#vampire!fem!reader

[kentopedia]

♰ his parliament's on fire — dazai osamu

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🕸️🕷.𖥔 ݁ ˖ KINKTOBER NO. 1 - nightclub owner!dazai

every man in yokohama has a long list of crimes they’d commit to be with you, but none quite as long as dazai’s.

contents. fem!reader, nsfw minors dni, port mafia boss!dazai, port mafia member!reader, bsd typical blood / violence, unprotected sex, established relationship, takes place before doa, dazai & reader are a lil unhinged bc they're in love, praise, soft dazai, riding dazai, sub reader, v slight breeding kink oops — 10.1k

The music shook your chest as you watched people head to the front of the club for a dance, a combination of those that were regulars, and those who were just desperate to blow their money on an evening in one of the finest night clubs in the country.

It had grown hot in the club, even for an autumn evening in Yokohoma. There were more people filling the tables than usual, standing only to swing their partners around on the dancefloor. A woman sung sultrily to the crowd, a song that you hadn’t heard in ages. Even for a Saturday, it was crowded, the capacity met, and then surpassed, packed to the brim as a group of foreign billionaires weaseled their way in by paying twice the entry fee.

You swirled your glass, sitting alone at the bar with your legs crossed, the tight, red dress rising up on your thighs. Beside you, a man was puffing a cigar, blowing the smoke back in your face so frequently that it took all your effort not to cough. Still, he paid you little attention, too enraptured by a skinny young woman that giggled every time he touched her arm.

A few more individuals made their way to the dancefloor, tracking unaccompanied dancers like prey, hopeful that they could score a partner for the evening. It was amusing, really, how often you’d seen some of the same men come back. They’d throw stacks of money on the table in a desperation to acquaint themselves with beautiful, upper-class women, even if they’d go home unhappy and broke.

Ice clinked against the sides of your glass as the last drop disappeared down your throat, warming you up for the rest of the evening. Already, you had caught the glimpse of several men in the club. But those who knew who you were knew to keep their distance, and they never tried to sneak more than a subtle glance in your direction.

Those who didn’t usually noticed nothing but your striking beauty and the allure of darkness that seemed to follow you. They were drawn to you easily, smiling at you like they were entitled to gawk at your appearance, like it would be criminal for anyone so beautiful to shield herself away from the world.

Rarely did that ever end well for them.

You handed your empty glass off to the bartender—a dear friend that you’d convinced to work for you at the club—and made your way over to the dance floor. The crowd parted for you with quick glances and slackened jaws, stumbling on their own feet to get out of your way. Once you passed, the world seemed to resume itself. Everyone continued about their business, averted their gaze, even if they were careful not to get too close to you.

Something about that made you smile.

For a while, you danced on your own, grinning carelessly to yourself as you twisted your hips, unbound yourself to the music and the alcohol that ran through your veins. It was a different kind of freedom, and though you’d once been wary of the watchful eyes, they no longer bothered you. You loved losing yourself in the rhythm, loved feeling transported to another realm.

The setlist for the evening included a few of your favorites, and you carried on until there was sweat on your forehead, a single bead trickling down your temple, one that you hastily wiped off. Breaths came to you more stiflingly, heaving inhales and exhales that paired with your thirst.

Finally, the tempo of the music slowed, just enough to snap you back into the present, and the energy zapped out of you as your mood darkened. The time of the evening had passed when you realized that it was no longer fun to dance alone.

You sighed, and with a frown, let your gaze trail across the room to find the cool brown eyes that you loved more than the music you spun in circles to. But Dazai was already in a conversation with someone else, tapping slender fingers against his glass full of amber liquid. He listened intently to a conversation between two men twice his age.

Beside him, Chuuya stood at the edge of the table like a loyal bloodhound, his arms crossed as he leaned back against the wall. You caught his eye instead and smiled to him, though not a single muscle in his face twitched. It seemed as though he was intent on keeping up the charade for the evening.

As much as you wanted to smile even more sweetly and taunt him mercilessly, you didn’t let yourself get too distracted. Instead, you refocused your sights on your other goal.

The stocky, tall man was right where Dazai said he’d be, sitting with a couple woman and a few empty glasses in front of him. He had a neatly trimmed, graying beard, sporting a watch that was, at least, a couple million yen.

You caught him watching you over the edge of the table, his smile slow as you bat your eyelashes at him, sauntering past him with a perfectly coy expression. Eyes lingered on the curves of your hips; the smooth skin of your legs revealed by the dress. The lust came in near waves off of him, thick and heavy as they reached you.

It made your job easier, the obvious attraction that they never tried to hide from you. You smiled to yourself, and felt a sense of satisfaction, despite his disgraceful leering.

The seats at the bar had been filled up when you returned, leaving no room for you and your new companion to retreat.

A younger regular, one with an overabundance of nerves and an awkward smile, spoke in hushed whispers to his friend, one that was dressed in a suit far too cheap to be in this club.

You tapped him on the shoulder, smiling at him in the way that had everyone bending over backwards for you. “Excuse me?”

He looked over, irritated for a fleeting second before realizing who it was that had approached him. Immediately, he was to his feet, stammering over a greeting while his friend gawked at him with incredulity.

“Sorry to bother you,” you said, softening your voice. “I was wondering if I could have those seats. I hate to—”

“No, no,” he said, practically shoving the other man away, pushing him out of the chair while he sputtered confused nonsense. “Take them! We’ll be out of your hair.”

You thanked them before placing yourself neatly back onto the stool you’d occupied before. It was far too easy.

The bartender sent you a knowing look, all too familiar with your games, before going back to mixing a drink.

Moments later, you felt the presence of another behind you, an overwhelming smell of tobacco and pine assaulting your senses. He was taller up close, taller than Dazai, at least, and older than you’d originally thought. Deep wrinkles weathered his skin, his eyes, and though there was still a hint of black in his dark hair, it was slowly being overtaken by the signs of a life that was twice as long as yours.

“Pretty dress.” That was the first thing he said to you, letting his eyes wander over your chest, lips curling into an ugly smirk. “It suits you nicely.”

You wouldn’t be won over so easily, so you merely smiled at him, nodding in thanks. Though, that had him coming on twice as strong, as if the simple eye contact that you’d made earlier had been a full invitation to fuck you. He took the seat next to you, signaling the bartender over.

“Let me buy you a drink,” he said, and though it was a kind proposition, it always made you laugh. You received a million free drinks from strangers here.

Still, you shrugged and let him, unsurprised that he knew what you’d been drinking earlier. It was a clear sign that he’d been watching you since before you even got up to dance.

“What’s your name?” 

“Should I give it away that easily?” Your voice was silky in your response, unimpressed, but luring him in, nonetheless.

He laughed, and offered you his own instead, Tanaka, as if you didn’t already know it. You’d been planning on springing him into this trap since the moment he’d arrived that evening. It was a target and a plan that had been set in motion for days.

His grin was uncomfortable, but he thought so highly of the way his lips curled, seemingly luring you in.

In reality, you weren’t sure how any woman could stand to get down on her knees for that.

Half an hour passed as you talked with him, preening under his endless string of compliments, wishing that you could string him on for a little bit longer. You enjoyed the words well enough, just another thing to stroke your ego, but the minute he moved closer, you inched away, placing distance between you before he could touch you.

It was obvious it frustrated him, but one look at the flash in his irises had you knowing that he enjoyed the chase.

He droned on, careless conversation about hobbies you didn’t want to understand, and though you smiled, pretending to be interested, your focus drifted to the table where Dazai sat.

His conversation had shifted to Chuuya, the two other men from earlier gone. It seemed strained between them, sharp words spoken as they glared at one another, visibly at odds about something.

Despite the clear dispute, anger cleared away from their expressions within seconds, Chuuya straightening like a board beside his boss once again.

Dazai looked up; it was less than a second that your eyes met, but your knees had weakened, heart stuttering in your chest as it skipped a pulse.

A soft exhale left you, and you longed for Dazai, craved the feeling of his strong palm on your skin, the kiss of his lips on your neck. You had half a mind to say fuck the mission and walk right over to the table and plant yourself on his lap.

It would certainly cause a scene, especially when there were so many new customers there who knew about Dazai but didn’t know about you.

Still, you knew Dazai wouldn’t object. He’d merely smile into your hair and curl his hand around your hip, continuing on with his conversation like nothing was out of the ordinary.

You looked away. If you were to make it through the rest of the night, you couldn’t get distracted by the beautiful man just feet away from you. “Sorry,” you said, turning back to Tanaka. “What were you saying?”

His interest in conversation had already waned, and he faced Dazai, displeased by the uptick of fascination within your expression. “Found someone more interesting already?”

You laughed, shaking your head as you pressed your palms into your thighs. You may have longed for Dazai, been so desperate that you couldn’t spare him another glimpse, but you could still play this role well. There couldn’t be another slip, every move had to be precise.

“I’m just curious,” you said, puckering your lips in a pout. “He looks important.”

Tanaka took a sip of his drink as you spoke, nearly spitting it back out when your sentence concluded. His eyes were hard, narrowing at the sight of Dazai just meters away, surrounded by a security of sorts, “You don’t know him?” He coughed.

You frowned, tilting your head. “Should I?”

“That’s Dazai Osamu. He owns this place.”

There was room for a theatrical pause. You took that moment to pretend to think. “Oh, of course. What a silly question,” you said, humming, and set your chin down on your hand to glance back over at the table of Port Mafia personnel. “I hear he owns a lot of things.” You tilted your head, gauging the man with siren eyes. “Is that true?”

Tanaka huffed, but he didn’t deny it, looking down at his two-million-yen watch like it was nothing more than a trinket. “A pretty girl like you shouldn’t worry about him.” He seemed irritated, though he didn’t let it show, his voice the only indicator that you had upset him. “But I can tell you it sure gets hard to run a business in Yokohama when the Port Mafia owns half the city.”

You widened your eyes, leaning forward. “You’re telling me the Port Mafia owns this place?”

Tanaka laughed, loud and haughty, looking at you like you were just a poor idiot from the countryside, even if the dress you wore cost just as much as his entire suit put together. “Oh, hon, if only you knew.”

The condescending tone sent a screech through your entire body, momentarily halting any proper responses in your current act. But he was unfazed, already moving onto the next topic of conversation, telling you all about the business dealings that you’d known about from the long list of jobs within his file.

There was, truly, nothing about him that you hadn’t already dug up. It was boring you immensely, but you smiled on, nodding enthusiastically as he spun the most lackluster story you’d ever heard.

Dazai, across the room, stared at you as you conversed, clenching his jaw at the way the man eyed you, the gaze that scoured your body like you were nothing more than a piece of meat.

Oh, he would certainly enjoy tearing him apart later, even if he would be too easy of a case to break.  

“When are we leaving?”

Chuuya’s voice snapped him out of his onlooking, and Dazai leaned back in the chair, shedding the tension in his shoulders to resume a comfortable position.

“Not until they’re both in the car and I can confirm with Tachihara and Gin that she’s safe,” Dazai said, crossing his arms over the table. He couldn’t forget that there were others around him, those who would never say a word to him, but knew who he was, knew what he stood for. Even here, he couldn’t let his guard down.

“Safe?” Chuuya laughed, though it was without any humor. His irises flashed dangerously, steely grey darkening into a deep silver. “You trust that idiot not to lay a hand on her? He’s undressing her with his eyes.”

Chuuya seemed intent on irritating him that evening, as usual.

“I don’t trust anyone who comes here.” Dazai scowled. “Don’t be a fool.”

A moment of silence lapsed between them, and Dazai became sickened by the way the man was eyeing you. Though you took it all in stride, leaning just far enough away so his knee didn’t graze yours, and his palm didn’t brush against your own, it still lit a fire deep within him.

It was all the better, he supposed, to feel such deep hatred for his enemies. It made it easier to tear them apart without any guilt. 

“How long are you going to make her do this, huh?” Chuuya spoke up once more from beside him, his voice nothing more than a grumble as he whispered down to Dazai. “This charade you two are carrying on has lasted long enough. I mean, you’re whoring out your wife for fuck’s sake—”

Dazai reacted without a thought, despite not wanting to take his eyes off of you for even a second. He gritted his teeth and turned on Chuuya, his hand gripping the gun in his pocket, finger tight on the trigger. Enough of a warning for him to know how sincerely the simple comment irritated him.

“Don’t ever insinuate that I don’t love my wife, Chuuya, or it’ll be the last thing you ever say.” Dazai spat the words out carefully, just under his breath, holding Chuuya’s piercing gaze without blinking. “You may be a valuable asset to the Port Mafia, but I will not listen to your opinions on matters that don’t concern you.”

Chuuya stared, setting his jaw before turning away once more. The two of them looked back to where you were smiling, leading the other man out of the room, though still not touching, placing a respectable distance between you.

“I’m just surprised, Dazai.” Chuuya leaned back, crossing his arms as he titled his head, watching your figure fade into the shadows. “You love her so fiercely, and yet, you watch as this carries on time and time again. I don’t understand.”

Dazai stood from the booth, tucking the gun back into his waistbad, under his coat. He straightened his shoulders, inhaling deeply. “I think you’re underestimating her if you truly believe she doesn’t have a handle on the situation.” His hands slipped into his pockets as Chuuya followed, grumbling from just a few feet away. “Besides, I’ve never forced her into anything. It was her idea in the first place.”

“Why?”

Dazai sighed, though it was almost wistful, the mere thought of you enough to turn him into a lovesick fool. “Perhaps it is because there are many men that seem to think they can crawl into her bed so easily, and she enjoys their humiliation when they realize that they are so far beneath her.” Dazai shrugged, and smiled lightheartedly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Perhaps, she just wants to make everyone’s lives a little easier, including yours. You should thank her sometime.”

Tanaka sat beside you in the car, his hand lingering in the leather seat between his thigh and your own. Night had fallen deep across the city, the sky a navy through the haze of streetlights. Though it was nearing one o’clock in the morning, there were crowds of people out and about, lines at all of the much more affordable clubs in the area.

It hadn’t taken much to get him to come with you. You’d batted your eyelashes, smiled at him from under them, and told him you had a car waiting out back.

That was enough. When you’d pulled yourself down from the barstool, he’d followed after you, eyes blown wide as you’d begun leading him out of the room.

All it took was a dress that hugged your curves and a small grin, and he was in the car with a man that worked for you, heading to a building that your husband owned.

“Do you live far?” Tanaka asked, itching to put his hands on you, even though you’d convinced him to hold off until you got back to your room.

You placed your chin on the inside of your palm, glancing out the window at your own reflection. “Not too far.” You turned back to him, offering him a shy smile. “Why? Are you getting impatient?”

He grinned wolfishly. Your stomach churned anxiously at the sight of it, even when he was no match for you, nor all the other, powerful individuals that surrounded you. “I don’t think I need to answer that.”

Through the rearview mirror, Tachihara met your eyes, and they softened, just barely, silently showing his support from the front of the vehicle.

It was, in a way, a relief. You relaxed, regained a sense of composure, and let your ruby red lips spread over your teeth, cocking your head as Tanaka indulged himself in whatever fantasy was milling about in his mind. His eyes were cruel, though the darkness in them was nothing compared to what you were used to.

Idly, he made comments in your ear of all the things he wanted to do to you, his unpleasant breath tickling the skin there as you tried your best not to recoil. The smell of him was growing heavy in the car, overwhelming and nauseating. You sat even more stiffly, pressing Tanaka away with a palm to his chest as you giggled to yourself, pretending to enjoy his vulgar words.

Tachihara pulled the car around to the back of the building, letting the two of you out as he put it into park.

Any fool should’ve known where they were, what the dark building in the middle of the city stood for, but Tanaka was all too focused on you, intoxicated and inattentive. The mafia headquarters loomed overhead, dark, and unassuming, a triad of buildings stacked perfectly against one another.

“Thank you,” you said to Tachihara, winking at him as Tanaka turned his back, too disoriented to take in anything but the sight of you right before him.

The car drove away, then, and you were left to guide your guest into the building, towards the room that you had already planned to meet Dazai in. When you reached the elevator, Gin was waiting for you, dressed in female attire, this time, charading as a worker instead of the trained assassin that she truly was.

“Impressive building,” Tanaka said, as if not noticing all the obvious signs of the mafia base. “You must come from quite a wealthy family.”

You smiled at him over your shoulder, curious as to why he didn’t assume you’d come into the riches on your own. “I suppose you could say that.”

Gin opened the elevator, then began typing a message to her boss, alerting him of your arrival. Tachihara had taken the longest route back, giving Dazai just enough time to arrive home before you.

“Are you a renter?” he asked, staring as the numbers on the elevator increased, climbed higher while you went towards a floor that was only two below the penthouse.

“We own it.”

Tanaka turned towards you, eyes wide with surprise, perplexed even further by the alcohol running through his veins. “You didn’t say—”

Abruptly, he cut himself off. Whatever comment he was about to make was overshadowed by the fact that he’d met you at the Port Mafia’s night club. That was certainly no place for anyone that didn’t have a million yen to spare in their pockets.

Finally, the elevator dinged, and you relaxed at the sight of the familiar hall, the carpet that had recently been replaced, the paintings that you’d personally added, ones that had been purchased at an auction. There were traces of you everywhere, and though it belonged to many members of the mafia, it was, inherently, your home.

You grabbed Tanaka’s hand, realizing just how cold it was, wrinkled with calluses and dirtied nails. It took everything in you not to grimace as you pulled him towards the fourth door on the right, the one that had been used for every interrogation over the past two years.

It had become something of a holding cell for the mafia’s enemies, and most didn’t remain here long. You doubted that this man would be of any exception.

Tugging him along, you increased your speed, an invisible string guiding you right back to Dazai. He was your fiery beacon, and though you were still separated by walls, your heart thumped at being so near to him.

“Eager, are we?” Tanaka asked, and when he grinned in the lights, you realized how slimy it was, a hunger dripping off the edges of his yellowed teeth.

You smiled right back, but it was forceful, painful as it etched its way onto your cheeks. An itch started in the cracks of your palm, willing you to snatch it out of Tanaka’s hand and scrub it clean. Still, you held on, remembering that this was for the Port Mafia, this was for Dazai and everything you’d worked for over the years.Your determination increased tenfold. “It’s just around the corner.”

Finally, you reached the room where you knew Dazai would be waiting, and just like every other time you’d done this, every time you’d brought another willing victim into a den of wolves, you could finally relax.

You entered the room, not bothering to flip on any of the light switches. There was furniture, but it was dusty, bloody, and it would make it far too obvious that you were not leading Tanaka back to your bedroom. You didn’t want him turning tail too quickly, running when he discovered you had no intention of rolling around in the sheets with him.

He shut the door behind him with a quiet click, advancing on you like a hunter. It would’ve been threatening, intimidating perhaps, if you had not been able to sense Dazai on the other side of the wall. You knew that whatever control Tanaka thought he had on the situation had quickly evaporated, and it was only a false blanket of security that he’d wrapped himself up in.

“Can I get you anything? Maybe a drink?” you asked, stopping Tanaka with a flat palm to his chest, not allowing him to come any closer. “The alcohol in me is starting to wear off.”

He ignored your wishes entirely, upon you once more. One larger hand ripped yours from his chest, pulling you just another inch closer. “I’ve had enough tonight,” Tanaka said, teeth flashing in the dim starlight. “I’m dying to fuck you.”

You frowned, eyebrows wrinkling. “Well, I’d like a drink first.”

“I’m not in the mood.” He yanked on your hand again, and this time, you knew he’d kiss you, knew he’d plant the cracking pale lips of his own on yours. The thought of it made you ill.

Without thinking, you slung a fist across his face, a crunch sounding from his nose at the force of your hit. Blood trickled from one nostril, flowing in a fast stream over his lips, into his teeth.

He bent over, and you stood, straighter, staring over him as he cursed. The punch had been much more forceful than you’d intended.

“What the fuck.” He was angrier than before, and though his pain was immense, it did little to dissuade him. You kept your face hard, inching backwards as he stood tall, so much bigger than you’d remembered. It wouldn’t take much for him to lift you, throw you onto any surface he wanted.

You’d use your ability if you had to, kill the man if it was necessary, but that would mean the entire plan had gone to waste.

“You bitch—”

Without letting any fear cloud your face, you took a step back and bumped into something solid and warm. A cologne more familiar than Tanaka’s enveloped you in a safety net. 

The older man made it one step further, aggressively, before every ounce of determination waned from his eyes. He staggered, tripping over himself and stared back at the man that had slowly come up behind you. The one that was brushing soft fingertips between your shoulder blades, his steady breath tickling the crown of your head.

Dazai smiled, in a way that was so menacing that your heart thumped twice in its chest before resuming its natural melody. Tanaka took a step back, scrambling away, nearly tripping over himself in the process, eyes dilated in fear.

“You,” he breathed. “Dazai—” Tanaka didn’t finish his sentence, too stunned as he stared between the two of you. “What’s going on?”

Dazai stepped forward, letting his hands fall away from you as he cornered the newest addition to his long list of enemies. Already, you missed the warmth of Dazai’s touch, the security that came with his proximity.

Tanaka cowered before him, suddenly so small, weak under the breadth of Dazai’s power. A sense of twisted satisfaction curled within you, lightning up every pore under your cold skin.

“I believe you owe my wife an apology,” Dazai said, and his tone was even, hard, not a hint of amusement laced within the words. Tanaka’s eyes darted to you, where you stood with your arms loose at your sides, eyes softer, every inch of you more delicate now that Dazai was in the room. 

“Wife—” The word tumbled from his mouth before he could stop it, hesitant. “You said you didn’t know him. You asked me questions about him.”

You slid the ring back onto your finger, the one that you’d kept tucked away in the pocket of your bag. It glimmered in the beams of the moon, the diamond and rubies sparkling. “I can lie just as easily as a man can.” Crossing your arms, you sighed, and stared at Dazai’s taut back, the strained muscles in his shoulders as he stood over Tanaka. “You’re all so stupid sometimes. It only takes a simple question, and you never ask it. Anyone in that club could’ve told you who I am.”

He balked, considering his own ignorance, and followed your eyes back to Dazai, who had gone just a few steps behind you, to the small storage of top-shelf alcohol that you kept locked up in the room. “What is this about?” he asked, shaking his head to clear away his distress. “You’ve obviously brought me here for a reason. What is it?”

“I find it funny that you think you’re the one in control of the situation,” Dazai said, turning his back to fix himself a drink. He didn’t doubt that you would watch Tanaka for him with careful eyes. Even the smallest twitch of his eyebrows would be telling. “You don’t get to ask questions.”

“I haven’t done anything,” he said, and though his voice was hard, there was underlying panic. “I’ve stayed well out of the Mafia’s business, as promised—”

“Perhaps.” Dazai interrupted smoothly, coolly. “Our agreement wasn’t broken, per se. I just happen to think that working with outsiders is an act of much higher treason.”

Tanaka blinked, faltering. His jaw went slack, a mere second ticking before he replied. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t try to lie to me.” Dazai glanced over his shoulder, dark eyes narrowing. “I’m talking about Dostoevsky. The rats that are trying to take over my city.” He tsked, rolling the glass around on the counter, clinking it against the granite. Then, he popped a crystal bottle open, letting it fill a quarter of the glass.  “Such a shame. You’ve built quite a name for yourself in Yokohama. Is this really worth losing all that?”

Tanaka stuck both hands in his pocket, shaking his head vigorously. His fingers flexed against his sides. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know who that is, I’ve never crossed anyone by that name.”

Seeing an opportunity while Dazai’s back was turned, Tanaka began to pull out a pistol from his coat; one you had, stupidly, forgotten to check for. It seemed he doubted that you were a threat, and if he could just kill Dazai, you’d be an easy target.

You moved without thinking, making the single-step distance between you and Dazai. There was a gun relaxed at his waistband, and you stole it, knowing exactly where he kept it hidden. Before Tanaka could point his own at the head of your lover, you’d acted first, aiming Dazai’s gun, your jaw tense and back straight. “Put it down.”

Tanaka, caught off guard, locked his jaw, and his fingers twisted tighter around the handle of the gun, inching towards the trigger. For a moment, he contemplated, but even without knowing the thoughts in his mind, you could read his actions.

You wouldn’t give him the opportunity to do as he wanted. Instead, you fired your own gun, digging the bullet into his fingers, shattering them, blood spattering as Tanaka dropped the pistol to the floor in a ghoulish scream.

For a second more, he writhed in pain at your own hand, once again. You held your arm taut, before letting the gun drop to your side as Dazai hummed behind you. Tanaka had fallen to his knees, tears welling up, his vision glossy as he dropped the maimed hand to his thighs.

Dazai came up beside you, smiling at you, and brushed his fingers down your arm. Slowly, he took the gun, placing it back into his waistband, his touch electric on every centimeter of your skin. “You’ve handled it beautifully, my love.” Dazai squeezed your hand, tilting his head so dark hair cleared away from his eyes. “I can take it from here.”

You nodded, and though Dazai was, by no means, pushing you out of the room, he could see how exhausted you’d become by the whole ordeal. If you wanted to leave—and you did—he wouldn’t object.

“Will you be long?” you asked, just a whisper over Tanaka’s heavy breaths of pain.

Dazai laughed easily, his breath ghosting the bridge of your nose. “Akutagawa will be here soon.” A touch lingered on your hands for a minute longer before he pulled away completely. “Then, I’m yours for the rest of the night.”

