#vampire dating tips

[oh2e]

Okay I’ll give him that - Dimitri with a mouth full of blood is kind of attractive

#it’s the benchmark test scene at lissa’s date and Dimitri tips out someone’s blood bag on their throat and 👀 #not to be a monsterfucker but- #*thinking strigoi dimitri thoughts* #vampire academy 2022 #my own post

[batfamfucker]

Pavitr reminds me of Dick so much. They would be besties and bond over their hair together 😭

#Someone please draw them going over hair grooming tips #They would have sleepovers and gossip #Them fighting togeter. Spidey with his gold web things (I'm sorry I know they likely have a name but don't know it. Lmk if you do please) #And Nightwing with his batons #Omfg they'd be so powerful. And HILARIOUS #Pavitr would be gushing over his gf (I forgot her name I'm sorry) and Dick over Wally #Jason and Hobie would also probably be friends #Tim and Margo. Or Margo and Babs?? #People may think Bruce and Miguel. Getting mistaken for a vampire resonates. But Miguel beat down a child so #I know he's hot but at what cost #So I raise you Bruce and Peter. Peter would show Bruce all of Mayday's pics and Bruce would show Peter pics of his kids in return #The wholesome dads would bond and gush over their kids #Gwen Cass and Steph would be besties #Kate and Jess have brunch dates over having to deal with everyone else #Duke and Miles too. They're both. Done. With everyone around them #They look around at the chaos and dip. #I feel like Tim and Miles would chill too. Like Miles uses some of Tim's photography as art inspo. Or Tim pictures some of Miles art #Speaking of Damian and Miles would get along too. So much painting and parkour #Alfred Damian and Pavitr have tea parties. Hobie comes over just to bother Alfred. Alfred secretly loves Hobie #Miles would be like. They want me to let my dad die :/ #And Bruce would be torn between letting it happen so he could adopt him. But in reality actually go feral on Miguel's ass #Because Been There Done That. He wouldn't want Mikes to go through it too #Spiderman Across The Spiderverse #Spiderman Into The Batverse #Spiderverse Spoilers #Across The Spiderverse Spoilers

[torbooks]

"5 Tips for Dating a Werewolf" by TJ Klune

1. If a werewolf has locked onto your scent, it is best to let them get as much of it as they can. If they are in shifted form, it might mean a wet nose to your face or a tongue in your hair. Fear not! They are, in a way, like a large dog, if a large dog were capable of human wants and whims. If you find yourself in such a position, do not move! Let the werewolf finish its scent-marking. It could take anywhere from five minutes to six days, so get comfortable!

2. Should you find yourself in possession of a dead animal left upon your doorstep, don’t scream and/or vomit! Chances are, it is from the same werewolf who sniffed you, wanting to make sure you are provided for. This is how a lycanthrope expresses interest. Be careful not to offend the wolf, as they might be watching from behind a tree or a bush. If you are averse to blood and gore, pretend someone dropped a cherry pie filled with bones on your porch.

(On the off chance that the dead animal was left by a cult and not a werewolf, please be prepared in case you are marked for a ritual sacrifice.)

3. Going on a date with a werewolf can be a fun event! Given that you might be in public, it would be best not to ask your werewolf suitor to “shift in the middle of an Applebee’s just to see if it scares the server into giving free appetizers.” While many people enjoy mozzarella sticks (especially when given under threat of fangs), using your werewolf in such a way to get fried cheese is considered bad form. Your werewolf has feelings, and no one likes to be used.

(If your werewolf does shift to get you cheese, reward them by telling them you think they are the greatest creature in existence. Positive reinforcement goes a long way!)

4. Uh oh. Your werewolf has driven you home, arches a single, devastating eyebrow, and says, “Are you going to invite me inside?”

Remember, werewolves aren’t vampires, meaning they do not need permission to enter your residence. However, good wolves always wait for permission before entering a dwelling that is not their own.

In this case, given the arched eyebrow, the werewolf is hoping to be invited inside for “adult activities.” This might include rolling on the carpet or having sex in the kitchen and/or up against a wall. If you choose to do this, you might see the werewolf’s eyes flashing. Good news! This means the wolf is having a wonderful time.

5. Your wolf stayed the night! How lucky are you? If you wake up the next morning with the shifter lying on top of you, it is very important that you do not move until they have decided to move on their own. Waking up a sleeping wolf can sometimes be difficult work, but if you keep a squeaky ball next to your bed, now is the time to put it to good use. Squeeze it near the wolf’s ear and ask, “Who’s a good boy? Who wants to play with the ball? Is it you? Is it you?” Your wolf will most likely glower at you and threaten your life, but if you squeeze the ball three times, the wolf will be distracted. Throw it to the floor, and as the wolf chases after it, consider making waffles! Werewolves love waffles.

(God help you if you make pancakes. You have been warned.)

If you have survived these first five steps, you are to be commended! That means you most likely will have a werewolf for the rest of your life. A werewolf is a commitment. Adopt, don’t shop!

#tj klune #wolfsong #ravensong #green creek #werewolf #werewolves #fantasy romance #death of an animal #booklr

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Dating Miguel O’Hara Would Include…

Warnings: Implied Smut, Domestic Miguel !!!, Possessive Miguel, Protective Miguel, Dominant Miguel, Slight Yandere Miguel (if you squint), Fluff, Mild Angst, Hurt/Comfort, No Pronouns used for Reader Except You’.

Miguel being stoic and militant around his associates, but melting into a massive softie when he gets to see you.

His eyes literally light up when he hears you coming. He has to resist the urge to scoop you up into his arms and cuddle you silly whenever he hears you call his name, your tones music to his ears, his heart thrumming – harpstrings.

Golden retriever boyfriend to the MAX.

He brings you breakfast in bed whenever he’s awake before you – which is often considering his vampiric nature. And he looks so proud of himself when he cooks a good meal, too. Literally just a beaming, teeth-filled, closed-eye smile when you tell him he’s “Done such a good job, Babe !”

Any kind of praise sends him absolutely wild, so use it sparingly. It can either get you out of or into a world of trouble; especially if you're trying to get Miguel hot under the collar.

Miguel’s love language is, simply put, everything.

The adoration that swells in his chest whenever he thinks of you manifests as him throwing himself into your service.

He does anything and everything you ask of him, no matter how extravagant or nominal the request is. And everything you don’t.

He isn’t stingy with his words, either; he tells you how much he loves you whenever you’re alone, often coming up behind you and sliding his arms around your front, resting his head on your shoulder and breathing deeply.

He presses soft, careful kisses into the crook of your neck, making sure to keep his fangs from pinching you, inhaling your warmth, your scent.

“I love you.” His heart drums into your back. His lips capture your skin again. “I love you,” And again. “I live for you.” And again.

He’s lived with a lifetime of regret for not being able to protect those he held dear; he won’t allow you to go without knowing the extent of his adoration for you. Not when he feels he never truly got to show his family – his ghosts – how much he loved them.

On a lighter note, Miguel LOVES having his hair played with; just card your fingers through his locks and he’s as good as incapacitated.

After a rough day, he crawls into bed and lays his head in your lap or on your chest, his body winding down in your soft embrace.

He lowkey moans when you catch his sensitive spot, his brows knotting together, his voice coming out as a rasped whisper.

He knows when you’re purposely trying to get him worked up, though. And he doesn’t stand for it.

“Careful Darling,” he glowers, the phantom sensation of you tugging his hair a half-weight on his senses. He cracks an eye open, his wine irises peaking out beneath heavy lids.

“Or I won’t be so gentle when it’s my turn to take care of you.”

Miguel prefers private displays of affection over public displays of affection; he doesn’t want his subordinates knowing he’s gone soft.

But, there are exceptions to this principle.

Like if Miguel’s feeling particularly hot and desperate, by which point he whisks you away to the bathroom and the two of you aren’t seen for a good hour or so. Usually longer.

The other exception is if he’s feeling jealous or possessive, by which point his sensibilities have vacated his mind and he’s right behind you, his hands on your waist, your shoulders – anywhere he can hold you. Or, he’s filling your mouth with his tongue and your ear with his words if the other party present doesn’t get the hint that you’re taken.

“You’re mine,” he rasps, his breath hot, prickling your skin, the tips of his fang drawing goosebumps. Miguel’s eyes shine an ocean red, dark and unknown. He has you caged, arms encompassing you entirely.

“And I’ll never let anyone take you from me.”

Speaking of; Miguel is incredibly possessive.

Years of rumination and a history of scattered failures make for a very territorial man. And it shows.

He keeps his hands on you whenever you’re together or in the presence of someone he thinks can steal you from him; someone better than him.

He stares down at them until they fumble or leave; whichever prevails first. After which point, when you’re alone, he turns you round to look at him and just stares at you like 🥺.

The epitome of ‘Babe you pushed my leg off you while you were asleep; do you still love me ???’

You have to reassure him when things like this occur. Take him by the face and hold him gently in your hands; press a soft kiss to his lips and call him your “One and only,”

Doing so is a one-way ticket to a very long night.

Possessive, heartfelt, grasping, gasping love-making.

Miguel can’t stop until your bottom half is numb and the only thing you’re capable of thinking and saying is his name.

Of course, he rewards you for your endurance after the fact.

Aftercare king right here <333

Treats you like you’re glass; he runs you a bath, brings you your favourite drink and changes the bedsheets.

And, when you’re fast asleep and curled up into his chest, his heart flutters, and, for the first time in his life, he feels that he has stability. Pure, unconditional, everlasting love.

And he’ll sooner dismantle the multiverse himself than let anyone or anything take that from him.

Masterlist Masterpost

Yandere Masterlist Juicy Original Content <3

#across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel o hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n #spiderman astv #spiderman #spiderman 2099 #spider verse #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you #spiderman x reader #miguel o hara x reader #atsv #miguel x reader

[beansprean]

Modern Dating with your Vampire Master...they're so silly actually.

Support me on Patreon or send a tip on Kofi!

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1a. Shot of the exterior of the vampire house at night, lit from within. 1b. Wide shot in profile of Guillermo in the foyer, descending from the large front window on a tall teal ladder with a 'verner' logo on the side. He is wearing green chinos, boots, and a white collared shirt with suspenders; he has a blue bucket with a 'blowes' logo on the side full of cleaning products in one hand. From offscreen, Nandor calls, "Guillermo?" Guillermo responds absently with a "Hm?" concentrating on stepping down safely. 1c. Close up on Guillermo as he reaches the floor, looking over toward Nandor with mild curiosity. From offscreen, Nandor declares, "I would like to take you out on a date." 1d. Wide shot, knees up, of both men standing in the foyer, the doorway to the fancy room visible behind them, fireplace lit and glowing in the space between them. Guillermo, incredibly caught off card, shrieks out a choked keysmash of words and reflexively throws the bucket in his hands, sending it crashing into the ladder behind him and toppling it all to the ground. His eyes are comically wide, fixed on Nandor, and his face is flushed red. Nandor stands before him with his hands folded formally behind his back, shoulders back, head high, nervously looking away with flushed cheeks. 1e. Close up of Nandor returning his gaze towards Guillermo with a wobbly frown, chin tucked to his chest defensively as his nerves catch up to him. There are sounds of the ladder and bucket crashing to the floor offscreen. Guillermo stutters out, "You... you what?!" 1f. Repeat. Nandor puffs himself up angrily, baring his fangs as he snaps, flustered, "I am not repeating myself!"

