long strokes. He is making the slowest love to your clit, while his long fingers fuck your pussy as if anger motivated them.

The contrast is sending you into a frenzy. Out of all the places he could pick to give you the hottest head ever, he chooses his childhood bed. Where you can’t be loud, where you can’t chant his name and where the biggest torture is how you have to hold back. He is driving you fucking mad.

You mewl and keen, sounding so obviously pained by how quiet you have to be.

Jungkook breaks away from your clit with a nasty slurp, reappearing from the blanket as he sits up just a little. He has a plan and he needs to sit for it. He turns his hand palm-way up and begins drilling his digits into you quickly, keeping his fingers curled so they would stroke your sensitive spot every single fucking pump.

“Koo-” you throw your hand over your mouth, whimpering into it loudly as your legs shake out of control.

Your pussy sounds so wet. The fuck is so rough in the best way.

“That’s good, isn’t it?” he taunts, staring into the darkness with blown out pupils. He can feel you shake and squirm. He just knows you are covering your own mouth.

“Mhh mhmh ngmh.”

“Yeah it’s good. Keep staying quiet, baby”, he teases and spits on your pussy. He slips his other hand to it so he could rub your clit with his spit as sinful lube. Quick and skilled. The shakes course through your entire body, he has you fucking burning up.

“Mhm! Ahmgm!” you scream with a closed mouth, arching off the mattress so aggressively his entire bed croaks in protest.

You drop in embarrassment, dragging your hand from your mouth.

“Please stop”, you beg squeakily, grasping his wrist to try and stop him. You can’t, destined to tremble uncontrollably as he ruins you with just his fingers.

“Hurts?”

“No, too hard…stay…quiet pl-please.”

“Who’s the whiny baby now, mhm?”

Your mind scrambles, your legs shake. Fuck, you’re leaking like a fucking faucet on his fingers. He is so mean. It’s getting you off so well.

“You’re so mean”, you mewl and throw your hand over your mouth again to muffle your needy moans.

“The fucking meanest”, Jungkook hisses and lowers his head to your pussy to lick your clit as quickly as his skilled tongue can go. He keeps you spread apart with his fingers so he can reach the best parts. All while he still drills your pussy as if she had a debt to pay.

You grab his hair and twist. Jungkook growls from the tug, furrowing his brows.

“Koo-” is all you get out and then you have to press your hand to your mouth. No more arm over your eyes, you need to silence yourself because Jungkook is making you climax as if you never climaxed before and you could fucking scream.

Jungkook moans into your pussy, keeping his fingers deep inside and moving as you cum all over his pretty face. He had a feeling that your hair grab meant he is making you lose control. Now that it’s his sweet reality, he is hellbent on making it the best fucking experience of your life. That most difficult one as well because he knows for a fact that you want to scream his name, but can’t.

He is so painfully hard because of it. His pretty, perfect wife mewling so painfully tortured just because she can’t scream his name. Jungkook wants to change your life with this orgasm. Holy fuck, he is so into you.

“Stop please”, you soon beg, tugging at his hair in a way that lets him know you’ve had enough.

Jungkook breaks away from your well fucked pussy, kissing his way up your torso. He makes sure to worship every inch of it, using his hands to give you soothing touches. That he spreads your mess this way, neither of you care about.

He finds his home between your legs naturally. The leaky tip of his hard cock rubs over your pussy and lower tummy, but isn’t of importance for now.

Jungkook lingers on your chest a little longer, massaging and kissing your breasts with soft moans at the back of his throat. He sucks and licks your nipples, while between your legs his cock is twitching oh so needily against your tummy.

Jungkook only moves on to worshiping your neck once your nipples are pulsating in sensitivity.

“My good girl”, he whispers, following it up with kisses on each side of your neck. Even your throat he worships, going especially gentle because he knows it’s a vulnerable spot for you.

“Koo”, you sigh, following it up with an exhausted huff of air.

He kisses his way up to your face, adoring every inch of it while his fingers run along your hairline and ears.

“My good, pretty girl”, he whispers sweetly, “how was that, babygirl?”

“Good”, you lull, melting in his safe hands.

“That’s good to hear”, he kisses your heated cheek.

“You were mean.”

He smiles against you, “I was?”

You nod your head, “I wanted to be quiet but you acted like that.”

Jungkook chuckles and kisses your lips mid-smile. He tugs on your lower lip gently, still smiling like a lovedrunk puppy.

“I didn’t even do anything.”

“Yeah, you did. You acted like that on purpose.”

“Mhm”, another slow, obsessed kiss followed with a suck on your lower lip, “had a point to prove.”

“Koo, you’re mean.”

“Mhm yeah”, he agrees and tongue kisses you slowly as his fingers caress your temples. He breaks the kiss with his tongue tracing your lips, “I love your pussy so much. You got me obsessed, babygirl.”

“Mhm Koo…” you mewl and squirm under him happily.

“Fuck.”

Jungkook’s whispered curse swirls against your lips. You know its origin without needing to ask. His cock is so hard, rubbing against your stomach and your squirming made him aware of how unfucked he still is.

“Do you want me to return the favour?”

His cock twitches, his fingers close a little around your face.

“You wanna suck my cock?” his voice trembled as he asked, his lips nib on yours hungrily afterwards.

“Suck your cock, lick your balls, eat your ass. You name it.”

He smiles against your lips, letting out a raspy chuckle.

“You’re gonna fucking kill me with your words one day. Fuck”, he bites your lower lip gently, “I’m fucking crazy for you. Can I just stick it in? Please?”

“Yeah, stick it in.”

“I love you, thank you”, he says and reaches over to turn on the light.

You groan in the sudden brightness, squinting your eyes at him. His face is flushed, his pupils dilated, his dark hair messy. You feel yourself falling for him again and again.

“Is that okay for you? Wanna see my beautiful woman when I fuck her.”

“Aww Kook, you’re so sweet. Course it’s okay. Com’ere you.”

“Okay wait, gotta go slow. The space is small”, Jungkook says and begins his grande adventure of fixing himself atop of you.

He manages after a few bumps against the wall with his elbows.

“Okay, okay I got it. Got it”, he says and places his hands on the pillow above your head.

He meets your eyes and grins. You retort it.

“Ready?”

You nod your head, running your hands down his torso so you could push his cock inside.

“Want you like crazy, babyboy”, you rasp.

“Babyboy?” he is stifling a laugh, tingling like crazy because you are dragging his tip through your wet folds. It feels crazy good.

“Mh-hm, babyboy. Fits you ‘cause you’re cute.”

“I’m not cute.”

“Right. You’re so cool”, you are teasing him, stealing him of his whiney complaint by sinking his cock into you.

“Holy fuck, ___”, he drops his face into the crook of your neck and groans. Thankfully his lips are pressed to your skin because otherwise his noise would have echoed through the entire house.

You grab his buttocks, moving his hips this way.

“Fuck, baby”, he moans, slamming his hand onto the headboard just to drag it down in desperation. Another loud groan tickles your neck, his fingers close around the crown of your head. His arms tense.

“Quiet baby, you’re being too loud”, you coo.

“Quiet, yeah, quiet. Ah fuck, gotta be quiet urgh mhhmhm.”

“That’s it. Gotta be quiet”, you sigh and do the unthinkable crime of sliding your fingers between his buttocks just to rub his hole.

“Fu-”, Jungkook stops himself, sucking on your neck instead. He whimpers cutely as he does it, gripping the edge of the pillow.

“See? Told you, someone gonna poke your hole tonight “

“Fuck, shut up just- why are you so calm? A-ah you have me ahm, ah, fucking ah oh god, can’t talk. Oh god”, he stutters and retorts to whimpering softly and panting for air.

“You’re cute”, you snicker and sigh just for his hearing pleasure, “such a good boy too. Such a good boy”

“Fuck, baby…”

He begins chasing you, speeding up because you’ve got him desperate. He thrusts into you harshly.

Bang!

“Ah, ouchies my head.”

You open your eyes.

“What happened?” you gasp, sliding your hands to his hips.

“I banged my head on this stupid headboard”, he sits back on his heels and hits the headboard softly. He pouts, rubbing his aching head. He slipped out like this, but neither of you mind as his aching head is more important right now.

“Oh god, are you okay?” you laugh, sitting up to cup his head and rub the spot he hit.

“No, I’m not. Hurts”, he mumbles, “stupid shit, ruined the entire flow. I was picking up such a good rhythm too. Stupid.”

“God, come here you”, you say and tilt his head so you could press a kiss to the sore spot, “did that help?”

“Yeah, thanks”, he says with a little pout still present.

You trace it with your thumb, gazing at him.