It was already late, but you’d take whatever time you could get with Dazai, even if you were drained. You nodded, and he turned away, going back towards his enemy, pulling Tanaka up roughly by his collar. Dazai’s expression changed into a man you almost didn’t recognize, if it hadn’t been for the moments that you’d had to see him shift into the underworld’s fearsome demon.

You left the room, yawning, Dazai’s voice the last thing you heard before you shut the door silently.

“Now that you’ve learned your lesson, perhaps you’ll be more willing to tell me everything you know,” he said.

Despite Dazai promising to leave once Akutagawa arrived, he’d been gone for nearly two hours, with no indication that he’d be returning anytime soon.

You waited for him in the penthouse of the Port Mafia headquarters, the home you’d come to know well in the past few years. A glass of imported wine was beside you on the nightstand, resting between a book you’d been too tired to read before bed.

You sat up, unable to fall asleep, and chewed your lip thoughtfully. It seemed ridiculous, really, for you to already miss a man that you woke up next to and fell asleep beside every night.

Still, you couldn’t help the desperation in your chest, the need to see him, to brush the mask of the Port Mafia boss away so Osamu could take his place.  

You finished the wine, then headed towards the door. The room felt cold and lonely, and if Dazai wasn’t going to return soon, you’d just find someone else to bother on the lower levels of the building.

Though, just as you were about to slip on a pair of shoes, the door unlocked, swung on its hinges, and Dazai stepped through the threshold, a vision of gore and violence and every ounce the man you adored.

“Osamu,” you said, and even when you’d said his name a thousand times before, it still left your lips like a prayer. A smile formed, and you dropped your shoes, eyes sparkling, as you regarded the mess that he was in.

Dazai took one look at you and relaxed, shoulders falling as you closed the distance between the two of you. “Sorry it took so long, sweetheart,” he said, craning his taller frame down to kiss you.

You gripped the lapels of his coat, holding on tight as you pressed into him, deepening the kiss. Dazai’s bloody fingers cupped your cheeks, smearing red along your jaw, ruining your clean skin. Though, as you exhaled a sigh deep into his mouth, you couldn’t have cared less.

“I thought you said Akutagawa was going to take care of it?” you asked as Dazai released you, offering you a small, almost defeated smile.

He walked past you, towards the bathroom, feet dragging as he shrugged off his dark coat. Under the crisp top, his muscles were stiff, strained from all the stress. He wiped another hand over his face, doing little to clean up the mess of red that remained on his cheeks.

You followed him, trailing a few feet behind, feeling silly for wanting to cling to him so tightly. Yet, you couldn’t get enough of him, and you watched as Dazai remained silent, pausing in front of the mirror to regard his own appearance. He made a face in the glass as he gazed back into his own expression, sticking his hands under the faucet. The water ran in a steady stream, staining the sink a rose color as he scrubbed the blood from his fingers, his nails. There were parts of his bandages that had been soiled, and he ripped them right off, exposing pale wrists that hadn’t seen the sun in ages.

You mimicked his action, washing your hands in the second sink before scrubbing the blood from your face, clearing away the smear of maroon that he’d put there. The water shut off, briefly, and Dazai regarded you, frowning as you rid the evidence of his crime from yourself.

“I sent Akutagawa home.” Dazai finally answered your previous question and sighed, frustration evident. He stretched his hands over his head, the bones popping in one fell swoop. “Tanaka cracked right open; he really didn’t know anything.” He blinked at himself in the mirror once more, tidied his hair, then scowled. “He’s just a low man on the totem pole, and he paid for it with his life.”

Dazai seemed at odds with himself, and he drummed his nails against the countertop before patting his hands dry. The blood had been cleaned from his skin, and even though his hair was still unkempt, it was the only evidence that any wrongdoing had happened at all. Nothing but a speck of blood remained on his collar, the rest garnishing his coat instead.

You shifted, leaning against the counter. “Did you get anything out of him?”

“Names, a location.” Dazai clenched his jaw, fists tight at his sides. “He wasn’t lying, but who knows if they’re real or not. He could’ve been given fake locations. I’ve asked Ango to check on it.”

Dazai, once again, left you standing, contemplative, in the bathroom. You could hear him shuffle around in the other room; he released a small sound of relief as he stretched out his sore muscles.

When he’d finished moving around, you returned to the other room, and he was settled in the red armchair, legs spread out in front of him. Dazai rested his head against the back cushion, his eyes closed in serenity, a deep exhale expelling the tightness in his body.

It was almost a sight too serene to spoil.

“Do you want some space?” you asked, and though you’d always respect his wishes, that was the last thing you wanted to give him. You wanted to consume him completely, to press yourself against every crevice of his being and swallow him whole.

Dazai opened his eyes and blinked at you. Instead of replying, he smiled, slowly, and gestured to his thighs, sparing a glance at his knees.

Your heart pounded, launching its way up your throat, and you scrambled over yourself to crawl into his lap, straddling his thighs, the muscle strong beneath you.

Gently, he smiled at you, and brushed your hair over your shoulder to rub your neck. You let your arms rest on his shoulders, and slowly, you removed the bandage from his eye, hating whenever he tried to hide any part of himself from you.

You waited for him to protest, but he relented, and let you kiss his forehead, the very darkest parts of himself on display for you alone. It was hard not to collapse under the weight of your love for him.

You discarded the bandages, tossing them onto the table as Dazai tapped a pattern in the crevices of your skin.

For a moment, neither of you said a word. You noted every feature of his that you loved so dearly, and Dazai just watched you study him, tried hard not to smile against your lips when you kissed him.

If only he could see how beautiful he was, surely, he would understand that he deserved a life so much better than the one he’d been dealt. That someone with a smile brighter than a dying star shouldn’t have it taken away by years of endless anguish.

Finally, Dazai spoke, whispering your name in a tone he never used on any word but that one. “You don’t have to do this anymore if you don’t want to.”

“Hm?” you asked, tilting your head, so distracted by the endless galaxy within his eyes.

Dazai huffed, placing a possessive hand on your hip. His thumb grazed the bone and you shivered, smiling at him in confusion.

“Sweetheart, I don’t ever want you to feel like you’re obligated to do something just because you’re my wife.” He looked past you, an uncertainty beneath his words that he was ashamed of. “If you don’t want to take on any more assignments—"

“I told you already, Osamu,” you began, brushing the hair at the back of his neck that was hidden beneath the collar. “I don’t mind.”

“I know, but—” Dazai hesitated, his gaze steady on the doors behind you, the ones that led to your bedroom. Somehow, he seemed to think all the answers would be there, a script written out for him to recite to you. “Chuuya brought it up to me earlier. He said that I’m…” Dazai swallowed the words, shaking his head. “Look, it doesn’t matter. I just want you to promise me that you know if you want to stop, you can stop. Even if you wanted to quit the Port Mafia altogether, I’m happy to give you whatever you need.”

You smiled, kissing the wrinkle between his eyebrows in the hope that it would ease the anxiety in his expression. The tension was such an unusual thing for anyone but you to see, as Dazai had such trouble revealing his vulnerabilities to the world.

“I promise.” You swept your thumb over his lip, watching as it bounced right back into place, so soft and lovely. “I just don’t want to quit.” You leaned back on his lap, so you were able to see the entirety of his face.  

Dazai’s eyebrows drew together once more, putting that worry right back on his appearance, and a part of you hated that of all the things he had to be stressed about, it was something as silly as you not wanting to quit your job.

“Why?” Dazai asked, tilting his chin, searching the depths of your soul for an answer that would appease him. “I don’t understand. You hate them; you tell me you hate them every time they try and lay a finger on you.”

He wasn’t wrong, certainly not about something like that. You loathed that men looked at you like you were something that they could just steal away, like they were entitled to the subtle way that they brushed your hip in passing, caressed your back when they walked behind you.

You just didn’t hate everything about the work you’d been doing. After all, it was your idea.

“I just don’t want to,” you said, looking over his shoulder to the open curtains, the bright expanse of Yokohama laid out before you. Twinkling star lights from skyscrapers and the port in the distance. “It doesn’t matter.”

It was your home, your city, and it always would be. You wouldn’t let Dazai die, wouldn’t let anyone take him from you—including himself. You’d continue to do whatever it took to protect that. Whether or not you used your appearance to achieve those ends didn’t matter. When it was all said and done, Dazai’s enemies would be dead, and you’d still have him to come home to.

“It matters to me.”

You shook your head, chewing on your lip thoughtfully. There were a million different ways you could’ve explained it, but none that were intelligent. “It’s embarrassing, ‘samu.”

Dazai laughed, a genuine noise, and kissed your shoulder as you sighed, relaxing into him once more. “I can’t think of anything about you that could possibly be embarrassing.”

You held his gaze, wishing for him to relent, to just give up and let you have this one. Instead, he just smiled back patiently, hoping you’d reveal another part of yourself to him as he slowly traced your hard collarbone.

Those pools behind his eyes were too distracting, the thumb on your neck dangerously close to your throbbing pulse. You swallowed, letting him feel every movement as your throat bobbed up and down.

“I guess,” you said shyly, “I like it. I like leading on your enemies, letting them think that they could possibly have a chance with someone like me. I like the look on their faces when they realize they’ve been made a fool of, that the girl who they wanted so badly belongs so completely to the boss of the Port Mafia.”

Dazai studied you for a moment as you shrugged the revelation off, his deep brown eyes darting over every crevice of your face. “You want to make them jealous of me?”

“Maybe.” Your cheeks heated, and though you’d been together for years, loved him for even longer, you still shied under the weight of your own desire for him. “I don’t know. Maybe I just want them all to know that I’m as much the boss of the Port Mafia as you.” You wound your arms around his neck, anchoring yourself to him, the only person you’d ever need in the dangerous world. “They’re blind to their desire, and they refuse to see that I have complete control over them.” You smiled, lazily, fondly. “Don’t they know that this is my city, too?”

Dazai’s strength made an appearance then, and he gripped your cheeks, holding you with a spiraled mix of possession and affection. “It is,” he whispered, ghosting his lips across your own, “and I’d burn it all down before I let anyone take it from you.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest at his deepened tone, the seriousness that drew on his normally playful inflection. You grew hot, and a twist of desire started deep within you, spreading down easily, slowly turning your thoughts into a muddled mess.

“I know,” you said, trying to keep your words steady as Dazai drew lazy circles up and down your sides. “Everyone knows.” You met his eyes, soft, yet dark, clouded with a longing you weren’t unfamiliar to. “The woman who brought them to their knees is still nothing more than a simple fool for Osamu Dazai.” You inhaled drawing your fingers to his open collar, the crisp bandages around his chest. “What could they ever do to deserve that kind of devotion?”

Dazai waited, watched your smaller hand run across his neck, his smirk slowly growing on his lips. “I’m a lucky man, indeed,” he said, drawing the words out slow and lazily. He tipped your chin down to him, his smile displaying the almost sharpened points of his canines. Slender fingers caressed your hipbone, pressing you farther down onto his thigh.

You let out a small sound, not taking your eyes off of his as his expression grew wily, and the slip you wore slowly began to rise up your thighs, exposing the softer skin of your leg.

“I admit, I can’t stand that everyone in this city wants you so fucking bad.” Dazai sunk his lips to your neck, kissing the space between your shoulder and jaw. “But I can’t blame them. My beautiful angel.” He smiled under your jaw, gripping your hips harder, forcing you to drag against his thigh. A puff of air left your throat as Dazai grinned, spiking your arousal. “It’s for the best, isn’t it? I’ve ruined you for anyone else.”

Your eyes flashed; Dazai bounched his leg, just once, his eyes shining, every move calculated. He’d always known exactly how to touch you, and he’d never forget, never stop enjoying the way you jerked so easily under his palm, the way you were already trying to rub yourself against him.

“Osamu,” you began, desperate for just a moment of friction, to feel his rigid muscle drag against your cunt. You wanted him so badly that your heart stumbled over itself, all the love you held, locked up there and looking for a way out.

He made a sound of disapproval, holding you still with a tight grip on your hips. His fingers dug into the bone, but it did little to ease your aching need for him.

“See?” Dazai’s kisses were light as he whispered against the shell of your ear, the sound nothing more than a breath of air. “I barely have to touch you and you’re a whimpering mess.”

You swallowed, tugging at the hair at the base of his scalp, trying to remain steady, if only for him to give you what you wanted.

Dazai seemed to be in a generous mood, worn from the previous mission, and he was grinning lazily, two fingers slipping under your dress.

His grip loosened, and you shifted, letting him pull on the strap of your panties, drag them down your thighs, over your knees, to discard beside the chair. Already, there was evidence of your desire, a spot of wetness obvious against the red satin.

He let the garment hang between his fingers before he looked back at you, watching as it softly fell to the floor. “If only they knew how easy it was to get you wet,” he said, shrewdly, “they’d want you twice as much as they did before.”

You let out a soft whimper, trying to direct his beautiful hands back between your thighs. Though, Dazai kept his fingers away, and in an act of desperation, you pressed your forehead to his, conveying every ounce of your affection for him.

“Osamu,” you breathed, blinking into his warm irises, a shade of brown that had easily become your favorite. “I’m so crazy about you.” You kissed his cheeks, smearing your lip gloss all over the skin he’d just wiped clean. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you all night. Everyone in Yokohama watches me, but I ache for you.”

His eyes flashed, pleased, and he relented, nudging his thumb to the inner most part of your thigh. The smile was still mocking, but he gave you at least some relief; Dazai let you sink back down on his thigh, the pressure just enough to have you clawing your nails into his chest.

He kissed your nose, but kept you where you were, perched on the middle of his leg and much too far from his cock. “What would you ever do if I wasn’t here to take care of you, hm, darling?"

You softened; even if his gaze was taunting, there was utter devotion between his dilated pupils.

All those men who fell for your act may have been complete fools, but Dazai was even worse off than them: he was a fool in love.

“It’s so hard not to crawl into your arms every time you’re around,” you admitted, grabbing the buckle of his belt to undo it with a clank. The mere sound, the feel of the leather between your fingers, nearly had you salivating. “I’m stronger than a lot of men in Yokohama.” Your features contorted then, eyes vulnerable as you looked up at him through delicate lashes, no longer a vision of authority, but of someone who desperately wanted to be taken care of. “Not you, though.”

Dazai’s grip on you relaxed, and something in his eyes shifted, lips parting as an exhale left them. He said nothing as you removed the belt, and instead, let himself sink deeper into the cushion, bearing your weight.

Hastily, you pulled down the zipper of his slacks. The weight of his heavy cock in your hands was so familiar. You stroked him gently, watching for any reaction, and while his face remained steady, you could sense the change in his heartbeat.

“I don’t need you to be strong around me,” Dazai said. His voice had deepened, your name leaving his lips, raspy by the end of his sentence. “You can fall apart if you want to, my love.” His erection grew slowly in your palm, and he brought you closer, your bare, soaked cunt dragging against his thigh. “I’ll always be here to put you back together.”

You smiled, flushing as he hardened, his breath growing uneven. When you had him leaking within your palm, you shifted forward on your knees, grinning at his reddened cheeks. Dazai’s eyes drifted towards your chest, just inches from his face.  

Uncertain, you hesitated, even though you wanted him, needed him with every fiber of your being. It was an unfamiliar position. He could take control of the situation at any moment, but you weren’t usually the one looming over him.

“Osamu—”

“What?” he released with a sigh, and in one swift motion, lifted your hips so he was positioned at your entrance. “You walk around my nightclub in those dresses I buy you, force those pretty tits into other men’s faces, but now you’re too shy to fuck your husband?”

You made a face, knowing he was just trying to get a rise out of you, and if only to prove a point, you sunk down on him, your folds slick. Dazai slid into you easily, a sinful noise breaking the silence between you as he grinned. “I’ll f-fuck you,” you stuttered, swallowing under the heat of his watchful eyes. “It’s just…” Your words failed again as his cock went deeper in you, your focus entirely on your own pleasure.

“Just what?” He stopped you for a moment, planting you on his thighs, his cock still straining, filling you. Glaring, vibrating with need, you opened your eyes, lips parting as he whispered against your mouth “Finish your sentence, sweetheart.”  

“It’s not my fault, Osamu,” you said, on the edge of a whine, squirming within his hold. “I can’t help that they stare.”

He laughed, then, and it was just a brush against your swollen mouth, the one he kept coming back to. “They can stare all they want,” Dazai said, tilting your chin up. “As long as they know who you belong to.”

Finally, he let you go, his hands tracing the edges of your knees, and you started a slow, steady pace, gasping as you held onto his neck tightly. He bowed his head into your collarbone, and kissed you once, before leaning back lazily, watching you take and take and take.

“Doing so good, angel,” he said, watching you with such a passion that it was distracting, as he let his palms rest simply on your thighs. “You always look so pretty stuffed full of my cock, don’t you?”

“Feels so good,” you muttered.

“I know.” Dazai seemed too devilish with his dark hair fanned out against the red chair, grinning in a way that twisted up your insides, sweat beading down your forehead as you tried to reach your orgasm.

You were hot with his piercing gaze upon you, but he didn’t bother to move his hands, did nothing to even pretend like he was fazed. You sunk down faster, heart racing, as the muscles of your hips strained, burned. Already, you were growing tired, sleepy from a full evening, but still so desperate to come around him.

You leaned forward, trying to angle your body, gain some relief from the position. Though it did little, and instead you were left sighing in frustration, wishing that he would do anything, instead of just look at you with a lust blown smile.

With every moment, the pain began to grow, the ache in your legs far too much to give way to pleasure. You started back at Dazai, frustrated, eyes glossy with need.

Dazai laughed at you then; it wasn’t quite mocking, but it wasn’t kind either. “Don’t tell me you’re already tired.”

Frustrated and impatient as you dripped down your own thighs, you grabbed his throat, thrusting his head into the back of the chair.

Dazai, eyes wide with surprise, stopped smiling as you curled your hand around his neck, his fingers digging into your thighs.

“Are you just going to sit there, Osamu?” you said, your words high-pitched and desperate. “Or are you going to—”

The end of your sentence was cut off by him gripping the back of your hair, smashing your lips into his own. The hand on his neck fell away, drifting to the lapels of his bloodstained collar, as he brought you down hard on his cock, hitting a place deep inside you that you hadn’t been able to reach with your own strength.

Dazai’s fingertips left bruises on your skin as he devoured the inside of your mouth, bringing you down over and over, stretching your walls with each movement.

“So pretty and desperate for me,” Dazai laughed, but he was breathless, his own tenacity crumbling from adoration. “Can’t do anything by yourself, can you, baby?” His kisses were sloppy as he dragged them across your neck, tongue grazing the sharp vein under your ear.

“No, but you said—” you were losing your breath and your words. “You said you’d take care of me. I don’t want to cum all on my own, ‘samu.”

Dazai groaned, his gaze drifting down to the space between your bodies, where you were sucking him back in, your own body aligned with your heart, never wanting to let him go.

“Fuck,” he said, slamming you back down on his thighs, his eyes hazy with love. “Of course I’ll take care of you.” One hand guided your hips as the other curled around your jaw, setting the pace with half his strength. “You’re my whole world.” His words stuttered, aching cock twitching inside you. “I’m nothing without you, understand?”

You nodded, but you weren’t quite thinking straight, the words a jumbled mess when they entered your mind. “I love you,” you said, gasping the end of his name. “I love you, Osamu, need more.”

Dazai breathed, just as heavily, softening as he regarded you. He’d always loved the look on your face as you came apart. “You take it so well,” he said eyelids fluttering over hazy eyes, and he kissed your forehead. You dragged your hands all over his chest, just wanting to touch any part of him. “Wish you could see yourself. You’re so beautiful.”

You groaned, pulling him closer, until there was nowhere left to go, surrounded completely by Dazai; the smell of him, the taste of him. “Say it back,” you muttered, “say you love me too.”

He choked on a laugh, and the lewd sounds of your wet arousal were loud as he came in and out of you. “I love you, angel, you know how much I love you.” Dazai kissed you, then, and your heart sped at how hoarse his voice had become, how easily it was for you to make the most powerful man in Yokohama fall apart at the seams. “You’ve got a pretty ring to prove it, don’t you? I don’t want anyone but you. I never will.”

“Come inside me.” Your eyes squeezed shut as his cock reached impossibly deep within you, stretching you, your legs shaking as you tried to ignore the dull ache within your tense muscles. Tears sprang to your eyes, coating your lashes; it was almost devastating how much you loved him. “Please. Feel so full, ‘samu.”

“Yeah?” He reached between you to play with your clit, and you were so close, crying out a broken moan as he touched you. “Need to remind everyone that you’re my girl, hm?” He knew just how you liked to be touched, how easy it was to get you to come when he fucked you like you needed. “Want me to put a baby in you next, sweetheart? Shit.” He curled his fingers, bruising your mouth as he stole the oxygen from your chest. “Everyone would know then, wouldn’t they? How could they doubt you’re mine when you’re carrying my child.”

You cried out, then, breaking, spasming around his cock as you fell onto his chest. Dazai said your name, kissed the top of your head, but you were too full of love for him. You breathed heavily as he brought you down once more, twitching against him from the ache in your sensitive cunt.

A moment later, Dazai jerked, then came inside you, spilling his warm cum against your folds, the white ropes dripping down your thighs, staining his dark, wrinkled slacks. Slowly, he pulled out of you, letting you rest on his chest as you breathed, your legs sore. A gentle touch ran up and down your spine as Dazai wrapped his arms tight around you, his cheek resting against the top of your head.

“God, you’re perfect,” Dazai said, and his voice sounded almost broken, devastatingly emotional. “You can’t ever leave me, okay, angel? I need you right here by my side.” Lips grazed your temple, so sweetly, gently. “What’s the point of all this if I can’t share it with you?”

You smiled, resting your head in the crook of his neck, eyes full of tears as you kissed him. “I’m not going anywhere, Osamu. I promise.”

OCTOBER MASTERLIST - leave a comment on this post if you'd like to be added to the tag list

tag list: @satohruu (hannah i planned this one bc of your tags on my last pm dazai fic HDSFHSFH) @cha0thicpisces

#dazai x reader #bsd x reader #osamu dazai x reader #dazai osamu x reader #dazai smut #bsd smut #bsd x you #bsd x female reader #dazai x fem reader #bsd x y/n #osamu dazai x you #osamu dazai smut #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x you #bungo stray dogs smut #dazai x reader smut #dazai x you #osamu dazai imagines #xoxo rylie 💌 ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ #♰ theatre of vampires

[abyssruler]

you and scaramouche have been married for fifty years, but unlike your immortal husband, you’re a human who inevitably ages.

“yes, she’s my wife. yes, she’s seventy-eight. you got a problem with that?”

he stares thunderously down at the recruit who had stupidly asked who the old grandma hanging around their camp was.

#hey guys you know that one cute comic about the vampire and his human wife who have been married for a long time? #yeah that’s the one that inspired me #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #fem reader

[luveline]

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

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#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x reader imagine #eddie munson x reader hurt/comfort #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x afab!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things #vampire!au #vampire!eddie #vampire!eddie munson #vampire eddie au #vampire eddie smut #vampire eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #stranger things 4 #stranger things 4 spoilers #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x afab!reader smut #fem!reader #luveline's halloween party

[coeurify]

repost the period vampire ellie fic!

middle of the night,, vamp!ellie

a/n: this is a repost from early this year so excuse any change in writing style!

warnings: vampire!ellie. period sex. oral!r receiving fingering!r receiving. sort of a dreamy, less modern vibe. if u aren’t into it.. just don’t read it.

˚✦　.　　. 　  ˚　.　 . ✦　˚　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

Some times--Most times, you only saw her at night. When darkness enveloped the small town you called home, when the stars rocked the sleepy eyed humans to sleep and the moon hummed the lullaby that quieted the crickets outside, she came.

Only then did you ever hear the distinct creaking of the splitting wood on your window panes being pressed up. Only then did the white of your sheer curtains move with more than the wind, the grip of the air nothing compared to the long hand that often wrapped around the fabric and pushed it open. When the moon was the only light filtering into your room, you saw the green of her eyes.

Tonight was no different, despite one little issue. Often, the woman who visited you under the cover of midnight would arrive to your eyes closed in sleep. She would press a hand to your warm cheek before waking you, greeted by your sleepy excitement each time.

This time, you had not been able to sleep. A heat had taken over your body, tight in your stomach with a pain you would compare to that of claws gnawing at your insides. Sweat beaded between your brows with every swift turn under your uncomfortable sheets, lip tugged between your frustrated teeth to stop any whines of discomfort. That had been what your favorite visitor heard as her shaking palms found the wood of your window. Your pained grunts floated through her buzzing ears as she quietly made her way into your room, auburn hair messy behind her ears as her figure became visible, head tilted as she looked across the room to your heated body.

“El,” you whined, wiping your forehead with a hand, not at all concerned about her chosen point of entry. “Go away.”

Ellie’s gaze softened, a scoff sounding from behind your squeezed shut eyes. “Go away?” she mused, her voice much closer now.

The split second your eyes had been closed, Ellie had somehow silently made it to your bedside. You don't question it, you never do.

When a girl like Ellie sports small fangs and a taste for blood, her speed is the last thing you think to question.

“I don't feel well, don’t want you here.” you add, mouth pulled into pout as you look up at the freckled face of Ellie.

“Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong, bunny? Instead of shooing me away,” Ellie requests, sitting on the edge of your bed. Her cold hand finds your sweaty arm, sighing. “You’re burning up.”