2a. Chest up of them both in profile on a streaky brown background. Guillermo, flushed red and staring hard at Nandor, pushes his glasses up his nose and asks hesitantly, "You...want to go on a date...with me?" Nandor grimaces uncomfortably, shoulders tense as he leans his torso back away from Guillermo, cheeks purple and eyes looking elsewhere. He clarifies, "I said I wanted to take you on a date, that's not the same thing." Guillermo pushes, "But you do want that." Nandor grits out a painful "Yyyeeessss..." 2b. Extreme closeup of Nandor in the foreground, turning his head fully away from Guillermo to glare over his own shoulder, flustered and sweating nervously. In the background, Guillermo tilts his head with a frown, unimpressed, and counters, "Then why do you look like I have a stake to your heart when you say it?" 2c. Waist up of Nandor on an orange and yellow polka dot background as he turns back to face Guillermo, nervous and embarrassed. He twists his fingers together as he says, "Metaphorically...you do. You have for some time, in fact." 2d. Small reaction shot from Guillermo, staring with wide shining eyes and blushing cheeks on a background of pink bubbles. A large pink heart floats next to him, stabbed through with a stake and spurting drops of blood.

3a. Chest up of them both in profile on a streaky brown background. Guillermo is now the one to drop his gaze with a pleased smile, half turning away as he rubs nervously at his neck. He mumbles, "That's either really sweet or really concerning..." Nandor squeezes his eyes shut in frustration and flaps his hands around to shoo away the tangent in their conversation. He snaps, "Enough of this!" 3b. Close up of Nandor from Guillermo's POV on an orange and yellow starburst background. Nandor draws himself up tall, shoulders straight, chin up, and whips his head toward Guillermo, hair flying around his shoulders. He shouts, "Do you want to go on a date with me or not??" His demanding posture is betrayed only by the blush in his cheeks and the pleading shine in his eyes. 3c. Close up of Guillermo on an orange and yellow starburst background as he similarly draws up his shoulders, cheeks flushed, wide eyes meeting Nandor's. He immediately blurts out, "I do!!"

4a. Waist up of them both in profile, the left side of the foyer with the fancy room beyond visible in the background, fireplace lit and glowing in the space between them. Guillermo smiles, pleased and flustered, and looks down to play aimlessly with his fingers. He repeats at a more measured volume, "I...I do." Nandor grins and pumps both fists up to shake victoriously between them, replying, "Great!" 4b. Extreme closeup of Nandor's belt in the foreground as he whips around to walk away down the hall, long coat flapping like a cape. He declares, "You will meet me there at sundown tomorrow in your least-shitty sweater. Guillermo, waist-up in the background, stares after him with a besotted expression, hands clasped together over his chest and hearts floating around his dazed head. He smiles dreamily and replies, "Okay..." 4d. Small closeup on Guillermo on a pink background as he freezes, expression disappearing behind his glasses. His thoughts are expressed in large white letters above his head: "Wait." 4e. High shot of the foyer from the upper right corner, showing the full staircase, doorways to the hall and fancy room, and the ladder toppled over by the front door. Guillermo is jogging after Nandor toward the main hallway, calling after him, "Wait, meet you where? Mast-Nandor!" /end ID

#wwdits #nandermo #mlm #guillermo de la cruz #nandor the relentless #what we do in the shadows #what we do in the shadows fx #my art #fanart #fan comic #image described

[toxicanonymity]

Joel Miller Masterlist - NSFW

And other Pedro characters

Version 4/5/24 (new: free use masterlist)

Blog FAQ (updated 4/15/24)

⚠️ I do not give permission for any of my work to be copied, reposted*, translated, made into bots, put into AI, etc. *reblogging is encouraged, using the 🔁 in the bottom right corner.

A reblog of this post will not stay up-to-date. Follow @toxicfics if you want notifs and @toxicrecs for fic recs. If you can't decide where to start, Buzzfeed quizzes are at the bottom 😅

18+ joel x f!reader unless otherwise noted. Darkness ratings (D - Darkish to Dark, DD - Extra Dark, DDD - ultra dark) are subjective and don't automatically mean it has dubcon (DC) or noncon (NC). The NC I write is physically enjoyed by reader. DC is often situations that diminish the ability to truly consent. Like drugs, captivity, or power imbalance, but in many DC fics, reader is willing or even enthusiastic.

🍒 innocent reader | 💤 somnophilia | 👴/🧔‍♂️ explicit age gap

MASTERLISTS - AUs, Collections, and Series

Night walks (AU) 👴 D, DC (drugs). hot, older pothead neighbor who talks dirty.

Raider Joel DD. NC (at first, via implicit threat), DC (stockholm syndrome). This is a big AU with lots of lore and interaction.

Silence can never be bought (dbf, AU)👴⭐ You catch him in a compromising position.

Left in Lincoln (dbf x virgin) 👴🍒 DD Your dads trust him to look in on you while they're gone.

Stepdad 🧔‍♂️D You catch him perving on your insta and start toying with him. You seduce him.

Slasher Joel DD DC - You're DTF but end up fcking for your life when you offend him.

Vampire Joel DC - he's been waiting for you for centuries and can't let you go once he finds you.

The Raid DC - Javi and Steve find you on a drug raid and take you under their wing, so to speak.

Speakeasy (Collection, no plot) - Exhibitionist one shots and drabbles.

Thighs out (bf's dad) - Your bf strays and his hot, slutty dad makes you feel better, much better.

Brotherly Sharing - Several pairs of miller bros. including uncle tommy & leopard print.

✨Free Use - D, DC, 💤 👫

for survival (2003)

For Survival (1.4k) - Joel, a stranger, saves your life, you fuck during evacuation.

For Survival 2 (1.4k) - fucking in your sleeping bag trying to be silent.

dark mode!Joel ULTRA dark - DDD, 👫

Dark mode (knife)You activate Joel's dark mode for your own enjoyment.

Clicking (horny! joel -> dark mode) He won't stop when a clicker appears. You try to punish him.

just the tip D, DC (power imbalance) 🧔‍♂️🍒

Just the tip 🍒 he coaxes you into full piv.

surveillance (imagine) he watches you.

Just the tip (really) you've been trying not to fuck him and this time it's really just the tip.

VIRGINS

Aches, thoughts, and needs 👴🍒 outbreak

Night Talks 🧔‍♂️🍒 D, DC best friend's dad

Patrol - pt. 1; virgin patrol 👴🍒 DD, DC

Virgin sex worker (v loss) D 🍒

Ready for her ( part of Miller Bros)

See also, Lincoln series and Just the Tip above.

⬇️ ONE SHOTS, miniseries, misc⬇️

Post-outbreak

you almost die then get used D, NC, 👫

Possessive cum play D, 👫

Secret breeder!Joel Refuses to pull out D, 👫

Jealous of you/Tess (degradation) D, DC mean

Bone broth (consensual noncon) 👫

non-con while you sleep D, NC 💤

movie night (in public) 👫 Under a blanket

Caught DDD very mean Joel, ✨At the table

Lazaretto (NC. sex pollen)👴, PART 2, DC

caught masturbating (300) D

the old fashioned way (1k) D He breeds you

Pre/Non-oubreak/AUs

pawn shop (GILF Joel) ��D

canopy, pt 2 (caught) ��🧔‍♂️ dbf in your old bed

Fucking Joel at your dad's house dbf

Breeding couple ; Pregnant , 👫

in the ass like a good girl anal drabble

Window (peeping tom) pt.2 date next door D

caught Drinking ( DDDNE) 🧔‍♂️DDD, NC sarah's friend is punished

sleeping Beauty 👴💤, 👫 CNC.

that's the spot (masseur!Joel)

gas station skeeze (300) 👴

packing: butcher!Joel DD, DC

personal trainer , part 2 D, DC

daddy Joel ��🧔‍♂️, a day in the filth

miniseries: jalbird - cellmate's nephew

dark nurse!Joel (sex pollen imagines)

✨locket - DC best friends dad x dark! reader

HCs, imagines, other

Free Use / Objectification HCs - you can put Joel in different modes for your enjoyment.

Your Dirty Little Mouth - talking dirty in Spanish in public to get Joel all riled up. Reader is not a native Spanish speaker.

Therapist (Dr. Rock), pt 2 D - meta (x writer)

Brothel Reality Show

Multi-Joel Art & Misc

Lmk if yours is missing, ✨section in progress✨

Joelkémon cards by @gasolinerainbowpuddles

JOELS AS CATS by @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

Joel's as cats pt. 2 not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

Dick HCs - size, appearance, and more

random hot things from HBO canon

Joelkémon astrology by @wannab-urs

Mood board of joels by @milla-frenchy

joels as texts by @iamasaddie

Buzzfeed Quizzes

by @missannfairy & @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

Which Joel are you most compatible with?

Which Joel are you?

Which Joel to spend the holidays with?

Compatability: Valentine's Edition

Other pedro characters

Javi G. - Watch you watch him fuck his wife. Nick watches. You're Javi's wife.

Ezra - Sleep time: pt. one (250), two 💤(850) D You bait Ezra pt.3 Ezra strikes back. DC

Javi P.

hunt and peck (2.7k) 6/30

THE RAID ongoing series

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller smut #toxicanonymity ☠️ #joel miller masterlist #pedro pascal masterlist

[luveline]

oK HALLOWEEN REQUESTS?! BET!!! GET THIS, STEVE WHO KEEPS HEARING SCARY NOISES IN HIS HOUSE AND HE CALLS READER (his gf) TO BE LIKE DUDE THERES A FUCKING GHOST and it’s a cat who got stuck in his attic or something 🥹

ty for requesting ♡ you and steve go ghost hunting. fem, 1.1k

Steve's waiting for you. Front door open, your boyfriend stands in his pyjamas with a leather jacket thrown over the top, hair ruffled but adorable, one pant leg tucked into his sock and the other dragging on the floor.

"Planning on a quick getaway?" you tease. 

Steve hangs his head. "Whatever, just kiss me." 

You love him even if you tease, using the door jam for extra height as you tip your head back to kiss him. With the way he kisses you can't be expected to abstain, hot little crescent moons of touch pressed softly to the seam of your lips, like the very beginning of a heavier kiss. It distracts you, and you forget why you're there. 

"'M being haunted," he says against your mouth. 

"Right," you remember. "You sounded hysterical on the phone. I thought maybe you'd been spiked." He rolls his eyes. "Hey, it happened once before!" 

"Just come listen. It's a weird thumping." 

"Maybe there's a guy living up there," you suggest, taking your shoes off by the door. 

Steve takes your hand gently, his words much less coddling, "Sure, there's a man living in my attic. He comes out when I sleep." 

"Well, don't scare yourself." 

"It's fucking weird. It's definitely a spirit." 

"Like that vampire you saw last Christmas." 

Steve leads you upstairs to his room, where he encourages you to get comfortable. You take off your jacket and your bag. You'd brought pyjamas, figuring Steve's phone call to be an invitation rather than a real ghost hunt, but you'll save them for afterwards. He looks comfortable, and he smells nice as you drop your face into his arm. 

"Listen," he says, bringing the forearm of the arm you're snuggling up to stroke whatever skin of yours he can reach, "it'll happen again. It's constant." 

"It's maybe a burst pipe." 

He shushes you, not unkindly. "Just listen." 

On the phone, he'd been dramatic enough that you assumed this was a cute ploy to see you. You'd felt quite flattered —Steve doesn't seem to realise how much of a catch he is, so his flirting is over the top, and it really keeps the crush alive even while you're dating. There's a fucking ghost, dude, you need to come over right now. 

Really? I thought your parents bought the house new? 

Baby! Don't make me beg. And don't make me die alone. 

You tilt your head to one side and listen hard for his promised ghost, an excuse to be in Steve's space more than anything. After a few dull seconds of silence, you turn forward and offer him a smirk. "You don't have to make stuff up for me to come over. I would've come to see you for no reason." 

"And while I appreciate that," he says, his hand moving to your face, your cheek to his palm, "there's really, actually a ghost." 

You look up in tandem as a strange sound echoes from above Steve's bedroom. It can't be a person, the weight doesn't shift loud nor close enough for footsteps, only groans in one place before creaking further toward the door. 