“I’ve got an idea. Switch with me real quick.”

“Okay?”

“Trust me.”

“I am. Okay fine, teamwork come on.”

You and he make it work. How it happened is a mystery of the universe, but you managed.

“And now?” he asks, sitting where you once sat.

“Now, lean back and relax”, you say and push at his strong chest until his back collides with the headboard.

You climb his lap and sink down on him.

“Baby, oh god”, he croaks, looking up at you with droopy eyes. He places his hands on your hips, giving them a needy squeeze.

“There we go. Right where you’re supposed to be.”

You begin moving instantly, bouncing up and down on his cock with a swirl in your hips. Jungkook parts his lips in a silent moan, arching his back. You know that if you were in the privacy of your own home, he would be noisy as fuck right now. But the only thing noisy is your wet pussy getting stuffed with his perfect cock and his childhood bed croaking from the movement.

“How’s that baby?” you ask him, feeling out of breath because it feels so good to ride him. His groin keeps grinding against your clit, his cock hits all the best spots.

“Fucking heaven…ah, god ah, baby don’t stop”, he sighs, parting his lips to let small moans escape.

“It’s safer too. Can’t have my man bang his head again”, you say as you ruffle his hair with both hands.

He grins goofily, letting his head sort of droop as you completely turn him into puddy under you.

You giggle and cradle his head against your chest, closing your eyes. He hugs you back, throbbing deep inside you.

“You feel so good, oh god”, Jungkook moans into you, grasping you tightly.

“You too, my love…so good…you’ve got the best cock. Fucking love it so much.”

“Holy shit, please don’t stop. It’s so intense, ah god.”

“So good, baby. So good.”

“I love you so much, oh god. Love you, lo-love you s-so much.”

“I love you too, Kookie.”

“I love you, ah ___, I love…love you.”

“I love you too, baby. So much.”

Jungkook is a romantic. It has always been that way and will always stay this way. He is a total, soft and proud romantic. You notice it in day to day life in the little things he does or says. And then, when the sex hits the right spot on his heart, it practically bursts out of him. It isn’t rare that your husband ends up chanting the breathiest, neediest confessions of love when you and he are connecting. Tonight seems to hit the right spot for him. He just can’t stop saying it. It spills out of him with each movement, filling your heart with so much love for him.

You hug him closer, slowing down your bounces until you are only rocking back and forth on him.

Jungkook whimpers into your chest, lifting his head just so he can nuzzle into your neck.

“I love you so much”, he breathes out, shuddering uncontrollably.

“I love you too, baby.”

“Oh god, this feels so good.”

“Yeah, feels amazing”, you sigh, playing with his soft hair.

You understand why it is getting to him. You are so close. Your chests are melted together, you can feel the other’s racing pulse, your skins share one warmth and your noses are filled with the other’s scent. You are so close and connected, feeling even more intertwined through the deep, slow movements of your hips.

Jungkook slides his hands under your buttocks and lifts you just enough that he can sit cross legged and deepen the connection even further. He hits his knee on the wall as he tries to change it, mumbling a low “ouch” into your shoulder.

“Did you just hit your knee?”

“Yeah, there’s no space. Just ignore it, it’s fine”, he jokes, making you snicker just as he makes you moan because he sinks you back onto his cock.

“Fuck, Kook.”

“Good?”

“We’re so close, it’s insane”, you croak and press him closer, rocking your hips back and forth needily. He is grinding against your clit, it feels so good. No words can describe how good he feels.

“I know. I love you, baby.”

“I love you too, baby.”

Jungkook cradles you in his strong arms and sobs softly against your neck.

“I love you…”

“I love you too…”

From what you have learned, Jungkook needs you to say it back every time when he is in that headspace. No matter how often, how many variations, how loud or quiet, you need to say it back otherwise he gets so, so sad. The three most wonderful words are so, so much more important to him when he is in this headspace and they are also, quite frankly, the hottest dirty talk you could give him. No other words, no matter how nasty and dirty, could get his cock as hard and leaky as your confession of love could get him in those moments.

And oh how hard and leaky he is. How he is throbbing and twitching and filling you up. How his legs are shaking under you.

You lift your head from his neck to breathe, using the moment to litter his shoulder with kisses. He has such a pretty birthmark on it. You love to kiss it. He is yours, every inch of him, every birthmark and scar, every single inch of him is yours. Yours to love, to cherish, treat well and kiss. You could honestly eat him up.

Now aware of your changed position, Jungkook lifts his head as well, meeting your eyes. He is making the biggest, sparkliest doe eyes at you, looking so so in love.

“I love you”, he whispers shakily.

“I love you too”, you whisper back, cradling his cheeks, “mine, you’re all mine.”

“Yours, so yours” he agrees as the galaxies in his big brown eyes practically turn into countless little hearts.

“Mhm, yeah. Mine”, you sigh, swiping your palm down his cheek until you have his throat under it. You close your fingers around his neck without applying pressure. Your other hand still cradles his cheek.

Jungkook moans.

“Quiet, baby.”

“Sorry, oh god it’s so hard”, he whispers and parts his lips to gasp repeatedly.

“Mhhm Kook”, you purr, “mine. I love you so much, sweetheart”, you lull and apply just a little pressure. Not enough to make him dizzy, just enough to let him know you’ve got him.

Jungkook bites down on his lower lip, grasping your waist desperately. His cock twitches deep inside you, his thighs tense under you. You are seriously ruining him. You are.

“Good boy, you’re such a good boy”, you praise, tracing his pierced lip. Not for long because then you already have Jungkook opening his mouth and sticking out his tongue.

You drag your fingers up his soft muscle, feeling tingles deep inside you. This is so hot.

Jungkook sighs and closes his mouth around your digits, sucking on them with pouty lips and big doe eyes. You can feel how his neck tenses from the movement and how much faster his pulse becomes.

“You’re so hot, holy fuck”, you croak, lifting yourself off his cock so you could command him to stretch out his legs.

He follows, getting rewarded with your pussy and your eager hips dancing on his needy cock. You are on your knees for it, using the bounce of his mattress to your advantage to ride him as if it is the last time you ever will. He moans around your fingers, furrowing his brows in utter bliss.

“Quiet baby, be quiet”, you gasp out, feeling breathless from pleasure. His throat under your hand, his mouth on your fingers and his cock deep inside while his strong hands knead your waist and hips. Yeah, it can’t get any better than that. You are fucking obsessed.

Jungkook mewls and keens. You slip your fingers out, resulting in his spit to cover his chin.

“Quiet, come on.”

“It’s, it’s so ah ha-hard. A-ah.”

“Quiet, baby. Just be quiet, it’s easy’, you order, slamming your hips down on him repeatedly. And to make matters worse, you put your slickened, greedy fingers on his left nipple to massage it eagerly. You abandon his neck to lick your other hand and use it to massage his right nipple as well. You twist and pinch, tug and rub, play with his piercings and trace his very tip. You know exactly what drives your husband crazy and you are hellbent on showing him all your tricks.

“Stop please”, Jungkook begs, arching his back, “stop please stop”, he pleads.

“Hurts?”

He shakes his head, “too hard, please.”

“You can do it, baby. Just be quiet, it’s easy.”

“Ah god, ah, aaah” Jungkook mewls and throws his head back, grasping your waist with such desperation he brings it in just a little. He is kicking the sheets as best as possible, curling his tongue in his agape mouth.

That’s where you want him. That’s his best look. You take his swollen nipples between your fingers and rub them in sideways motions.

His abs tense, his huge pecs throb and tighten, his arms bulge as well. You are hitting the right fucking spots and his body reacts in the sexiest of ways.

“Ahng”, Jungkook silences himself by throwing his hand over his own mouth. He scrunches his face, whimpering behind his hand.

“Holy fuck, this is so hot. That’s it, keep quiet. Good boy. Fuck, I love you.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes back and squeezes them shut. He sobs your name. You can feel it before you see it on his face. This was too much for him. You are making him climax. Deep, deep inside you and with days worth of hot, creamy cum he is shooting into you, bruising your waist in the process and biting down on his own palm just to stop himself from screaming your name. Tears run down his cheeks, he is arching his back even more. Yeah, you’ve really got him good.

You help him ride it out with a fluttering heart, giving him the best kind of afterglow by cupping his face and pulling it in for kisses all while your hips rock back and forth on his still hard cock.

Jungkook drops into your hands, feeling so far away and yet so, so close to you. His cock is sensitive, but it doesn’t hurt. It is just warm, wet and safe. He is so safe when he is inside you. Your pussy feels so good. Every ridge, hill, crevice and inch. Only you feel this good. Only you. And only you can make him feel this way.