Your neck tickles with heat as Ellie questions your current state, and you fall wordless. Somehow, it was more embarrassing to admit to your vampire visitor that you were starting your period than to simply tell her to leave. Obviously however, Ellie was not taking the second option as a valid answer.

“I started my period, nothing is helpin’ the cramps,” you explain softly, pressing your hand into the sheets of your bed to try and sit, to maybe find some sort of relief to the growing tension in your stomach. But the other set of hands is faster.

“Lay down,” Ellie insists, glancing down at you. You can almost see the cogs of her brain turning behind the evergreen in her eyes, a sort of fogginess settling over the color.

“Let me help you,” she eventually says.

“What? I told you nothi-”

Ellie presses her lips together to hush you, one wandering hand finding the dip of your hip, blunt nail tracing the goosebump coated flesh there. Sometimes she liked being so cold, simply because she enjoyed seeing how you reacted to it. If she was damned for what she was, she may as well use some of it to her advantage.

“What are you doing?” You couldn't help the shiver that followed her movements.

Suddenly your mouth feels dry, tongue unable to wet the plump fat of your lip. The scratching in your throat finds no comfort when you swallow, only further irritating your vocal chords. A choked noise finds the heavy bedroom air as fingers tug at your cotton shorts.

“Helping you,” Ellie repeats, her own mouth much more wet than yours. Even in the dim light of the moon you can see the glistening dew on her parted lips. Usually the look she currently wears is saved only for when her pearly teeth find the sensitive and already scarred skin of your neck. Not for.. this.

Your hands immediately slap to your heated cheeks. “Oh my god Ellie, no fucking way.”

The vampire, who had now moved below you on the bed, hums in disagreement to your little show of kicking feet, a hand too strong to be that of a human halting all movements.

“We always have fun when I come over,” The freckles of her face disappear as she glances down, fully pulling down your shorts.

“Not when I’m on my period,” you hiss quietly, the words feeling cracked and embarrassed as they leave your mouth. You could deny the growing arousal in your belly simply by how *mortified* you felt. Even with the churning feeling of deeply settled embarrassment, you make no further moves to stop Ellie. Not as the shorts fall to the floor with a dull thump.

“It’ll help,” Ellie soothes, the near frigid temperature of her hand calming the heat that rises on the skin of your legs. “Haven’t you heard things like this help with cramps?”

The words that are spoken almost teasingly fall upon deaf ears as her wet lips press right above your knee. “Please,” the auburn haired girl whispers, sounding a lot more breathy than before. “Please, let me taste you. Let me make you feel better. ”

Ellie had a tendency to become a little less cold, figuratively at least, when she found her body nestled between your own. The unwavering voice you had grown oh so accustomed to always slid into a more mushy sounding version whenever it got intimate. Today, it seemed even worse. The words dripped with the sweet sounds of neediness, a sound that tasted sweet on your tongue, which swiped nervously over your dry lips.

“El..” Another kiss pressed further up the flesh of your warm thigh broke any following denial. “Fuck..” your chin wobbles, almost too embarrassed to actually say your following words, “Yea. Please help.”

You were sure if you believed something was watching down on you from the sky, it was with horror. Some people may call what Ellie was doing sinful. The angels in the clouds would shrilly gasp as fingers wrapped around your panties and tugged them and everything else from your bottom half, tossing them into the growing pile of clothes. Her shirt came next, the simple white cloth acted as something to watch as it pulled off of her chest, likely to avoid any mess. Some may call the sight of her dipping down again, green eyes looking up at your quivering lip, sinful. Maybe it was, surely the mewl you made when her lips found the heated flesh of your inner thigh was. But if you had to describe it, that wasn't the word you would use. You may even swear it was heavenly.

“Relax,” Ellie drawled, spreading your thighs further apart, despite the slight tremble to them. “I’ve got you, don't worry,” her voice soothed you enough to tilt your head back against the pillow, squeezing your eyes closed. The embarrassment simmered low in your belly, even more so when you could feel the arousal that dripped from you, which your vampire visitor had no problem pointing out. “So wet for me,” she groaned, lips still refusing to find home anywhere other than your thighs. Teeth sharper than your own nipped at the skin there, bucking your hips up. “You want this, don’t you?”

It was an obvious request for another confirmation of what was to come, but your chest felt too tight to reply, no air finding your lungs the moment her breath hovered over your pulsing core. “Tell me you want it,” she requests again, voice dipping into a softer territory again, searching for your approval. Her resolve was cracking however, jaw clicking as she tried her best not to dive straight into where she craved to be.

“I do,” you whine, eyes still closed as you answered, words met with the quick and overwhelming feeling of her tongue pressing flat against your wet center. You couldn’t think too hard about the fact she was doing this right now, not when the sharp gasp had come from two mouths instead of one, a quick call of, “Fuck,” from only you this time followed. Ellie had no words, not as her tongue made another long stripe up your pussy, going much slower than you liked. It led one small roll of your hips down into her, a sign for what you searched for.

It resulted in a hand gripping your hip, pressing you further down into the mattress, ceasing any attempt to control the movements. Her mouth pressed further into you, licking at the same excruciatingly slow pace, seemingly taking her time to enjoy the taste she found between your thighs. “El,” you gasp, eyes fluttering open to glance down at her. However her eyes were closed, another press further into you came, her nose bumping your clit as she licked into you. The rush it brings is almost enough to completely paint over the lingering cramping in your stomach.

The dizzying mixture of pain and pleasure seeps into your bones, making you feel too heavy to do much else than move a hand to find Eliie’s hair, fingers tangling between the auburn strands. You tried again to guide her movements, but she was much stronger than you, paying little mind to the shaky hand that tugged at her locks.

“Taste so fuckin..” she sucked in a breath, unable to keep from dipping back into your folds, humming. “So fuckin’ good,” she finishes, words reverberating against your throbbing core. It had you trying to squirm, held down by the stone light weight of Ellie’s grip. The deeper she licked, the more you fought against her. Your body ached the do something.. anything to find comfort in the overwhelming feeling of her still slow pace. The fingers in her hair tugged again, finding a low groan in response.

The air of the room had already been heavy on your feverish skin, but now it was nearing a state of unbearably humid. Every time Ellie’s tongue made a particularly aimed movement you felt another round of fire straight in the mess that was your clenching core. It all felt so heightened, so much better. The sticky feeling on your skin did not slow either of you down, and you had little care for the sweat beading on your flesh. Not when your favorite girl’s lips were doing such mind numbing things to you.

Had you told your past self, even that of just an hour ago, that you would have allowed it to happen.. They would have laughed in your heated face. The past version of you would have sworn up and down, prayed up to the mysterious sky, that this would never happen. But now- now you have no room for denial or regret. Your mind was becoming too cloudy to house thoughts of shame, questions of if this was right. Because it felt right. The slick sound of Ellie’s mouth against you sounded right, as did your little huffs and puffs that you couldn't hide. The cramps had subsided in tandem with the tightening band in you. But you needed more, and you were gone past a point of being embarrassed to ask for it.

“I need..” you try to speak, but Ellie’s lips wrapping around your clit is the cause of the death of the forming words. A jolt of your hips is one finally strong enough to rupture the heavy hold of the vampire’s hand. Your lame attempt at a command did not go unheard by Ellie, who for the first time since this began, pulled herself away from your cunt. Her eyes darted up, looking to meet your own. But you were far too focused on something else. Her lips were glassy with your wetness, which she licked without a second thought. But the usual clear sheen that you had been no stranger to seeing on her face was more of a rosy color, a stark reminder of the reason this had begun in the first place. The slight tint of red smeared onto her chin, across the corners of her mouth, and it was oh so addicting to see. You felt no lingering shame, no shiver of disgust. Instead it made you feel even more desperate to have her against you again, but first you had to listen to her speaking. “Need what, babe?”

The urge to simply shove her face right back into your cunt flipped through the pages of scenarios in your head, but the moonlight that painted the side of your lover’s face, illuminating the red paintbrush stroke of you, had you a little too separate to risk such a bratty action.

“I need more, El. Need to cum,” you manage to whine, one light push of her head to prove your point. Ellie dipped her head down again, pressing small kisses to your sticky inner thighs. “Just love taking my time with you,” she muttered, a few more pecks planted on you were a search for forgiveness, one you graciously accepted with a loud moan when the lips finally found your clit again.

Ellie seemed to take your beg to heart, the hand that held your hip slowly dipping between your thighs. Her searching fingers met just below her chin, one long digit sliding over your slit, teasing the weeping hole with a slight press. The air feels like it has been punched from your lungs when the finger sinks into you, just as evil as her mouth as it curls into you the exact moment her lips suck a little harder. You were sure she was looking to torture you with how slowly the finger pumped in and out, working and exploring around your walls that gripped around her so tightly.

You had always heard the mythical vampire was sadistic. Ellie had never been much of that, but with ever slow movement into your aching cunt, you began to believe the whispers. Your head turned lightly to stare at the open window, the stars that dipped in the night sky were surely spotlighting your body splayed out on the bed, the auburn haired vampire between your thighs was quite the show for all the celestial beings up in the night air, every single being held its breath and watched on, you were sure of it. You didn't blame the stars, or the moon, or whatever else may have their attention focused on this tantalizing sight. If you could, you would float right out of your body to watch on yourself.

Surely you looked a mess, chest heaving with the heat of the air, with the heat of Ellie. Your limbs shook just lightly, your fingers knotted your companions hair, the messy pile of clothes on the floor, the red that painted her cheeks. Surely it would make your cheek turn bashfully if you could see it. Maybe this was sinful. The little dip into your rushing thoughts is ended with the raspy tone of Ellie’s voice.

“Relax, bunny. Gotta relax for me,” Ellie cooed against you, a few more languid presses into your cunt causing you to finally loosen around her, coupled by the continuing ministrations from her mouth on your clit. Soone another finger joins the mix, the large fingers stretching you just right. She reaches spots that have you remembering the stars you had just seen behind the black of your squeezed shut eyes, a pathetic cry falling from your lips. This reaction only encourages her to continue, the pace of her suckles and thrusts into you speed up. It's harsher everytime she plunges into you, your hips moving lightly with the pure force.

“That’s my girl, there you go,” she compliments after a long moan, the words causing another clench around her fingers. You let out another string of incoherent whines and moans, grinding down into her messy face and fingers. Somewhere in the back of your mind you cursed yourself and Ellie for the certainly ruined bedspread under your ass, but it seems like the much smaller issue when you had *this* to focus on. You were nearing your peak, and it was no secret. Your grinds against Ellie became sloppy, ununiformed and more needy than before. No words could form on your tongue, only whimpers and unintelligible begs.

The vampire never lets up, curling her fingers, your walls clenching. her teeth grazed against your clit lightly enough to have you trembling, whining softly. She knows your body as well as you do, every small sign you were reaching the final moments before your world would explode. She knew what moves of her fingers would have your legs shaking, knew where to press, how hard to go. She was no stranger to making you cum, and she definitely was on the mission to make it happen now. Her free hand grips your thigh, pushing you even more impossibly open for her, fingers pressing into you harshly enough to draw another cry. She readjusts slightly, sinking even deeper into your folds. “C’mon,” Ellie whispers, the word slightly broken, shaky and pleading. Pleading as if she needed you to come as much as you did.

Maybe she did, because the moment your back arched, a near pornographic moan filling the heavy air, spilling out of the window and swirling against the peeping eyes of the stars and moon, she moaned with you. Her fingers still within you as you gushed around her, her lips still pressed to your clit. But as your thighs shook, she slid the fingers out and replaced them with her tongue again. The pink muscle flattened against your slit again like it had earlier, this time with no attempt at going slow.

If anything, she was ravenous. Every drop your pulsing center gifted her, she sucked down like she needed it, ignoring your desperate whines of overstimulation. You attempted lamely to press her head away with the hand still tangled in her scalp, but it was no use. The pleasure of her tongue was much too overwhelming to fight.

After a moment that felt like hours, she pulled away. Her tongue licked over her lips again, collecting the rosy colored cum from where it smudged there. Her eyes stayed on your own blinking irises as her fingers raised to her already messy lips. They were coated with the same mixture of red and clear shining wetness, and she sunk them into her mouth with a moan. The debautchary that took place in front of your eyes should have your stomach queasy, should have your legs closing and pressing far away from Ellie.

But of course it doesn't, instead you watch on with morbid curiosity, watching her tongue curl around her fingers, sucking the last bits of you, leaving a glistening layer of her own spit behind. She found no shame in this situation, no shame in drinking down evey single thing you would give her, so why should you?

“Fuck,” you breathe, eyes transfixed on the fingers as they fall from her lips and down to her lap, her eyes back on your own. She makes a move to crawl over you, arms locking you in from either side.

“Just got a taste of you bunny,” she mumbles, nudging her head into the crook of your neck.

Her lips pressed there, and this time you could feel her fangs under the plump fat of her lip. “Gonna let me have more?” she questioned.

Of course you would, of course you did. As you tilted your neck for her, the curtain to the side of you blew in the wind, and you closed your eyes.

“Yes.”

#vampire!ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x fem reader #ellie williams x f!reader #ellie williams smut

[caraphernellie]

vampire!ellie fucking you in front of a mirror... ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .

cw: vampire!ellie, mirror sex, oral + fingering (r!receiving), blood sucking, degradation, slight dacryphilia, i'm sleep deprived

18+ smut drabble !! minors do not interact please !!!

outside it’s dark, inside, nothing but flickering candlelight to illuminate your jerky movements and incessant writhing. the mirror catches your every little movement, how your back arches and your arms tremble in holding yourself up, sitting on the edge of the bed. 

what the mirror doesn’t catch is her. ellie, knelt between your legs. her tongue slides through the folds of your pussy, dripping spit onto your swollen clit tauntingly.

her impurity hides her reflection. the silver mirror is too effective against unholy forces, and thus she can’t be seen. you choose not to stare into your lonely reflection, instead looking down at the vampire’s hard gaze. she elicits soft mewling from your lips as she slurps and laps at you, tongue thrusting in and out of you and pulling strings of arousal and saliva with her. ellie’s hands are strong, pushing your thighs apart so wide.

pulling away briefly, ellie replaces her tongue by sliding her fingers into you all too easily. you quiver as her mouth latches onto your neck. she’s leaving light kisses on already sucked and bitten skin, but you know what it means. her thirst is getting the best of her, and she has to satiate herself.

“stop fuckin’ looking at me,” ellie demands, her free hand pressing a bruising grip into your jaw as she focuses your vision toward the mirror. “just watch yourself, and think about what you’re doing, slutting yourself out to me.”

the reflection is sinful. absent in the mirror are ellie’s slender fingers fucking you. all that can be seen is the way your hole stretches and clenches around them, dripping with lewd essence. it’s rough and fast and you can barely keep up, legs shaking with the anticipation of ellie’s bite, and the way you’re fast approaching the edge of pleasure.

and when it finally comes, sharp fangs sinking into the invitingly soft skin of your neck, you arch your back and let out a whine downright pornographic in nature. ellie doesn’t focus on your peak of pleasure, nor your tears, or the way you gush all over her fingers. she only focuses on the novelty of your saccharine blood which she can’t stop drinking. a selfish pursuit of satisfaction for her bloodthirsty urges. 

she doesn’t stop, not until she’s full, and you’re weak and overstimulated.

#⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ fanfic #ellie williams x fem reader #tlou2 x reader #ellie williams x reader #lesbian #ellie x reader #vampire!ellie

[vxntagedior]

the aftermath

summary | as the poe cup has come around, xavier finally finds the chance to tell you your feelings, but he expressed them at the wrong time

pairing | xavier thorpe x fem!reader

warning | fluff, angst, xavier is hopelessly in love and an idiot, miscommunications, yoko being the bestest friend, it's mentioned reader is a vampire

word count | 1.6k

You couldn’t feel like celebrating, the team gathered in yours and Yoko’s room, well except for Wednesday. 

Numbly sitting on your bed, you watched as Enid, Yoko and a few other girls from Ophelia came to celebrate, dancing around with the cup. 

“Aren’t you happy Y/n?” Enid turned to you. You finally came out of your head looking up at her. “You okay, you don’t look so good.”

Looking up at them, you sighed, ��Xavier kissed me today.”

There was a moment of silence before all the girls cheered around, squealing. Yoko pulled you from the bed, hugging you tightly.

“See, I told you it was bound to happen.” They smiled, “He likes you back.”

“See, I told you it was bound to happen.” They smiled, “He likes you back.”

“Wait,” Divina interrupted, though not around the winning team, she came in support for Yoko, “when did it happen? You never went away from the group.”

“During the Poe Cup.”

“You all stay here, and watch over the boat!” You yelled to Yoko, Enid and Wednesday before running off into the forest. 

Ajax and Xavier had a head start of you but you were determined to make it ahead and finally win the cup this year. 

Looking back, you saw Bianca slowly coming in the background, whipping your head back around, bumping into someone.

“Woah watch where you’re going.” You felt them wrap their hands around your bicep to stabilize you before helping you stand up straight. 

“Xavier.” You sighed. As much as you wished for something to happen, you couldn’t let anything get in your way of getting that flag. 

“In such a rush?” There was a playful glimmer in his eyes, “I think we have it this year.”

“In your dreams.” You clipped back. 

“Oh, I do dream of you.” Your eyes soften slightly at the statement, before you remember where you are.

“Let me go!” You tried to wrestle out of his grip. Xavier was adamant of having you in his arms, and didn’t seem like he wasn’t going to let go anytime soon. 

“Leaving me so soon.” He smirked, “One more thing.”

You couldn’t even think after what happened. One second you could see the flag in your field of vision and the next, you felt being pushed against a tree, with Xavier’s lips on yours. 

His hands slowly trailed down your arms, wrapping them around your waist, your hands subconsciously placed on his chest. You couldn’t even register what was happening, dreaming of this moment. 

Kissing him back, your hands were wrapped around his neck, pulling him down closer to you. 

Feelings his hands dance around your torso, you heard the sound of footsteps coming closer and closer. 

“I got it!” Your eyes widened at the sound of Ajax’s voice, pulling away from Xavier, seeing Ajax behind him with the flag in his hand. 

Putting two and two together, you looked at Ajax then looking back at Xavier who had that cocky smirk on his face. 

“Good luck.” He whispered in your ear before running off. 

You felt embarrassed, angry, all whirlwinds of emotions. Swallowing it down, you ran to grab the flag before sprinting back to the boat. 

“What took you so long!” Enid practically screamed, pulling you back into your spot. Having the clear vision of you guys holding the Poe Cup, you couldn’t think of what had just happened, rowing even faster. 

The four of you started to row back, passing the AmontiLlado boat, seeing them starting to sink. You felt proud at the moment seeing Xavier’s face of defeat but turning back. 

You ran behind Enid and Wednesday ran towards the finish, you all cheering for your victory. 

“He kissed while I went to get the flag, and he-uh kissed me to distract me while Ajax was able to get their flag.” You confessed. 

“Oh honey.” Yoko cooed, wrapping their arms around you, leaning your head onto their shoulder. 

You didn’t want to cry, it was supposed to be a happy moment but nonetheless, you felt your eyes starting to water. Letting the tears cascade, you sobbed out loud. 

“I really liked him.” You cried, the rest of the girls all sat around you, consoling you. “And he used me!”

“He’s not worth it.” Enid said softly. 

On the other side of campus, Ajax sat at the edge of Xavier’s bed, watching him pace back and forth in his room. 

“Dude, you're giving me a headache.” Ajax said, “Can you say something.”

“God, I’m so stupid.” Xavier muttered for the hundredth time at night, pulling at the roots of his hair. 

“Anything but that.” Ajax sighed, he didn’t know how long he heard him muttering under his breath, “Just talk to her.”

“I can’t.” Xavier looked up at his friend, “You didn’t see her face, she looked heartbroken, it was like I betrayed her.” It wasn’t one of his best moments, but Xavier couldn’t hold it in anymore and kissing you while grabbing the flag wasn’t the time. 

He planned it all, after you or him won, he wanted to tell you how he felt, kiss you then. 

“Explain to her then.” Ajax offered, “You can’t avoid her forever.”

But you did. 

The following Monday, you walked through Nevermore with Yoko, ignoring Xavier like the plague, which was a pain because of the numerous classes you had with him. 

Walking into Mrs. Thornhill’s class, you started to make your way towards the back to sit with Yoko, but frowning when you saw Enid there. She sent you a sheepish smile before looking over your shoulder. Furrowing your eyebrows, you looked over your shoulder to see the station where Xavier was sitting, with an empty seat next to him. 

Turning around you looked back at Enid and Yoko, sighing and rolling your eyes behind your sunglasses. 

Setting your stuff down the table, you took the seat next to him. 

“Hey.” He whispered, turning towards you, “You’re wearing your sunglasses, you never do.”

It made you feel a little happy that he noticed things about you, but shaking it off. 

The sun never bothered your eyes that much, never really needing to wear sunglasses, but after spending most of the weekend crying, your eyes were red and puffy. 

“Alright class.” Mrs. Thornhill called, you thanked whoever saved you at that moment. 

Xavier was dying to talk to you, get your attention, anything. Looking out of the corner of your eye, you saw him scribbling on the back side of his paper, his eyebrows furrowed. 

Looking up at Thornhill, you saw something being slid by your books, you looked down, seeing the self portrait of yourself. It was from the Poe cup, the cat makeup on your face, and the ears that Enid made you wear. 

Your eyes soften slightly, seeing how beautiful the picture was. Collecting yourself, you pushed it back to Xavier, gathering your stuff before walking out of class. 

“Y/n, wait up!” Xavier called for you in the crowded hallway. You turned back, seeing how everyone had been looking at the two of you. You wanted to talk, but you didn’t need half the population of Nevermore listening in. 

“C’mon.” It was the first thing you had said to him in three days. Walking ahead of him, Xavier was on your heels, letting you take him anywhere. Arriving in front of the Poe statue, you look around the corridor before snapping twice. 

As the statue started to move back, you both walked down the stairs in the Nightshades library. 

Both of you stood in the middle of the room, both of you waiting for the other to talk. 

“I just want-” Xavier started. 

“Did you mean it?” You interrupted him. Your voice held no emotion, your body was stiff waiting for his answer. 

“What?” He asked. 

“Did you actually want to kiss me or was it to distract me?” You explained further. 

“No, of course not.” Xavier shook your head. 

You couldn’t help but start to ramble, “Because if it was, that was truly cruel, everyone knows how I feel about you and if you used my feelings to try to win, I don’t think I can be around you anymore and-”

Before you could finish, Xavier grabbed the side of your face, his hands on your cheek while his thumbs cradled your jaw, kissing you. You breath sucked in, your eyes wide, not even registering what was happening.

Your hands pushed against his chest, pulling him away from you. 

“You can’t do that.” Your voice faltered. “You can’t play with my feelings like that!”

Xavier’s hands were still on your face, moving away from your cheeks, pulling your sunglasses off your face. 

He saw the tears in your eyes, using the pad of his thumb, to wipe away the tears that started to cascade down your cheek. 

“I love you.” He said softly, his thumb caressing your cheek. “And I’m an idiot.”

“You are.” You laughed quietly. 

“Ajax told me I finally needed to tell you, and I had this whole plan, kissing you after the race, when we won.”

“When I win.” You corrected him. 

“Right.” He smiled, before continuing. “And what happened during the forest, I just couldn’t hold it in anymore, I was an idiot for leaving you like that, I should have explained myself afterwards.”

“You really love me.” Your hands were wrapped around his wrists.

“Of course I do.” He smiled. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life telling you.”

“Yoko’s gonna freak when I tell them.” You chuckled. 

“Really.” He started to smile, “I just told you I love you and all you’re thinking about is Yoko’s reaction.”

“Of course.” You smiled. “So are you gonna kiss me again?”

“For the rest of my life.”

fin.

#xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe x fem!reader #xavier thorpe #wednesday #percy hynes white #wednesday addams #yoko tanaka #enid sinclair #ajax petropolus #divina #xavier thorpe x girlfriend!reader #xavier thorpe x vampire!reader #vampire!reader #nevermore academy #nevermore

[astralnymphh]

Vampire Ellie has a chock hold over me. Because if I had to die and the way I was going to was Ellie sucking me out, then I’m sat and ready

vampire!ellie lulling you into a blurscape from below the beltline. not to use you; rather, to ease the daytime troubles weighing your conscience and to satiate her blood drive. a win-win.

large text vers . masterlist . DAILY CLICK . IMPORTANT TLOU POST . PALESTINE INFO

18+ !!! SMUT !!!