"Oh," you say. Steve squeezes your cheek. 

To get into Steve's attic you have to build a precarious ledge. He doesn't have a stepladder and the attic itself has no fold down, nor a ring pulley. "We don't go in there, the house is big enough already," he explains, lugging his TV stand under the attic opening. "This is barely tall enough to get up there." 

"Maybe you can boost me?" you suggest, though the idea of being that far up doesn't sound enticing. 

"No way, it's dark up there. If one of us is going to be killed by a ghost, it'll be me." He kisses your cheek and hops up onto the stand with impressive dexterity. You grit your teeth. "And besides, you don't like heights." 

"Steve, is this a bad idea? What if it's an owl? It'll attack you." 

"It's not an owl," —he grabs at the attic tile and pushes it in, grunting as he pulls the weight of his upper half inside with it— "it's a ghost, beautiful." His legs disappear into the attic. You can hardly see him. "We should've found a flashlight." 

"I can go look?" 

"I'll be fine, probably."

"Stay away from the hole! If you fall and break your back I'll have to work two jobs and someone else will have to give you sponge baths–" 

"Why do you actually sound worried? I'm not going to fa– Holy fuck!"

A huge thunk. You huff out a worried exhale, asking, "Are you okay? Stevie?" as you climb onto the TV stand and peer into the dark attic. 

"I'm okay! I'm gonna come back, don't flinch." His face appears in the opening. "I tripped over something. It's weird, you won't believe me, but the floor is wet in here. There must be a leak in the roof."

"Be careful, Steve, please," you murmur. 

Steve leans down in the gap to kiss your frown. "Sorry. I'm being careful. Could you bring me some towels? I'm gonna clean this up." 

You throw him a couple of towels from his laundry room like you're shooting shoddy hoops, laughing at his worse catching. The floor moans as he cleans, but there doesn't seem to be any ghost now that he's investigating. In fact, the house is very, very quiet. 

"Did you hear that?" Steve asks. 

You shiver. "Don't mess around!" you call, though you're not mad. "You're giving me goosebumps." 

Steve goes quiet for a little while. You chew on your lip, consider standing on the TV stand again to climb in after him, but ultimately stand frozen under the gap, waiting. 

He says something too quiet to hear. 

"What?" you ask. 

Your response comes unexpectedly, a little white face held by two bigger hands from the ceiling, and a frankly earth-shattering yowl. 

"Look! It's a cat!" 

"I can see." 

"Take him, take him!" 

You take the cat even as he hisses at you, holding his claws as far from you as you can manage. Steve huffs and puffs as he slides his way down, the TV stand wobbling ever so slightly as he closes the attic and hops down onto the floor. 

"He's aggressive," you say, wincing as the cat hisses again. "How big was the leak? I mean, how did he get up there?" 

"I told you already," Steve says, attempting to pet the cat and dodging a well-aimed claw, "he's a ghost." 

"Very funny, H. Now, um, what are we gonna do with him?" 

"...I was hoping you'd know." 

"I guess you have a pet now. Congrats, babe." 

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things 4

[hyunsvngs]

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 !

𓈒 ﹒ ☆ 𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭ ࣭

방찬 / 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧 …

bad idea! [oneshot: stepdad!chan x fem reader, 18+ nsfw]

you're home for the holidays, and your mother - who you can't stand - has a new, young, hot boyfriend. it's such a good idea trying to seduce him.. right?

be quiet [oneshot: chan x fem reader, 18+ nsfw]

pwp - just the tip with chan :)

𓈒 ﹒ ☆ 𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭ ࣭

이민호 / 𝐥𝐞𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐡𝐨 …

bold [oneshot: american footballers!minsung x cheerleader!fem reader, 18+ nsfw]

you’re not too experienced in the world of dating, parties and talking to people, but these two american footballers that you cheer for just seem to get it.

destress [oneshot: minho x fem!reader, 18+ nsfw]

your cutie college student boyfriend agrees to help you into subspace to take your mind off of your stressful exams.

visceral [oneshot: minho x fem!reader, 18+ nsfw]

your boyfriend has something he wants to try in bed. you didn't expect to like it so much. (watersports fic)

𓈒 ﹒ ☆ 𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭ ࣭

서창빈 / 𝐬𝐞𝐨 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐛𝐢𝐧 …

sugar [oneshot: vampire!changbin x fem!reader, 18+ nsfw]

changbin may be a vampire with supernatural strength, but there’s nothing he loves more than to let you take control.

𓈒 ﹒ ☆ 𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭ ࣭

황현진 / 𝐡𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐧 …

hidden in plain sight [oneshot: hyunjin x gender neutral reader, sfw, fluff]

hyunjin is the only other guest at the wedding who’s single. you decide to play a ‘relationship for a day’ game - until it becomes a bit too real.

red, red wine [oneshot: hyunjin x female reader, 18+ nsfw, ft felix]

you have a friends with benefits situation with your best friend, felix, but when you confide in him about wanting to fuck one of your other friends, it ends better than you could’ve ever hoped.

𓈒 ﹒ ☆ 𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭ ࣭

한지성 / 𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐣𝐢𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐠 …

bold [oneshot: american footballers!minsung x cheerleader!fem reader, 18+ nsfw]

you’re not too experienced in the world of dating, parties and talking to people, but these two american footballers that you cheer for just seem to get it.

princess [oneshot: jisung x female reader, 18+ nsfw]

pwp - jisung being called princess in bed :)

captain save-a-hoe! [oneshot: spiderman!jisung x fem!reader, 18+ nsfw]

you’re obsessed with spiderman, but after a certain event takes place, you become convinced your best friend and spiderman are the same person.

movie date [oneshot: college bf!jisung x fem!reader, 18+ nsfw]

there's an hour until your roommate comes back and your boyfriend is looking particularly delicious.

𓈒 ﹒ ☆ 𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭ ࣭

이펠릭스 / 𝐥𝐞𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐱 …

fairy flowers [series: modern royalty!au, felix x fem reader, 18+ nsfw]

your childhood best friend, the prince lee felix, is due to be betrothed in an arranged marriage organised by his mother. the problem is, you're her top choice - and you're also secretly madly in love with him.

red, red wine [oneshot: felix x female reader, 18+ nsfw, ft hyunjin]

you have a friends with benefits situation with your best friend, felix, but when you confide in him about wanting to fuck one of your other friends, it ends better than you could’ve ever hoped.

𓈒 ﹒ ☆ 𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭ ࣭

김승민 / 𝐤𝐢𝐦 𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐦𝐢𝐧 …

home run [oneshot: bfb baseball player!seungmin x fem reader, 18+ nsfw, enemies to lovers]

you love your best friend, you hate her baseball playing brother. he’s not been home for a few years during your summers back home, so you can’t wait for another amazing summer - until he returns home.

untitled #1 [oneshot: seungmin x fem!reader, 18+ nsfw]

fucking seungmin backstage after THE seungarms photo

𓈒 ﹒ ☆ 𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭ ࣭

양정인 / 𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐣𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧 ...

lavender boy [oneshot: alpha!jeongin x omega fem reader, 18+ nsfw]

you want the newly presented alpha jeongin to help you with your heat, but you're a little embarrassed - until you realise he desperately wants to spend it with you.

untitled #2 [oneshot: priest!jeongin x fem reader, 18+ nsfw]

jeongin as your boyfriend fulfilling one of your fantasies (priest roleplay, blasphemy kink)

𓈒 ﹒ ☆ 𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭ ࣭

𝐎𝐓𝟖 …

hot bitch summer [series: fratboy!au, stray kids x gn!afab reader, 18+ nsfw]

a night where you reveal your most intense desires to your best friend lands you in the hot seat. you quickly find yourself in the heart of frat party central - will you embrace the connections you make in your hot bitch summer?

kinktober 2023 [series: collab with cbini and hwanghyuniret!]

kinkmas 2023 [series: collab with cbini!]

nsfw alphabet - bang chan

𓈒 ﹒ ☆ 𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭ ࣭

asks directory -

my asks ♡ ot8 ♡ piss kink ♡ a/b/o ♡ fisting ♡ monsterfucking ♡ lactation kink ♡ fem!skz ♡ minsung ♡

chan ♡ minho ♡ changbin ♡ hyunjin ♡ jisung ♡ felix ♡ seungmin ♡ jeongin

why hasn’t my ask been answered?

𓈒 ﹒ ☆ 𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭ ࣭

#stray kids smut #stray kids masterlist #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids fanfics #stray kids fic #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #stray kids fanfic #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fluff

[alrtyhoney]

VAMPIRE!

(You can't love anyone 'cause that would mean you had a heart.)

The rundown: Miguel had an image to uphold and you are in the way of him keeping up appearances.

Content: Miguel x !Reader / Angst! (wc: 2011)

Miguel had an image to uphold. He is of many things; stoic, cold-blooded, mean– some of the words you’d hear from whispers and passing spider-men. Of course he knew that, knew everything that came from everyone’s mouth. The walls talked, and by walls, it was mostly from those people that tolerated him. 

“You know people would talk more nicely about you if you weren’t so..” Peter B. trailed off, trying to find a description that didn’t seem offending. Not that it ever bothered Miguel, but he wasn’t in the mood to be sent out early back to his universe. 

“Stoic? Restrained?” He listed a reply, uninterested. 

“Closed off.” 

He wasn’t exactly expecting that. It wasn’t like the people knew him well enough to see who he was way past his shell of a tough man. He wasn’t closed off– He wasn’t heartless enough to not let people in and by people, you. Only you. 

It was only you that saw through him; the only one who tried to put the bricks of the wall he had built down one by one. You were gentle– genuine. Every word that he wasn’t. You made his brain short circuit, his spine rigid, and palms sweat. 

The problem was, while Miguel was all those mean words, he was also dense; unknowing, stupid, insensitive. He didn’t know how to love.

You were patient. It was satisfaction enough that Miguel had given you attention before; like you existed and wasn’t like any of the million other spider-men. You knew you weren’t imagining it when he had softened around you.

Days passed and melted into months– months into years and years into moments he couldn’t take for granted. Just how could he push you aside when you have been nothing but perfect to him? Before you knew it, he had asked you to be his and when he did, you saw nothing of what they called Miguel. 

It was surprising– Miguel wasn’t as overbearing with someone. And while everyone was delighted that someone had made him less hostile, a few comments had made his stomach churn in shame. (Who knew a woman was all he needed to release tension– jeez! / I wonder how y/n could put up with someone so nonchalant. Poor her.) They probably didn’t mean harm, but it made Miguel undeniably embarrassed. 

And before he knew it, he was pushing you away– slowly.

(“What ya working on, boss?” You had plopped on one of the tables from his office, legs swinging as you watched him from his platform. 

“Work. Something you should be doing too.” Miguel had answered, still focused on the plenty holograms but lowering the platform nonetheless. Something you’ve learned about him was he’d never be direct– everything he’d imply was for you to figure out. It wasn’t like you didn’t expect him to be an easy man, but it was still a privilege to know the little things about him. 

You jumped off from where you were sitting to join him, reading the reports from the desks that surrounded him, while stealing glances to what he worked on. It took every strength for Miguel to not soften his shoulders– jaw tightening so the smile that was threatening to seep through wouldn’t show. God, he yearned to touch you; to have you near him all the time. 

Something about you made him feel normal– just him. 

“Date night?” His body jolted slightly when you whispered, your warm breath fanning over his ears as you lovingly nuzzled your head against the crook of his neck. You had risen onto the tips of your toes, chest pressed against his as you waited for his response. 

He chuckles, the sound deep and resonating in your chest as you draw close to him. Unable to restrict himself anymore, he turns to you. He puts his weight against the machine behind him, positioning you between his legs. His crinkled eyes and warm smile make your heart swell, and for a moment it's just the two of you: no worries or troubles. No image to uphold.