“I love you”, Jungkook gets out shakily, dripping tears from the tip of his perfect nose. You tilt his head up and kiss the tears away.

“I love you too, Kookie. How is my hubby love doing? Comfy?”

“Yes comfy”, his voice is just a little higher in pitch, “feels so good.”

“Yeah, feels amazing. You did such a good job filling me up like this. Making me yours and all. I love you so much, baby.”

“I love you too, oh god”, Jungkook opens his eyes, sniffling with shaking shoulders.

“Good?”

He nods his head vigorously, cradling your cheeks.

“I just love you so much”, he squeaks and rolls his hips up slowly, meeting your movements as best as possible.

“Yes love you too”, you sigh, “oh”, your eyes go just a little out of focus, “oh Kook, there.”

“There? Do you like this?” he asks repeating his movements all the way down to flow, speed and angle.

“Yes, so much. Ah Kookie, you…ah feel…holy fuck, so good. Ah.”

“Quiet, baby”, he whispers, making you chuckle breathlessly.

“Yeah, fuck I get you now. Fuck mhm.”

“It’s hard, isn’t it?”

You nod your head, giving his cheeks a squeeze.

“Shit baby. Kookie, I’m close.”

His pupils dilate even more. His breathing speeds up.

“You are?”

“You feel so good”, you sigh and whimper softly, fluttering your lashes, “is hard.”

“Don’t hold back, baby. I’ve got you.”

“No, is hard to, to keep looking at you. Want to look at you as I…ah…I, I cum.”

“Baby…” Jungkook gets out and squeezes your cheeks, “fuck. I love you so fucking much.”

“I love…you…too...Kookie ah please.”

“Let go, baby. Let go. I’ve got you, baby.”

“Koo, ah”, you squeak out, falling into him as your high overtakes you.

You shake and convulse, using his shoulder to muffle your sounds as Jungkook soothes you. He is cradling your head, rubbing your back as he shushes you and whispers the sweetest love to you.

“That’s my girl. I love you cumming on my cock. That’s it. You’re doing so well. I’ve got you, babygirl. You’re such a good girl. Such a good girl, god you’re my good girl.”

Honestly, you blame him for making this orgasm as hard and intense as it is, because goddamn does it feel good to be talked through this way. Fuck, you’re climaxing just from his words. Honestly.

Jungkook makes sure to give you the best afterglow as well by squeezing your hips tighter to his body and giving your sensitive clit warm pressure. You love warm pressure after a high. The comedown is so intense but healing. And as you shudder in his arms, he is tracing your spine slowly, enjoying the moments of silence with closed eyes. You have your eyes closed as well, finding solace in his heartbeat against your chest. It is synced with yours, slowing down gradually.

You are the one to break the silence.

“So uhm, that was intense.”

“Yeah”, he sighs and sighs again, “thank you, I needed this so bad.”

“Me too, baby. Who would have thought that your tiny bed is that good to fuck in.”

Jungkook chuckles, “yeah. The creaking was a little annoying though.”

“I kinda feel like your parents must have heard something.”

“Please don’t say that, I’ll cringe to death.”

You laugh, lifting your head from his shoulder. You press a loving kiss to his lips then wipe his tear-stained cheeks.

“I genuinely tried to be quiet.”

“Me too. You didn’t make it easier. I think I nutted with my nipples, no joke.”

“I can imagine”, you snort and shimmy on his lap, “I’m starting to leak.”

“Sexy.”

“Not sexy. Wet and gooey.”

“Don’t call it that”, he laughs as he helps you slip off his cock. You leak onto his thighs, hissing in distaste.

“God, such a mess. Sorry.”

“It’s okay, let it happen.”

“Don’t wanna let it happen. It’s so messy and wet.”

“Wait, let me”, Jungkook says and reaches for his bedside table. He takes a handful of tissues, “here you go”, he says and hands them to you.

“Thanks.”

You press them to your pussy, climbing off his lap awkwardly.

“Please ignore the noises, air sometimes has its own mind”, you mumble.

“It’s okay, let it happen baby. You know how I sometimes sound after anal.”

You and he snicker in comradery. Yep, being married and comfortable is definitely amazing. Not even the most embarrassing sex noises are embarrassing when you’re together.

“You know, creampies are awesome in the moment, but afterwards? A cramp in the anus”, you say, wiping at your pussy with new tissues.

Jungkook laughs, “at least you’ve got tissues. Remember that one time we fucked in a motel only to realise we didn’t have tissues?”

You are putting on your pyjama just in case you meet his parents outside. If you were alone, you wouldn’t bother.

“And I had to use my hand to catch it? Yes baby, you laughed at me. How could I forget?”

“I only laughed because you were cute as you waddled to the bathroom.”

“Yeah sure”, you say and lean down to peck his cheek, “brb, gonna go piss real quick.”

“Mhm’kay”, Jungkook says with a goofy smile on his lips.

He is still grinning goofily when you come back, resting on his side with his eyes to the door. He is still naked, opening the blanket for you.

“Did you steal the wall side?” you ask him as you get naked again.

“I did.”

“Not cool. I claimed it.”

“And I reclaimed it.”

You roll your eyes fondly, climbing under the blanket. Jungkook wraps his arms around you and pulls you into him instantly. He drapes his leg over your hips, smooching your cheek before nuzzling into your neck.

“You feel cold”, he whispers

“The pee cooled me down.”

“Mhm, is nice”, he kisses your skin, “sleep tight, my sweetie.”

“You too, my love”, you say and turn off the light.

He wiggles and makes a small sound of contentment. He shifts his head a little.

“Psst, sweetie?”

“Yes, sweetie?” you giggle because he is a goof.

“How was it for you?”

“Amazing. I loved it.”

“Me too. Was so good”, he breathes and sighs, growing softer, “I really love you. I do. Yeah, you my baby and boo.”

“That rhymed.”

“Mhm, yeah…” he sighs and exhales deeply. He fell asleep. Of course he did.

You melt into him and drift off in his arms. Maybe sharing a small bed isn’t as terrible as you first thought it would be.

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765 notes · View notes

angelltheninth · 10 months

Note

Do you think Gojo would flirt during class?

YES! I know he would!

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, established relationship, notes, flirting, kisses, getting caught, sweet!Gojo, flashback!Gojo

A/N: I don't know how but they made Gojo look even prettier.

He doesn't only have notes that he writes during class but he also has some really cheesy pre-written ones made just to make you laugh

Knows that if you laugh too much it might get you in trouble so he often does it with you because he is very aware that the notes he gives you are so cheesy they're funny

This can get you both to get the same punishment which is also a reward because you're still spending time together

Always tries to sit next to you or at least as close to you as possible

If he's sitting behind you he'll pretend that to look over your shoulder to see your notes, what he's actually doing is telling all the things he likes about you or asking you where you should go for your next date or how much he'd love to be kissing you right now instead of being in class

When he sits next to you he will often pretend to drop something to your side in order to run his fingers over the back of your hand

It's also much easier to pass notes that way

He will wink at you any opportunity he gets

Always leans far back on his chair, saying its to have a better view of the class when in fact its to hear you easier when you're sitting behind him

Gojo is always reacting to your flirting, no matter who sees or it gets him in trouble

Will drape his jacket over the back of his chair so you can slip your notes in his pocket, and he can reply

Blows you a kiss before he sits down, he does this regardless of his friends teasing him for being a huge flirt and hopeless romantic

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jujutsu kaisen headcanon #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk imagine #jjk headcanons #jjk fluff #gojo imagine #gojo headcanon #gojo fluff #x female reader

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luckybyler · 6 months

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This was a reply to someone else, but I'm making this its own post because so many people are being so evil right now re: Noah Schnapp.

You can find other, longer explanations with history and all, but all the places I've seen more or less agree with this:

So you're all calling people to cancel Noah because he's in favor of a Jewish nation in what is today Israel. Which is a perfectly reasonable, decent and educated opinion to have, especially when you, to use a trendy term, "educate yourself" and find out why the state of Israel was created.

11000 dead Palestinians, half of them children

According to Hamas. Don't forget that, ever. They're the current, official government of Gaza, thus they're the ones who give numbers. This means that the real number could be 10, 1 million, anything in between. What I've read is that they probably give more of less accurate total numbers. What they fail to do, however, is distinguish between Hamas militants and civilians, and beteween civilians killed by IDF strikes, civilians killed by failed Hamas or Palestininan Islamic Jihad's rockets (which happens a lot), and Palestinians murdered by Hamas/PIJ (which also happens, a whole damn lot). They also don't specify how many civilians they have prevented or tried to prevent from evacuating or receiving aid.