𓆩✧𓆪

no bcus imagine the way you go out (pass out if you aren't that committed) is by ellie seating her pale, lusty-lidded face between your spread legs, womanhandiling the hind of your knees apart enough to tense your hamstrings, and latching those ridged pearls in the meat your thigh— free hand playing about your pussy. got her thumb extended to grind your clit and her dual toying fingers stuffed past your pussy lips, drawing so much cum at the bottom of your relaxed slit from incalculable orgasms (you're too blissed out to even follow count, or perhaps it's the volume of your blood swilled into her body by now). minutes ago, her pink tongue was lapping nastily at your gleaming folds and teasing her sharp teeth along your folds in repeated strokes, so the liquids painting her face are a mix of crimson and sleek, streaks lining her lips, tainting her nose, staining her chin— a delectable combination, in her delirious mind. unsheathes her fangs and peaks above your pussy hill every so often to check if you've succumb to a darkened haze yet, softly encouraging you if that case is still found cold, "ts' just me babe, you can give in. that's it— oh, there you go.." presses her thumb further into the bloated bud when your eyes begin to husk over, the misty sight of auburn and near-white waning as you drowse, slow as molasses, "focus on my fingers, mhm. good girl, good— gonna' mark you somewhere else now, kay?" affirming so kindly, kinder when you watch a blurry line tug into the semblance of a crooked smile, staring at you. and she's so handsy; open mitt traveling up to cradle your slumped head. massages the swells of your cheek right as a weak wince flutters off your lips, a reaction to her teeth claiming purchase upon your opposing thigh, tiny suckles fade in your hearing as you finally lapse into sedation.

told you vampire!ellie brainrot is occuring

#ellie williams #⤹𓍢ִ໋aestras asks #vampire ellie #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie tlou #lesbian #sapphic #ellie x reader #ellie williams x fem!reader #ellie williams fic #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams blurb #ellie williams concept #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x y/n #softdom!ellie

[fandoms--fluff]

Hey do you think, you could do one of the Mikaelson have a little sister like 2 years old and always what to stay with Nik and Elijah….. also she is so jealous that Camil and she do something to her and Nik tells that she is a mini me

Loathing

Flufftober, October 6th

Mikaelson little sister reader x Elijah Mikaelson x Klaus Mikaelson

Warnings: mention of blood

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You're sitting in Elijah's lap, playing with two Chelsea dolls you got some years ago, while he's on the phone with someone. It's quiet except for the sound of your big brother's voice every now and then.

It's all peaceful until Kol comes crashing into the room and sits on the ground in front of you. You tilt your head and hand him one of the dolls. "Play!" You tell him.

Kol nods and plays with you, making a horrible high-pitched voice for the doll which makes you laugh, but Elijah cringes and hopes he stops soon.

It's been ten minutes, "What the bloody hell is that horrible sound?" Klaus walks in, he clearly just got back from wherever he was. Most likely Cami, but he never discloses that information, knowing you've openly shown your dislike for her.

"Our brother's wonderful voice for a doll" Elijah sighs, putting his phone down.

"Hey! My voice is amazing!" Kol exclaims, hearing the insult and sarcasticness in Elijah's answer. "Yeah!" You cross your arms like Kol is.

"See! Y/n knows what she's talking about" Kol says as Klaus picks you up out of Elijah's lap and places you on his hip. You wrap your tiny arms around his neck and relax your head against his shoulder.

"Y/n is also two, I think you need a better defense" Klaus raises an eyebrow. "Technically she's over a thousand like all of us... I'll shut up" Kol says, seeing the looks he's getting from the big brothers.

Kol, having both dolls in his hand, places them down on the coffee table before leaving the room. He plans to go into town and create some havoc that all of his siblings (besides from you) will have a fuss about, but it'll be fun.

Later in the week, there's a party being thrown in the abboiter. It's all vampires and humans for them to feed on. Some to kill and some to compel away.

"Well, this seems to be quite the turn out" Rebekah walks over to you and Klaus, who's carrying you tightly in his arms. "Indeed it is, sister" Klaus smirks.

"Look at you all dressed up" Rebekah coos, running a hand through your hair. "I did all by my'elf" you say excitedly. You're wearing a long sleeve dark purple dress that flows out under the bodice, and matching purple glittery jelly shoes that are put on the wrong feet. But Rebekah didn't want to tell you that and make you feel bad or make you upset at yourself. You also have a couple bead bracelets on your wrists and a heart necklace that Elijah gave you that you never take off. Your daylight ring is on your right pointer finger as well.

"Well good job, beautiful girl" Rebekah kisses your forehead before noticing Cami making her way over, and leaves to go back into the crowd.

"Hey Klaus," Cami smiles. "Camille, You look beautiful" Klaus kisses her. "Mmm, thank you" she says.

You make a disgusted facial expression before facing back the other way and laying your head back on your big brother's chest. You wonder how thus girl seems to be everywhere and why she always comes up to you and your big brother. Why don't they just make her go away like other woman they have before. You don't know what happens to them, but you assume it's fine.

Your siblings make sure you're kept out of all the killing and death during your existence.

As they keep talking, you try to ignore them to the best of your abilities. How much longer, you keep thinking. You try looking for Elijah, so your other big brothers can take you away from them, but no luck. You can't seem to find him anywhere from where you're placed on Klaus' hip.

As soon as you hear her chuckle at something Klaus said, your 2 year old self gets fed up. So, you take off one of your bracelets and throw it as hard as you can at Cami's face.

Now you may be biologically two, but you're still an original vampire, and with that comes a lot of strength. The bracelet made a great slash in her pale cheek, now blood running down her face.

Klaus quickly vamps into his room with Cami and you still in his hold. He sets you down on his bed as he bites into his wrist and offers it to Cami.

As she drinks blood from his wrist, Elijah comes into the room, noticing Klaus vamping out of the courtyard with the both of you.

"What happened?" Elijah asks. You stay quiet, as you sit crisscross apple sauce on the bed, happy that Elijah's here, and even though Cami is now healed, you did something for her to stop talking. You really don't like her.

"Um, I'm fine, though I think it's time for me to go" She sighs, glancing at you before walking out of the room to go back to her apartment.

"What happened was someone decided to get a bit violent" Klaus informs him, facing you. Elijah follows his gaze, landing on your face. You have a slight smile on your face. Yay! you made Cami leave.

"Why did you hurt Camille, y/n?" Elijah walks over and crouches in front of you so you're face to face.

"Bad Cami! Don' li'e her" answer front forwardly. Elijah raises his eyebrows. It's known you're not a fan of the woman, but you've never actually said it out loud up until now.

Klaus chuckles. Elijah turns his line of sight to him, "What do you have to snicker about?"

"Oh, just the thought of y/n is slowly turning into a mini version of me" Klaus smiles and holds a thumbs up at you. You have a big grin on your face. "Niklaus, do not encourage this behavior" Elijah sighs. It's going to be a long life if this is going to keep happening regularly.

A new rule is set in place to make sure that you're never in the same room with Cami with less than one of your siblings. And that one day they can hopefully get you to like Cami and not loathe her.

#klaus mikaelson #elijah mikaelson #klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus mikaelson x little sister reader #klaus mikaelson x sister reader #klaus mikaelson x female reader #klaus mikaelson x fen reader #elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikaelson x sister reader #elijah mikaelson x little sister reader #elijah mikaelson x female reader #elijah mikaelson x fem reader #mikaelson sister reader #female mikaelson reader #mikaelson little sister reader #mikaelson little sister #mikaelson sister #vampire reader #rebekah mikaelson #kol mikaelson #cami o'connell #fluff #cute #fanfic #writing #imagines #thevampirediaries #theoriginals

[succubusmunson]

All Night Long

Pairing: Vampire!Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Your period cramps are horrible but Eddie knows just how to fix them.

Warnings: vamp!eddie, period sex, blood kink, oral (m and f receiving), mocking, begging, praise kink, fingering, biting, choking, spanking, hair pulling, pet names, name calling, unprotected sex, squirting, overstimulation, creampie, little aftercare

WC: 4.4K

(first time ever writing vamp!eddie and period sex, please enjoy it!)

Remember to reblog and support the author!

You and Eddie were on the couch, and while he was comfortably watching the old movie on the television, you were stirring in your seat.

You could feel it the moment it started, the small shock of cramps making you cringe. Out of all the times to start your period, why now when you were with your boyfriend? 

Eddie noticed you stirring, a mischievous glint in his dark eyes. “Something bothering you, sweetheart?” 

He knew exactly what was happening, and could smell it before you came into the trailer. It made his mind race with thoughts of what was coming tonight. You were always extra needy while on your period, and his newfound stamina was exactly what you needed. 

“Don’t act like you don’t know.” You crossed your arms over your chest with a huff.

“Oh, c’mon,” Eddie scooted closer to you, his face pressed into the nape of your neck. “You smell delicious–you know that? I’ve been so fucking painfully hard since I first smelled you.”

Sure enough, when your eyes trailed down his body is when you noticed it. The bulge in his jeans was so prominent now that he pointed it out. You could see it twitch, and you couldn’t try to hide the pace at which your head sped up. There was no hiding it from him.

“Eddie…” Your voice trailed off as another cramp hit you, and he knew exactly what to do.

His lips were rough against your neck as he kissed the soft skin. Razor-sharp teeth grazed your skin just enough to have your eyes squeezing shut from the pleasurable pain.

“Let me take your pain away,” his ringed hand trailed up your legs between your thighs, cupping your already-soaked cunt through your pants. “I can hear, and smell, just how bad you want it.”

You turned to look at him, pleading with your eyes as your hips bucked up into his hand. “Please.”

That was all he needed to hear before he was throwing you over his shoulders, his newfound strength making it easier to manhandle you just how you wanted. 

Your back fell on his bed, his many pillows engulfing your body. 

“You look so good,” Eddie popped the button of your jeans, his lips kissing along your waist. “Good enough to eat.”

His words made your legs spread instantly, giving him the perfect amount of room to slot his body between them. 

“Eddie, I don’t have the patience for this.” 

“Shhh, I wanna take my time with you.” He looked up at you, his eyes boring into yours sent a chill down your spine.

This was your first time with Eddie since he came back as… this. You were scared and horny all at once. Eddie could never hurt you, but the thought that he maybe could? It was making you bite your lip in anticipation. 

Eddie knew what you were thinking, a smirk plastered on his pale face. “You love a little pain, I know you do.” 

The second your jeans and panties were off, Eddie’s nose was nuzzling against your inner thigh. He was inhaling you, moaning at the smell.

“Shouldn’t we put a towel down, just in case?” You knew how messy period sex can get. This wouldn’t be the first time doing that with Eddie.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Eddie crawled up the bed until his forehead rested against yours and his skilled fingers traveled up your opened legs. “A little blood won’t hurt anything.”

Your thighs shook when Eddie barely ghosted a finger over your swollen clit. 

That was one of the things he loved most when you were on your period. You are so sensitive that the slightest touch had you putty in his hands. He could breathe on you, and the hair on your body would rise, and your skin would start to glisten with sweat. Eddie, undoubtedly, used your over-sensitivity to his advantage. 

“Look at you, baby,” he pressed a kiss to your neck as he added pressure to your clit. You couldn’t help but whine at the contact. “You’re so needy.”

“For you?” You gasped when he added more pressure, rubbing slow but harsh circles. “Y-yes.”

You felt the air of his breath hit your skin when he let out a chuckle. “Yeah? Is that so?”

Eddie slid a finger down your slit, teasing the aching hole of your cunt. “Why don’t you tell me how needy you are? I wanna hear you say it, beg for me.”

You put your soft hand over his rough one, helping him slide a finger in. Your breath hitched at the feeling of something being in you, helping the ache go away just a little. “Mmm, thought you could smell just how bad?” 

Using his free hand, he gripped your cheeks,  making you turn toward his face. “I do, but I wanna hear you fucking say it.” He gripped harder on your cheeks, your lips now puckering out. 

“Eddie… please.” Your voice was muffled, your eyes locking with his. “I need you- anything. Just make me cum.”

He let go of your cheeks, using one hand to spread your thighs further apart, the other sliding more fingers into you. “Now, that wasn’t too hard.” 

You clenched around his fingers, feeling your wetness and blood soak them. Your head rolled to the side, giving Eddie more area to bite and kiss at your neck. 

Your thighs became a pretty, red mess from squeezing them together as his fingers kept fucking into you. 

“I wonder just how much you can take,” his fingers curling up and making you whine. “I wanna see how long you can last before you’re crying and tapping out.” 

You gripped at the sheets below you, already so close to the first orgasm of the night. “I-I can do it, I promise.” 

The squelch of Eddie’s fingers pumping in and out of you fast echoed off the thin walls of his bedroom. They were almost as loud as your whimpers.

“Always so willing to please me.” Eddie bit harshly at your neck, his teeth barely cutting into your skin.

“Fuck-”

“It's one of the things I love most about you.” You could feel Eddie smirk against your neck, licking up the blood from the bite.

Eddie pressed his lips to yours in a heated kiss. His tongue swipes over your bottom lip before biting. Your mouths melted together, tongues dancing around each other. You moaned into the kiss, Eddie swallowing it down whole as if he could keep your sounds playing on repeat forever. 

You could feel your orgasm fast approaching. Eddie wasn’t letting up, making sure he was hitting that soft spot inside you with each pump of his fingers. 

“You gonna cum for me already, sweetheart?” His tone was mocking. 

“Yes, yes!” Your eyes rolled into the back of your head, your legs shaking against the bed. 

Eddie picked up the pace, fucking with his fingers so fast that your body shook. His thumb continued to rub circles on yours, adding more and more pressure with each swipe. 

“Do it.” His voice lowered now that you were closer. “Fucking cum on my fingers.” 

Your chest heaved as you gushed over Eddie’s fingers, soaking them and the sheets below you. 

“Oh-oh!” Your mind only focuses on the feeling, finding it hard to form full words. It felt so good to cum, to ease the pain of your cramps. 

“That’s a good girl.” Eddie continued finger fucking you through your orgasm, letting you ride it out until you could catch your breath. “You take my fingers so well.”

When you finally opened your eyes back up, you saw Eddie’s fingers in his mouth. He was licking them clean, collecting every drop so nothing would go to waste. 

He hummed at the taste of the metallic blood mixed with your cum, something he could now never get enough of. 

“That little taste isn’t going to do.” He moved from the bed, dropping to his knees at the end of it. “I need more.” 

“Already?” You had barely come down from your first orgasm. He really wasn’t going to let up tonight. 

Eddie gripped your ankles, squeezing hard enough that you felt his cold rings press into your skin. “Yes, already.”

In a swift moment, Eddie had pulled your body down the bed, your legs dangling over his broad shoulders. His face was right next to your cunt, looking like a starved man who hadn’t eaten in years. 

“You’re perfect,” he spread the lips of your cunt slowly with his thumbs, examining every part of it. “I’ve been needing this,” his voice muffled as he stuck his tongue out to swipe at your clit. 

Almost immediately, your hands flew to his unruly hair. You tangled your fingers in it, growing impatient and pulling his face closer to you. 

“Don’t be a tease, not now.” You were starting to ache with need again, and he knew it.

Eddie bit the inside of your thigh multiple times, leaving marks for you and him to admire later. “What’s the rush? I need to savor this moment.”

And savoring the moment he was. He was taking his time, looking between you, your shirt bunched up above your tits, and your perfect cunt. Eddie got lucky when you agreed to be his and took every chance he could to just sit back and stare at you.

You bucked your hips up toward his face, egging him on to do something. “Please.” 

Without any warning, Eddie sucked your aching clit into his mouth. He gripped your thighs with his hands, squeezing them while moving his head side to side, pulling your clit with him. 

“Fuck- yes, Eddie!” You ground your cunt on his face, his tongue swiping back and forth, from your clit to your hole. 

“Taste so fucking good.” Eddie moaned against you, sending the shock of vibrations through your body. You shuddered at the feeling and he chuckled against you. 

You pulled his hair, causing him to moan, but not before sliding his tongue inside your cunt. He swirled it around, his pointed and perfectly shaped nose nudging at your clit at the same time. 

“Holy-“ You threw your head back against the pillows, the pleasure you were feeling taking over your whole body. “Right fucking there!” 

You clenched around his tongue, feeling not only your blood but your wetness drip down the crack of your ass, making an even bigger mess than before. 

“Mmmm,” Eddie pushed his face deeper into your cunt, if that were even possible.

He pulled his tongue out and went back to sucking your clit. The slurping sounds echoing in your ears. His skilled fingers went back to work in your cunt. Sliding one, two, three fingers inside you and curling them right against your g-spot. 

You let out a high-pitched scream of Eddie’s name as your second orgasm came out of nowhere. Squirting over his face and fingers, coating everything. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop!” 

He pulled away long enough to watch as your body shook as you came. Watching you come undone was having his cock twitch in his pants, he could feel the precum make a spot in his boxers. “That’s fucking right, scream my name.”

Eddie wasn’t stopping at all, your clit still nestled in his warm mouth, and his fingers fucking into you so hard that all you saw was white before you came again, fully soaking everything below you. 

“Look at you,” he gently kissed over the bite marks on your thighs, soothing you. “So cute when you’re all fucked out from just my mouth and fingers.”

When he pulled away and you looked down at him, you noticed your crimson blood covering the lower half of his face. He used his hand to wipe the mess you made, popping it in his mouth. 

Eddie would never get enough of your taste. If he could taste you forever, he would. 

“Holy shit,” you weakly sat up on your elbows, giving him a beaming smile. Your body felt amazing, and he wasn’t even done with you yet. 

When Eddie stood up from the floor, his cock was eye level with you. Your mouth suddenly watered with a need to be filled. You needed to have his cock down your throat, to make you gag, and cry. 

Eddie watched as you got on your knees this time, crawling until you were sitting on the floor in front of him. 

“Got something on your mind, pretty girl?” He rubbed a hand across your cheek as you reached up for his belt, ghosting your hand over the growing bulge. 

You quickly undid his belt and the button to his cheeks, your tongue coming to swipe over your bottom lip. “I’ve got a lot of things on my mind.” You looked up at him with big doe and innocent eyes.

Once his pants were down his legs, you nuzzled your face into his hairy thigh. Taking your time to run your nails along his clothed cock, feeling the throb of it against your hand. 

The hand in your hair pulled your hand back, making you whimper out. “You gonna tease me or put your pretty mouth to use?”

The way Eddie spoke to you like you were a toy made your heart thump in your chest. You loved when he acted this way towards you, like you were nothing but something to use for his pleasure.

Eddie slid down his boxers, his cock springing in front of your waiting mouth. The tip was an angry wet, dripping with precum. Your tongue licked at the leaking slit, collecting what was dripping and swallowing it down. You opened your mouth once you were done, sticking out your tongue to show you that you did a good job. 

Taking your mouth wide open as an opportunity, Eddie trapped the back of your head and slid his cock down your throat. Immediately you gagged, your throat not ready for the sudden intrusion. 

“Atta girl,” Eddie just laughed at you, mocking your whimpers. “Awe, poor thing. Is it too big for you?”

To show that it wasn’t too big, you took more of him in your mouth. His heavy balls now wetly pressed against your chin. You looked up at him with tear glossed eyes as you swallowed around his cock.

“Shit.” Eddie threw off his shirt and looked down at you in awe. 

His cock was fully stuffed in your mouth, your tears staining your rosy flushed cheeks. You looked so good like this, you always looked good in his eyes.

You reached a hand up and cupped his cum filled balls, trying but failing to smirk when he let out a choked groan. 

“O-oh, fucking hell.” The grip Eddie had on your hair tightened as he moved your mouth up and down his cock. 

He gave you a chance to breathe, fully pulling you away. Your lips were wet, red, and swollen. Strings of salvia strung from your used lips to from his cock and the sight had you grinding against the air.

Eddie leaned down until he was closer to you, his breath fanning across your lips. “Does sucking my cock get you that needy?”

“Yes.” You didn’t even hesitate when you answered. 

“What a dirty fucking slut.” The hand on his balls gave a firm squeeze, Eddie’s eyes immediately screwing shut. “Jesus Christ, baby. You’re so fucking good.”

You took the sensitive head of his cock back into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the leaking slit.

Eddie was close, you could tell by his stomach muscles tensing and his groans becoming louder. “That’s right, use your mouth to make me cum.” 

Bobbing your head up and down his cock, you didn’t stop. Not until Eddie was holding your head still, his cock fully in your throat, his hot cum dripping down it. His words came out broken as he could only focus on the warmth and wetness of your mouth as he came.

“I-,” his hips stuttered against your face as he kept cumming in your mouth. “S-so good.”

When you pulled away with a pop! of your mouth, you were in shock to see that he was still rock hard after he had just cum. 

Eddie noticed your expression and patted your cheek, rubbing his thumb along your bottom lip. “I’ve got a lot of stamina now, baby. I told you, you’d be in for it.”

He moved to lay on the bed, his cock fully standing up, and waiting for you. 

You crawled onto the bed, swinging your legs so that you could straddle Eddie’s hips. His hands came to rest over your own hips, guiding you until your cunt was hovering over his cock, dripping on it. 

Deciding not to waste anymore time, you slowly slid down his cock, whimpering at the slight stretch of your cunt. It was blissful to finally have his cock in you, filling you full to the brim. 

“God- Eddie, you feel so good.” You braced your hands against his tattooed chest, giving yourself something to sturdy your body on. “Fill me so full that your balls are pressed right against my ass.” 

One of Eddie’s hands moved from your hips, coming down hard, and spanking you. The impact was hard enough to have your skin stinging in pleasure, wanting more. 

“Again,” you whimpered, lifting your hips. 

“Oh, you want more?” Repeatedly, Eddie’s hand came down in harsh spanks, alternating between ass cheeks. Your supple skin jiggled under his hand.

By the time he was done, small tears were falling from your eyes, mouth agape from your silent moans, your ass was now rosy red. 

“My pretty baby,” he bucked his hips up into you, jolting your body forward. “Such a tight fucking cunt.”

Your nails dug into Eddie’s chest, leaving behind crescent moon shapes. “Please, give it to me!” 

Eddie’s hips kept bucking up into you, rolling your hips to meet each thrust. The little patch of Eddie’s pubic hair was rubbing perfectly against your clit. “Yes, oh my god- yes!”

You had completely forgotten you still had your shirt on before Eddie ripped it right down the middle. Your nipples immediately hardened from the cold air hitting them. 

Eddie’s eyes watched, never leaving your chest, as your tits bounced up and down. He leaned forward, wrapping his lips around one of the buds and sucked it into his mouth as you kept riding him. 

“Baby- Eddie!” You wrapped your arms around his head, holding him in place. 

Eddie mumbled against your skin. You could only make out the word “beautiful,” making your heart flutter.

Each roll of your hips had your eyes rolling back and your thighs shaking. Eddie’s cock was sliding in and out of your pussy perfectly, bringing you closer to cumming. 

“Yeah? You like that?” Eddie’s hands found your hips again, guiding you up and down his cock. “Look so good taking my cock, baby.” 

“Eddie- I’m gonna cum!” You clenched around his cock, your head falling into his neck. 

“Cum for me baby.” He reached between your sweaty bodies and found your clit, rubbing fast circles on it. “Doing so fucking good.” 

You let out broken moans against the skin of his neck as you came around his cock, gushing over it and his balls. You saw stars behind your eyes and your skin was on fire as your orgasm tore through your body, making you shake, and cry out.” 

“Eddie!” Your hands gripped onto anything they could. 

Eddie grabbed you by your hair and pulled you from his neck to get a good look at you. “Jesus, look at you so cock drunk,” he soothed a hand over your head. “But we aren’t done yet.” 

He helped you slide off of him, both of you hissing from the sensation. Your cum dripped from your used hole and down your thighs as he turned you over to your stomach. 

Your hand printed ass was now in the air, your holes in display for him. 

“You’re so pretty,” his rough hands spread your ass cheeks apart, getting a good look at you. “Just wanna use you until you’re passed out from coming so much.” 

“Please…” Your voice came out tired, but you were ready for more. That was evident in the wiggle of your hips. 

You felt the rough mouth of Eddie as he kissed and bit his way up your back and to your neck. Marking you up more so you know who you belong to. “You just take whatever I give you, huh?”

You nodded your head against the pillow, finding words hard to speak. 

His hand swatted at your ass again, making it even redder. “I asked you a question.” 

“Uhuh, yes!” You turned your head to the side and looked at him as he looked back at you. “I’ll take everything you give.”

Without warning, he slid his cock all the way inside of your cunt until his balls were slapping against your clit. Your eyes shot open and your back arched. 

You were now beyond overly sensitive. Each drag of his cock, each kiss to your neck, everything was sending your body into overdrive. Maybe you couldn’t take everything he gave you and Eddie noticed it immediately.

“You tapping out?” His lips were right by your ear, his teeth nipping at your earlobe. 

“N-no…” You wiggled your hips against his cock, your hands gripping the pillow and your knuckles turning white. 

Eddie chuckled behind you, his teeth barred as he let out a low groan. “You’re already about to cum, aren’t you? I can fucking feel it.” 

He wasn’t wrong, you were already clenching around his cock again. It just felt so fucking good and holding on was getting harder to do. 

“Just- don’t stop.” Tears were stinging in your eyes the closer you got, your toes curling with each thrust of Eddie’s hips. 

Eddie didn’t stop, especially knowing you were about to cum again. His hips pistoned into you, his cock bullying your hole. “You can do it, baby.” His sweat was dripping down your back. 

You couldn’t, not when your orgasm hit you like a freight train. You slumped back down into the pillows and screamed into them. Every part of your body shook as you squirting over Eddie’s cock and balls, coating your thighs in more of a mess than earlier. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” This orgasm was harder than the others, sending shocks throughout your body and making you convulse against the bed. “I-I can’t stop.”

“Holy shit,” Eddie couldn’t take his eyes off your cunt. You just kept squirting, making his cock slip out and your cunt now clench around nothing. “Baby, you’re so fucking hot.” 

He turned you over, now having you on your back. Your 

eyes were fully glazed over, skin red from sweating. You are completely used. 

You tried to pull him away, but he pinned your arms above your head with one of his hands.

“You got one more in you,” he tapped the hefty tip of his cock against your clit, your legs trying to close. “Just take it, baby.”

You couldn’t resist it, though, not when it came to Eddie. 

The slide of his cock in your cunt burned, but it quickly turned pleasurably. “S-shit.” 