"How could I possibly turn you down, amor?" he murmurs affectionately, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. He revels in the giggle you let out and it makes him shiver with so much love. 

“Oh, I don’t know,” You trailed off jokingly, drawing circles on his chest. “You seem busy.” 

“Never too busy for you, you know that right?” You hummed softly in reply, leaning your body against his and letting him play with the strands of your hair.

Suddenly, Jess came into view, her gaze focused intently on the papers in her hands. It wasn't until she had realized that someone was in the room with her. "Miguel– oh, y/n, what are you doing here?" she asked in surprise.

Miguel quickly rises to his feet, coughing and shifting nervously. He turns to face away from you, “Leaving. She was just about to leave.” Miguel blurts out, tone dismissive. 

You feel the heat of embarrassment and confusion spread quickly through your veins as you stand there, your heart aching. You had stared for a second or so before he finally looked back at you. “Leave. Now.”

Your eyes widened and that was the cue you needed to go. “Right– right! Was just about to leave.” You quickly scurry to leave, murmuring a soft ‘I’ll see you later.’)

You were respective of Miguel; knew of what troubled him. After that occurrence, he had pampered you– apologized a million times in between opening up. I didn’t mean it, love. He said, she caught me off guard.

You were still patient. You understood that it was never his intention to hurt you, but your mind was blaring alerts in bright red. Do you perhaps embarrass him? This wasn’t the only time it had happened– wasn’t the only time he had left you in a clueless state. 

(“So, you and y/n.” Hobie had begun, tinkering with his machines and carefully extracting different parts from them.

Miguel was aware that the seemingly casual conversation was only a ruse to distract him while he continued to steal from his devices, but he indulged nonetheless. Reprimanding him wouldn’t help anyway. “What about her?” Unbeknownst to him, you were in the same place. You couldn't help but feel your eyebrows rise up to the sound of your name.

“I don’t know, you tell me, you dense bloke.” Hobie let out a huff, then plopped himself down in an office chair and began to spin it around in circles. He knew about it anyway. You would tell him about Miguel and your relationship, told him what made your heart race and what troubled you greatly.

Hobie wanted to hear it from Miguel– wanted to confirm your uncertainty. 

Miguel hesitates as he ponders, eyebrows knitted together. He clicks his tongue in frustration before finally giving an answer “An associate? Coworker? I don’t know what you want from me.”

You felt a sudden weight crash down upon you— your mouth became parched and your chest seemed to constrict. It was like something was pressing hard against you, making it difficult to breathe. An unwelcome realization dawned on you as you pieced it all together. 

“Ouch. You hear that, y/n? If I was you, I would’ve dumped this oaf.” But you had been gone before Miguel even got the chance to set his eyes on you and he knew he had messed up again.)

“I’m not closed off.” Miguel had muttered under his breath– a bit too defensive to his liking as he clicked away on his keyboard aggressively. Peter didn’t miss the shift on his behavior and he decided to push further. 

What was with everyone and questioning about his personal life?

“You know what I mean– Jess, help me out here.” 

“What he means is, it wouldn’t hurt to be less uptight.” Jessica said, “I mean, look at you and y/n. It’s not so hard to be friendly.”

Peter's eyes widened in surprise and disbelief, his furrowed eyebrows clearly expressing his disagreement. “Friendly? Look me dead in the eyes and tell me the heart eyes he’s shooting y/n is friendly.” He butted in with Mayday babbling in the carrier strapped to his chest like she was on the same page as his father. 

Jess rolls her eyes, “I just don’t think Miguel’s the type to be all lovey-dovey.” She replies, both hands lifting in a gesture of surrender. “Besides, y/n is waaay out of his league.”  She can already imagine it - Miguel trying his best to sweep y/n off her feet with corny pickup lines or gestures that didn’t seem like him.

They didn’t know about them; no one did. It wasn’t like they made their relationship public. 

Blood rushed to his ears as they continued to banter about him, frustration brimming to the point of overflow. They continued to talk about him like he wasn’t there in front of him– like what he felt didn’t matter. He finally turns to them, expression clearly unamused. 

And unbeknownst to him, you were just around the corner. You marched towards his office, chest puffed and heart pounding as you advanced. Your mind was made up, finally giving in to the voices waving red flags. It wasn’t fair– wasn’t just that you had given your heart for him to throw around. However, his voice stopped you from making your appearance known; it was firm– angry.

“The fate of the multiverse depends on me,” He started off and it takes all the strength in Peter to not roll his eyes, “I do not have time to be in a relationship– let alone be with someone as soft-hearted as y/n.” 

It was like a strike to the gut and you only want the ground to swallow you whole now. Your legs threatened to buckle, begging you to leave but you couldn’t. It was wrong of you to eavesdrop, but you couldn’t help it; His words were answering every question you had in mind in the worst way possible, breaking you apart and squashing every butterfly that fluttered inside your stomach.

“Just what do you mean about that?” Peter comes to your defense, shoulders stiffened. 

“I do not need someone weighing me down.” 

Peter was having none of it— absolutely did not believe every word that fell from his lips. He knew it was love; the lingering stares, the small touches. He wasn’t a fool to ignore the signs, Miguel just needed a push. “But you tolerate her more than the others! You like being around her!” 

“Peter, just leave it.” Jess attempts to calm the escalating tension, but her words seem to fall on deaf ears as Miguel speaks again.

“Isn’t it our job to endure? What’s another headache to tolerate?” He said before finally looking away, ready to walk out. “Now stop asking because I have enough of having her around. Don’t make me talk about her too.”

What he didn't expect was that you were already standing in his path, cheeks wet with tears and lips pressed together in a deep frown. His heart sank as he took your presence in, letting it seep like a rain of needles. The realization had hit him like a bag of bricks. You had heard their conversation– heard every single thing he said. 

You quickly wiped away your tears, focusing on anything but the face of the one who caused them. You couldn’t bear to look into his eyes, not when he had you clutching your chest as you listened. It threatened to leap out, pounding against your ribs. “Yeah Peter, I think he said enough.”

“Amor,” He had whispered, walking towards you only for you to step backward in return. 

You had left the scene and the shame that swallowed him was nothing compared to the embarrassment he swore was unbearable. Miguel is of many things; stoic, cold-blooded, mean. And they were right– all of it. 

#alrighty honey ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara atsv #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel o'hara angst #atsv angst #across the spider verse angst

[kingofspadescos]

Astarion x Reader - All You Wanna Do

Warnings - ANGST WITH GOOD ENDING

TW - Trauma, Sexual trauma mention

ALMOST MADE MYSELF CRY FROM THIS-

So in Six we all know Katherine Howard's (the pink one) song right? '

'All You Wanna Do'

And it goes through her lovers but how they only used her for her body?

Tell me that isn't Astarion.

Imagine after escaping Cazador (or at some point) he tries to get back out into the dating pool. He just wanted something, anything to make the numb feeling go away. And he thought he found it, but every day he'd wake up to an empty bed and every time he could feel more and more of himself break. Its an endless vicous cycle that he tries desperstly to break but fails inevitably.

He gives up, slinking back to the shadows and watching from afar.

But then one day when he slips out at night to visit a midnight market he accidently bumps into someone.

And it just so happens to be you.

He tilts his head when you smile up at him

"Sorry, sir, apprantly the skill of walking has alluded me" you said.

He's dumbfounded, a snarky remark at the tip of his tongue but unable to make it past his lips. How could it? You were truly breathtaking, the moonlight reflecting off your skin in a way he could only describe as ethereal.

And the way you looked at him, oh gods your eyes had him reeling. There was no hunger in them, no want, no lust, just embarrassment and genuine kindness, something he was not used to being the target of.

He could handle pure mindless need, but this? Such a sweet innocent little thing like you? Oh, no, he couldn't handle that. Not when you looked at him like he actually mattered in the world.

He barely managed out a stangled 'its fine' before dashing back to his dwelling...where he proceeded to lock himself away for days.

What else was he supposed to do? His heart was beating to another rhythm, a time that only meant heartbreak, anger, and self loathing. He couldn't handle it, not again.

But then, after a few days, a knock sounded at his door, and with caution he had opened it to find you there, holding his blade.

"Hi! You dropped this at the market a few days ago" you said "I asked around about you so I could find you, which was tremendously easy, apprantly there is only one known vampire around here."

And there that smile was again and those same eyes that had him crumbling.

"Thank you" he had coughed out, gently grabbing the blade. He wanted you out, far away from him as possible, just so he could function normally. But then your fingers accidently brushed his and he was almost done for.

Panic, excitement, fear, and hope came down on him in waves as he looked into your eyes again. He barely manged to stop himself from taking a step back as if the adoration and happiness that were captured in your eyes had physically pushed him.

"Well I should probably get going" you said turning to walk, and a new panic rose in his chest, the fear of never seeing you again.

"Wait!" He said too quickly for his own liking "come in for some tea, won't you? It's the least I could do to repay you."

From there you two go closer and closer, spending as much time together as possible. Each second he spent with you he felt his heart reach out towards you as if to embrace you and never let go.

But the fear was still there, the fear that he would get to close and you would leave him, just like everyone else.

However, the day came when you confessed. A new dagger in one hand and a rose in the other you looked up at him with those eyes. The same eyes he had yet to act normal about and told him you liked him and wanted him to be yours and you to be his.

The cold hand of panic that crippled his heart made an appearance, twisting the fear into his body and causing his knees to buckle. God's, he felt so stupid, felt so vulnerable and useless, but then a warmth surrounded him.

Your embrace.

You held him, arms tightly woven around his body keeping him secure to you.

"You can say no, you can tell me no" you had whispered, and he almost jumped at the out "but if you're willing to let me hold your heart ill shall cherish it til' the sun no longer shines and even then I shall create my own."

You had him in tears, hands clutching at you in desperation and head burying into your neck.

The rest of the night was spent with assurance and love, you guiding him through a simple kiss that led to nothing more.

And in the morning when he awoke, he cried again when he saw you curled into his side, hand clutching his with the intent of never letting go.

#Bg3 #baldurs gate #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 astarion #astarion #astarion my beloved #astarion ancunin #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #angst #angst with a happy ending #Six #six the musical #im crying #fanfiction #vampire

[rinbowaman]

after seeing sunghoon at the parade today… I WANNA HEAR YOUR THOUGHTS OF PRINCE SUNGHOON

😏

you really want to know?

very well then, I will give you my thoughts on prince Sunghoon taking you in a private date at the ice skating rink. Enjoy.

MDNI 18+ content below the line.

When I see this…

The prince is taking you on a date at the ice skating resort. He promised to show you his moves, he’s even booked the entire rink privately, just for the occasion.

He helped fit your feet in the correct skates, and holds both your hands as he’s teaching you to glide on the ice. His leather gloves tighten around his fingers as he interlocks them with yours. “Here…” he takes off his blue cashmere coat and sets it on the barrier, “you lead and I’ll be right behind you so you won’t fall.”

you’re slowly getting the hang of it, or at least it was easier to skate with the Prince holding your waist, standing so close as the denim rubs against the wool midi-skirt you have on. “Please don’t let me fall.”

“I won’t ever let you fall.”

“are you sure?”

“do I have to prove it?”

“That might help.” You were just teasing, when suddenly the Prince steers you by the hold on your waist and gently runs you into the barrier. Your hip bones softly make contact as you lean forward from the abrupt halt, bent slightly over the edge. “What are you doing—“

your voice cuts out when you turned your face and witness him pinching the tip of his gloves with his teeth. His canines are sharp and pointed, very much like a vampire, which added to his mysterious appeal as he pulls off the leather glove from his strong hand. Reaching down, he hooks onto your panties and shift them over to the side, while his other hand plays with the lace rimmed, thigh high stockings. “Babe! Wait—what?!”