11k dead people is a horrible number. Even 1 dead person is a horrible number. However, urban warfare in such a densely populated area is its own kind of hell, especially when the other side is fond of using civilians as human shields in every way possible. The fact that the number is 11k and not 50k, 100k, and so on, indicates that the IDF have indeed done a lot to minimize deaths. You don't genocide people by doing roof knocks, opening evacuation lines, dropping guided bombs, putting up an Iron Dome to deal with rockets while avoiding escalation, etc. simply because actual genocide, while a lot worse, is also cheaper, easier and faster than what they're doing. This is important because caling every act of war genocide dilutes the word, and there are actual genocides happening around the world. Also, there is a difference between striking military targets and causing civilian deaths as a side effect (what the IDF is doing) and planning and carrying out a massacre deliberately targeting civilians and inflicting as much pain and humilliation as possible on them. And there is a difference between doing so by breaking a ceasefire (which is what Hamas did), and defending your country because if you don't do that a terrorist group will anhilate you (which is what the IDF is doing).

Back to Noah. So far, these are the things that people have tried to cancel him for:

Traveling to Israel (a completely normal thing)

Having Israeli friends (another completely normal thing)

Condemning Hamas' horrible attack on October 7th (the decent thing to do)

Posting a statement saying he feels unsafe as a Jewish person in the US (which, given the rise of antisemitic acts in the world, including the US, including where he lives and where he studies, is a valid feeling to have)

Signing a letter, along with Shawn Levy, Brett Gelman, Ross Duffer and I think Cara Buono, asking Biden to press for the liberation of every hostage by Hamas. This especially shows the utter ignorance of the cancellers because, as it turns out, caring about every hostage implies a slowdown of IDF's actions (and, at the time, a delay of a ground invasion).

Supporting the existence and preservation of the state of Israel (once again, a completely normal thing). The fact that people are turning against him for these things says to me that the real reason you are all hating Noah is beacuse:

He's Jewish. Like, really really Jewish.

And the fact that this all comes from a place of antisemitism isn't hidden at all: I've seen y'all on here, on Twitter, Reddit, every other social media calling him slurs (such as "cunt"), censoring his name, pretending he's not part of the cast, asking the Duffers/Netflix to fire him, wishing him failure, doxxing him, calling on his classmates to physically assault him, etc. He doesn't need to educate himself: you guys are already teaching him a great lesson on why a Jewish state is necessary. If that's the treament he gets from his own "fans", what can he expect from the world at large?

#byler #noah schnapp #antisemitism #jumblr #stranger things #i know many people here are actual children or college students #who have never lived war or armed conflict #and this is baby's first social justice fight #but the way you're acting towards Noah is disgusting and evil #I'm not even jewish but I know what terrorism is like #and I know what it's like to have idiot 1st worlders be on the terrorists' side because they think they're “liberators” or something #harming the very people you think they help

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jupitermelichios · 1 year

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Hey, we need to talk about the way Batfamily fans write Cass using ASL, because a lot of it is really fucking ableist

But Cass can't speak, of course she needs to sign!

Not true! There is nothing physically wrong with Cass's vocal chords or mouth, there's nothing in her brain stopping her from making sounds, and she is not an elective mute. She actually learns to speak individual words really quickly after she puts herself into an environment where that's a useful skill. Basil teaches her to quote huge chunks of Shakespeare in Nu52, and that's easier for her than forming simple sentences. That would definitely not be the case if she had any physical limitations on her speech.

Cass's disability is that she was not taught any language, and so she is having to grok the entire concept of language from the ground up. Grammar and syntax; tonality; how to combine words to convey more complex ideas; how putting two words next to one another can change their meaning; how to break down a whole idea into the individual parts needed to turn it into words; the fact that people's words might not line up with their tone and body language so you have to pay attention to both; how to tell if someone wants a response or is stating a fact; how to work out meaning from context if a word is new or someone has an unfamiliar accent; how to know if someone is using a new word or if they actually just have an unfamilar accent and all the ways words can be bent and changed before they become something new; the fact that two words can use the same sounds but have the same meaning; the fact that there can be two different words that mean the same thing. This is all stuff she didn't learn as a baby, and not knowing it would be just as much an impediment to learning ASL as learning English (for accent, swap out things like having limited movement in their hands, or having learned slightly different forms of the same sign, using a lot of home-signs etc, it's the same concept in a different medium).

There is no language on earth Cass wouldn't have these problems with. ASL is not any kind of shortcut.

But she reads body language, and ASL is kind of like body language right?

Not true, also pretty abelist! Just as the sounds which make up spoken language are essentially arbitrary (there's no objective reason why the sound "gud" should mean good, English speakers just all agree it does) so most of the signs in ASL are arbitrary! There's no reason for

to mean good. ASL users just all agree that it does. Cass knowing body language would not help her any more with ASL than it would with English, and if anything, it might make it harder, because sign uses the whole body and therefore changes the way people use body language so unless she saw a lot of ASL users as a child (and there's no particular reason to think she did), she would have to adjust what she knows about body language to account for those differences!

But she signs in the comics!

Nope! She uses hand gestures to communicate sometimes, but that's not signing. Pointing at food and miming eating to convey hunger is not sign. Pretending to punch someone and pulling it at the last second to convey you could hurt them but won't (Cass's actual first communication with Bruce in the comics) isn't signing. I've done the point and mime thing in countries where I didn't speak the language, that does not mean I knew that country's native sign language!

But she learns ballet, that's like a physical language, so sign is the same thing!

Nope! Also low key kinda abelist. Dance is a method of communication, but it isn't a full language. There's almost no grammar or sentence structure, the vocabulary is extremely limited, and also you can just make up new dance moves or use moves from different styles of dance together and still convey your meaning (you cannot just make random gestures or use BSL and expect ASL users to understand you, because they're full complex languages). Cass vibes with dance pretty hard, but that's precisely because it isn't a language, it doesn't require any of the skills she struggles with in order to communicate emotion.

But ASL isn't like a real language, it's not as complex or nuanced as spoken English so it would be easier for her to learn

That is so fucking gross I don't even want to have this conversation with you. Go and sit in the timeout box and think about what you've just said, and then commit to doing better.

But I just think that once she learned it, she'd like using ASL because [it's very expressive/she's used to her world being very quiet/she can use it on stealth missions more easily/etc]

Valid, understandable, have a lovely day

But I'm writing an AU were she uses ASL because her backstory is too comic-book-y to fit in no-capes AUs but I didn't want to erase her communication difficulties so I've written her as having a different disability

Cool. Send me a link when you're done.

But what if I write her using makatong?

(For context, makatong is a form of sign developed for people who have intellectual or phsyical disabilities that affect language use, which uses more descriptive signs which require less precise hand possitioning than other sign languages, and which has very simple grammar, making it easier to learn than ASL). Yes this would be easier for her, because it's intended for people with similar difficulties to hers, but since her difficulties stem purely from a lack of experience which can be (and are, in canon) overcome with practise, it would be kind of needlessly limiting compared to her just starting out with very simple spoken language, and wouldn't give her as many chances to develop those language learning skills. Makatong is also not mutually intelligable with any other sign language, so she couldn't easily transition from that to ASL once she got used to signing, she'd have to start learning it from scratch.

But I HC her as deaf

There is 0 comics evidence to support that, but it's a headcanon, so who cares. You do you. Have fun.

But learning sign language would be better than learning to speak anyway because it's a universal language!

That is not even slightly how it work. Go read the wikipedia article on sign languages around the world or something. Do some research.

TL:DR; Cass does not use ASL in the comics, and nothing about her disability or sign languages in general would make learning ASL easier or more convinent for her than spoken English. That does't mean writing her signing is inherently bad, but you should examine your reasons for doing it to ensure you're not just perpetuating ableist stereotypes about the language.

#cass cain #cassandra cain #batfam #batfamily #asl #tw: ableism #black bat #batgirl #batgirls #orphan

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avocado-writing · 3 months

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hi! i was just wondering if you could write some headcannons for astarion, gale, halsin, karlach, and shadowheart about what they are like when you're pregnant/them as parents to a baby

So cute! I love wholesome family requests like these!

Astarion

When you're pregnant: he tries not to be too fussy, but let's be realistic, he likes to cluck about and make sure you're okay. He gets a bit overbearing actually. "Should you be doing that if you're pregnant?" sort of thing, you have to wave him off a couple of times. When you're asleep you hear him whispering to the baby bump about how he's going to protect them, make sure nobody would ever hurt them. (Also when you're in your third trimester the two of you like to pretend that you've gone into labour to get out of social situations you don't want to be in. He's all, "we have to GO my PARTNER is giving birth RIGHT NOW" then when you're far enough away you burst into laughter)

When you've given birth: as an elf, he only needs four hours to trance a night, so he's often holding the baby when you're awake. Speaks in whole sentences, he has no time for baby talk. "babababa..." "Mm, yes darling, I'm just worried this fabric is too sheer for that particular design." Catch him watching you cradling the baby looking utterly smitten from the doorway. He's happier than he ever believed he could ever be.