Eddie pressed his forehead against yours, but his eyes never left where the two of you were connected. “I wish you could see your cunt taking all of my cock.” He slid all the way out before slamming back in, sending your body up the bed. “So fucking good.” 

Your drug your nails down his back, making your own marks on him. “Please, j-just one more.” It was all you could handle, just one more.

“Yeah?” He wrapped a hand around your throat and squeezed, watching as you lost a little bit of your breath. “One more, sweetheart.” 

Each snap of Eddie’s hips had the both of you moaning out, your breaths fanning across one another’s face. 

“Love your cock,” you bit your lip hard enough to draw blood. 

Eddie went to speak but inside let out a throaty moan when he felt you clench around him again and his balls tighten up. This time he was going to cum with you, drain everything he had inside your needy, little cunt. 

“Gonna fill you up nice and full- fuck,” the hand on your throat squeezed harder the closer he got to cumming. “Watch it drip out of you mixed with your sweet blood.”

The sound of skin slapping against skin and breathy moans filled the room. 

“Keep squeezing my cock,” Eddie’s head fell beside yours. “Just like fucking that.” 

“Please, please, please!” You repeated the word like a prayer as the coil in your stomach tightened until it couldn’t go anymore. 

Eddie let go of your neck and laced his fingers with yours as you both came together. 

You gushed over his cock again, your mouth falling open in broken moans and screams. You couldn’t focus on anything other than the warmth feeling off Eddie cumming inside you, emptying his balls. 

“T-take it all.” Eddie’s eyes were screwed shut, his chest heaving up and down with each short breath he took. “God, I fucking love you.” 

By the time Eddie was done cumming, you were numb. Your body was worn out and limp, just how Eddie loved it when he was done fucking you. 

Eddie pulled out but didn’t move from his position. Instead, he laid his body on top of yours, engulfing you in his arms. 

“T-thank you,” you tried to wrap your arms around him but everything felt so heavy. 

“You feel better now?” He pressed soft kisses across your chest, the total opposite of how he just acted when his cock was inside you. 

Too tired to talk, you only nodded your head, your eyes almost falling shut from the sleepiness taking over your body. 

The sheets below your body were covered in your sweat and blood, your thighs sticky with cum.  Eddie’s cock was also covered in your blood and cum, but he loved it that way. It was a mess, but Eddie and you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Before shutting your eyes completely, you noticed the sun start to shine through the blinds on the windows. Eddie had fucked you all night long and into the morning. 

You felt Eddie scoop your body into his arms, making his way to the bathroom.

He turned the water to the bath on as you sat in his lap, half asleep.

“You just relax,” Eddie whispered to you.” I’ll clean up you and the mess you made. Maybe later we can go again, if you can take it.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #vampire!eddie #vamp!eddie x reader #vamp!eddie #vampire!eddie x reader

[blackwolfstabs]

Parker's Secret Santa Gifts🎄for @alkivm

ONE NORMAL NIGHT

In the heart of winter and in the dead of night, you and Wednesday share the woods.

fandom: Wednesday (2022) pairing: Wedesnday Addams × Fem!Vampire!Reader a/n: this is my 1st × reader ever so i'm feeling very insecure about it.. however, i wanted to do something up your alley, Alk. i also wanted to write from Wednesday because i knew writing something of Sam would be too predictable of me haha. anyways, i hope you enjoy!!

You slid into the partially dark dorm room that held your girlfriend’s strong scent. For someone as dark and mysterious as Wednesday, you never expected her to have a smell that was actually calming. However, this made it easier for you to find her. Being a vampire allowed you the same nose the werewolves had. Maybe even better, in your opinion…

Speaking of werewolves, Enid’s side of the room was the dark side, for once. She must’ve been out with her girl pack. This led you to immediately find Wednesday seated at her desk with a lit lamp as the clicking of the typewriter keys echoed off the walls. Her writing time, you presumed with a small smirk and shake of your head. It was part of her nightly routine. 

But you were looking for a night where they could just be with each other. It had snowed all day, but with the dark that you both adored, came clear skies and moonlight that made the snow sparkle. Wednesday, of course, didn’t care for sparkly things, but you hadn’t seen anything more vintage in decades. And you wanted to share that with her.

You wanted one normal night.

She never stopped typing, her black eyes undivided, but there was something about the way her shoulders braced that told you that she knew you were there. So, you approached her, but before you could speak, she did.

“What is it, Y/N?” she asked flatly. “You know this is my—”

“Yes, yes, I know. This is your writing time,” you cut her off as you stopped behind her chair and leaned against it. “I was thinking… maybe we could take a walk through the woods? We’ve been shut indoors all day because of the snowfall, and the moon is rather beautiful tonight.” You heard her give a short huff, which encouraged you to follow up with, “Almost as beautiful as you…”

Wednesday scoffed as she felt you lean down and kiss her cheek. You had just been outside, on your way over, so your lips were cold against her warm skin. It made her pull away slightly, “Oh, please, your pick-up lines are aging on me.” But even she had her own jokes to turn around on you, and she glanced up to tease, “Almost as much as you.”

To be fair, you did not see that coming as you looked away in mock offense. “You've been waiting to spring that one on me, haven’t you?”

She shrugged and went back to her writing, “Not really. You just fell into the trap.”

“Sly psychic,” you rolled your eyes.

“Dumb vampire.”

God, the way she just threw back words in any situation that made her charisma grow had your vampire instincts tingling. It made you frisky and longing for a hunt. However, if Wednesday followed your lead, you could take the thirst just to have one night with her. “Please?” you hated to beg, yet here you were doing it for her. “Can’t you spare one day of cutting your writing time short?”

Your borderline-desperate tone made her give a small smirk, and that gave you a little bit of hope. You had other plans for that night anyway, so you would make sure she’d show her side of the duality you had gotten the pleasure to know.

“Let me finish this paragraph,” she eventually gave in. 

You let her do so without trouble, pacing around the room like a caged tiger while you waited. And then she stood up from her chair and turned around to catch you looking at her.

“You’ve got the patience of a saint.” The sarcasm was thick in her flat tone.

You just shrugged and nodded to the tunic-length jacket that was lying on her bed, “That should be warm enough for you.”

The raven gave you an uncertain look as she went to retrieve it and slip it on. “Sometimes, I think you forget that I’m not a vampire,” she commented, clearly not convinced one jacket would keep her warm in the snowy wilderness.

“Never,” you assured her. When she turned around and approached you with her dark eyes trying to figure out the million thoughts behind your glowing ones, you gave her a wink. “Don’t worry, love. I’ll keep you warm.” 

She didn’t look convinced. “I’m thrilled.” Then again, she never did.

You never took that personally from her. After all, she was the one to insinuate a relationship that was more than friends. She had even stolen the first kiss between you two. As uninterested as she tried to seem, you knew she was curious about what you had in mind. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have followed you out.

The bitter cold of the winter night suited you just fine as you stepped out of the heated indoors and shook your head out to relish the chilly freedom. You sighed in delight, before looking over your shoulder to see Wednesday pacing up next to you. 

She blinked unsteadily, the breeze stinging her eyes and cheeks as her bangs were swept aside. She crossed her arms and hugged them against her chest. “It had to be tonight?”

You rolled your eyes, “Oh, come on, Wednesday, it’s not that bad!” You gave her a playful nudge. “You just need to get that warm blood pumping,” you then teased, your breed leaving you immune to the freeze.

She just growled in annoyance, which made you decide to take the first step—well, more like the second step now… “So, try and keep up,” you told her, then raced away into the woods.

It must have caught her off-guard, because she immediately followed hot in pursuit. “Y/N!” It was like she hadn’t even thought about the fact that she was rushing into a game of Tag, like it was a mindless effort that sent her after you.

Her calls made you run faster, weaving through the trees like a trained dog in agility, and you let out a triumphant howl that sent the crows scattering into the night sky. In return, you actually got a few calls back from the werewolves scouting the forest as well. “Hey, Wednesday!” you hollered over your shoulder, “you think one of those is your roommate?!”

You could hear your girlfriend’s panting grow louder as she flanked you a few yards back. “No!” she answered, “Enid wouldn’t be caught dead in this kind of cold!”

“But you’d like that, wouldn’t you?!” Being an Addams gave you so much freedom to joke about death, considering you were already dead inside. It was meant to be.

“Not tonight, Y/N!”

You just laughed and raced on, filing deeper and farther into the world of forestry that almost shielded the moonlight. The wind seemed to be going 100 miles per hour against your skin, making a million scents bathe your tongue every time you breathed in. 

And then the scent of fur and fresh-kill caught your senses. You were gaining too close to the werewolves, so you figured this was a good place to stop.

Wednesday, on the other hand, didn’t have as keen a sense of smell, which kept her racing on. She couldn’t see you anymore, but she had done that dance before. The amount of times she’d run through this very forest was unimaginable, especially with a destination known or unknown in mind. She wasn’t afraid of running through the dark; however, the crisp cold air was taking a toll on her lungs. She called out for you, slowing down to catch her breath. “Y/N?!”

Compared to the way she’d sounded a few minutes ago, back at the dorm, she wasn’t so uptight about everything. And that was where you wanted her.

The raven slowed all the way, when she didn’t receive a response from you. She glanced around as she trotted forward. “Y/N?” Her panting was silenced among the breeze and so was your movement in the low branch of the nearest tree.

When she passed it, you grabbed her arm and pulled it towards the trunk. She yelped and spun around, yanking her arm away to look up and meet your golden eyes. “Sorry,” you giggled, releasing her to comb your wind-tossed hair back with one hand. 

Her voice went back to its natural, monotoned-self. “Why are you in a tree?”

“We’re too close to the werewolves,” you nearly whispered the explanation. Then, you held your hand out to her. “Come on, I’ll help you up.” 

The gold shimmer in your eyes struck the lightest reflection in hers as she took it and let you pull half of her weight up onto the same branch.

You knew she wasn’t the most comfortable person with heights without being guarded by some sort of railing, so you made sure she was steady before you continued to lead the way up. Being a vampire, your agility and strength were reliable. You could weave quicker through the limbs. And once you reached almost ¾-ths of the way up, you crouched to check on your girlfriend.

Despite her size and normal human strength, she actually kept up well, only being a few branches below. However, being the lady vampire you were, you had lived for a few centuries. So, chivalry was definitely not dead in your era, just evolved out of the strictly-male ideals. “Wednesday!” She paused her climbing to glance up at you, which made you hold your hand out to her again. “I got you.” The cold must have been biting at her because she grabbed your hand with no hesitation, and you lifted her up, wrapping one arm around her waist to safely bring her to your level. 

She wouldn’t admit it, but the raven was relieved that you had the decency to allow her to be closest to the tree trunk. She glanced down, almost nervously, but left it undetectable as she asked, “Is there any reason why you insist on being so high up?”

“No one can see us from up here.” 

She shifted skeptically. 

“I thought you liked being uncomfortable,” you smirked. You caught the way she curved her fingers into the bark, threatening to clutch it if the branch that held them teased a crack or two.

Wednesday gave a slightly flustered sigh. “The last time I was in a tree, things didn’t go so well.” When she looked your way again, the moon light dappling through the trees made her eyes show a shade of brown that wasn’t common in her natural aesthetic. 

It took some of the frost away from the cold that you didn’t realize you could feel until that deep gaze met yours. Her frame looked even smaller as she backed up to secure herself against the trunk, which you knew she did to brace herself in case anything happened. You softened your voice as you moved closer to her. “I won’t let you fall,” the words came so naturally, it was almost considered pure.

She blinked at you. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Y/N…” 

You stopped a short distance from her, close enough to see what she hoped you wouldn’t: her desire for comfort. You slid one hand around her waist and the other over her cheek to block the winter breeze. “Here’s my promise,” you whispered, then pulled her into a gentle kiss.

To your surprise, she fell into it instantly, almost as if she was thinking of the same thing. She must have felt secure in your arms, for she then put her arms around your torso. And through the kiss, you smiled. 

She pulled away. “Is that all you got?” she tested you, looking away and over your shoulder to bait you into moving elsewhere than her lips.

You took in a deep breath, and her scent was so strong that you could almost taste her… You felt your golden gaze start to burn and your mouth start to salivate. There was a surge of power that entwined your bloodstream, and the thrill to drink made you stare at her open neck. Well… almost open. “Are you teasing me, Ms. Addams?” you asked her as you dipped your head towards the crook of her neck and nosed her braid over her shoulder, fully exposing her warm skin. 

“Bite me, Y/LN,” she almost purred into your ear. It was supposed to be a tease, but it came out more as a command.

But it was your pleasure, regardless. “Not until we’re in bed, my cold-hearted darling,” you replied, then pressed your lips to her neck. It was hard not to bite her right now. Just a little taste of that sweet drink that came out of the most savage student in Nevermore Academy would have sufficed. But you wouldn’t. Not now. For now, you forced yourself to only kiss and suckle her skin in a slow trail down her neck, but you did manage to let your fangs nip her every now and then.

All the while, Wednesday laid her head on your shoulder, sighing through the treatment with small moans, while her black nails curled into your spine when your fangs would catch her soft skin. 

It was the perfect mix of Heaven and Hell.

It was angelic and demonic.

It was sweet and stubborn.

It was you and Wednesday…

On this one normal night.

merry christmas/happy holidays alk! i hope this made you smile and i'm wishing you a very pleasureable rest of the season. thank you for being such a supportive friend 🎄✨🎁

- parker (BWS)

#parkers secret santa gifts 2023 #parkerwrites #wednesday #wednesday netflix #wednesday addams #wednesday addams x female reader #wednesday x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader #vampire #vampire reader #merry christmas #happy holidays #ao3 #ao3 writer #ao3 author #ao3 fanfic #wednesday fanfic #alkivm #blackwolfstabs

[hitomisuzuya]

vampire scara addicted to reader blood? like he can't get enough of it that he would leave marks in a way? smut!!

(I really don't know how to do a request since it's my first time sobs)

Vampire! Scaramouche x fem!reader. AU. Biting. Blood. Smut. Cunilligus. Feral Scaramouche.

I have a couple more requests for vampire Scara smut. This request 😳

"H-Have you eaten yet today," You managed to get out behind a shaky sigh. You could feel his tongue dragging over the blood dripping from a bite mark on the inside of your thigh.

Scaramouche slurped loudly lapping up your blood. It set his body on fire with ecstasy, sending him reeling and feral with lust and hunger. "You know I don't eat out anymore," He prodded his tongue against his fang marks, the taste of you blood made his cock throb and strain to be buried deep inside of you while he enjoyed his meal.

He would most certainly eat you out though while he sucked your blood, which is what he was doing now. Scaramouche had been slotted between your legs for what felt like hours, coaxing orgasm after orgasm from you with his tongue, pausing to suck some of your blood a little a time.

He knew he couldn't drain you too much. He didn't want to accidentally break you.

His fingers ghosted over your thighs, making you shiver as he delivered a few more through sucks to your clit. Your moans of pleasure sounded so sweet in his ears. He pulled away and wiped his mouth.

Crawling up your body, he kissed with your cum and your blood still on his moan. "Stroke my cock, and tell me how much you want you want me to fuck you full while I suck from your neck," You always came so hard on his cock when bit and fucked you at the same time. His fangs made a small cut on your lower lip, dragging his tongue over it before he pulled away.

Your hands hastily found their way onto his cock, wrapping around it. You squeezed, making him groan as he rutted into your hand. Your expression was hazy and adoring, looking up at him as you stroked and rubbed his leaking cock. "Bite me and fuck me dumb," You pleaded, your cunt clenching from the thought. "Cumming on your tongue wasn't enough."

You hastily pumped your hand on his cock, squeezing your thumb and index finger on the tip to show your desperation for him.

Cum nearly spurted into your hand. Your begging sounded as sweet as your blood tasted. You were flipped over onto your stomach so fast it stunned you a little.

Scaramouche more than took advantage of that, yanking your hips up. He licked a long line on your abused cunt, pushing your face into the pillows as he lined his cock up with your entrance.

You cried out in relief, muffled into the pillow finally feeling his cock sink deep inside you. He bottomed out in one harsh snap of his hips. "Fuck, you are always so tight after I feed from your thigh," He groaned, gripping your hips.

He set a breathtaking pace, his skin slapping against yours. You could do nothing but dig your fingernails into the pillows, moaning shamelessly while he bullied his cock as deep inside of you as it could go.

Keeping an arm braced around you, he reached to rub your clit. He grabbed a handful of your hair, yanking your body up, his cock kissing deep into your sweet spot with every thrust.

He licked a line over your neck before sinking his fangs into it. He knew he had to control himself a little but he couldn't help it. Your blood just tasted so fucking sweet. He could cum on the taste alone. He didn't like that your moans and screams of pleasure were muffled by the pillows.

"You are mine to feed on, fuck, and devour," Scaramouche moaned into your neck, barely being able to contain himself. You were clenching so perfectly around his cock.

"Yes, yes, gonna..cum.." You babbled, your body shaking with your approaching orgasm. His thrusts turned more feverish, starting to become sloppy from his own approaching orgasm.

His mouth felt more ravenous on your throat as his cum filled you full.

#genshin impact #genshin smut #fem!reader #genshin imagines #scaramouche #scaramouche smut #modern au #vampire scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x y/n

[kentopedia]

♰ skipping heartbeats — nanami kento

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🕸️🕷.𖥔 ݁ ˖ KINKTOBER NO. 3 - curse user!nanami

nanami wants to see every jujutsu sorcerer dead, but he might make an exception just for you

contents. fem!reader, nsfw minors dni, sorcerer!reader, rough sex, slight overstimulation, begging, pet names, unprotected sex, villain nanami, jjk typical violence, tw mahito apperance :/, exes, angst, soft dom nanami, wall sex — 5.6k

He was never the same after Shibuya.

It's been two years, but you still remember that October with clarity. Memories blur at the back of your eyelids each night, carving images into your irises; each time you think you’ll get a full night of sleep, Nanami Kento returns to haunt your dreams, then lingers to steal your waking moments.

The change in him had been gradual, subdued. He’d hidden it well, so well, in fact, that everyone had believed that he was doing fine. Even you, the one who should’ve known him better than anyone, had never gotten him to reveal his darkest thoughts.

His succumb to madness was slow, but it was the consequence of a near decade. The burden of a sorcerer weighed heavily on everyone, but it hit Nanami the hardest, years and years of survivor’s guilt and misery bearing on his shoulders.

Then Halloween in Shibuya had happened; Nanami nearly lost his life, and something in him snapped. It wasn’t long after that he left. You haven’t seen him since.

Close to twenty-four months have passed since he disappeared, but his presence still lingers, twisting your world and your life into a den of chaos. No one is left at the school, and there are hardly any sorcerers left in Japan. Those who are still alive have moved anywhere but Tokyo, and those who stay know it won’t be long before they lose their lives too.

Your breath catches as you listen in silence, recounting every moment that led you here.

There is a scream from the other building, listlessly crying for help, but you won’t reach them in time, nor do you have the power to fight back. Despite your endless intelligence, your technique isn’t built for combat. It isn’t a threat to semi-grade one curses, and it certainly isn’t a threat to Nanami Kento.

You squeeze your eyes shut, slumping against the wall as you hold your arm, a bloodied wound seeping through your sleeve. There is no one here to heal you, no one left to help. Shoko moved away from the school months ago, once she realized that too many sorcerers are dying and Gojo is never coming back.

After that, many of the students left too; save for the few third years that had been determined to stay and fight.

The scream sounds again, before it’s cut off, abruptly. Another student gone. Another sorcerer dead.

You’d been such a fool to think you could take the place of people like Yaga, Gojo, Nanami; that you could bring together the last remaining sorcerers in the city. They’d been ones to look up to, strong and steadfast, but you are neither of those things.

You are the weak one who’d managed to stay alive, and the last person that probably should’ve.

Still, you persist, not giving into death so easily. There has to be an escape route; if you can’t save the students, maybe, just maybe, you can save yourself. There is still hope, as long as just one sorcerer is left in Tokyo. The school can be rebuilt, the curses can be exorcised, and things can go back to normal.

As long as you stay alive.

You listen, waiting for another sound before you move, attuned to your surroundings. The doors are shut, locking you in, and it’s too dark, too empty in the building for you to hide anywhere. Classrooms you’d once shared with Gojo open up like an endless chasm, the vending machine you got sodas from with Geto leers at you, and the hallways you’d kissed Kento in…

The memories are so soured.

You’re so close to the door, though. So close, and you can be free of the ghostly memories, and this time, you’ll leave Tokyo once and for all.

There is nothing left for you here now. With each day that passes, you start to realize more and more that no one is coming back. They’re all gone, and Nanami is not the man he’d once been.

You shuffle along the wall, trying to stay hidden in the shadows, away from the lights that flicker up above, destroyed by the veil of cursed energy. While your entire life has been a cacophony of evil, never before have you felt, so intensely, that you’re in a horror film. You are the final girl, ironically, without an ounce of heroine vigor.

All you have is a sliver of willpower to stay alive; just a few feet away, and you’ll be there, outside, able to escape from this pit of hell.

It’s so close—but not close enough.  

“There you are!” a voice cries out, ringing like a jovial song through the hallways. It is eerily familiar, much too high-pitched and enthusiastic for such a brutal warzone. “We’ve been looking for you.”

You turn, shoulders stiff as you try hard not to freeze. Behind you, a young curse stands casually, his blue hair rolling over one of his shoulders, a stitched face smiling at you evilly. He’s pleased to see you, that much is obvious, and he prances over to you, fingers waving in the air.

“Oh, I can’t wait! I have to make you last because we’re running out of sorcerors to play with!” The tone is horrifyingly amused, more frightening than Geto in his final hours, of any of the clan higher-ups, even of Gojo at his absolute worst.

It’s the tone of someone who feels nothing, who cares about nothing, and who will enjoy watching you bleed.

You open your mouth, throat dry as you scramble for words, for a way to defend yourself. Three seconds stretch out into a minute while you contemplate, but Mahito is already upon you, his eyes flashing with excitement.

This would be it, wouldn’t it? How poetic that this wretched curse would be the one to kill you, after he took everything from you two years ago.

He advances; but something stops him, another aura. It’s not as powerful, but it’s much more commanding, much more human.

“Mahito.” The tone is forceful, flat, without any nuance of sound. It comes from behind you, and you stiffen, knowing from the simple string of letters who it is. The sound of the voice has something unfurling in your chest, choking you, rendering you helpless. “Don’t touch her.”

“Why?” Mahito whines, curling his fingers around your hair, his cursed face and energy too close, too frightening for you to move. “There’s no one left to kill. What am I supposed to do now?”

“Find something.” Nanami’s to you in just a few steps, and you can feel his presence behind you, the voice that slowly sneaks up on you. He smells the same as he did back then, and you squeeze your eyes shut, try to remember that he’s not Kento anymore, and whoever he is, you don’t love him.

You can’t.

“I’ll take care of her.”

Mahito grumbles, but after a few seconds of staring down Nanami, he leaves, skipping off to some other corner of the school. It’s disgusting how pleased he is by the murders he’s committed, but why shouldn’t he be? If his goal is to rid the world of sorcerers, he’s done quite well at accomplishing it.

Which meant every one of your students is dead. Which meant any remaining sorcerers are gone for good. There isn’t a jujutsu sorcerer left in Tokyo but you, and even though you need to call for help, no one can get here fast enough to save you.

Nanami, slowly, comes around to glower before you, standing too close, his breath ghosting your shoulders. You feel his gaze like daggers, dragging over every inch of you, regarding you with a thinly veiled disgust.

You’re not ready to face him, not after all the time you’ve been apart, but you don’t have a choice. He’s in front of you within seconds, looking down at you from the bridge of his nose, his hair mussed, but still in the same style that he’d worn two years ago.

It is, really, the only thing about him that hasn’t changed.

“How the hell did you end up back here?” That’s the first thing he says, the tone crazed and so opposite of the flat inflection his voice had always held. The sound leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, and you twitch, trying to keep your expression from shifting. Not even a simple greeting before he’s already mocking you, judging your poor choices, the ones that will get you killed.

You say nothing, but regard him with a dry mouth, letting your eyes drift across his broad shoulders, down his chest. He’s covered in blood, stained deep maroon—evidence of his murders, the color so different than the gore of curses.

The old beige suit is gone, replaced by an expensive black one, tailored perfectly to every angle of his body. Nanami has traded in the blue button-up for a crisp burgundy one, and though the tie is different, it’s recognizable.

You’d gotten him that tie for his 28th birthday, one of black silk embossed with flowers, tiny white ones woven within the vines. You’d purchased it on your trip abroad.

It makes you sick. You’re not sure how long you can look at him without expelling the contents of your stomach.

“You know,” he says, not waiting for you to answer as he walks around, swinging his weapon that is now used for evil. “I thought that maybe when I left, you’d decide to do something with your life.” His irises that are now so dark, nearly black, pin you. Gone, too, are the old glasses, exposing his severe, narrowed eyes. “You stayed in Tokyo to rot.”

“What choice did I have?” you ask, wishing you could speak without your voice cracking. Yet, when Nanami stalks you like prey, calculating, the familiar blade in his hands, you feel a flare of fear start up in your stomach.

You don’t know the man before you. He’s beautiful, as handsome as you remember. Yet, he stares at you with disdain, and he’s cruel, so cruel. His lips are hardened into a permanent scowl, seeping through his merciless laugh.