“don’t worry, I’m not going to let you fall…”

he was quick and smooth with his movements that you didn’t even realize he had released his beastly length from his denim attire. It wasn’t until you felt him beginning to feed it inside you. “Ugh!” You whimpered helplessly as he kept your hips plastered against the barrier, gently pushing your upper back to lean you more forward. Your hands reach up and slam against the edge lining of the barrier as you felt him slowly entering. His shaft was cold, it was almost freezing but instantly started to warm up as he nestled inside your walls. “Yes baby…just like that…warm me up.”

his hands reach up and pulls the buttons of your blouse apart, feeding under your bralette as he cups your breasts. Again, his skin was cold, but the warmth of your mounds melted them until they welded onto your skin. The man is so skilled, even with skates on, he was able to stabilize himself on the ice. The momentum of his thrusts made you slip, only for him to pull you up by the hips as he thrusted simultaneously. He goes harder, faster, and deeper, to the point that each time you started to slip again, he’d pull you right back up. you wished that he would just let you fall, instead, he would re-stabilize your body over the flat edge of the barrier as he thrusted up, and inside you. Your knees and thighs practically gave out, your body was trembling, the sensation was unbelievably good and you finally started to beg. “Please! Let me go….just let me fall! I can’t…I can’t take it anymore! Ugh!”

“no baby, I’m never going to let you fall.” He grits his canines against his bottom lip as he continues to thrust, nibbling on your ear and coating your neck with his tongue. His momentum becomes more intense and you find yourself bouncing forward from receiving his pleasurable impact. “Ugh! Please! Oh my God please! Just let me fall! Please let me fall…I’m…I’m going to cum!”

breathing heavily as his voice comes out hoarse and deep, he reaches around and lifts your chin, peering his own face from the side. His tongue travels across your face and meets with your lips. “Cum baby…I’m still never gonna let you fall.”

he keeps thrusting in to you, speed tapping that soft spot, making you gush each and every single time. “Ugh!!!” You scream as you feel the knot in your gut release, spilling all over his cock as you feel the intense warmth of his seed decorating your inner walls. He keeps you bent over, letting you catch your breath.

Finally, when you recover from the intensity of your orgasm, you feel him pull you backwards, all by his hold on your waist. He was still inside you, keeping your body plastered against his chest as he skated you a few laps, forcing you to keep his cock warm. Bear hugging you, he continues to skate while his member twitched and throbs inside you, re-hardens, and pulsates. “Please! I’m so sensitive! Please take it out!”

he smiles as he tenderly kisses your cheek, knowing damn well that you were feeling too good, by the overflow of the warm juices seeping out from your opening, making his cock so slippery as he squelches it in and out of you. “Gotta keep a hold on you, ice skating can be a dangerous thing, besides…” Leaning his face in, he whispers into your ear. “Didnt I say I was going to prove to you…that I’d never let you fall?”

you’re not sure how many laps he took you on, and you’re not even sure how many times he made you cum, all you knew was by the end of the date, the Prince had given you so many of his snowflakes, to the point where you may not even be so sure if your birth control could withstand his royal bloodline from developing inside your tummy. After all, he was a prince, and prince’s are good at producing heirs.

Perm Taglist:

@enheene , aiden2001 , heeseung-min , lathan1510 , rayofsunshineeee , @hoyeonheeseung , @rayofsunshineeee , @yohanabanana , @sunoosrightbuttcheek , @jaeneohee , @icydawon , @silcry , @iamliacamila , @nikstrange , @enheene ; @nuriicata , @en-happiness

#sunghoon x reader #sunghoon imagines #park sunghoon smut #park sunghoon x reader #enha x reader #sunghoon smut #sunghoon hard hours #sunghoon hard thoughts #enha smut #enha drabbles #enha imagines #enha hard thoughts #enha hard hours

[repentarium]

a waste of paint

read on ao3

“Just do your middle finger, Stevie, it’ll be, like, punk rock.”

“Right, because he is a beacon to anarchists all over the state of Indiana.” Max rolls her eyes, but Eddie is already tossing a tiny bottle to Steve. He tosses it back without looking at it. 

“You’re being a real spoilsport.” Eddie tsks at him and walks on his knees to sit at Steve’s feet. After a brief tug of war, he’s got Steve’s left hand secured and is using his teeth to unscrew the top of the bottle. 

“Waste of paint, man. I’m just gonna scrub it off.”

Eddie frowns at him smally, a tug down at the corners like he’s Thinking, like maybe he’s gonna shuffle back over to the girls, and Steve changes his mind with a sigh and shoves his hand closer to Eddie. 

El and Max are still over near the coffee table. Max is painting something rich and blue onto El’s fingertips and they’re chatting casually. Steve thinks it’s important they have this, something a little normal. El’s hair has grown out some since spring break, enough that she’s clipped a piece of bright plastic into it to keep it from falling across her face. She gets these headaches sometimes, and Max has glasses to help with her vision and a walking cast still on her left leg, but they’re here and they’re okay and they’re painting their nails. 

By the time he looks back down at Eddie, he’s finished a layer of golden yellow paint and his lips are pursed to blow gently across it. He looks up at him through his lashes and catches Steve looking back and smiles, and every part of Steve’s body is like electric-shock levels of tense.

And look, that’s normal , at least lately, at least for Steve. Normal to have to pull your eyes away from your pal, then look back as he starts painting again, the tip of his tongue poking at the corner of his lips just so in concentration.

All on the up and up, very above the board and even boring, maybe. A normal bodily reaction. Not a big deal. Cool as a cucumber. 

He’s talked to Robin about it - well, he’s talked around it in Robin’s general direction, he hasn’t jumped off the diving board per se, which is fine because there’s nothing weird here. Anyway, he told Robin that he thought Eddie was really cool is what happened if you want to know the exact details, and Robin said ‘Yeah, I think so too!’. So that was like proof that it was normal, you know. Everyone thought Eddie was cool. 

Steve is a liar. He is lying to himself. He does that sometimes, and he’s trying to get better about it, but it’s easier to not understand something than to dig into all the messy feelings. So the nail polish? He could have removed it, he maybe should have, but it’s like a physical something-or-other, and looking at it, or catching it on accident from the corner of his eye, gives him that same electric jolt he gets when he catches Eddie looking at him from across the room, or when he realizes the bell over the Family Video door ringing is actually heralding his loitering presence. 

Anyway, he’s a liar, mostly to himself, mostly for convenience, but this whole nail polish thing is wrecking it, it’s making it harder and harder to lie about it, even in the comfort of his own thoughts. 

He went on a few dates with Marie Thomas the summer before sophomore year, and she was like a vampire. She’d latch onto his throat and chew and it wasn’t like he wasn’t into it, but the real secret thrill was that he’d then catch the little bruises she left on his neck when he passed by the mirror. He hadn’t really thought he should cover it up, didn’t get why it was weird or whatever until Carol noticed on a Monday and started calling him a slut. He’d just liked that it was a physical and visual reminder that he had felt something, that he’d had a connection with another person. He liked pressing his thumb against a bruise and feeling the little bit of pain and he liked the way the purple bled out past the collar of his shirt as it healed. He and Marie didn’t last much into the school year, but he thought about the bruises sometimes. 

So looking at the yellow of the polish on his finger for the next few days and feeling that same thrill, like some kind of weird neon sign that flashed and told him ‘Eddie was kneeling at your feet the other day, remember? He was looking up with big eyes through his bangs and blowing gently on your finger and he was real and it happened’ as if some sort of hot and heavy backseat-at-the-drive-in action happened when it was truly something boring in a room full of people in his mom’s living room? 

It’s almost the same thing, really, and that feeling makes it harder to lie . 

By the time the golden-sunshine-yellow paint is chipping off the tip of his finger, he’s spiraling into a real conundrum of truths. It’s a Wednesday, and he is late to pick up Robin for work because he honestly truthfully spent ten minutes looking at the fresh chip in his paint. He’d been wondering if that was Eddie’s little bottle, if he’d had yellow fingertips like this before, or if this was from the girls’ collection. He’d been wondering if, if he went to the trailer park, Eddie would give him a touch up. If he’d sit at his knees while he did, or if they’d sit across from each other on his bed at the new government trailer, legs crossed and hands held like highschool girls holding a seance. 

It took the phone ringing to shake him out of it, Robin yelling at him for not being there yet. 

So it was toeing into his shoes, snatching his keys off the counter, and speeding to Robin’s and then to open the store. Busy with his body but his brain still whirring around with honest-to-god honesty. He liked Eddie, sure, but he also likes Eddie, the way he’d liked Marie Thomas or Nancy Wheeler or any of the girls he’d gotten handsy with. Pants feelings. 

And, maybe scarier, heart feelings. His terrible idiot of a heart whispers to him about how brave Eddie actually was and how kind he actually was and how good he actually was, how he treated the kids and how he nearly died to save the town that hated him and how he’d carefully held his hand and taken the time to do two coats of paint and to blow across the tip so that the sunny color looked Just Right and smooth even though Steve had (out of his mind, maybe) said he’d just wash it off. Like he’d been painting something special, maybe one of the tiny creatures for his game, instead of an ungrateful little jerk of a guy. 

It all has him itchy, tapping one hand on the counter and staring at the other, the truthy yellow of it all, while Robin complains about the shitty movie she’d chosen to throw on the tv. He knows that she knows that he’s in his head about something, they basically share the same head, and he’s grateful she’s keeping it light and surface level so he can dwell and hiccup over all the sticky stuff. 

The bell over the door rings, and Steve’s head snaps up (with hope, he recognizes the fluttery little wings of it and it’s like a carrier pigeon with a notarized message, the  contents inside enough to make him gulp) and of course it’s Eddie, he’s always around, especially on Wednesdays when the store is at its emptiest. Steve swallows again when he sees him, forces out a ‘Hey, man!’ and holds his hands steady on the counter, palms to the glass.

Eddie looks good, of course he does, eyes and teeth bright and sparkling and his hair backlit by the late morning light so it’s like a halo. He’s fizzy with energy, like he always is, and he comes up to lean against the counter directly across from Steve. Close, like always. In Steve’s personal space, like always .

“Hey yourself, man .” Eddie smiles at him and raps his knuckles against the glass. 

“Thank GOD you’re here, Munson, my brain is leaking out of my ears and Steve has been brooding and just so boring all morning.”

“Unfortunately, my dear Buckley, I’m on a mission today. I’ve gotta go out of town to get something for Wayne’s truck, so I can’t stay. Just wanted to check in with my adoring masses, a tough tour, you know how it is.” He raps again, and Steve’s eyes fall to their hands, Eddie’s rings clacking together and Steve’s sweaty palms pressed into the glass just an inch or so away. “Broody, huh? Run out of your fancy-boy hair gel?” 

Eddie frowns with pomp and drama and tucks his head down to make Steve look into his eyes, and he’s looking through his lashes again, just like when he was painting his nails. It makes him clear his throat, and clear it again, and think about Marie’s bruise on his neck, wonder if Eddie would bruise him like that, if he would rather Steve mark him up, and then he’s looking at the long line of his neck and the way it slides into the curve of his shoulder before it disappears into the stretched-out collar of his once-black shirt. He clears his throat again , and then, as if Eddie can read his mind (God no, please), he looks down at Steve’s hand and taps at the nail polish. 

“You need a touch-up, Stevie, that yellow is just falling apart. It’s called Sun Day, you know, that color. Two words: Sun Day.”

Steve hums at him and looks back at his hands again. Feels the ghost of the little tap he’d touched against his nail. 

“ Anyway , my friends and fellow freaks, I am a little overdue on this old thing.” He struggles into some hidden pocket under the flannel tied around his waist, turning his shoulders enough that Steve feels like whatever spell he’d cast is maybe broken and he can breathe again. 

He presses the plastic case onto the counter with what Steve just knows he thinks is his most winningest grin, but it only works because it’s created this silly stretched-out grimace that Steve finds charming, okay, it’s silly and it’s charming. 