Gale

When you're pregnant: constantly reading up about magic to make things easier, whether it's to ease back pain or make the delivery more comfortable. Likes to stay up late discussing baby names with you, Tara resting on your lap and cuddling happily into your belly. Also armed with facts about the growing baby is during each month of your pregnancy, lmfao.

When you've given birth: wants to be there for every milestone possible, so takes lots of paternal leave from his teaching job. Baby's first word is 'dada' and he goes crazy for it, he's so so happy. Casts little, harmless spells which make the baby giggle - summoning Dancing Lights above their head to soothe them to sleep in their crib. As the baby drifts off you can often hear him whispering that "the two of you have made my life complete."

Halsin

When you're pregnant: knows all of the natural teas he can brew to help you relax. Always offering backrubs. Talks to the bump a lot, falls asleep with you as his little spoon so he can have his hand on your belly, keep you both safe as you slumber. Waxes poetic about what your baby might look like, whose eyes it will have, whose hair. If it will take to druidic magic or something more scholarly? All he knows is that he can't wait to meet them.

When you've given birth: the baby is usually in a papoose around his chest (when you're not holding them!) He's totally caught up in how lovely they are, how the two of you made something so wonderful. When they get a little older he is a big fan of letting them ride on his shoulders, encouraging them to run their hands through leaves on the boughs of trees and answering every endless question they can think to ask.

Karlach

When you're pregnant: constantly offering to carry things for you so that you don't strain yourself. Talks to the bump all the time. "Come on, kiddo! Mama can't wait to meet you!" Loves to have her hand on your belly and gets so excited when she feels a kick! "We've got a little fighter in there, I reckon!" Every so often asks if you really think she'll be a good mum, a little bit of anxiety creeping in - but you reassure her she'll be just wonderful.

When you've given birth: always standing over the crib to look at the baby, she just seems to happy when they're peacefully asleep. Likes to hum little made-up songs to them when they're settling down for the night. If the baby starts fussing for no reason, she picks them up and bounces them around until they're both giggling wildly. She is most happy when she has you in one arm and the baby in the other 💕

Shadowheart

When you're pregnant: does a lot of healing magic to help you with your aches and pains which helps a lot. She gets super into pregnancy books and is constantly offering you suggestions for how to make things a little easier - maybe because she feels guilty that you're the pregnant one. Offers up lots of soft prayers to her goddess for a happy family and your good health. The two of you bicker good-naturedly about names but do eventually settle on one you both like - maybe after one of her parents.

When you've given birth: constantly checking in that you're alright and happy as a new parent, because she is. Always makes sure there's a bunch of night orchids in the nursery. When the baby gets a bit older and is scared of the dark, she makes sure to teach them the Light cantrip so that they always have a nightlight if they need. And she teaches them to swim, just like you taught her all those years ago.

taglist: @ghosti02art @sadandanxiouswtf @yeethaw13 @trappedinlimbo15 @infinitely-kate @dhampling @wereallbrokenangels @tilldeathdonugget (lmk if you want to be added)

#shadowheart x reader #shadowheart x tav #karlach x reader #karlach x tav #gale x reader #gale x tav #gale dekarios x reader #gale of waterdeep x reader #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion ancunin x reader #halsin x reader #halsin x tav

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kenananamin · 6 months

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Family, meet family

Summary: After leaving the jujutsu world behind and moving away to start his family, Nanami Kento wonders if his kids will ever meet the people he considers his family back in Tokyo. fluff, time skip, everyone is happy and everything is ideal (just let me pretend and be delusional w me pls), nanami x fem!reader, the very end implies a big spoiler (a/n: for easier reading I will be giving the kids names but feel free to imagine another name if you'd like. and going along with the fact that nanami is a girl dad, he's got his girls in this story. the eldest is june and the youngest is kai. this will be what happened after the ending of my other story "All I ask, all I want". thank you anon for this idea, i hope you enjoy 🖤)

It was a busy day at the bakery and Nanami had taken the girls upstairs to get them ready for bed. It has been four years since Nanami left the jujutsu world and although he wanted to go as far as as he could to escape everything and everyone that could harm his family, your family settled in Iwakuni, Japan. It was a small city and not the secluded town Nanami thought he'd end up in once he had a family, but it was comfortable enough for Nanami to live in and a perfect sized community for his kids to grow up in.

Nanami had bought a newer built house for the family and surprised you when he said he wanted to add space to the house... for a bakery. You were a few months pregnant at the time he brought up this idea and as scary as it was to start a business during such a changing time, the sparkle in his eyes when he brought up the idea convinced you. He had the addition finished when your eldest was 3 months old and Ami Bakery was opened for business by the time she was 7 months old. Your house always smelled like bread from Nanami's trial and error baking and neighbors quickly flocked to the new bakery. You were both more than thankful for the business, but it did leave the whole family tired at the end of the day.

You finish wiping down the counter, turn off the lights, and lock the door from the bakery leading into the rest of the house. You hear very soft giggling from the girls upstairs and you smile while ascending the stairs and heading into their room, "It's time to sleep, close your eyes and stop giggling." Your three and two year old giggle a bit more before snuggling into their blankets and giving a soft ok. You lean down to kiss them goodnight before leaving their room to find your husband.

Nanami was sitting at his desk in your joint office with only a small desk light on and a small opened box in front of him. You close the gap and hug him from behind to look at what he's so focused on. Your head is next to his and you wait for him to speak after seeing the picture he's holding.

Nanami turns his head to kiss your cheek and begins, "June is learning about family trees at daycare. Mom, dad, aunts, uncles, grandparents... she asked if they had any aunts and uncles from me." Nanami tilts the photo in your direction, a beach outing that Gojo had insisted on. The first and second years were present and everyone was smiling or at least looking at the camera. Nanami is in the corner, but you could tell he stepped closer for the photo. "This is all I could think of. I have my family here, you and them... but they were my family too. This is their family, their aunts, uncles, cousins even if they'd like that instead."

He puts the photo down and grabs the Jujutsu pin from the box with a few more photos. You rub his shoulders and rub your face in his neck while you say, "Yuji hasn't called in a while, why don't you call and ask if he'd like to visit for a few days? He can tell the others and we'll set up the rooms for them. And we'll even put them to work in the bakery, they might bring in some more customers wanting to see their pretty faces."

Nanami laughs at the suggestion but shakes his head, "They're too busy. None of them can leave Tokyo for a few days right now." He sighs and puts the pin and photo back in the box.

You snuggle your face into the crook of his neck and ask, "What if we went to Tokyo instead? Besides Yuji coming down to visit and a couple calls with Megumi and Gojo, nobody else has had the chance to meet the girls."

Nanami looks at you, somewhat surprised by the suggestion of visiting Tokyo with the girls. He looks at the opened box and after a moment of contemplating, Nanami smiles and kisses your cheek again.

———

Nanami stops just outside the steps of the school and kneels down to eye level with the girls, "You need to tell me if you see something weird or if something scares you. Please, tell me if you feel uncomfortable and want to go, we'll leave immediately." The girls nod and impatiently jump to start ascending the steps.

Nanami had always wondered if the girls inherited anything. He didn't want them to see any curses and would exorcise any he would see before the girls even noticed. He never wanted the girls to know fear at such a young age and he'd protect them from it as much as he could.

He stands back up and faces you, "You need to tell me if you feel anything too. Even if you don't see it, I don't want you to be uncomfortable." He knew you were a non-sorcerer but he'd always check in with you for any bad feelings. You nod and smile to try to ease his worry and nerves from being back in Tokyo.

"Nanamin!" You both hear fast steps heading towards your family and you turn to see an excited Yuji running at full-speed.

Nanami steps away from the girls sensing that Yuji would jump on him as soon as he got close… and he did. Yuji was not small by any means and Nanami stumbled but he held him tightly as the young man wrapped his legs around his old mentor.

On the way to Tokyo, Nanami told you everything he knew about what the students were doing. Gojo would occasionally send him updates but Yuji was the one who would blow up his phone at least once a month with updates from everyone.

Yuji had graduated from Jujutsu High and was working as a full-time sorcerer with a few of his classmates. Megumi joined Yuji as a full-time sorcerer and both would go on missions while doing special field classes with the current students. Nobara was designing her own clothes and working as a photographer while in fashion design school, but would get called in if she was needed.