“Well,” Nanami stops pacing and stands in front of you, running a hand down the side of the cursed tool, thoughtful. “I had hoped you’d come with me, but I knew better than to ask. Your moral convictions would have prevented that, darling.” A smile drips with poison as your steadfastness falters, the name sliding smoothly off his tongue, something about it still so sweet, even with his malice. “You always were too good for me.”

That isn’t true, at least, not in your mind. He had been a good man once, the very best. Maybe you could’ve done something to stop this, to help him. Yet, as many times as you run it over in your mind, even you can’t pinpoint the exact moment he’d fallen.

“You’re right,” you say, grateful that your voice sounds a little stronger, a little harder. “I never would’ve come with you. You’ve killed our friends. You’ve killed children, Nanami.”

Something shifts between you; his eyes widen as he takes another pace forward, nothing but inches separating you. Against every intelligent cell in your body, your heart skips, breath catching at his proximity.

“Nanami?” he asks, eyebrows pulling together with a sigh. The air grows stagnant around you as he notices the lack of warmth behind your apathetic eyes. “Here I thought you’d still call me by my name. We did once share a bed after all.”

“That means nothing to me now,” you spit, wishing he would stop staring at you with such hunger. You’ve never been immune to him, and you’re not sure you are now, not sure that you won’t waver at his feet, if even out of panic. He’s so solid before you, a resolute being of power. Perhaps he’s even stronger now than he was before. “Look at you. I don’t know who you are.”

Nanami points the sword at your throat, and though it’s blunt, not sharp enough to do any damage, you still weaken in the knees, stare back at him with something akin to dread. Your eyes are wide, but your breath comes out steady as your hands shake by your sides.

“I’m the person who decided to do something, finally.” Nanami raises his voice, every word punctuated by years of repressed anger. “Sorcerers grumbled for decades, centuries, but no one made any effort to make a change.” His jaw clenches as he drops the weapon back down, sniffing with abhorrence. Nanami’s in your personal space, his breath hot on your cheeks, and you feel tears well up in your eyes, even when you’re not sure why. “Even Gojo Satoru, who claimed to hate the higher-ups, who saved Yuuji Itadori, did little. I’m the person who realized that nothing’s going to change, not unless the system is burned from the inside out.”

A twitch starts from your heels, rising as he glares down at you. His features are tense, every muscle in his body taut. Still, there’s something about him. There’s something about the way he’s wearing the tie you once bought him, as familiar as the tall, strong frame that leers over you.

“There’s none of us left, Nanami,” you say, blinking away those tears, even though he’s already spotted them, the corner of his lips quirking with a crazed glint to his eyes. “You’ve made sure of that.”

“Then a new order of sorcerers can build its way from the ground up.” Nanami leans forward, his face near yours as he cocks his head. “I’ve succeeded.”

You squeeze your fingers into your shirt, twisting them around the stiff cotton tightly. Your heel slips just one inch back, away from him, and the movement doesn’t go unnoticed by your ex-lover.

He scoffs, a smirk widening.

“What’s wrong?” Nanami says. A veiny hand snakes between you, and he cups your cheek with a softness that goes against every fiber of what he stands for. “Are you afraid of me?”

Your lips part, but words don’t come out. Instead, you blink up at him with glossy eyes, your heart hammering in your chest.

“You probably should be,” he continues, his fingers brushing your jaw, luring you in, a security blanket that he will snatch away once you get comfortable. “I’ve ruined your life.”

The room feels colder than it did before, as terror starts pressing down on you, your entire body shaking with anxiety. Still, your eyelids flutter at his touch, every cell within you reacting out of muscle memory, weakened by the killer’s touch.

“A life that you once promised to protect.”

He smiles, and it’s so cold, a rival only to the devil's, even though it ignites a flame in your chest. “Why do you think I saved you for last?”

Your eyes burn with tears.

“Still as pretty as I remember,” Nanami hums on the edge of a sigh, and his gaze darts all over your face, searching for a secret buried there. His tone is rough, but, somehow, there’s an ounce of affection there too, like a part of him is still holding onto the near decade you were together. It’s no consolation, but it gives you some satisfaction; at least it meant something. “You have a new boyfriend?”

You turn hot all over at the way he grins at you, watches the flush form on your face as your eyes fly open. Nanami has you in the palm of his hand, easily, and whatever happens, it’ll be up to him. “N-no,” you stutter, his thumb sliding over your mouth, knocking against your teeth.

His grin is wild, predatory. “I knew I’d ruined you for anyone else.”

A breath catches in your throat, and your chest rises and falls heavily from the wave of desire that goes straight to your stomach. You feel as if your knees might give out, that you might need to grab onto him, just to stand upright.

It’s sickening, and you hate yourself, hate how much you want him, even though he’s the one that killed the people you care most about.

“Kento?” you ask in a small voice. “Are you going to kill me?”

“I don’t know.” He softens, just a hair, and easily, he’s back to the man you remember, the sweet, caring one you thought you’d marry one day. “I probably should… but I think I might just fuck you instead.” The words are muttered against your lips, and you stumble forward, gripping his strong biceps, a feeble attempt to keep from puddling at his feet.

His face clears once again, stoic, and harsh. Maybe it’s all a ploy to get you in his arms, to weaken you even further, but you don’t care. You’ve missed him, you’ve missed him so much, and you’d die to kiss him one more time. The blood on his face doesn’t matter; nothing matters except how much you once loved him, the love that never went away, even in the times you wanted to hate him.

You wonder whether or not Satoru would sympathize if he was here. Maybe he’d understand why you never went after Nanami and holed yourself up in the school instead. Although you tried to protect your students, you could never act out of violence, and that had cost you everything.

You know you've made mistakes, perhaps more than anyone, but you can’t control your heart; it’s a heart that is caged by steely ribs, and still the possessor of your fragile mind.

“Kento,” you say, running your hands all over him, the muscles that have only hardened, grown with time. “I miss you.”

It’s nothing more than a whisper, but it still changes his entire demeanor, turns him into something desperate. Kento comes on twice as strong; every caress sends a wave of need through you. When you whimper, toppling under his gentle touches, he kisses you hard, pushes you backwards into the wall.

The taste of his lips is almost too much, a conflict of memories piling onto you, transporting you into a version of yourself that is two years younger, much more hopeful. You kiss him like you’re twenty-two, unsharpened by the world, because despite what you have suffered, life was better seven years ago than it is now.

The illusion is short-lived, though; Kento is rougher than he used to be, and he shoves you hard, bruises your lips. His tongue forces its way into your mouth, sloppy kisses smearing saliva all over your cheeks.

He may not be as kind as he once was, but you’ll never be able to deny your attraction for him.

“Fuck.” Kento unzips his slacks, palming at the bulge that already lies within the tight material. “Look what you do to me, baby.” It catches you off guard; he’s never called you that before, never sounded so lewd instead of loving. “Think I started getting hard the second I saw you. Remember the last time I was inside you?”

You groan against his lips, breathing heavily as you thread your smaller hands in his hair. He tastes like alcohol, and you know that he’s always enjoyed a drink, but it was never this prominent on his tongue. That observation alone makes you wonder what else about him has changed; if he sleeps on the same side of the bed now that you’re gone, if he likes to read just as much as before, if he still takes his coffee with just a splash of milk.

The thoughts hurt, searing a hole through your chest. You try to ignore them.

As you kiss, Kento manhandles you backwards, his fingers spread over your collarbones. Your back hits the wall, a ghoulish crack reverberating throughout the room. It hurts, but the pain is outweighed by the feeling of him all over your body, the sheer anticipation for him to touch you like you need.

“Want you,” you say, as his hands clamp around your delicate wrists, pinning them against the wall. Kento’s palms are so much bigger; he’s so strong that it’s devastating. You have no choice but to let him take from you, to kiss down your neck and leave a bruise you won’t be able to cover up in the morning. “Please.”

“Dirty girl,” he laughs, breathless against your throat, the sound vibrating against the strained tendons there. Hastily, he spins you around, forces your face into the wall, your chest pressed into it. Your cheek is cold, smashed into your bone against the plaster. “I’ve killed everyone in this building, and here you are, begging me to touch you.”

The rough tone sends desire coursing through you, and you cry out against the wall as arousal bleeds out of you. Kento kisses you, across your shoulders, his cock pressing up against you, hard and thick.

A groan releases into your ear, and you squirm, rubbing your thighs together in anguish. Begrudgingly, Kento lets one of your wrists go so that he can drag your skirt down, leaving you with shivering legs in the cool October evening.

You reach back to grab at him, desperately needing him inside of you; but he stills you with his hand, laughing eagerly into your skin.

“So impatient. Thought I taught you better than that.” Though, he drags your panties down quicker, lets them pool at your ankles along with the dark-colored skirt. It’s obvious he wants you just as much; he wastes no time dragging a hand down his cock, the tip already beginning to leak.

“Kento,” you say against the cold wall, throbbing, swallowing down all your need for him. It’s too dark for you to see every one of his pretty features, but his shadowy eyes gleam ruthlessly in the moonlight. “Let me kiss you again—”

Kento tsks and shakes his head, brushing your hair over one shoulder. “Now, that can’t happen. You’ll fall in love with me again too easily.” A laugh forces its way out of his chest, and you hate that the sound creates pressure in your body. You’re already in love with him, but his grip is too tight on you; you can’t kiss him, even though you want to.

A finger runs between your folds as Kento reaches between your legs, gathering slick in the process. His skin is cold, and you whimper; he used to be so warm, a natural furnace. Yet, he’s teasing you now, listening to your breathy little whispers as you lean back into him.

Without thinking, you grasp his hand with your own, slide it forward as the veins and tendons flex under your palm. This time, he complies; he lets you push his fingers into your cunt, much thicker and longer than your own.

“Oh sweetheart,” he says, full of scornful sympathy, so contrary to the soft kisses on your neck. “You’re soaked. Have you really missed me that much?”

Your breath grows hot, heavy as he sinks his fingers deeper into you. You think about how much you loved him two years ago, and how much you still do.

Everyone you care about is gone, everyone but him. Perhaps Kento is the only one who’s truly ever mattered, because even if you’d been asked to kill him, you never would’ve done it, never could’ve; you’re not strong enough.

That’s where you and Satoru differ.

Kento slides his fingers in and out, stretching you, brushing against your swollen clit that’s begging to be touched by him. He bites down hard on your shoulder, blooms a bruise there and marks you as his forever, even if you’d never be anyone else’s anyways.

Already, you feel your climax building; you’re breathing heavier, crying out his name in a voice that doesn’t quite sound like your own. “I’m c-close,” you manage, and that is the wrong thing to say. He stills all at once and slips his fingers out of you, a web of arousal smeared over his knuckles.

Between your legs, you’re sticky, cold, but you barely notice. Your attention is directed on how aching and empty you are when his hands leave your body.

With a whine, you force your hips backwards, hating the chill that surrounds you all at once. “I wanna cum—”

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Kento smiles against your neck and drags his cock against the small of your back, swollen and hard. “But I know you can ask much nicer than that.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, “please, Kento, please, please, I need you, I—”

“There’s my good girl.” A breathy laugh leaves him as he angles the tip against your entrance, slow, pressing into you. “Fuck,” Kento groans, loudly, drawing out the syllables. “Squeezing me so tight, baby, you’ve been waiting just for me?”  

“Ken—” you say, and it’s all you can manage, the little nickname that no one’s ever called him but you. Kento buries himself inside you, his hot, muscular chest pressing into your back, pinning you against the cold wall. He’s so much bigger and wider, and his body encases you, shielding you from the agony that he’s dealt with his own hand.

You’re not sure if you can stand on your own — not under the weight of your solid and forceful affection for him.

“I know, I know," he says to the sweet sounds that escape you. "I’ve got you.”

Kento reaches around and cups your breast, squeezing hard. His thumb flicks over your nipple, the nail dragging against it cruelly as he swirls over the padded bra. Still, his blanketed touch is electrifying; your fingers curl into the wall, smooth, clawing without anything to grab onto.

He fucks into you, slowly, his strained cock rough against your walls. It’s just as you remember, and you long for your old life, wishing that there was a sorcerer out there whose technique could somehow turn back time. Then, you’d do something different, even if you’re not sure what.

With each thrust, his speed increases, hitting deeper and deeper inside you. Kento’s groans are so pretty, and tears roll down your cheeks at the feeling of him within you, surrounding you, the man you still touch yourself to at night, even when he’s a cold-blooded killer.

“It’s been a while since anyone’s fucked you like this, hm?” Kento says, cooing, almost sorry, even if he doesn’t realize how true that is. You feel dizzy with him, the sound of his syrupy voice, so deep and invigorating. “Need to cum so bad, don’t you, pretty?”

“Please,” you say, and you almost tell him you love him, almost let it slip, even though it can’t. This is nothing, this is nothing, this is nothing, you try and tell yourself, but you’re too distracted by the sounds, the utter sin that you’ve committed here in this school.

You’ve betrayed everyone, and you’re still betraying them now, your weak heart nothing but a burden.

Kento says your name, groans it around your ear as he presses harder into your body. His cock angles upwards, forces itself past your aching walls, and, he’s buried in you completely. There’s a lingering sting, a bitter pain, but Kento feels like home. Your stomach tightens, bursting with energy.

“You’re so perfect, aren’t you? So beautiful. Always take it like you were made for my cock,” he groans, and you suck him right back in, clamping around him tightly. “I missed this pretty pussy; maybe as much as I missed you.”

Tears well up in your eyes then, and you sob, reach around to grab his hair. You need to feel him all around you, remember what it was like for him to love you in return.

He hits a spot within you, and you arch into him, crying, a mess between your legs and on your face.

“There?” Kento says, but he already knows the answer, grinning as he kisses your cheek, your temple. “How could I ever forget the sweet sounds you make when you’re about to cum.”

You press his head closer, feel him kiss your neck again, softer this time, lovingly. He runs a delicate hand across your ribcage, your stomach. “You going to let go for me, angel? Surprised you lasted this long after two years. Think my sweet girl deserves it.”

“K-kento,” you whisper, but his name doesn’t get far; it’s cut off by your moan as he rips the orgasm from you, and you clench around him tightly, shaking.

“That’s it,” he says and shudders, grunting as he forces out the words. Your body jerks involuntarily into him as you slump against the wall, trapped between it and Kento. Already, you’re so sensitive, and your tears don’t stop falling as he pushes his cock into you again and again.

Kento’s heart is heavy within his chest, pounding against your back. You feel sick, helpless, missing him endlessly, even with him right at your fingertips. You can’t believe that you’ve lasted two years without him; how can you survive a lifetime?

“Take me with you,” you plead, your eyelids fluttering close as you try and remember the feeling of him, memorizing it in case this is the last time. “Please.”

“Can’t do that, sweetheart.” Kento jerks back into you, forcing your cheek further against the wall. His hand is stiff against your head, even though he strokes your hair gently, encouraging. “I’m supposed to kill you, remember? I’m supposed to rid the world of every last sorcerer.”

“I need you, Kento,” you cry, feeling close to another orgasm already. Tears are running down your cheeks, your lips wet with spit as your mouth parts. “Just like it was before. I love you; I love you so much, I’ll be so good, I’ll—”

Kento groans your name and cums inside you, thick ropes painting your insides. It’s too much, everything about this is too much, and you’re squeezing him again, painfully sensitive as you orgasm once more.

Nonsense spews from your lips, and you grab at him in desperation as he finally drags out of you, the absence of him shattering you completely. Your inner thighs are sticky and wet, and his cum drips down your thighs, leaving you nothing more than a cold, ruined mess.

Kento shushes, soothes you with sounds that are closer to taunts as you spin around, grab at him, claw at his wrinkled red shirt. There’s still blood on his face, but even then, you accept him; you’ll forgive him for every wrongdoing he’s committed if he lets himself love you once more.

“I want to go with you,” you say, and though his face is hard, he’s caressing your cheek with an opposite sort of touch, sadness in his weary eyes.

“I know you do,” he says, and there’s a conflict within him as his features contort. It’s the only evidence that maybe, deep down, he cares about you still. “But I’m not the man you want. Not anymore.” It’s a whisper, a prayer, and goodbye.

You nearly slap him as he straightens, inches away from you. You feel that you’ve been pushed into a pit of inky chaos, left soaked and naked from the way down, humiliated. Your cheek is red from where it was pressed into the textured paint, stinging from the pressure.

“Kento, please,” you beg, and he takes a step back, hardening his eyes. “You can’t leave me again. I’d rather die. I’d rather you kill me.”

You’re not sure which of the statements snaps him back into himself once more.

Kento blinks, then lets a cold smile filter onto his face, one that lingers darkly on every corner of his expression. A smear of blood remains on his sharp cheekbone, and he wipes it clear, grazing his eyes along your body in a way that makes you feel so small. You’re nothing to him, then; even though you had been once.

“Oh, I decided I won’t kill you this time,” he says, pushing his hair back into place as his spine goes rigid, straightening like a marionette string. “I want to make sure I have a pretty girl to come back to every now and again.”

“What?” It leaves you forcefully, and you’re choking in shame, because you hope the words are true. You can’t stand a life without Nanami Kento, even if that life is nothing more than seeing him in the cracks of moonlight, the shadows where no one knows he’s lurking. You’d take that before a lonely existence, void of the sweet lips of the devil that you pray to.

“I’ll leave Tokyo,” you shout, red-faced and teary eyed, your words nothing more than empty threats. “I’ll leave the country. You’ll never find me.”

Nanami grins, laughs at you coolly, a sound that chills you to the core. “Oh, I’d find you.”

You don’t have time to formulate a response. A breath forces its way out of you, but the wretched curse reveals itself from the corner of the room, stopping any words from escaping your lips. His eyes hungrily roam every inch of you, lingering on the lower half of your exposed body; you wonder how long he’s been there, watching, not saying a word.

“Are you done yet?” Mahito asks, dragging his lurid gaze away to face Nanami. “You’ve had your fun, let’s kill her now.”

Nanami’s eyes flash. “Leave her,” he says, scoffing. “She’s already as pathetic as it gets. Killing her won’t make a difference.” He spits the words coldly, and turns, following the curse out of the room

tags: @hannzai @cha0thicpisces @kissesmellow21 @sukiischaotic @hinata7346 @annoyingpainterprincess

I GOT SO NERVOUS TO POST THIS ONE SHDHFHS

OCTOBER MASTERLIST

#jjk x reader #kento nanami x reader #nanami x fem!reader #kento nanami x you #nanami x y/n #nanami smut #kento nanami smut #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x y/n #nanami kento x you #nanami x you #jjk x y/n #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x you #jjk x fem!reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #♰ theatre of vampires #rylie writes ₊˚🎧 #villain nanami

[xxwritemeastoryxx]

Intertwined

Author: xxwritemeastoryxx

Pairings: Elijah Mikaelson x Fem!Reader - Soulmate Au!

Word Count: 6.1K

Warnings: Angst, arguments, Elijah being overly protective but denying himself happiness as always, canon typical violence, a bit of fluff at the end.

Author’s Note: Because I'm apparently on a sequel kick, here's another. I promise I'm getting to the requests that I have and all the things I still need to work on from last year. I'm going where the muse takes me in my writing flow. So there's that. Also please note that you need to read Hidden Marks before reading this one.

I do not and will not ever give permission for my fics to be copied and posted on other sites. Don’t do it. Don’t be that person that ruins it for me and everyone else.Feedback gives me life and motivation for future things. While likes are appreciated, reblogs are gold. Seriously, if you enjoyed this in the slightest, please reblog ♥

Hidden Marks || TVDU Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Taglist

It had been months since Elijah had seen the three intertwined circles on the middle of Y/N’s back that made up her soul mark. The first and only time he'd seen it, he'd been pulling a wooden bullet out from her back when she asked for his help. From the moment Elijah helped to remove the bullet, the mark haunted him. 

Seeing her mark should have been a great thing. It should have brought him some peace and happiness to see her mark. That her mark matched the very one he had just below his left clavicle. A perfect pair that made sense for how close they had become as friends over the century. If anything, since seeing her mark he's been conflicted on his feelings. 

Part of him wants and tries to be protective of her. His soulmate that had come into his life when he least expected it. The woman that had become his best friend over the century had been the one thing he never actively searched for. He now knew why she stepped into his life and never left. But it was the other part of him that caused him to fight daily with his feelings. 

Y/N would be in danger because of him. She would soon become a target if even the slightest word had slipped about who his soulmate was. An endless cycle he'd force her into if an enemy ever came knocking. Threats and being captured for the sole purpose of being leveraged against him. 

Not to mention if his brother had ever lost his temper with him. Klaus wasn't one to spare the women in Elijah's life before. What difference would it make this time? All it would take was one action that made Klaus feel the slightest ounce of betrayal and he'd take it out on her. 

Elijah was willing to take on the devil himself if Y/N was in danger. He was reminded of it any time she recklessly put herself in harm's way. An argument he had with her plenty of times during their friendship, but held a deeper meaning as of recently. 

He was also reminded daily how easily she could bend him to her will with a simple smile as she walked into the room. Or the occasional knowing look she'd give him when he or his siblings said something she didn't agree with that would almost instantly change his mind about the situation. Especially if she added in her details that would make it reckless on her part. 

But no matter how many times that feeling of comfort and love started to grow for the woman he believed he could only care for platonically, he could never voice it. He could never bring himself to mention the details that he knew. And because he chose to keep it to himself, it began the yoyo effect of wanting to keep her at a distance and keep her close for his own sanity. 

It hadn’t gone unnoticed by Y/N either. From the moment she offered him a night out to deal with the humans who had put the bullets into her back, she noticed something different. She noticed the way his demeanor changed around her. He grew worrisome over the smallest of things he never had before. And even fought with her longer over details of plans to help take down the threat the Mikaelsons had been faced with. 

She found herself frustrated on the days that he brushed her off and all but ignored her. He had never once been cold to her in the time that she had known him. They had pushed each other’s buttons on occasion, but Elijah had never once pushed her away like he had been doing now. Every time he did, it hurt more than Y/N had ever expected it to. 

They were close friends, she knew that. She knew there would always be moments that Elijah would pick his family over her. That there would be moments where he would keep his family safe and do anything he could to also keep her safe. She knew she was not the highest priority. But why did it feel like someone had staked her when he walked away from her when she felt she really needed him for a few moments?

That's when the thoughts of doubt had been planted in her head. Doubts that were formed and fueled to drive her insane for most of the night that made it almost impossible to sleep. What had she done to earn such coldness from someone that she was close with? Had she crossed a boundary that she had suddenly been unaware of? 

The final straw that broke her had been moments ago when she offered to go with him to deal with the beginning of a threat. It was always something they had done together. A way to have Elijah’s calm and calculated approach and her glimmer of chaos that would always work out in their favor. But when he told her to stay behind, she could no longer keep anything at bay anymore. 

The moment Elijah had told her to stay behind, her face fell at his words. And as he walked past her to leave his expression hadn’t changed. And as she turned to face him, she let it all out. 

“What have I done?” She asked, causing him to stop in his tracks. “Have I wronged you in some way that makes you no longer want to be around me?”

Elijah heard the way her voice cracked towards the end. He had hoped that his actions wouldn’t hurt her. But here she was asking what she had done to him when in reality it had been him to do it. He turned to face her and shook his head slightly. 

“No.” His voice was composed in comparison to hers. “You have done nothing at all.”

She shook her head as she crossed her arms. “I’ve known you for over a century, Elijah. I know well enough to know you are lying to me. If I’ve done nothing wrong there wouldn’t be this shift between us where it feels like you suddenly want nothing to do with me.”

“I assure you that if I had wanted nothing to do with you, you would not still be standing here.” It was as close to the truth he could go to without coming out right with it. “We are facing a potential threat that I feel as though I need to do this with my siblings. We have no idea what they are fully capable of and the last time I checked, you are not as indestructible as you believe.”

Elijah had no idea how this threat would continue to play in their lives. He had no idea what knowledge they planned to use against them in an attempt to try and take him and his family out. That was why Elijah wanted to do this without her. He wanted to make sure that she would remain safe. 

He didn’t want to take Y/N with him with the possibility of allowing them to get an inkling that Y/N had now meant more to him than he let on. He didn’t want her in danger from something he didn’t fully understand. This was the part of him that was willing to do anything to protect her. He just had to slightly push her away in order to do so. 

“That never stopped you before.” She noted as she took a step towards him. “I may not be an original, but I am still a whole lot older than a majority of the threats that walk into the city. I have proven myself over and over that I can handle my own. I’m even better by your side. But ever since you’ve seen my mark, it’s like you don’t want to be near me. All I want is the truth from you. Did I do something or did my mark tell you something that you haven’t told me?”

Elijah looked at the ground for a moment before looking back up to her. He could see the hurt in her eyes as she expressed everything. But he couldn’t bring himself to tell her even though every part of him wanted to. To bring some peace to her mind on his reasoning instead of making her feel as though she wasn’t wanted. 

“I’m going to try to make this as clear as I can." His voice was still even, almost void of any emotion. "This threat is not to be taken lightly. While we do not have the full specifics on who they are or why they are here, I do know they have come close to harming the people I care about." His eyes met hers. "While our normal plan pairs perfectly with the riff raff we deal with, at this moment it does not. So no, you will not accompany me tonight. I need you here." 

After taking in his words, all she could manage was a nod before he was gone from her sight. He didn’t even give her a chance to respond or fight him on what he was telling her. And it left Y/N feeling defeated. 