“Fine! Okay, fine, you got it, what fees?” Steve shakes his head at him, one hand finally lifting from the counter to run through his hair and the other finding home on his own hip. He hopes there isn’t some sort of sweaty mark on the counter but he can’t look to check without showing his cards. 

“My everlasting thanks, sweet Stevie.” Eddie bows low and backs up a few steps, turns around as Robin says goodbye, taps the top of the door frame as he leaves and shoots a wink over his shoulder back at Steve. Steve stares too long, raises his hand in a wave after Eddie is already out of sight. 

Robin is snapping up Eddie’s returned VHS to rewind it; you’d think with his friends cutting him so much slack with the rentals he’d be-kind-rewind them at least, but he never does, and the worst part is that Steve doesn’t even care. He’s fully complained to many a customer with his arms crossed pissily about rewinding their spoils, but for some reason Eddie’s disregard is just another Cool Thing about his Cool Guy Persona. 

Something about that’s the final straw. When it crosses his mind, he crosses to the front of the store and flips the closed sign, locks the door, and turns off the display lights. By the time he’s turned around again, hands in his hair and his heart pounding in his throat, Robin is looking at him with an eyebrow raised. She doesn’t seem panicked, but Steve is starting to feel panicked, so he comes around the counter to lean next to Robin and then slides down to sit on the floor. It feels right. It feels even more right when Robin slides down the wall across from him and kicks her scuffed up Converse against his sneaker. 

She’s quiet and watching him with big eyes. It’s uncanny. 

He has a few false starts, big breaths and an open mouth before reeling in whatever he was going to say and snapping his jaw closed again. 

Finally, after minutes of Robin just Looking and Steve floundering and feeling warm, he looks at his painted nail for courage and just spits it out. 

“I like Eddie. Like I think I want to kiss him and hear about his day and touch his butt and stuff.”

“God,” says Robin, “of course you do. Have you seen the two of you dancing around each other? It’s like you pinball from middle school crush to old married couple and back again.”

Steve sputters. “You knew ? Why didn’t you say anything?” 

“Like that wouldn’t have totally freaked you out. You had to figure it out in your own time.” Steve would bet she thinks she looks wise, but to him she just looks constipated. 

“Well so. So what do I do? What now?” He’s chewing on the skin of his thumb, not the one who is neighbors with the Sun Day, he’s got enough presence of mind for that .

“What do you mean?”

Steve sighs in frustration and then his hands are tugging at his hair again, elbows balanced on his knees. “Is he even. Does he. What if he doesn’t like me back? What if he does ?”

“Breathe, Steve. He definitely likes you, he just thinks you’re straight ‘cause of, you know.” She gestures vaguely at him. 

“So did I.”

“Yeah, uh. Are you, like, freaking out?”

“I… don’t know. It snuck up on me. I just. He painted my fingernail.” Steve flips Robin off to show off the sad and chipped polish. 

“Yeah you showed me. Multiple times.” She has a pretty unimpressed expression on her face for someone who is supposed to be helping him. “ That’s what made you realize you liked his dork ass?”

“I mean, it was a series of things, I guess. I don’t know.” He’s looking at his silly fingernail again. “He’s really good. Like better than anyone maybe.”

Robin is gawking at him. “That’s not how you talk about girls, Steve. You haven’t mentioned his boobies like, at all.”

Steve groans and slides sideways to lay on the floor, sprawled out and looking at the cobwebs fighting to cover the overhead lights. Gross. 

“I’m sure his boobies are lovely, Robs, I just… wanna spend time with him, and listen to his weird stories and his weird music and look at his eyes when he talks about all the things he likes. And. Maybe he’ll like me like that too, you know? Like maybe he’ll feel the same way one day and I’ll be able to look at him and just know .” 

“Ew, you suck, Steve.” But her face when he looks is soft and caring. 

“Should I like. Talk to him? No. I don’t even know if he’s. You know.”

“You won’t know for sure until you talk to him, but I wouldn’t encourage you to talk to him if I didn’t think he was safe. And also like completely obsessed with you. But even if he wasn’t! He’s a good guy and he’s a good friend, you know. He’s not gonna be weird about it.”

“Hmm.”

Robin puts a hand on his knee and shakes it side to side. “Look at us ! You basically said you loved me and I’m still here, and we’re even closer than ever.”

Steve frowns at her, but he knows she’s right. Eddie’s a good guy, that’s the whole point.

“I guess I’m gonna talk to him.” Even saying it out loud to Robin like this makes him nauseous, makes his pulse pound, but she smiles at him in encouragement. 

“Yes! A great idea. You can turn on the old Harrington Charm, maybe-”

A pounding at the closed door and a muffled voice interrupts her. They both scramble to their feet, and Steve sees old Mrs. Burke pressing her face to the door, talking through the glass and shielding her eyes from the glare. 

“Coming!” Robin yells and darts to the door, lets her in and flips everything to open again. 

“You’re supposed to be open!” Mrs. Burke gripes. 

Steve mutters a ‘yeah, yeah’ and lets Robin take over. He’s usually fed to the Mad Old Lady Wolves but Robin loves him and lets him go sit in the breakroom for five minutes while she helps her find whatever romantic comedy she needs so badly. 

That means he gets to sit on the ratty old sofa and stare at the walls and wring his hands because it sure doesn’t feel like it’s as easy as flipping on some sort of charm switch. He’s got indigestion thinking about it, actually. 

And okay, the whole ‘King Steve “the Hair” Harrington, Master of Charm and Suavity’ was… a little bit of a farce, actually. It worked for him, but from an outside perspective, especially lately? Let’s just say it’s a little lackluster. Nancy told him one time, giggling in a way that didn’t hurt his feelings, that the reason he was charming was because he wasn’t charming, just sincere. That was after he successfully(?) charmed her with shotgunning the beer by the pool and before the big breakup, so that means something, right?

When the bell over the door rings again (Steve’s ears are trained to recognize it) he gets to barge out into the main room and say “Robin, do you really think I’m charming or are you joking?”

Luckily there’s no one in the store again, and he just finds Robin between the aisles pausing her restock to look at him with wide eyes. 

“I’m being serious, I’m having a crisis.” he continues when she doesn’t immediately respond. 

“Steve, buddy, I hate to be the one to tell you this. You’re a total dweeb.” It’s delivered with the gravitas of a doctor giving a horrible diagnosis, and it feels that way to Steve. “But!” she continues quickly when his face definitely flashes with the fall and the crash, “I have incredible news for you! I personally mean that as a term of endearment and, maybe even better, everyone you know is a dweeb, and ? Best of all? One Eddie Munson is maybe the biggest dweeb that’s ever existed”

Steve is still frowning. It’s kind of a lot to absorb, that the common perception of yourself is so… unsmooth. 

“You’re very sweet, Steve, and everyone likes you. Well, mostly.” Robin stiffly pats his shoulder. 

“Should I like, buy a leather jacket or something?”

“Steve it’s June. Also I don’t think you need to pull a Sandy Dee. Actually, please don’t. Just, you’ve got your whole… thing… and it’s maybe a little uptight? But it’s your thing ! You don’t wanna change for a person, you know, you’d tell me the same thing.”

“I want him to like me. Suddenly. Very badly.” 

“That’s the nature of a crush, Steve-o. It’s evil.”

“I need to go lay down for a few days. Maybe this’ll blow over, like…” he thinks and snaps his fingers, “temporary insanity.”

“Oh, honey. It’s been a while I guess, what with the world always ending, but I don’t know if you can sleep this kinda thing off. You probably have to talk to him.” 

He stands and stares and thinks while Robin putters around doing menial movie store tasks around him. It’s hard work, standing and staring and thinking, especially when he’s interrupted to take care of customers, so really it takes him the rest of the afternoon and all the way up through quitting time. 

It’s like he blinks and he’s pulling into his driveway, no memory of dropping Robin off. He shakes himself and turns the engine off, stumbles up his steps and through the front doors with legs that feel asleep and a brain that’s still all fogged up. 

It’s not even an Eddie is a boy and this makes him Different kind of freak out; that’s not it at all, he’s somehow leapt straight past that like hurdles in track and is standing facing a brick wall of but he’s Good and maybe you Don’t Deserve This . 

Steve knows he’s a lot, see, and he falls hard and fast, and Eddie is fun and light and not weighed down with all the guilt and anxiety and bullshit Steve’s dealing with; Eddie has his band and his game and his friends and he’s going to community college and working part time at a garage in town and figuring his shit out. Steve is working at Family Video (still), floundering his 20s away with no hopes or dreams or friends older than teens, and he also almost got a significant percentage of them, including Eddie , killed. Very recently, actually. 

Like Eddie is a glowing light and Steve is a cold dark box that puts lights out. Like he’s become his shitty, empty house. 

He’s still standing in his dark entryway, breath kicking up into something that’s sure to be a real doozy of a panic attack, when there’s a firm and rhythmic knock at the front door. He eyes the bat leaning against the wall (in case of emergencies), then flicks on the lights and opens the doors to find Eddie standing there, arms weighed down with bags and a hand raised to knock again. 

“Hey Stevie!” 

“H-hey? Hey, Eddie! What’s, um. What’s going on?” He tries to channel coolness, suavity, leans against the wall next to the open door and doesn’t almost fall. 

Eddie pushes past Steve without being invited in, typical behavior, and slides his wares onto the counter in the kitchen. 

“I brought us a feast.”

“A feast?” Steve’s stomach grumbles, reminds him he skipped breakfast and lunch, only split marked-out snacks with Robin all day. “What’s the occasion?”

“Kinda you are.” Eddie is unloading takeout containers from what smells like some Italian place. 

“I’m… confused.”

“Your birthday!”

“It’s definitely not my birthday, Eddie.”

“No, but we’re celebrating it today because I don’t know when it is.”

“That doesn’t make, like, any sense, man, my birthday was in April.”

“No, that’s perfect! I was probably recovering from the whole near-death then, so. Birthday.” He grins cheesily at him and Steve feels like all of his insides are scrambling to leave his body via a new pathway up his throat. “I hope you like pasta!”

“I love pasta.” Steve manages to mumble, and his feet move him towards Eddie on their own, his eyes snoop on their own, his hands pull out a stool on their own. It’s like he’s haunting his own body. Eddie is mumbling song lyrics and pulling out plates and dishing out pasta and salad like he belongs in his kitchen, like he’s more at home there than Steve has pretty much ever felt, and that combined with his day of Thinking and the snare of the stupid yellow polish on his nail that has him still feeling breathless when he says, watery and all in a jumble: “Eddie I think I really like you. Please don’t make fun of me.” 

He feels the panic on his own face as he just pauses. He didn’t mean to just say that, and now Eddie’s stopped, still as hell and facing away from him, carton of breadsticks lowered to the counter. He tries to school his face (cool, suave) as Eddie slowly, so slowly, turns around and leans against the edge of the counter, as he crosses his arms in front of him, but he just knows he looks like he’s seen a ghost or like he’s on fire because he still kinda feels that way. 

“You okay Stevie? You look a little. Well, you look a little freaked out.”

“I just, ah. I just mean.” He sinks fully into the stool, grateful it has a back to catch him because otherwise he’d end up on the floor for sure. His knees are basically on strike. He’s so warm. He keeps clearing his throat. 

Eddie is still looking at him with worry making the line between his brows creep below his bangs. He turns again to run some water into a glass and slide it across the island to Steve, who grabs it and makes himself sip mostly for something to do with his hands. But now Eddie is leaning across the whole island, pushed up onto his toes for sure, pushing into Steve’s space just enough that he knows he’s blushing. It makes him feel ridiculous because this is just Eddie, his friend, one of his best friends. Eddie who, god bless him, has never had a firm grasp on personal space and it’s never really been an issue before right exactly now.