The students who were in their second year when Nanami left were in similar situations. Maki was still based in Tokyo but was planning to make her return to the Zen’in Clan soon, Yuta had returned to Tokyo and would often get sent to special overseas missions wherever needed like Gojo, Inumaki and Panda were working alongside Yaga and were very important factors to the current student’s education and training.

Gojo was still as Nanami described, “just Gojo.” Only this time, he would say it with a smile on his face instead of the annoyance previously there. Gojo had tried visiting before but those plans were always interrupted by some other thing. Nanami would smile and say it would happen next time, but you could clearly see his disappointment. He would spend those early mornings before the cancellations getting the girls in their best outfits and would make more of his special bread that was usually just reserved for you and the girls.

But now, even with the young man dangling on his body and putting more strain than usual on his back, Nanami was happy. He held onto his student - no, his friend, and would not let him go until Yuji himself got off.

“Itadori, get off of Nanami-sensei,” Megumi calmly walked to the group and slightly bowed to you and the girls.

Yuji puts his legs down and stands before leaving Nanami’s arms and going straight to you. You open your arms for him and he gladly accepts with a tight hug that’s followed by him picking you up and slightly wiggling you, “I’m so excited you’re all here! I have so many places lined up but you can choose where we go! And I have so much to tell you!”

You laugh and nod, the tight hug not really letting you speak. Yuji lets you go and you finally see his wide smile again. It’s the same smile he had when he first visited you guys in Iwakuni, healthy and happy. Yuji turns to the girls and kneels to open his arms. Megumi follows suit next to Yuji and extends his hand to give them a handshake. Kai turns to Megumi after her hug with Yuji and lifts her arms for him.

———

Yuji is carrying a giggling June on his shoulders while skipping. Megumi is carefully holding a quiet Kai who is just quietly staring at him like her life depended on it. “Like calls to like,” Nanami says while holding your hand and laughing at the scene of his kids all together.

You hear a few quick clicks as soon as everyone is entering one of the buildings on the grounds. You turn and see a young woman holding a camera. She stands straight and starts bickering with Yuji about them taking too long. She ignores Yuji’s last remark and goes to greet you both with a warm smile. She introduces herself as Nobara, and she is even prettier than the photos you last saw of her.

She shows you the photos she took of the girls with the 'idiots' and a photo of you and Nanami smiling at the kids, then hands you her card “for any future photographer needs.” She turns back around towards the girls and starts complimenting June on her beautiful hair and Kai on her beautiful light brown eyes. She tells the guys to let them down and points her camera at the girls. Nobara moves around while getting different angles before asking if they could go out to the yard for the natural lighting.

Down by the trees Nobara wanted to take photos at, a female voice called out for Nanami. You both turn and you immediately recognize the woman who once helped you as Shoko and the man who would always talk very highly of your husband as Ino. Nanami waved to Shoko as she returned a warm smile while Ino dismissed a few current students that were with them both.

"I'm sorry if you were in a class, I didn’t mean to interrupt anything," Nanami stepped towards his old friends and Ino reached for a hug. It wasn't the same clinging hug as Yuji but Ino had his eyes closed and was completely focused on the hug. After a hug that might've been too long for most people, Ino stepped away from the hug but was still laser focused on his old teacher. You could see his eyes drifting all over Nanami's face while he spoke. He was looking at his friend while he spoke, but noted the crows feet and smile lines that were finally being marked after decades of a stoic face, and his overall aging face. You knew that Nanami had noticed Ino's stare as well, his observation skills from being a sorcerer never departed and he noticed everything, but he knew better than to point out certain things. This was one of them, he did not mind Ino looking at every detail of his face... because he was doing the same.

Everyone was older. It was amazing to see the students get older, but seeing the people he grew up with get older even by a bit was a happy but grim reminder of the time that passed without each other. He was truly thankful that he could spend another moment with his family and friends after years of not being in the same space as them. It had only been a few years, but it was far too long for everyone.

Panda, Inumaki and Maki start coming down to the yard from the same direction that Shoko and Ino had come from. Panda starts a light jog towards the group and you hear an audible gasp from the girls after seeing a panda act like a human. Kai went to hide behind Megumi, or Goomi as she started calling him, and June went to Nanami's side while staring at the approaching Panda.

"Nanami-sensei, it's been a while," Maki smiled at you and her old teacher while swinging the staff she was carrying behind her arm.

"Salmon," Inumaki waved to the group followed by quiet giggles from beside Nanami.

"Salmon?" June giggled but still hid behind Nanami and kept an eye out for the panda.

After June's giggles as the trio all got closer, Gojo just... appeared. Despite Nanami telling you what Gojo could do, it was surprising to see anyone appear anywhere in a split second. "Well, looks like I'm the last one to the party." Gojo takes off his blindfold and puts on his glasses.

"Don't worry, we expected that," Maki waves him off and lightly grazes Kai's hand that's tightly holding onto Megumi. She might not be as playful or expressive with the girls as the other kids but she was trying to get close in her own way.

With Gojo's arrival, Nanami leans down to pick June up and motions for Megumi to pick up Kai and bring her to him, "I want you guys to meet someone," Nanami takes Kai from Megumi's arms. Holding both girls in his arms, he tells you to step closer before pointing his head to the adults and his old students that have now gathered as a small group, "Family... meet family."

June and Kai look at the group and start with small smiles. They both had opposite personalities but the girls were very warm with any new people they met. But June broke into a wide smile first, "Family?" Nanami nodded with a big smile and June turns back to the group, "Family!"

June reaches for Shoko's hand and she steps forward to playfully shake your daughter's hand while Kai lays her head on Nanami's shoulder. Gojo got close to Kai and stroked her back to get her to look at him. "I'm Uncle Gojo," he smiled at the little girl, "you can call me if you're in trouble but don't want to tell your parents."

"Gojo, she's two. And please don't tell my daughter that," Nanami sternly told Gojo but the small grin on his face made Gojo double down on the girls calling him for help.

Nanami puts the girls down so they can say hello to everyone and June takes Kai by her hand and goes to introduce herself and her sister to each person... and Panda. She left Panda for last but you could tell she was intrigued by him and would most likely keep going back to him.

Gojo pulls out his wallet, then a card, and gathers June and Kai to his side to explain how to use the card. Nanami stops him with a hand on his shoulder and shakes his head. Gojo shrugs, puts his card back but pulls out six 10,000 yen notes and tells the girls, "Uncle Gojo will give you more when he comes to visit. There's more where that comes from."

Nanami face palms and the girls look over the money and thank Gojo but give it to Nanami to hold. Shoko laughs behind Gojo telling him he needs to practice being around kids and Ino agrees saying that he'd have to most likely bribe Nanami's kids with bread instead. Gojo is promising that he'll keep trying to win the girls over and be their favorite uncle when Yuji runs in and tags Kai to play with him. Kai tags Megumi who then tags Yuji again and the three start to run towards the open space in the yard. June returns to Panda and Inumaki's side where Inumaki kneels down to compliment her dress... maybe. Without Nanami translating, it was hard to figure out what he was trying to say.

You step away from the group to start setting up the picnic you prepared underneath a large tree. Nanami had packed a variety of breads he wanted his family to try and some special treats the elderly neighbors had dropped off after they found out you were going to Tokyo to visit family. You're opening the basket and pulling out the bags of bread when you look back up at your husband.

Nanami's smile appeared much easier than before. His shoulders were slouched in relaxation compared to his stiff shoulders from his time as a sorcerer. And the soft and light stubble on his face was the perfect sign of a busy baking father who perhaps didn't have the time to shave, but had the time to do his daughter's hair and painstakingly choose every part of their outfits down to the socks.

Now it’s your turn behind the lens. You grab your phone and point the camera to the older group first. Nanami, Gojo, Shoko, and Ino are watching the kids and talking about something that was probably long overdue. You make a mental note to invite Gojo, Shoko and Ino to your house for a special dinner and adult night out with Nanami. They have been through enough together and individually, they deserved a fun and carefree night at the minimum. After a short video and many photos of the older group, you turn the camera to the younger group. Panda is throwing June up in the air before catching her and doing it again and again. Inumaki is his second pair of hands and has his arms stretched out to catch June at any given moment. Kai is running after Megumi while being chased by Yuji pretending to be a zombie. Nobara and Maki are watching from the side underneath another tree, laughing about whatever Nobara is showing her from her phone.