Her mind still tried to make sense of the changes that had come over the last few months. Every push and pull that happened between the two being analyzed as if it had been some rather important document or experiment being worked on. She was trying to find something, anything, to show what caused Elijah’s sudden change. No matter how many ways she thought about it, it only came back to one starting point: the night Elijah saw her mark. 

Had seeing it really thrown him off to not want to be near her like he had used to? Not showing them their marks had been a preference they decided on early in their friendships. If there was ever a day they felt comfortable in showing what it was, they would have. And that night, with a bullet in her back, it hadn’t mattered if Elijah had seen it or not. 

She ran a hand along her face, trying to shake off the thoughts that had kept her pacing her room for hours after he had left. She no longer cared about the mark or who she may have possibly shared it with. Why did that change now that Elijah had seen it?

It made her wonder if he had seen the mark on someone else. If there was a possibility that he felt guilty in some way after seeing it. There had been plenty of enemies in his existence. At some point he could have easily come across it and not realized it until he saw it on her back.

Did it belong to someone who had betrayed him? Had he seen it on someone that he had taken their life out of necessity? Or had this person been a victim of the many spells he had endured? 

Deep down she knew it was the fear of losing Elijah. Something she had thought about over the century and a half she had known him. Friendships can only last so long before one reason or another comes along. She knew plenty of people who had left her on the back burner after finding their soulmate, even during her human years. 

She had grown used to having Elijah in her life. It would take her longer to find a memory that didn’t involve Elijah versus the ones with. Over the years she had become dependent on the fact that Elijah had always been there for her just as she was for him. He was a constant and part of her hated the thought of her ever losing that. 

At the thought, Y/N had felt her heart sink. A simple thought putting everything into perspective to her. The idea may have been formed from past experiences, but it all made sense. Elijah must have found his soulmate. And if that was the case, she was sure this was the beginning of being put further back on the burner.  

“Y/N?!” Rebekah’s panicked voice had broken her from her thoughts, causing her to move quickly to find Rebekah. 

Upon reaching the courtyard, a gasp left her lips as she found Rebekah dragging a half standing Elijah towards the couch. The majority of his clothing had been covered in blood. Parts of the fabric had been torn in several places. It was as if Elijah had picked a battle he couldn’t win. 

“What the hell happened?” Y/N asked as she moved to help get Elijah settled on the couch. Her eyes had still been taking him in, accessing his injuries. 

“Witches.” Elijah breathed out as he tried to get a hold of reality. He had lost enough blood and his mind had been a distorted mess from the magic he had been subjected to. 

“Everything had been going according to plan but whatever spell they used on him, it threw him off course.” Rebekah took the moment to leave the room to get items they needed to help Elijah for the time being until Freya could get back there. The moment she was back she continued. “The others are still there dealing with them.” 

Seeing the items Rebekah had brought, Y/N reached for the towel that had been sitting in a bowl of water and began cleaning off the blood from Elijah’s face and neck. “I can understand the disorientation, but what the hell ripped into him?” 

There was panic rising within Y/N. She hated that he had made her stay behind. She could have been there to help him in some way. Been there to help prevent him from being hurt as he was now. 

"Between the spell and some of the wolves within the vicinity, he couldn't watch his back." Rebekah said as she picked up another towel and folded it before placing it on Elijah's forehead. Afterwards she began picking up little containers of what Y/N could only assume were herbs and salves that Freya had instructed her to use for the time being. 

As Y/N ran the towel over his neck, Elijah lifted his hand to her hand, stilling her movements. It caused her to look up at him. His eyes had been looking over her face, before they settled on her eyes.

"You're safe." His voice was barely above a whisper. 

She nodded her head. "I am safe. You made sure I was." She wasn't sure if that was what he needed to relax more as she attempted to help clean him. "Freya will be here soon." 

With that, Elijah seemed to relax his hold and it allowed for her to continue wiping up the blood. So far it looked as though any of the injuries he sustained were healing. It may have been at a whole lot of a slower pace, but his wounds were healing. But the moment her hand moved to remove the shredded fabric stuck to his skin along his left shoulder and chest, his hand grabbed a hold of her wrist, not wanting her to continue. 

"I need to make sure your wounds are healing Elijah." She said softly as she brought her eyes up to his once more. "Or to at least give me the peace of mind that this looks way worse than it is." 

"For once let someone take care of you." Rebekah added and pulled his hand away from Y/N. It had been too easy to remove his hand. His strength is almost non-existent given what he'd been through. 

Elijah hated that he couldn't get his mind to process the protest he wanted to give. He hated that he couldn't give a strong enough response to say he'd deal with it later. But the spell within his mind made it difficult to think clearly for more than a second or two at a time. 

Elijah’s eyes never left Y/N’s face as she began to move the fabric away from his chest. He didn't care about the wounds he was facing. He didn't even care that Y/N and Rebekah were caring for him. It was what laid just under the layers of fabric she was removing, that had him worried. 

Quickly dipping the towel into the bowl of water between her and Rebekah, Y/N brought it back up to his chest and began to rid him of the drying blood. There was a part of her that was relieved to not see some gaping wound that he was trying to prevent her from seeing. 

That relief soon turned into curiosity as the blood was being wiped away. The beginning of Elijah's mark became clear as day. With each wipe of the towel the mark continued to grow. And as last of the reminisce of blood was removed from the mark, she all but dropped the towel. 

Just below his left clavicle had been three intertwined circles. It ran horizontally across his skin in the exact same way it ran across the middle of her back. And for a moment she fought herself on reaching out just to run her fingers along the mark. A need to make sure it was really there. 

Elijah had watched her the whole time. Even through his hazed mind he could see the way relief had flooded her eyes before her brows began to furrow. The curiosity in her eyes had been evident and there was nothing Elijah could do to fully protest in his current state. All he could do was watch her as she learned what he had months ago. 

Her soulmate had been right there in front of her for over a century.  

Her eyes snapped to him and Elijah could see several emotions flash through her eyes. He could see the way there was a sliver of excitement before hurt filled them as she tried to stop the tears from welling up. 

"What is it?" Rebekah asked as she caught on that Y/N had stopped her movements. 

Y/N shook her head slightly before looking away from Elijah. "Nothing worth noting." She said as she went back to wiping the blood. 

She kept her eyes away from the mark and as best as she could from keeping them from looking up at Elijah. She could feel his eyes on her. But she refused to look his way. 

All of her wild thoughts that had been going through her head earlier had only been partially right. She honestly never thought this was the case. And if she was being honest with herself, this felt worse. 

He had found his soulmate like she thought.  But she hadn't expected it to be herself. Not with the way he had pulled himself away from her during the course of the last few months. Not with the way she felt that she was losing her best friend. 

Elijah knew that he was her soulmate and he didn't tell her. There wasn't an excitement at knowing that the person they spent decades with had been the one person they both chose not to actively look for. Their life had been great just as it was. Until Elijah saw her mark. 

She tried to stop the spiral of thoughts that began to form. It was already too late to try to spare her heart the pain it was currently feeling. No matter how hard she tried to focus on helping Rebekah take care of him, one single thought played in her mind on a constant loop. 

He knew they were soulmates and he tried pushing her away. 

The moment Freya came running into the courtyard with Klaus and Kol behind her, Y/N pulled herself slowly away from the side of the couch. It was a way to not only keep the now unwanted attention of her facial expressions away but to give the necessary space Freya would need. 

When she moved a little too far for Elijah’s liking, his hand grabbed a hold of hers. This time his grip was tighter in comparison to earlier. He was getting better, stronger. The venom from the wolf bites was leaving his system while the spell kept a tight hold over him.

Y/N's eyes met his one more time. She could tell he was pleading with her to stay there with his eyes. Almost to say that once Freya helped him he'd explain everything to her. That he needed her to stay there.

There was something in her eyes that changed a moment after his words had pierced the air. “Would you tell me if you saw the mark on someone else?” 

“Of course.” He said even though it had been a lie. He knew he wasn’t going to speak of the very mark that was on his chest. 

Her heart ached at the sudden memory that filled her mind. She wanted to break down. She wanted to run to get fresh air. Do anything that would allow her to process the information she had been given in the last few minutes. 

Freya came over and knelt down beside Elijah, giving Y/N the chance to pull her hand away from Elijah. She took several back as she tried to decide if she wanted to stay or leave the area. But a heartbeat later she was mumbling some excuse and left the courtyard. 

It was only when she was safely behind the door of her room, she felt more clarity than she had downstairs. The wave of emotions she felt calmed in comparison.  While silent tears had begun falling, it hadn't felt like her world had come crashing to a halt as it had. 

"For as many times as I've come here to hide away, there's never been another person here." Y/N said as she took in the stranger. "Might have to find a new one if this one is compromised." 

"I can assure you, I've known about this place for a lot longer than you." The stranger looked towards her. "I may have been out of the city for some time, but I will know more about the history than you ever will.”

A laugh passed her lips causing a smile to form on his lips. “What if I told you I watched that town in the distance be built?”

His eyebrow raised slightly before he looked towards the town she had been speaking of. “I’d then ask if you knew what was out there before the town was built.”

“A small village.“ She responded.  “One that was destroyed just a few years after I was born. There are stories of a creature that roamed the woods that surrounded that village. A creature that was hunted but never killed.” She shrugged her shoulders before looking back towards the stranger. “Though I’d love to hear what you have that can top that.”

He laughed for a moment before he placed his hand out between them. “I’m Elijah. And I assure you, I can surpass any story you’ve been told about the area.”

“That’s a challenge I’m willing to take.” She said as she placed her hand in his. “I'm Y/N.”

That year Y/N needed to get away from the life she had found herself in after being a vampire for a few centuries already. The mountaintop just above the town she was born in had always been her go to place to reevaluate her life as a human and as a vampire. That night, Y/N had been debating on watching the sunrise for the last time. 

But Elijah had been there to pull her thoughts away from the sunrise and into a life that she had now thrived in. Elijah had been there when she needed him the most. Her soulmate had been the one to pull her back from the edge and she never knew it until now.

Elijah had saved her that night. He saved her and it wasn't long after he paid off a witch to create a daylight ring for her. A friendship shouldn't be had just in the dark. Those had been his words as he held up the daylight ring for her to take a few minutes before sunrise a few weeks later.

Her heart picked up in pace as her mind continued to accept everything that happened. The details of their meeting to this current moment made sense from a soulmate perspective. No matter how many times the flashes of memories played through her mind, there was no changing the facts. 

"What if I don't want to marry my soulmate?" A young Y/N asked as she kicked her shoe at the dirt. 

Her mother's laugh filled the air. "You don't always have to marry your soulmate. Sometimes it depends on what best suits the both of you. Your soulmate can be a best friend or even a lover. Sometimes they're both." She knelt down to Y/N's height. "There's one thing I know though. Having them in your life in any form is a whole lot better than not having them in your life or losing them. So when you are able to meet the person that knows your soul without needing to try hard, fight as hard as you can. Fight with them, for them and alongside them as needed." She ran her hand along Y/N’s cheek. "I know this doesn't make a lot of sense right now, but I promise one day you'll understand. "

The sound of the knock on her door followed by the door slowly opening had pulled her out of her thoughts and memories. Without even looking she had already known it was Elijah. She quickly wiped at her cheeks before she turned towards the door. 

The moment she had, Elijah could see that the whirlwind of emotions he saw earlier in her eyes had shifted. Even as her eyes welled up, he could see the hurt along with acceptance. And if he was being honest with himself, the acceptance is what scared him. 

He took a few steps further into her room before he came to a stop. "What I've done was-" 

"Cowardice?" She finished for him before he got the chance to even form the next word. It made him raise his brow. "Because whatever reasoning you have for not telling me was the worst decision you have ever made. And I know there have been plenty of questionable decisions you've made." 

"I know I should have told you that night." He gave a slight nod. "For a brief moment I wanted to. But then I realized the danger you would be in because of me." 

She had already begun shaking her head before he finished speaking. "Danger that I haven't already been in from just being close with you. Or to your siblings for that matter." She watched as he opened his mouth to speak but she quickly continued to stop him. "I know it's not the same. Putting it out there makes it more real and practically puts a target on both of us. I know what that target looks like. That just means we'll be better prepared for it." 

She knew from experience how easy it was to use a soulmate as leverage. How easy it was to threaten them to get someone to bend to their will. There was a dark decade in Y/N's existence where she had once toyed with humans and their soulmates. A time where her humanity had been switched and she hadn't cared. 

She knew the tricks that could be played. She knew how much damage someone could take before they snapped. The emotional torment that could be played on both parties to get the point across was something she lived for during that dark decade. 

At least that was until her humanity had been forcefully switched on. She tormented herself afterwards on how she could carelessly manipulate people by using the one weakness they all had. It was part of the reason she found herself heading back to the mountaintop. 

"If today has taught me anything it's that you were safer without me near." He watched as her eyebrow raised before he continued. "While having you by my side would have been beneficial for many reasons, I watched as my worst fear played through my mind because of a spell. A spell that provided sufficient reasons on why I was right on my decision to not say anything." 

"A spell that was used to distract you.” She noted. It explained why he had seemed so relieved at seeing her safe. "And a fear that we could have worked out beforehand if you simply had told me. I spent the last several hours wondering how and when I had become the problem. Part of me knew that you had found your soulmate and that was why you were pushing me away. That maybe you were trying to distance yourself from me to make room for them." Her eyes began to well up. "I just never thought you'd be pushing me away because I am your soulmate."

Elijah shook his head slightly as guilt filled him. He could see in that moment how hurt she had been by it. The emotions she had displayed when he first came into the room broke down bit by bit. And the thought that she believed she was the problem stung him in ways he never believed it would. 

"I don't know if I can be what you need me to be." He said a moment later. "It has been proven time and again that whenever I let an ounce of happiness into my life, it's quickly taken away. I refuse to have the same thing happen to you. And if that means keeping you at a distance or even you leaving the city-" 

"Nothing has to change!" She cut him off as she shook her head. "We have been by each other's side for over a century without even knowing we were soulmates. We have been through hell and back together without even questioning how it was possible. I have fought by your side not caring if I died in the process." She wiped at her cheeks as more tears escaped. "I will continuously be by your side even after this. I don't care if it is as something more or keeping things as it has been. But don't you dare for one moment think that I would be safer with you pushing me away or even deciding that it's better without you in my life." 

He sighed softly before taking a few steps to close the distance between them. "If anything were to ever happen to you because of me, I'd never be able to forgive myself." His hand came up to her cheek before using his thumb to wipe away more of her tears. 

"It's going to happen with or without you in my life." Her eyes met his. "I am no stranger to being threatened by your family. I have had Klaus's hand on my heart and I'm still here in front of you." She placed her hand on top of his as she leaned into his touch slightly.  A way to prove that she was there. "I am not even a stranger to having a witch use me as leverage or even used to fight against you. I can leave tonight and what's to stop anyone from coming after me once it's actually figured out?" She watched as he took in her words. "This isn't just one sided either. I am afraid of what each new threat could mean for you. I want and need you to be safe, maybe even for my own selfish reasons. But I will not let you push me away without at least fighting to stay. I will continue to be by your side no matter how much you push. I will stand there by your side and face the enemy with you and die there with you if it comes to it. I will continue to be your friend or more if that is what you need and you'll never have to worry that I'll leave you. But I will not let you try and push me out of your life for the fear of what could possibly happen to me just because you're afraid to let yourself be happy."

Elijah's eyes never left hers as she spoke. He couldn't bring himself to look away from her. Not when he was seeing everything play through her eyes. Every emotion, every piece of history and hopeful future had been displayed within them. And he could no longer ignore what he'd been trying to avoid. 

He knew everything she said was right. He would hate himself if anything happened to her while she was gone. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how it would feel if he ever learned the news that something had happened to her. He couldn't ignore the fact that throughout the years and even now she was fighting for her place to stay no matter how hard he tried to keep her at bay and safe in his eyes. 

The same safety that he had been trying to provide her since the night they met. How broken her eyes had looked from the moment she took a seat next to him on that mountain top. And how everything within him had told him to protect her from anything. Even himself if it ever came to it. 

But as he looked into her eyes now, he could see the woman that had become his best friend.  The woman that stood there beside him as threat after threat came. How she cared for him in his moments of need even though he fought her on it. The one person he couldn’t go more than a few days without speaking with. It was why the thought of losing her scared him even more than he ever believed. 

After a moment, Elijah nodded his head. “I give you my word that I will not push you away or ask you to leave.” His thumb gently moved along her cheek. He watched as something changed within her eyes. “I don't believe I could actually watch you leave, let alone be alone out there in the world. Nor can I picture a day where you are not in my life in some form or another. You have your selfish reasons and I have mine. But I have never wished for you to look so hurt as you have today and I will spend as much time as needed to make up for it. ” He looked elsewhere for a moment before looking back at her. “I just don’t know how things will change from here.”

The part of Y/N’s heart that expected the worst had felt relief. Relief that he wasn’t going to continue to push her away. Relief that he was willing to accept that they were soulmates and that she wasn’t going to go down or leave without a fight. And if anything, there was a small tug of a smile at her lips at his words. 

“We continue as friends, just as we have.” She offered. “If in the future things change, we’ll go from there.”

A hum of agreement passed his lips as he pulled his hand away from her. As he did, He maneuvered his hand to take a hold of her’s, finding comfort in just holding her hand within his. Her offer of nothing needing to change played in his ears.

There was something within him that agreed with that. Mixed within the agreement was the hope that things would change for the better. But for now this was a step in the right direction. A step that meant he wasn’t going to push her away as he had planned to. It was in a direction that he strongly believed he’d never lose her in the way that he feared.

“We’ll handle things as we always have.” He nodded his head, a small smile pulling at his lips. 

“Together?” She asked as a small hopeful smile pulled at her lips. 

She could joke about how they would work together as she always had in the past. She could have added in how reckless they could be. How the calm and chaosbetween them would keep things interesting. But at that moment, she only needed the confirmation that it would continually be them against everything else that came at them.

“Together.” He promised with no intention of ever breaking that promise. Even when the world learned of the mark they share, he’d keep his promise and keep each other close to their sides. As a friend, as a potential lover, but most importantly as soulmates that would never have to live without the other. 

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[thornsnvultures]

syrup & honey

eddie munson x plus size!fem!reader

summary: eddie needs a place to stay on Halloween night and your window's always open

cw: 18+ nsft, smut, vampire!eddie, afab!reader, flirty!eddie, oral (fem rec), breast play, fingering, p in v sex, blood drinking, creampie, cheesy fluff, steve makes a background appearance as eddie's blood dealer of sorts, 2.7k words

"Can't sleep?"

Eddie's voice is quiet, just barely heard over the rain pouring outside. You look up from your book at your open window. Eddie's perched on the sill, his long, black coat is drenched and dripping on the floor.

"C'mon in Eddie," you sigh, closing your book. You turn on the lamp next to your bed, soft yellow light filling the small space. Eddie happily jumps in and makes for your bathroom where he sheds his coat, dropping it in the tub with a wet splat. At least he has the sense to not throw it over your couch. Again.

When Eddie appears again he's shirtless and you can't help but roll your eyes. He's rubbing at his damp curls with one of your towels, his lithe muscles bunching and stretching. He's flexing on purpose.

"Why are you here?"

"What, I can't drop in and say 'hi'?" Eddie tosses the used towel in your hamper across the room and plops down on the chair by your bed. Your studio apartment feels so much smaller when Eddie's here, all stretched out on your bargain furniture. "It's Halloween, babe. You should be out partying. With me." Eddie grins and his teeth flash in the light of a sudden lightning strike.

"It's miserable out there, Eddie. I'm not getting all dressed up in a slutty little costume just to get cold and wet," you huff, pulling your comforter up over your tits. You shouldn't have said slutty. Shouldn't have taken your bra off either. You knew Eddie would stop by, it's why you left the window open. But now you were cold and you felt... exposed under his hungry gaze. The way he looked at you in your sleepshirt, like he was picturing you in an assortment of terrible costumes that left nothing to the imagination.

"I'm sure I could've warmed you up, honey," Eddie practically purrs, leaning forward on his chair, his elbows on his knees, hands clasped in front of him like it's the only thing keeping him from reaching out and grabbing you.

"What you can do is sleep on the couch. Just close the curtains before you lay down."

"Right," Eddie chuckles and leans back on the chair. "Wouldn't want you to wake up to a pile of ash on your couch. It'd take you weeks to vacuum it all up." Eddie bites his lip with one long canine. "Are you sure I can't help keep you warm, honey? You look awfully cold."

"You never closed the window. And this is a twin bed. Not happening."

"So if I got you a king sized you'd let me in?"

"Not what I said," you shook your head.

"How 'bout a queen? A full? It'll be full of us, that's for sure." Eddie slams the window shut and winks at you and suddenly you're not so sure letting him stay the night was the best idea. You feel claustrophobic with that window shut tight.

"The only thing that's full is you. Full of yourself."

"Oooh, good one, honey." Eddie plops down at the foot of your bed. You move your feet out of the way just in time before he flops backwards and crushes them. Eddie stretches out like a cat, groaning long and loud.

"Eddie quit it," you kick him with your foot. "You're getting my sheets all wet."

"Not the first time these sheets have been wet though, huh?"

"Oh my god, Eddie, shut up." The pillow at your side bounces off his stupid grinning face when you chuck it at him. "I was trying to be nice when you asked for a place to stay for the night. If I knew you were gonna be a little shit about it, I would've said no."

"C'mon, honey," Eddie pouts, sitting up. "We've been friends for how long and this is how you treat me?"

"Eddie, I've only known you for a month!"

"Exactly! And look at how close we've gotten in such a short time," Eddie smirks as he crawls up the bed. You can't take your eyes off his, bright red and glowing. How his teeth shine in the moonlight like pearls. Before you know it, Eddie's knees are bracketing your hips, caging you in with his arms, with you flat on your back.

"Eddie," you caution. "What are you doing?"

You gasp when Eddie leans down and presses his nose to your jaw, nudging it and turning your face so he can breathe you in. You feel him shudder, his hair still dripping around your face. Eddie presses a kiss to your jugular, just light enough that you're not sure if you imagined it. But then he does it again. And again.

"Let me taste you," Eddie whispers into your skin. "I know you'll taste so sweet."

"Eddie," you push at his chest like you don't want this, like you're not aching to feel the hot, wet suction of his mouth on your skin. Like you haven't been dying to know what it was like since Steve introduced the two of you at his bar downtown, the one Eddie was trying to get you to go to tonight.

"Don't make me beg, honey," Eddie groans and licks a stripe up your thundering pulse. "I promise I'll be gentle."

Your grip on your blanket loosens with every soft kiss and lick Eddie presses to your skin. When you arch up into his touch you ask yourself if you're really doing this, letting him touch you like this. You've never... been with someone like Eddie. Before you met him all you knew of his kind was violence, stories you hear on the news, homicidal maniacs and sex perverts. Eddie was one of those two for sure, but he'd never hurt anyone. Not unless they asked. Were you asking? Would you let him just like you let him in?

It seemed your body was answering for you, slick between your thighs, nipples pebbled in the cool air. It was October and your super still hadn't turned the heat on. Without your thick blanket the room would be unbearable, but you could barely feel it. Eddie was radiating heat. He tore the blanket off of you and you could feel it everywhere. Every inch of him surrounds you like a balm to soothe your goosebumps away.

He must've fed before he came here. You hoped it was from the secret bar stock and not one of Steve's other patrons. Though, why that bothered you so much you didn't know. Eddie didn't owe you that. You weren't his. He just wanted to play with you, roll around in your sheets for the night. See if you tasted as sweet as his nickname for you. And you were fine with that, really you were.

You gasped as Eddie tugged up your sleep shirt, his warm hands traveling up your hips to your waist.

"Can I?"

You're moving your body before the word "yes" even falls from your lips. Eddie pulls your shirt all the way off and he's on you before it even hits the floor, kissing down your neck, to your chest. His fangs lightly scrape your skin, scratching at you like a cat pawing at a closed door, begging to be let in.

Eddie takes your nipples in his mouth, flicking his tongue over one tight bud before moving to the other until you're writhing under him. Your hips lift with every nibble and tug, grinding against the obvious bulge in his too tight jeans.

"Eddie, please," you tug at his hair, unsure of what you're begging for. You just need more, something harder and faster before you scream.

"Shhh, I got you." Eddie's warm hands cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing your spit slick peaks as he kisses you. He's careful not to knick you with his teeth, all lips and tongue, devouring you in a way you didn't expect him to tonight. Not that you were hoping for him to- who are you kidding? You've wanted him since the first night you saw him.

You're panting when Eddie pulls away, inching down your body, mapping out a trail of kisses and bites along the way. The groan that rips from his chest when he pulls your panties down stops you from instinctively trying to close your legs. You're nervous, being looked at like that. Like Eddie's a cartoon dog and you're a pie someone left on a window sill. But his hands push your thighs open. You want to let him in, need to let him in, so you let him spread you wide. He kisses your thighs, up to your knee and back down again on both sides until you're begging again. You can feel his warm breath on your center, your head thrown back as your hips roll, trying to entice him to just put his mouth on you already.

"You're so pretty, honey. Knew you'd be pretty," Eddie mumbles, more to himself than you, and kisses your clit. He rubs it with his tongue, delicious little flicks that have you gasping and tugging on his hair.

"So fucking wet for me," Eddie groans and spears you open on his tongue. And, god, yes you are. Soaking his face when he slips a thick finger into your cunt, dragging an orgasm, then another, out of you with his mouth suckling on your clit.