Steve’s talking into the glass and avoiding Eddie’s eyes when he says, “I mean. It’s. I don’t think. I just. You don’t have to say anything. I’m, like, working through something.”

“Hmm. Did you mean it, Steve?”

Steve gulps again. “Yeah. Yeah, I did, I mean. I do. Like you. Like more than a normal amount. And it’s okay if you don’t, and I’m sorry if that’s not…”

“Stevie, breathe.” 

Steve can hear the chuckle in his voice and it finally makes him look up, which was a terrible idea, actually, because now he’s stuck again, caught on looking into Eddie’s stupid beautiful eyes as he laughs at him. “Please don’t laugh at me. This is. A lot.” Steve feels small and tiny and miniscule and he wants to go hide under the covers like when he was a kid and his parents were yelling. 

“Sweetheart. I am not laughing at you.” Eddie’s voice is firm through the grin that’s still there, and he reaches out slowly like Steve is a startled horse and lightly - lightly - touches the side of his face. It’s like walking through a spider web in the park if the spider web was cotton candy instead. “Oh my god. Steve Harrington, you’re such a dweeb.”

“That’s what they say.”

Slowly, to keep from startling him any more, he’s sure, Eddie leans further across the island, hand still on Steve’s face, and presses a gentle, feather-soft kiss against his lips. It’s nothing, really, not even close to the kinds of kisses that led to hands or bruises, but it’s like fireworks catching on all his nerves and he can feel all his hair stand up. It’s like superpowers and swimming and drowning, and he knows a little about all that. 

Before he can get his brain on the same channel, Eddie is pulling away with a soft pat to Steve’s cheek. Steve makes a very sad noise at the back of his throat and he knows he’s pouting but Eddie has turned away already, is humming again and grabbing plates and saying “Let’s eat some pasta, babe. I’m starving.”

He watches as Eddie grabs plates, balances a box of breadsticks on an arm, asks him to grab the Cokes. Steve grabs the bottles on autopilot, cracks the caps open on the counter the way his mother would kill him for, and follows Eddie into the living room where he’s seated on the sofa, plate in his lap and pasta in his mouth. 

He’s got a numb almost-feeling as he clinks a Coke down in front of Eddie and takes his plate, sits stiffly. His brain is sloshing around as he eats his spaghetti. 

“How are you normal?”

Eddie raises his eyebrows over his Coke bottle. “No one has ever asked me that before.”

“I just mean. I guess I don’t know what to think. Usually people say something when you say you, well. Say you have feelings for them. Or…”

Eddie puts all his things down on the coffee table, no coasters, and curls his legs up onto the couch. 

“Stevie, I’m sittin’ right here with you. You don’t have to say or do anything, you know? I’m here, and I’m not goin’ anywhere. We can eat dinner, we can talk about it.” He shrugs a shoulder, totally not bothered.

They’re words, just words, and they shouldn’t strike him so hard, but his face feels warm and he still feels like his brain is spinning around, like he’s at sea. Eddie frowns at him. He seems to see how lost he is suddenly because in the next breath he’s taking everything away from Steve to put it next to his own stuff. He grabs his hands and tells him to breathe. “Oh. Yeah. Okay.”

“You are freaking out. I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m fine, I’m just.”

“It’s okay not to be fine. I think you’ve given this all a little more thought than I thought.”

“I’m serious, I was serious. I even told Robin. I think I, well, I know… I like you a lot. Like in a way I don’t usually like guys.”

“Oh. Wow.” Eddie is looking at him, and now he looks like he’s seen a ghost. Hands gripped, seance-style. “Okay, I’m not gonna lie, Stevie, I kinda thought you were just trying to say I was your… pal.”

“So you kissed me on the lips.”

“Pals kiss! And okay, cards on the table I guess, I know I feel a certain way about you , that’s not news to me. I wanted to do that for years, since even before you saved my life. I just don’t exactly expect any kind of… reciprocity.”

“Like?”

“Like you’re not gonna look at me and see me the way I see you .” By the end of the sentence his voice has fallen to a whisper.

And, well. Now Eddie is looking away and blushing and Steve feels a little more balanced, feels like this is something he can participate in. Not so much confidence, but familiarity, a comfortable sweater. “It depends how you see me, I guess, but I’m a little obsessed with you.” 

Eddie lets out a loud laugh in surprise and tries to pull his hands back but Steve flips them around so he’s grabbing Eddie’s hands and keeping them safe. It’s like holding small birds.

“No, stop. I mean it.” He’s picking up steam, pulling out the things he was turning over in his head all day. He mirrors Eddie, knees touching knees. “I can’t stop thinking about you. Robin’s tired of hearing about it. Being around you is easy, you make things easy, like it gets quiet even though you’re loud as hell.”

“Shut up, man.”

“I won’t.”

“You’re not like, joking with me right? Because that happened sometimes in the hallowed halls of Hawkins High and gotta tell ya, not a fan. I’m not a good fighter and I like you too much to wanna hit you but I would be very sad , and-”

“Eddie, it’s not a joke.”

“-like, I just wanted to bring you dinner because it looked like you were having a bad day and we all know how that goes, and this is all feeling very weird actually-”

“You were so cool a minute ago, it made me think I was losing it-”

“-maybe I got into a horrible car accident and died and this is like the last firing of my synapses or whatever.”

“-but this is actually more of an Eddie response. Is this okay?” Steve is ecstatic, actually, this is going so well, way better than he thought, and he can feel the smile on his face as he reels Eddie in closer to him, as he plans to redo that kiss in the kitchen. 

“God, yes.” Eddie laughs, and then he shuts up as Steve presses his lips against his. 

And okay, it’s more teeth than it should be, what with all the smiling, and it’s a little garlicky from the pasta, but it’s Good in the way that all first kisses are but it’s Better because it’s with Eddie. 

By the time they get back to their pasta it’s cold but they’re still smiling and the little worried line between Eddie’s brows is gone completely. 

They’re laughing as they eat, and they’re laughing as they clean up, and they’re laughing as Steve stops Eddie at the door to pull him into another kiss, and it’s easy . 

When he goes to bed that night, he runs his thumb over the chipped yellow polish in the dark and he thinks wow, Robin was right , and he thinks oh no, Robin is going to be so annoying , but he falls asleep with a smile anyway. He has incredible dreams for a change, dreams where everything is all Sun Day Golden Yellow and cotton-candy-sweet and he has this dork of a guy next to him holding his hand.

It’s all pretty punk rock. 

-----

i have been on several work trips and am in the process of moving so i have been s l a c k i n g, esp here and on my longer fics, but i haven't abandoned them! This is an older short lil story i edited and posted when i couldn't sleep

xoxo

#steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie fanfiction #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #mine

[elliesbelle]

hiii can i request another text conversations with Ellie and reader being super sweet to one another and also funny and smutty hehe like dealer ellie but also college ellie I’m a sucker for modern ellie hehe 🤭 🩷

texts with college gf ellie

part 1

dealer!ellie and reader are dating and in college and in love and all that ♡︎

content warnings: dealer!ellie, cursing, mentions of marijuana, slight nsfw content, minors do not interact

texts with domestic gf!ellie: part 1, part 2, part 3

texts with gf!abby found on my masterlist here

i have a ko-fi if you like my work so much that you feel compelled to tip me ♡︎

author's notes:

hope you enjoyed this, anon!! sorry it took me a hot sec to get to this. been busy with work and etc.! and yes, these are again very much inspired by the way my gf & i and also my ex & i speak to each other slkdjfdslk

my butch girlfriend has a pair of these glow-in-the-dark space boxers and they're so fucking cool and it's my own personal headcanon that ellie has those too

you get a gold star and a flying kiss if you get the references in the cat texts (yes, it's a buffy the vampire slayer reference because sometimes i'm an old-school lesbian). also please enjoy the two pictures of my gf's and my cat when she was a baby (those are her actual pictures lmao).

(also i'm differentiating this from my other gf ellie text posts cause reader and ellie are mid-20s in that one and living together hehe; we can pretend that this is ellie and reader pre-living together, or this can be a different ellie and reader, idk you can decide sldkfjsd)

#anon #ellie williams #ellie texts #text convos #ellie x reader #ellie x you #ellie x y/n #gf!ellie #the last of us #tlou #the last of us part 2 #tlou2 #belle speaks #belle answers #belle writes

[madnessr]

Vagabond

Vagabond — wandering from place to place without any settled home

Poly Lost Boys x GN Reader Synopsis: Forgiveness is a fickle thing. When four souls find each other, the world finds its equilibrium once more; until the absence of another tips the scale forever. What happens when a familiar face shows itself back at the boardwalk after twenty years of absence?

Warnings: slight angst, lots of historical information in the beginning

Word Count: 3k

By issuing the Declaration of Independence, adopted by the Continental Congress on July 4th, 1776, the 13 American colonies severed their political connections to Great Britain. 

You had been ten during the conflicts between America and Great Britain, young and impressionable. Your family came with Puritans, who set sail to America back in 1630. Unlike the Pilgrims, who had left ten years earlier, the Puritans did not break with the Church of England but sought to reform it. All that happened before you were born; your ancestors had settled down and spread their roots into American soil. 

You recalled little of the American Revolution; after all, you were very young back then, but you remember December 15th, 1791, vividly. Your mother couldn't stop crying that day, and your father had pulled out the oldest whiskey they had that day. America was finally severed from the tyrannical rule of George III. 

You came to understand the significance of those dates more as you aged, growing into a strong individual as you helped your family on their farm. You never intended to marry; it wasn't something you had ever desired or looked forward to. The same year you had gotten married was the day you lost your immortality; both events are related but not necessarily connected. You were introduced to the vampiric community in New Orleans, a city that used the day to sleep off the mistakes you made throughout the rambunctious night. 

You had lived through the formation of the Constitution of the United States of America in 1787 when the founding fathers sought to implement more structure into the now independent country. 

The infamous whiskey rebellion. American drunks apparently were not too keen about Alexander Hamilton implementing a liquor tax to try and raise money for the national debt; asserting the federal government's power back in 1794. 

Only nine years later, the Louisiana Purchase happened in 1803. The small land purchase for only $27 million created room for the states of Louisiana, Missouri, Arkansas, Iowa, North Dakota, South Dakota, Nebraska, and Oklahoma, along with most of Kansas, Colorado, Wyoming, Montana, and Minnesota.

Throughout the 1810s and 1830s, you had moved on from New Orleans and left for New York, seeking human connections and reconnecting with the younger generations. During that time, the Battle of New Orleans in 1815 and the Monroe Doctrine in 1823 seemed to fly past you. 

Then, signed on February 2nd, 1848, the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo finally brought closure to the Mexican-American war. At this time, you were no stranger to political conflicts anymore, and the stench of blood and sweat staining battlefields was, unfortunately, no stranger. 

Life moved on regardless, no matter the horrid realities life provided. For a short while, life had finally come to a stand-still, guns tucked away as the world in America resumed its development. Until April 12th, 1861, Confederate troops fired on Fort Sumter in South Carolina's Charleston Harbor at 4:30 A.M., A day that changed America forever, the beginning of the American Civil War. 

The Emancipation Proclamation, The First Conscription Act, The Battle of Chancellorsville, The Vicksburg Campaign, The Gettysburg Campaign, The Battle of Chickamauga, The Battle of Chattanooga, The Siege of Knoxville. The list continued, and the coppery smell of wasted humanity tainted the air, the wind carrying the cries of victims throughout the nation. 

The war ended in the Spring of 1865. Robert E. Lee surrendered the last major Confederate army to Ulysses S. Grant at Appomattox Courthouse on April 9th, 1865.

The number of soldiers who died throughout those four years eventually got estimated to be around 620,000.