What a scene. What a beautiful, nonthreatening, completely content scene. Nanami was more than happy in Iwakuni, there was nothing more he would ever wish for, but he was happy to finally see his group again. You knew he regretted the last view everyone had of him as a limping man. He had wanted to walk out with his head held high, proud and an accomplished sorcerer, not the defeated and heavily scarred man who barely escaped death.

Today, Nanami would leave Jujutsu Tech as a happy, healthy, and completely fulfilled man while holding your hand as you both carried your girls back home. All with a promise to see his jujutsu family again in Iwakuni.

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 months

Text

Dirty Work 20

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: weekends aren't for rest, they're for being sick and anxious so Monday will be a treat.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

As you enter, you try your best not to make too much noise. You set the bags down lightly and ease the inner door shut. You can hear your dad and the soft sound of puzzle pieces meeting the table.

“Ya know, thirty years almost, but I can see her just like yesterday,” he says.

Your heart clutches. You never heard him talk about your mom. When you were a kid and didn’t know better, he just ignored all your questions about her. When you got older, you stopped asking. You figured it’s easier for both of you to pretend she never was.

“I’m sorry, hon,” Leslie comforts, “you know, in my line of work, I’ve seen it over and over. It’s a wound you can’t heal.”

“Oh yeah,” he grits, “yeah, I’d say…”

You swallow and lean back on your foot, crinkling the bags behind you. You cringe as you hear sudden movement. You turn and work to slip off the white loafers. You pretend like you weren’t listening as Leslie’s shadow looms from the archway.

“You’re home,” she proclaims, “we didn’t think you’d be so early.”

“Me either,” you say as you face her.

Her lashes flick and her mouth opens, “oh my, you look so good! Weren’t you working today?”

“Uh, did some work,” you lie, “I got a few hours off so I… did some running around.”

“Oh, gosh, come on, you have to show your dad,” she takes you by the wrist and tugs you around, “Charles, look at your girl.”

She presents you with her hands on your shoulders. You can’t even look at your dad as the couch creaks and he grunts at your appearance. He snorts and pushes another piece into the puzzle.

“What am I looking at?” He sneers.

“Charles, don’t be like that. Look at her hair, and this dress,” she touches your hips, “must be a nice job, huh?”

“It’s alright,” you shimmy out of her grasp, “I just… needed something more presentable–”

“Something shorter,” your father scoffs, “so when she’s bending to tidy the floors you can see right up.”

“Charles, that’s gross,” Leslie reprimands.

“Truth can be like that,” he snickers, “think some man’s buying her fancy clothes so she can sweep? We both know how she pays for you.”

“No… it’s not…” you shrug and give up, “I’m gonna put my stuff away and start dinner. If you want, you can head off early too.”

“Oh, I don’t mind sticking around,” Leslie says as she once more sits beside your dad, “let me know if you need any help with dinner. Don’t wanna get anything on that nice little dress.”

You nod and hesitate. You can’t tell what she means by that. For as much as she can call out your father, she often speaks with an edge of her own. Just like the cigarettes, she must assume his insults are your fault.

You leave the room and grab the bags. You carry them up the stairs to your room. You shut the door and sit on the end of the bed. You bend and cradle your head, trying to set it straight after the dizzying day.

👠

The bus provides a momentary break from your hostile world. There is no safe place for you. Home is barely that and work is… confusing. Your only escape is to focus on your tasks and get through them. Get through Mr. Laufeyson’s list then come home and the chores left untouched.

Your look at the time on your phone and black the screen. You get a glimpse of your reflection off the glass as you do. You didn't do too bad with the makeup. It looks okay. You tried not to use too much as you recalled Eliana's instructions.

You shake off your doubts and airy feeling around your legs. You're not use to the skirt or the pretty fabrics. You feel overdressed and out-of-place, but the latter is so new to you.

Through the gate and along the edge of the drive, you hear your name flutter in the air. You stop short as you see Frigga strolling along the hedges, caressing the petals of a rose. She draws away and strides towards you, an ivory skirt paired with a golden brown blouse and nude heels.

“You do start early, don’t you?” She approaches and takes your hand, “come, let’s have tea.”

“Oh, uh, I…” you let her tug you along the walkway towards the front door, “the carpenter is coming today–”

“Ah yes, Loki mentioned you were working on restoring the gazebo. That’s lovely. We used to have tea there, me and… his wife. She was a laugh.”

“Mm,” you hum. Whoever this woman was, she must’ve been very special. You imagine a beautiful woman with silky hair and long legs like Frigga. She must’ve fit right in.

“I suppose if it was meant to be, it would be. I only hope my son can find happiness again,” she squeezes your hand before she lets you go.

She opens the door and waves you in ahead of her. You slip out of your flats much easier than your usual lace-up sneakers. She steps out of her heels and sighs.

“That’s his problem, you know? He’s lonely but too proud to admit it,” she sidles around you and leads you down to the kitchen. You follow and watch as she goes to the counter and pours from the waiting teapot. “Though I haven’t seen him today. I suppose he’s sleeping in, it is the weekend.”

You tilt your head but don’t comment. For as long as you’ve worked for him, not very long at all, he’s never slept past your arrival. Well, not so far as you know.

“I do love this skirt,” she comes back around the counter and touches the tweed, “wonderful pairing,” she touches the blouse with the petal shaped cutouts around the high-collar, “you’re learning.”

“Um, yeah, all the clothes are so pretty,” you say.

“Please, have your tea. I’m sure you have time before the carpenter,” she urges.

“Right, er, I’ll just take my bag upstairs first,” you say, “out of the way.”

“Sure,” she accepts with a kind smile, “how about I take this out to the patio, we can enjoy the sun?”

“Alright,” you agree and hike up your bag, “thank you.”

You quickly flit off and head upstairs. You weren’t expecting her to be there. You just hadn’t thought of it. You only dreaded facing your unbendable boss and his persistent stare.

You go into the library and tuck your bag under the writing desk. You double check the schedule in your phone; Ronan, 10. You have an hour before he arrives.

Your mind is already on the gazebo as you scurry back into the hall. As you shut the door gently, you hear a groan. You peer down towards the unusual noise and blink at the slightly ajar door. The main bedroom. Mr. Laufeyson’s. It rises again before a drawn out exhale, his timbre rumbling low.

You quickly set back to your path and flee downstairs. Maybe he’s talking in his sleep, or more likely, stretching out a few kinks. Your curiosity quickly dissipates as you pass through the dining room and out into the patio.

Frigga sits with large pointed sunglasses over her eyes. She tilts her face up to the sunlight as you sit before the other cup of tea. You pull it close and look out at the yard. A streak of green catches your gaze.

You watch the hummingbird hover over fuchsia petals. You stare dreamily, lulled by the peace of the moment as Frigga merely sips and basks. This isn’t so bad. The bird zips between flowers before disappearing behind a tree. In his stead, the skittish chipmunk scrambles along the railing of the patio. You smile at his fluffy tail.

“I’ll be off tomorrow,” Frigga states, “my husband will be expecting me. Oh, but I’ll miss you, darling.”

“Is it very far?” You wonder.

“Four or five hours,” she answers, “not very far but enough. It’s so lovely up where we are. I wish you could see. Perhaps one day. When things are better.”

Before you can answer, there’s a subtle click behind you.

“Morning,” Mr. Laufeyson’s voice is unleashed onto the scene as the patio door swings inward, “mother,” he pauses before he enunciates your name, “beautiful day out.”

Your shoulders stiffen and nearly touch your ears as you sit straight. He pulls out the chair at your other elbow and sets down another teacup with a clink. He sits and smooths back his dark hair, tucking the spiralled ends behind his ears.

“Late morning,” his mother remarks, “any tea left?”

“Some, shall I–”

He puts his hands flat, moving to stand but she shoos him as she’s quicker to rise, “I’ll get it myself. And you darling,” she dips her chin in your direction, “more?”

“Oh, no thanks, I’m still… working on mine. Thank you, Frigga,” you say, mindful of each syllable.

She leaves and the door clicks shut behind her. You stare at the brim of your cup, turning it slowly between your hands as Laufeyson raises his own to his lips. He drinks carefully before putting it down again.

He’s quiet. He shifts and plants an elbow on the table. He turns his attention to the yard and watches. You dare to look up as well, the chipmunk poking his head out from the bush where he hides. He ran away at Mr. Laufeyson’s arrival.

“Cute little fellow,” he remarks as he faces you again. You quickly lower your eyes.

“Uh, yeah…”

“Mmm,” he drones and taps his fingers on the porcelain teacup, “you… that’s a nice shirt.”

“Thanks,” you lift your cup and drain most of it, gulping painfully as you put it back down, “I should go start. Ronan will be here shortly–”

“The carpenter?”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson, I have him penned in–” You explain.