Those big red eyes of his stare up at you, watching you as you cum, shaking and gasping for air, your whole body seizing. Eddie's fingers work you through each one, not stopping until you're pushing him away, begging him for a break. His face is soaked in your slick, dripping from his chin.

"Did so good for me."

You sigh as Eddie kisses your thighs, still watching you. His pussy soaked fingers reach up to tweak your nipple, grinning when you gasp.

"Can you be good for me again? I know I just ate," Eddie winks and you roll your eyes, too sapped of energy to smack him. "But those blood bags Steve keeps stocked for me aren't enough. I need the real thing."

Your tummy flutters. He didn't feed from anyone else tonight. It shouldn't make you feel giddy but it does. You nod your head pulling Eddie closer to you by your legs around his back.

"If I'm letting you bite me, then I need you inside me, Eddie."

"Fuck. Yes, anything you need, honey, I'll give it to you." Eddie fumbles with his pants, chucking them off a little too hard when they get stuck on his foot.

You laugh when he pounces on you again, settling between your thighs. He peppers your face with kisses and you can still smell yourself all over him but you don't care. Your laughs turn into moans as Eddie ruts against you, his cock sliding between your folds, bumping against your sensing clit.

Eddie sits up on his knees, dick in hand as he tap, tap, taps the head on your clit.

"Can I come inside?" Eddie smirks.

"You're so dumb," you laugh. "Fuck me already, Eddie."

Eddie smiles, one fang catching on his lip, as he slides in. You try to relax as Eddie eases his way in. He's not crazy long but he's thick and he knows it, taking his time stretching you out inch by inch.

"Oh fuck," you shout when Eddie rubs at your clit to help ease you open.

"That's it, honey. Take it all. I know you can. Look at that pretty, little pussy swallowing me up. Fuck," Eddie groans. "Once I'm all the way in, I'll take what I need. I don't think I'm gonna last, honey. Squeezing me so fucking tight."

Eddie's so focused on your pussy, you just stare at him. Your eyes lidded and hazy, you can't help but wish it could be like this all the time. Like he could be yours. All sweaty and shiny in the moonlight. Pale skin and tattoos and strong fingers that know just how and where to touch you like he was born to do it.

Finally you feel it, his hips meeting yours, and you swear you've never felt this full in your life. It sits in your chest, telling you that this feels so, so right.

Eddie lays flush with your body, not crushing you, just holding, rolling his hips into you with delicious little thrusts that send shockwaves up your spine.

"Relax for me," Eddie whispers as he kisses down your jaw. He tilts your head to the left, your jugular exposed. He kisses you there over and over until finally you feel his mouth open wide, his hot breath on your neck. It's quick, the pain. You only feel it for a flash before it's gone and then you feel nothing but ecstacy. You come with a shout, clenching around Eddie's cock and clawing at his back, leaving trails of red on his pale skin. It's like nothing you've felt before, but at the same time you have. You've felt his lips, his tongue, working your clit, sucking your folds, drinking every drop of your juices, and it feels much the same. Devouring you. His tongue lapping up everything, drinking you deep until he's groaning into your flesh.

"Cum inside me, Eddie," you plead, as Eddie's thrusts get sloppier, more frantic. "Please, Eddie."

Eddie pulls off your throat and cums with a shout, burying his face in your shoulder as his cock kicks, his balls emptying inside you in wave after wave.

Eddie stays there as you rub his back. You almost don't want him to pull out. He's tenderly licking your neck, stopping the flow of blood before it ruins your sheets.

"You taste so fucking good," Eddie groans.

"Which? Pussy or blood?"

"Both," he sobs dramatically into your chest. Eddie sits up and smiles at you, licking his lips. His chin is covered in a mix of blood and pussy. It's a little disturbing, but honestly, not as bad as you thought it would be. You shudder when he pulls his softening cock free, feeling his release ooze out.

"Fuck that's a lot of cum," Eddie says in awe. You whine and bat his arm away when he tries to push it back inside.

"S-stop, too much."

Eddie uses the same towel he used earlier to clean the both of you off and washes his face in the bathroom sink and closes your heavy curtains before coming back to you.

"Thank you, honey," he hands you a bottle of water and slides in behind you, pulling you to his chest. "You ok?"

"Just a little sore."

"Thanks for letting me in," Eddie says as he snuggles in closer. "And I don't just mean-"

"I know," you laugh and elbow him in the ribs.

"I want to keep seeing you," he says.

"As friends?"

"Is that what you want?"

You think of Eddie waking around your apartment, being here when you get home from work, reading in bed with him at night, going to Steve's together. It's not going to be easy with his... schedule but,

"No, I want you. I want... us. You drive me crazy, but I like being with you, Eddie. I don't want this to be a one time thing. Or friends with benefits."

You roll over and look at his deep, red eyes.

"Do you want me too, Eddie? For more than just, this," you wave your hand between the two of you.

"Of course I do," Eddie takes your head in his hands and kisses you. "If you said no I'd still come over here and bug the shit outta you until you said yes," he grins.

"Creeping at my window at 2am?"

"Like you weren't up touching yourself waiting for me," Eddie teased, nipping at the tip of your nose. "I saw what you were reading before I came in."

"Oh please," you push at his chest, your face heating. Eddie wobbles, nearly going off the side of your twin. He catches himself, cackling because he's right.

"Next time I come knocking on your window you can give me a show, yeah? Or you could come out with me to Steve's and we can defile his storage closet. Maybe the bathrooms."

"Shut up!" You laugh hitting Eddie's chest as he tugs you close.

"You've thought about it haven't you," Eddie kisses your cheeks, your jaw.

"Don't start, Eddie," you gasp as he licks the tender flesh where he bit you.

"I'm not starting," Eddie shrugs and pushes you onto your back. "I'm continuing. Never said I was done with you."

~~~

~~

~

🖤🎃 happy halloween!!<<

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x plus size!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #vampire!eddie munson x reader #vampire!eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson halloween fic #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson drabble #steve is also there sort of #my fics

[valeskafics]

"Oceans Of Time" - Vampire!Aemond Targaryen x Reader (Dracula AU)

Summary: Aemond has crossed oceans of time to find you, his love.

Word Count: 3,650

Rating: 18+, Minors DNI

TW: afab reader, she/her pronouns, profanity, innuendo, mentions of suicide/death, blood kink, oral f receiving, p in v sex, murder

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Fire & Blood/House of the Dragon characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated ❤️

When news reached the Red Keep of the demise of Prince Aemond Targaryen, his wife was beside herself with grief. She fell to her knees, sobbing, wondering why the gods would be so cruel as to take the love of her life from her at such a young age. She could not handle the pain his loss entailed, the pain that threatened to consume her whole, and so she flung herself from the ramparts of the Red Keep, his name on her lips. She left behind a note, one proclaiming her eternal love for him, found by his mother, the Dowager Queen Alicent, who promptly had her son’s young wife’s body recovered and brought to the Silent Sisters for a proper burial.

The court was shocked upon Aemond’s return, as he stated that he did not fall in battle. But when he saw his young bride, laying upon a slab to be dressed by the Silent Sisters, the most wretched of sobs left the prince’s body. Much as his lady did upon hearing of his death, he fell to his knees, grief-stricken and heartbroken. And then? The grand maester had the sheer audacity to tell him that because the lady took her own life, her soul was damned. She could not be buried in the hallowed ground of the royal crypts.

Aemond’s lips curled up into a vicious snarl as he hissed, “Is this my reward for defending the realm? For defending the Seven? My beloved wife buried as a heathen in a pauper’s grave?”

The Dowager Queen and maester covered their mouths in horror, whispering sacrilege. And then, Aemond uttered the words that would change the trajectory of his life forever.

“I renounce the gods! I renounce the Seven! I shall rise from my own death to avenge hers with all the powers of darkness!”

The young prince cursed the Seven, and so sealed his own fate. The Stranger cursed him with life eternal, so that he would never be reunited with his love in death. The mysterious god cursed the one-eyed prince to wander the realm as neither man nor spirit, but something else entirely - a creature of the night, one who gains sustenance from the consumption of the blood of living beings.

Nosferatu.

A vampyr.

Aemond soon realized that if the world were to realize what he was, he would be hunted down, slain by those who would not have one of the undead walking the realm. And so, he fled to Winterfell, commissioning a great manse where he could live in solitude, mourning his love and feeding on any poor travelers unfortunate enough to come his way.

Many years pass this way, nearly two centuries. Aemond learns of Robert’s Rebellion, of the fact that his descendants have been all but wiped from the face of the earth, and yet he cares not. He cares for nothing, for no one, until one fateful day. He walks through the streets of Wintertown, his eye going wide upon seeing a sculpture being worked upon by an artisan in the middle of the square. A statue that is the very image of his lady, his love. He approaches the artist and asks who the subject is.

“The princess, good ser, King Robert’s eldest daughter,” he informs him, “She’s to marry Lord Robb. They have been betrothed.”

Aemond gazes at the statue, enraptured, the uncanny resemblance between this princess and his dearest love being too evident to deny. At hearing that she is to be married to the future Lord of Winterfell, his lips turn downward into a frown. He stares into the eyes of the statue, a yearning he has not felt for many, many years overtaking his body. He must find his way to King’s Landing, after all this time. He must find this sweet princess, his lady wife reborn. He will not rest until he has her in his arms, and in his bed, once again.

As a princess, you are afforded every luxury you can possibly desire. Your mother adores you, her favorite of her children. Out of your siblings, your father only truly pays attention to you, his eldest child. Your siblings practically worship the ground you walk upon and your uncles treat you as their little princess. You are adored by the people of King’s Landing, the Sweet Doe, as you have come to be known. You go out into the city often, mingling with the smallfolk, doing your best to listen to their troubles.

And it is in the city that Aemond finds you.

Aemond stares at you from across the way, hidden in the crowd, biding his time till the opportune moment to make himself known arises. You look so happy, he notes, walking arm in arm with your lady’s maid. He waits for her to separate from you before murmuring under his breath, eye locked on your figure.

“See me.”

As though you hear his words, you turn, your eyes meeting his own for a brief moment. You tilt your head to the side in confusion before beginning to walk toward the market. Aemond can hear the way your heart beats faster against your chest, knowing that tiny interaction affected you just as much as it did him. He makes his way toward you, making sure to bump into you. You stumble slightly and he takes your arm to steady you.

“My humblest apologies,” Aemond speaks in a soft, measured tone as you gaze up at him, “Forgive my ignorance. I have recently arrived and I do not know your city. Is a beautiful lady-”

You cut him off abruptly, “Perhaps you might purchase a map for six coppers. Good day, ser.”

You turn to leave, rounding a corner only for the mysterious stranger to catch up to you, as though he has materialized before your eyes from nowhere, continuing to speak, “Please, my lady, I do not mean to offend. I only wish to find my way in this new place,” you frown slightly as he speaks again, “A woman so lovely and intelligent should not be walking the streets of King’s Landing without her gentleman.”

Feeling annoyed by his presumptuousness, you reply primly, “Do I know you, ser? Are you acquainted with my husband? Shall I call upon the City Watch?”

“Husband?” Aemond feigns humility, “I shall bother you no more, my lady.”

You watch as the handsome silver-haired mystery man turns to walk away and feel a pang of longing in your heart. Why does it hurt to watch him walk away from you? Despite your better judgment, you reach out and rest a hand on his shoulder.

“Ser, it is I who have been rude,” you bow your head apologetically.

He gives you a charming smile, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to it, one that has your stomach tied in knots as he murmurs, “Please, permit me to introduce myself. I am Aemond, Prince of Pentos. I am your humble servant.”

Aemond knows that the Westerosi do not know enough about Essosi tradition to question his words. He watches your lips part slightly with surprise as you give him a quick curtsy and tell him your name, smiling shyly.

“I am the daughter of King Robert.”

He gives you a bow in return, gazing up at you all the while, his good eye never leaving yours, “I am honored, my princess.”

You ask the handsome Prince of Pentos to dine with you that evening, inviting him into the Red Keep as your guest, not knowing the repercussions of giving this man permission to enter your home. The two of you drink the finest Arbor Gold and speak on politics, literature, history, philosophy, science, all manner of things. You have met your betrothed, the future Lord Stark, but never has he been able to hold your interest in conversation the way the mysterious Aemond has. He is charming and witty, with a macabre sense of humor.

You rest your chin on your hand as you admire him, his sharp features, his soft voice, “I do not understand why you seem so familiar to me, sweet prince. It is your voice, perhaps. Like a voice in a dream I cannot place,” you murmur.

You gasp softly as he takes your hand in his, long, elegant fingers tracing your palms, the cool metal of his rings brushing against your skin. You gaze into his blue eye, the one that is not covered by his eyepatch, lips parting slightly as he leans in toward you. And yet, you remember yourself at the last moment and pull away.

“I should not have done this,” you whisper, panicked, “I… I must go.”

You turn to leave, but Aemond holds your hand in his, gently turning you back to face him, “Do not fear me, my princess.”

His touch is electrifying and when you meet his gaze again you cannot help being drawn in by his presence. He pulls you close to his chest, resting a hand on your cheek, leaning in close to you.

“Stop,” you whisper weakly, “Gods, why do you feel so familiar to me? Why do I feel as though I know you?”

His lips ghost over your neck and Aemond moves his mouth to your ear, his breath tickling your skin as he whispers, “I have crossed oceans of time to find you.”

You let out a tremulous breath as he moves his thumb to stroke your lip. Aemond inhales your scent deeply, feeling his fangs elongate with hunger as he smells you. His mouth waters as you lean into his embrace, allowing him to press his lips to your neck. The little gasp you let out as his free hand moves to squeeze your waist is enough to drive him mad with want as you succumb to your desire for him, allowing him to kiss you after all these long years apart.

You continue spending time with your new acquaintance. No one knows the truth of where you disappear to when you go to meet him, not even Myrcella. And every day, you fall deeper in love with him, this mysterious dark stranger who has so easily stolen your heart. Thoughts of him consume your waking moments as well as your dreams. You do not understand the connection you have to him, as though he can read your thoughts, as though he knows you better than you know yourself.

Strange things begin happening at the Red Keep, however. Servants going missing, never heard from again. Animals found, entirely drained of blood. You put no stock into it until one day, you find him, your sweet Aemond, fangs suck into the neck of your lady’s maid, draining her of her lifeblood. You gasp in horror and run from him, all the way back to your chambers. Aemond races after you, calling your name, pleading for you to listen to him.

You gasp as a strange green colored mist makes its way into your chambers and the man in question materializes before you, whispering softly, “Do not fear me, my most precious love.”

“What are you?” you ask quietly as he takes your face in his hands, pulling you close to him, his chest pressed against yours, “Aemond, tell me the truth…”

“I am, and always have been, yours.”

You gasp as you see his fangs elongate before your eyes, covering your mouth with shock, “Vampyr,” you whisper.

He nods, removing his eyepatch, revealing his sapphire eye to you, “I am no Prince of Pentos. I am Prince Aemond Targaryen. And you are my love, born again. Tell me you feel the same as I. That you crave our next encounter every passing hour. I know that you must,” he rests his forehead against yours.

“May the Seven forgive me,” you close your eyes, collapsing into his arms, allowing him to hold you, “I love you… I want to be with you. I want to be what you are, see what you see, love what you love.”

“My sweet princess,” Aemond rasps, “To walk with me, you must die to your breathing life and be reborn to mine.”

You nod in understanding, affirming your decision, “You are my love and my life always.”

He smiles at you, pressing his lips to yours before speaking, “Then I give you life eternal, everlasting love. Walk with me to be my loving wife forever.”

Aemond undoes his shirt and you admire him as he drags a nail over his bare chest, opening a vein to allow you to drink from. He holds your head in his hands, bringing your lips to his chest to drink from him, to drink his life’s blood so you may become like him.

“Drink and join me in eternal life,” he urges as you press your lips against him and begin drinking his blood. Aemond lets out a low moan of pleasure at the feeling, holding you close to him as your tongue traces the tiny incision. Then, as though he has a sudden realization, he pushes you away. You gaze up at him in confusion.

“My love?”

“I love you too much to condemn you to walk through the shadow of death for all eternity,” Aemond replies, his voice aching with pain, “I cannot let this be.”

You shake your head, “I do not fear being condemned. What I fear is never feeling your touch again. I want to be with you always,” you bare your neck to him, pleading, “Finish it. Drink from me. Make me like you, Aemond. I know who I am now. I am your lady, your love, returned to you,” you wrap your arms around him, “You crossed oceans of time to find me. And now we can be together. I love you.”

And Aemond sinks his fangs into your neck, claiming you as his. You let out a moan, the ecstasy of his bite overtaking you. It is the most intense pleasure you have felt in all your life as he drinks of you. You faint in his arms, and your transformation begins in earnest. Aemond watches as tremors rack your form, as your body grows cold just as his. He comforts you, holding you to his chest.

When your eyes open, everything in your world seems so much brighter, so much more vivid. And you see him, sitting beside you, waiting for you.

“My love,” he whispers.

You sit up and press your lips to Aemond’s, wrapping your arms around him, holding him close. He gently presses you down onto the bed, his lips finding your neck as he bites you, drinking your blood once more. You let out a soft moan, hands running through his hair as you feel his own hands caress your thighs, pushing your dress and shift up to reveal you to him.

“Just take it off,” you plead, “Take me. Make love to me as we used to.”

Aemond wastes no time and rips your gown from your body, his remaining eye taking in your bare form with no little degree of hunger. He kisses down your body, biting down on the flesh of your inner thigh, your crimson blood coating his lips. You moan, your nails raking across his scalp, throwing your head back against your pillow as he buries his tongue in your cunny, moving it in and out of you, tasting you, moaning against you as he does. You feel his fangs grace against you, hands holding your thighs apart as he continues his task, bringing you closer and closer to your peak. You buck your hips up against him, the pressure deep inside you building to a crescendo until finally, you are overcome by your peak.

When he joins your bodies, you cling to him, your mouth finding his neck as you let your fangs sink in, drinking from him once more. Aemond lets out a low moan as he ruts against you, the head of his cock brushing against your sweet spot with every thrust. Aemond whispers your name, proclaiming his love for you, his eternal desire, his pure, unadulterated devotion to you.

And that is how the two of you intend to remain, in a cycle of never ending love, for the rest of your unnaturally long lives. For a love like this, one that transcends the bounds of time, cannot be limited by a mere lifetime.

Your and Aemond’s love is eternal and will live on forever.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x you #aemond fic #aemond x fem!reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #prince aemond #prince aemond targaryen #prince aemond x reader #house of the dragon #my writing #monsterf*cking #halloween fic #aemond oneshot #baratheon!reader #vampire!aemond

[suguruspit]

begging for you

18+ MDNI!! // Choso x reader, vampire!Choso

cw; blood mention (vamp related not graphic!), begging, oral (reader receiving), overstimulation (choso)

summary: after intense battles choso needs to replenish blood, something he finds no particular pleasure in until he finds you. he makes sure you get something out of it, and he loves you. <3

Choso was a patient man- half man? He still wasn’t sure what he technically classed as, as if it mattered. Being born to a half curse had its side-effects, not to mention existing as a cursed womb death painting for over a hundred years before being able to stretch his legs. His brothers manifested in ways that made them outwardly more ‘cursed’, whereas he seemed to have settled into his body quite well. 

Noritoshi Kamo possessed the Blood Manipulation technique, it was inherited and therefore part of the body, meaning Kenjaku had been able to pass it down to him. Blood Manipulation, as it seems, is a lot more complicated than simply telling your blood where to go. Using blood in battle has its setbacks, and if the opponent is smart, they won’t let the fluid return to your body. 

Which means, in short, Choso needs to replenish it in less than conventional ways. 

There’s the traditional blood bags which he used to get Kechizu to steal off the back of the transportation vans, preying on smaller animals which tasted rotten and gamey, or… feeding off of humans. 

Choso likes humans, they can be misguided and psychopathic but that's the minority of them, and he’s half-human himself so he has a sense of some connection to them, which means he doesn’t prefer the final method as it isn’t in his ideals to harm another human when there isn’t necessity to do so. 

Unfortunately, though, it happens to be the best way to replenish his blood and feed his strength after battle. What’s fortunate, though, is he met you. Who doesn’t seem to mind this affliction of his at all.

However, as patient as he is, as intelligent as he is, when it comes to you that just isn't the case/

"Fuck," Choso breathes, taking in the sight below him. You were both on your bed because it was twice the size of the one Jujutsu Tech gave him. Your hair was fanned out across the pillows, legs spread with your knees half up as you caught your breath. "S'good for me."

You whine, hands covering your eyes in embarrassment as Choso just hovers above you, staring, admiring his handy work. Pink, angry marks shiny with spit were dotted across your thighs and stomach, leading up to your chest where they tapered off into nip marks instead.

Choso can never get enough. He's greedy, he knows that he just doesn't deserve any of this but you're here, you're with him. So perfect, angelic, his savior.

"Cho?" You ask quietly, not wanting to spook him out of whatever he's got on his mind, but your thighs are grinding together and you can feel your own slick sticking them together. "You okay baby?"

"Can I touch you?" Choso answers in a whisper, hands ghosting above your breasts as his scar starts to leak pin-pricks of blood on his nose as he gets flustered.

"You already have been," You laugh breathlessly, but you take his hand anyway and guide it to your chest, letting out a quiet moan as he squeezes gently, smoothing his thumb over the soft flesh of it.

He leans down before taking a nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it and sucking gently, his eyes rolling back at the noises you make for him. He ruts his hips against the sheets and whines around his mouthful, making you bite your lip so hard you taste blood.

"Fuck, don't," Choso whines, his cool forehead leaning against the warmth of your stomach. His hand is moving quickly beneath you, and you feel heat stir in you at the realisation of what that means.

Your blood hangs in the air, a scent of metal and arousal, and Choso begs you to let him have it, let him earn it.

This leads to him desperately eating you out, tongue lapping up every trace of your taste that he can, whining whilst he does it and humping the mattress. Choso loves tasting you, something about it is so addicting, and he can't decide if he loves that more or the refreshing blood that flows through your veins, the blood that spills out fresh and warm onto his tongue when he bites down as you flutter around him.

Just the thought of it has him panting on to you, he sits up to press a thumb to your clit, rubbing gentle circles as he grunts above you, spilling his own release onto the bed.

You laugh breathlessly in between moans as you feel that familiar coil of heat in your stomach, and your thighs twitch at each circle of his fingers. Always so eager to please you he can never last.

"You're so beautiful," Choso moans out, cheeks pink and scar open and flowing now. He's rutting into the air, before he looks at you and lets his fangs drop so that they're denting his bottom lip. "Can I? I'll be good, I promise, princess. I'll be good for you."

You spread your legs with a groan, reaching out to take his hand as he frames over you, holding your hand and pushing inside, both of you groaning at the stretch.

"Oh god," Choso whimpers, hand gripping yours like his life depends on it. Blood from his nose drips onto your chest and flows like a slowing river down your stomach to join the mess you're both making. "You're so perfect."

"Fuck, Cho," You whimper. He's so big and the burning stretch as he starts a rhythm is just so good. He's so beautiful like this, thin bangs sticking to him with sweat and cheeks flushed a pretty pink making his nose scar stand out with a beautiful crimson. "So good for me, won't last baby, wanted you too much." You confess, hoping he can feel how desperate you really are, your slick already dripping on the bed and mixing with his come from earlier and that trail of blood.

Choso whines, rutting his hips into you, his rhythm failing slightly as you tighten around him. So close. He pants, before biting his lip and doubling his efforts, hips snapping and fucking into you roughly as you cry out against the pillows.

His index finger finds your clit again, sliding as your slick makes it slippery and wet. That band is getting tighter and tighter, but he hasn't bitten you yet, and you know that's what he needs.

"Cho, baby," You pant out, your hand reaches out to brush against his lips, catching his fangs slightly at the with-draw, making him whine and stutter his hips. "M'close, bite me, please, need you to." It's more of an incoherent babble, but you know he must get the message because he closes his eyes, tears leaking out from overstimulation before he finally leans down into your neck.

You can feel the tears drip down and cool your hot skin, and you bite your lip in anticipation. You really wanted to wait, to make the whole thing longer but you were so so close you felt like crying yourself, he was hitting all the right spots with such confidence and still abusing your clit which hurt just right.

"Can I?" Choso begs against your neck, breath ghosting against your jugular and you feel feverish. He's close, leaking impossibly inside you as he asks your permission. "Please, can't wait. Please."

"Yes!" You cry out, feeling yourself slip over that supernova of an edge, your walls flutter around him, pulling him in even tighter as your release coats him, creamy and wet and making you so tight that Choso sobs out against your neck.

His tongue teases your neck, following your vein before he lets out a prayer and a thank you and finally, finally, sinks his teeth into your warm and waiting flesh.

You gasp and whimper as it sets of a second wave of your orgasm, and you feel your vision go white. Choso is groaning and sobbing as he sucks your blood into his waiting mouth, his hips snapping up twice before he's coming hard, his hips humping you almost as it comes and comes. You feel it flowing down your thighs and your eyes slip close as you just let him have his way, knowing how much better he's going to feel in a minute.

It's not like you don't get anything out of this. Secretly, you hope he's off on another mission soon if it means this is the gift you get on his return.

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sorry that i dropped a singular fic and left for months I was getting over my embarrasment

#choso x reader #choso smut #jjk smut #fem reader #x reader #vampire choso #jjk x reader #idk how to tag #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo smut