“And? He is a carpenter, he knows what he’s doing. I doubt he needs you watching over his shoulder.”

“I know, uh, but I should be there to let him in,” you slide your cup off the table.

“You’re not even done your tea.”

“I’ll finish on my way in–”

“You’re avoiding me,” he accused and you wince.

“What?”

“You’re running away? Why?” He challenges.

“I’m not, I– I have work to do.”

“Work I give you. I’m your boss, you may sit and finish. I’ll permit it.”

You falter and set the cup on the table. You lower yourself back to the seat and fold your hands. You look at your lap and push your shoulders back. He is back to his haughty demands, you find that part of him easier to handle.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Laufeyson, I wasn't running away.”

He scoffs thinly and his nostrils flare as he stares off at the hedges that edge the patio, “I wonder why you can be so quick to flee me when you sat and let my brother feel you up.”

“Huh?” You blanch, stuck by the accusation. “Mr. Laufeyson, I–”

“I know him well and I’m not as blind as my mother. I saw it. You didn’t say a word. You just let him do it,” he clucks, “why?”

Your eyes round and you bat your lashes. You nearly choke, the acidic flavour of the tea drying on your tongue. Was it that bad? You tried not to think about it, to let it affect you, even as the memories flashed in your head, you just tried not to feel anything about it.

“I didn’t… well… he’s your brother, Mr. Laufeyson, I didn’t want to assume… to offend–” you stammer.

“So you let him do what he wants?” He snarlss as he turns his sights on you, a brow arch tritely. “You do not work for him, you work for me.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know what to do,” you sputter, confused by his anger. “I tried to…”

Your voice trails off. No, you didn’t try. You were too afraid too. He’s right, you let Thor keep touching you and you didn’t say anything, you didn’t move, you just froze up.

“It makes me wonder,” he cups his chin, leaning on his elbow, “how far would you let him get, hm?”

“Mr. Laufeyson,” you whimper, “I’m sorry–”

“Did you like how he touched you?”

“N-no, Mr. Laufeyson, no, of course not,” you plead.

“You do not want him to touch you?” He prompts.

“No, I… didn’t know how to say—”

“Shhh,” he hushes you, lifting his chin from his hand and pressing his finger to his lips. He pulls his hand away to point at you, “I’ve a better question…” He reaches towards you and you flinch. You quiver as he traces the cutout along the top of your blouse, “how far would you let me go?”

You squirm as he hooks his finger inside the teardrop window in the fabric. His fingertip brushes you as he gives a slight tug, looming closer as he draws you towards him. He smirks as you stare dumbfounded. What is he doing?

“My brother will not touch you again,” his voice is low and rocky, “I will make sure of it.” He tickles you slightly and rescinds his hand, “and you will make sure to remember who you belong to.”

He sits back and hooks his fingers in the handle of the porcelain mug. As if on cue, the french doors open behind you and Frigga trills as she emerges, “oh, just enough tea,” she announces, “I added a dash of honey this time.”

She places the cup by her empty chair but does not sit. She twirls and paces around the patio, going to the flower boxes along the rail. She leans in to examine them.

“Perhaps the carpenter could have a look here, it’s crooked,” she declares. “And I dare say the guest room has a loose floorboard right near the bed.”

“Mm, perhaps, mother,” Laufeyson drawls as he once more raises his cup, his eyes stuck on you, “my house manager will be sure to ask, won’t she?”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson,” you wisp out through your constricted throat, barely registering his command.

You can only hear his previous words echoing, over and over; remember who you belong to. Belong to… No, you only work for him.

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #dirty work #au #maid au #avengers #mcu #marvel #thor

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sehnsuchts-trunken · 16 days

Note

dbf!jake x innocent!reader (maybe who's still a virgin) and finding out he has a corruption kink i can't ...

i let this sit in my inbox untouched for so long because i couldn't decide whether or not i'm into it - but currently i'm experiencing something of a writer's block, soooo. i've decided to give it a try lmao

tw: dbf!jake has a corruption kink, reader is VERY innocent, it's not explicitly stated she's a virgin but it's very much implied, dom!jake, this is less smut and more talk actually but anyway, mentions of oral sex, also good girl

top gun masterlist | top gun blurbs

You pull back from Jake with wide eyes, panting - embarrassingly so - and clutching at his shirt, angling yourself away. He's turned on, you can feel it, can feel him, pressing into you, pressing against his jeans. And you're wet, you're soaked, you can feel that, too.

It hadn't even been supposed to go this far. It had been a kiss, just one, all sweet and intimate while you'd watched tv. And then there had been a second one. And a third. And somehow, you'd ended up in his lap, pulling at his hair and whining into his mouth. But the moment you rock against him and feel his bulge... You have to pull back.

"There's no rush, darling", he mutters, trailing his fingertips down your cheek and tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. "I won't do anything you don't-"

"What if I do?", you breathe, clenching your hands into his shirt to keep them from trembling. You don't even know just why they're trembling - maybe because you're so nervous, or maybe because you're so turned on.

"You do?", Jake asks with raised eyebrows. "Are you sure?"

You bite down on your lip and nod.

"Are you really sure?", he asks again. "Because if you're not-"

"Fuck me, Jake", you breathe, your cheeks heating up, your breath quickening. God, had you really just said that? Had you- Holy shit, you'd really just said that. You'd never said anything like that. Never. You'd barely even come close to thinking it.

Jake's eyes widen. Then his hands tighten around your waist, so hard that you gasp out a breath.

"What did you say?", he mutters, dragging his fingers down to your hips. You chew on your lip and stare at the air next to his head. Anywhere else but at him. Anywhere else but at his eyes. There's no way you can repeat yourself. No fucking way. You can hardly believe you said it in the first place.

"I asked you a question, darling", Jake repeats, and even though you try your best not to look at him, not to see that grin tugging at his lips, you can hear it in his voice. "What did you say?"

"I-", you start, stop, and then take a deep breath. No, there's no way. Absolutely no way.

"Come on, speak up", he urges, his hands trailing lower and lower until his fingers circle against the bare skin of your thigh. His thumbs draw below the hem of your dress, then away again. "I know you can."

You dig your teeth into your lip and let your eyes flutter shut, trying to forget absolutely everything at all - the way his fingers feel, how hard he is, how wet you are - to ignore that this is really and truly happening. Pretending it's your imagination makes it a tad easier. A lot easier, if you're completely honest.

"Fuck me, Jake", you whisper, your breath catching.

His fingertips trail up, up, up your thighs-

"And now look at me", he says, his voice so low he's basically growling, not an ask, not even close, but a command, an order. If this is how he sounds at work, barking instructions left and right... "Look at me while you're asking me to fuck you."

"Jake-", you whimper, squeezing your eyes shut even harder. You can feel yourself growing wetter by the second. Fuck, his tone is sinful. And the way he's ordering you- But you just can't, you can't do it.

"Look at me", he repeats as he hooks his thumbs into your panties and tears another little gasp from your lips. Goddamn, you're so sweet. And there's something about your embarrassment, something about how you're unknowingly, unwillingly rocking your hips into his, something about how hard you're trying to not show your desperation, something about how at the very same time, you've already asked him to fuck you twice now.

You need him. It's obvious. And it's so fucking cute, it's adorable, how you both want and don't want to act on it. You're so unsure. And still-

Still, even despite all of your nervousness, you blink open your eyes and look at him, parted lips and flushed cheeks and all, your hands fisting his shirt. Because he's given you an order. And you follow his orders.

"Fuck me", you whisper, so quietly that he can just pick up on it.

His grin widens.

"Good girl", he rasps.

A moan tears from your tongue. Good girl. Holy shit. You'd only ever imagined hearing that, you'd never thought you'd actually get to. Which is why you never could have prepared for how hard it hits you - your legs clamping around his thighs, your eyes fluttering shut again, your hips bucking against his. Fuck.

Jake grunts as you rock so openly against him, his thumbs circling the bare skin below your panties, staggering into the inappropriate. It'd take him less than a moment to find out that you'd shaved this morning.

"Fuck me", you repeat, a little more confident now, and something about it steals his breath. "Please, Jake."

It takes eating you out and teaching you how to suck him off for him to understand just what about you affects him so much. He admits it in between desperate kisses a minute later - you deserve to know, to decide for yourself whether or not you've got a problem with it. You don't, of course, and he finds out a second later as you rock back against his hard-on and whine into his mouth. No, you certainly don't have a problem with it in the slightest.

#x reader #jake seresin x reader #dbf!jake seresin x reader #top gun #top gun x reader #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #top gun hangman #dbf!jake seresin #jake seresin smut

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