Only 47 years later, on July 28th, 1914, the Austrian Archduke Franz Ferdinand was assassinated, beginning the cruel trench warfare of World War I. In early April 1917, America aided the effort to join a war to end all wars. You had entered the war effort, like everyone capable at the time; from soldiers to nurses, everyone gave aid. 

On November 11th, 1918, the war ended. Although the Allies won, you found no reason to celebrate. Not when mothers sold their homes since there wasn't a reason to have a multiple-bedroom house anymore, when graveyards overflowed with the dead, when people mourned their losses, when mothers' only answer to their missing sons was a notice declaring their child missing in action. 

The stock market crashed in 1929, kicking off the Great Depression that would last for more than a decade. 

On September 1st, 1939, Germany invaded Poland. Kicking off World War II and beginning one of the most brutal warfare's, Blitzkrieg. On May 8th, 1945, Germany surrendered. After the atomic bomb was dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, Japan surrendered on September 2nd, 1945, and the Second World War came to an end.

The war ended, and the surviving soldiers returned with missing limbs and broken spirits. You were a firm believer that humans were not meant to witness so much death; it tainted them; it dulled them. Although you were a vampire, a creature supposedly made for horror, you could not forget what you had witnessed in only the span of 21 years. 

You were 201 years old now, relatively young in the grand scheme of time, but you had lived through a few of the greatest horrors the world had ever seen. 

189 years of traversing the lands, you watched grow in a desperate search to find one of your own. Since you were turned and left New Orleans, you had not met a single vampire. You watched with sorrowful wisdom in your eyes as the world passed through you, virginity in people's expressions you wish you had. A gaze untainted by warfare, civil unrest, and brutality. 

Although you have met the occasional human to brighten your own world, it did not cure you. Your search was desolate—fruitless. 

Your feet had carried you to Santa Carla, the year now being 1963, and just as the five stages of grief had settled on acceptance. You bumped into a group of four rambunctious bikers that would change your life forever. That had been the first time you had met, and you had continued to live together, going on to live through the Civil Rights movement and grieving the assassination of Martin Luther King, Jr.

But on August 12th, 1967, you left Santa Carla. Your absence is only justified by a delicately written letter standing in your place. You had grown to love the boys, but you had lived differently compared to them. 

Marko and Paul were younger vampires than you, having been turned while The Great Depression was bulldozing America. Dwanye had been older, abandoning his immortality in the 18th century along with David. All of them possessed the innate ability to move on from the past, a talent you, unfortunately, did not possess. 

No matter how hard you tried, you could not find peace or excitement in the future. The uncertainty corrupted you, tormented you and your experiences, so you left. Not with the intent to abandon but to sort out whatever you had to sort out. Away from the prying eyes of those you loved, those who you did not want—couldn't disappoint.  

Santa Carla, the town you had never been able to forget. It was 1987 now; twenty years had passed since you had seen the four vampires. You had missed them—a melancholic weight having nestled its way into your heart ever since you left. You regretted the way you had left through a simple letter. A cowardly move; you were wise enough to understand that. But at the time, you couldn't bring yourself to say it to them. How could you? Look someone in the eyes, someone like you—your own pack that never did anything but love you—and tell them you were leaving? 

You didn't have the heart, and if you were a little more honest, you didn't have it now, either. But you missed them more than your hurt pride by walking what felt like a walk of shame as you wandered around the busy boardwalk. One thing you never could get used to was the constant shift in fashion, it felt like the ins became the outs overnight, and you never were able to keep up with it. 

Bright colors were the most fashionable now, with teased hair and loud makeup. You enjoyed it, your knowing eyes watching over the crowd. The smell of hairspray permeated the air, wafting towards you as you passed people. Bulky and oversized clothes were spotted throughout the crowds, some men and women wearing specific member-only jackets. Ah, it seems the surfer nazis still haven't given up on Santa Carla yet. 

The amusement park was new; back in 1867, the boardwalk had small shops littered around—like a market. Originally it mostly sold food and groceries, fish caught fresh from the sea, and farmers selling their produce. 

How has the pier changed so significantly? If it wasn't for the bold, attention-seeking sign that said Santa Carla Boardwalk; you would've thought you were at the wrong address. But stepping on those old wooden floorboards of the pier that occasionally creaked or sunk under your feet was an all too familiar feeling. The smell of salt, rotting seaweed that had washed onto the shore, and the fresh street food made you feel all too at home. 

It felt like you had never really left. 

Your appearance had changed quite a bit since you left Santa Carla, so you didn't expect either the boys or Max to really recognize you. But although you were willing to stay under the radar for the boys, Max was another story. He was a head vampire, a coven leader, and therefore needed to be notified of your presence. 

Entering Max's video store made you feel nostalgic, the same old grimy bell still hanging atop the doorframe signaling your arrival; you had been the one to put that there to originally annoy Max. You were surprised he kept it. The wooden floorboards and furniture gave off a distinct, homey smell. You had been there when the store was built, and the shiny coating across the floors now had grown mat, occasional wood panels brighter in color than before. 

"I never thought I'd meet the day I saw you walk through those doors again." 

Turning around, you met the stern gaze of Max. His outfit made you smile, a desperate attempt at blending in with the crowd. Max was always a stickler for blending in; if he had no intention of turning you; you had no business knowing who; or rather what, he was. 

"It's good to see you." 

"I'm flattered, but I doubt that I am the sole reason you returned." Max always carried that knowing tone, as if he's watched out every move you'd make before you made them. It reminded you that Max had a coven before the boys and you, one he rarely conversed about. Perhaps Max really had seen this turn out before, but analyzing that surprised expression, you could only assume who had left never did come back. 

"How right you are," You sighed, shoulders dropping as you hopped onto the cashier counter. It was before opening, meaning you and Max had some time to chat privately. 

"Twenty years is a long time," Max hummed, a low and almost chiding tone. "What made you come back?" 

"To us, it isn't," You weakly argued back. The cumbersome feeling, or rather an awareness that you were in the wrong, was nearly unbearable. You were smart enough to understand that denial was a fruitless endeavor, and yet you couldn't help but let those desperate attempts escape you. 

"For people waiting for you, it's an eternity." Max sighed in a calm but chiding tone. Although Max never did have to scold you the way he did with the boys, from not committing arson to preventing fights. Max instead focused his guidance towards you on a more emotional level, the morality; a bit ironic being taught by a vampire—but he did his best. 

You glanced outside, through the glass walls of Max's shop, watching the bustling crowd pass you. Twenty years to a vampire was nothing, but somehow the short span of time felt arduous. Why did you come back?

"I never intended on staying away forever. I knew that when the time was right, I'd return." You explained, stealing a quick glance at Max. The older man had a frown etched onto his face, eyebrows furrowed as his own gaze lingered on the rambunctious humans outside. So unaware of the constant and unrelenting passage of time. It was cruel to be immortal; the passage of time no longer hindered you. But emotions are bendable and are the only aspect of ourselves that remains from who we were. Emotions were mortal. 

"Santa Carla has changed, Y/N. It is not what you left behind; they are not the same as they were alongside you." Max recalled, his voice disapproving. 

You knew Max was correct; you knew deep in your wrenching and twisting gut. You jumped off the counter, your feet hitting the floor like gravity had shifted around you, sinking your body into the floor. "I know," you knew; perhaps the boys didn't even want to see you; they could curse you out and send your name to hell for all eternity. They deserved to do it too. 

But they loved you once, and perhaps you can't help shake the feeling that they might love you again this time too. 

Max sighed, walking over to his front door and twisting the closed sign around, and pronouncing the store now open. Each tap of his foot, synced with his steps, was like a thundering echo inside you. It prompted you to get up and to provide closure for the others. You reach the door, opening midway before Max leaves you with some parting advice. 

"I hope you find what you came here for, Y/N. But the time might be right for you now, but it might not be for them."

You nodded, not looking back as you walked out of the store. The air was warmer, humid from the ocean breeze mixing into the air, the notorious assassin for any styled and teased hair due.

Laughter was one of your favorite sounds. As cliche as that might sound, it felt rejuvenating to hear. Whether it was a loud cackle mimicking the call of a hyena or a high-pitched wheeze or whistle. There was a beauty in people's expressions, how their noses tended to scrunch up, or how others held their stomachs and nearly doubled over. Laughter was infectious, and you loved observing the dopamine spread to others. Strangers connecting over a similar sense of joy; there was a beauty in it. 

The boardwalk was filled with it, people brushing shoulders against shoulders as they walked. Groups cackling and shoving each other as they enjoyed the youngness of the evening. Music booming from different directions, punks blasting the newest rap or metal music, hippies tuning out to a gentle jam, but the loudest seemed to be a distant concert down the boardwalk and closer to the pier. Like a bee sensing some honey, you followed. Dodging the occasional passerby, ducking out of the way from shop owners lugging their merchandise around. 

The music got louder, and a small thread of excitement seemed to push you further, faster. Your small stroll transformed into a quickened step, your ears guiding you and your eyes following the crowd. The music was loud; a tight smosh-like pit had formed before the stage where people grind and brushed against each other to the beat of the music. 

Looking around, you scanned the faces of teenagers and young adults. There was an eager but dreaded nervousness to your gaze at the thought of seeing a face that looked familiar. But it wasn't your eyes that caught their presence, but rather your sense of smell. 

 Copper. 

Although it was harder to pick up when the wind stills its prancing, the occasional breeze led you further towards the pier. Away from the smosh pit, and where people stood to enjoy the music but not risk getting mulled over by a hormonal teenager. 

There they stood, strikingly familiar. Although some of the fashion had changed, most of their originality stayed intact. That tiny red flag tied around Dwayne's waist was something the two of you had stolen from a stingy bar owner back in 1964; Markos jacket still had all too familiar patches sewn into its denim fabric; Paul still wore those bracelets you gave him, and David wore the most prominent reminder of you, his oversized coat. 

The wind picked up around you, a cold and mocking breeze flowing through your hair and betraying your presence to the four men you had left behind all those years ago. One by one, heads lifted, smiling ceased, and laughter died. Although you had spent years preparing yourself for this moment, nothing felt so gut-wrenchingly real than standing before them. 

How do you look someone in the eyes after you've abandoned them?

How do you move past that moment when the world around you stills and halts. When you lose yourself in the blear of the world when mortality reaches its hand around your heart and squeezes. A vice-like grip, a feeling blooming within your chest so heavy–so unspeakable. When you see those eyes, recognize the sorrow behind them and realize you were the perpetrator. You were the one who put that agony, that sadness there.

The burden of your actions ties itself around your throat like a noose, tight and unyielding, as you realize the cruelty was done by none other than yourself. And there is no way, in any shape or form, you could reverse the damage you've done. Pain is immortal, it might yield to its throbbing, but it never forgets. 

A world with your boys back in 1967 exists now only in your memory. The four men, cold as the autumn waters, were your reality now. 

"Hello, boys."

#the lost boys 1987 #poly lost boys x reader #tlb #the lost boys marko #the lost boys david #the lost boys dwayne #tlb x reader #tlb paul #tlb david #tlb marko #tlb dwayne #dwayne tlb #paul tlb #marko tlb #david tlb #laddie tlb #star tlb #the lost boys star #the lost boys x reader #the lost boys #tlb fanfic #tlb x you #tlb headcanons #tlb imagine #the lost boys paul #the lost boys michael #tlb michael #michael x reader

[whereserpentswalk]

You've been bitten by a werewolf. You didn't realize it at first of course. You were upstate on a camping trip and what looked like a distressed and out of place wolf just went up to you, and as you tried to fend it off with a rake it bit you. You assumed it was an escaped illegal pet due to how rare wolves are nowadays, but you were screened for rabies anyway just due to the way it behaved. Turns out it's a werewolf.

You're terrified, terrified that you'll hurt someone, possibly even someone you love. The suggestion that almost every piece of media about werewolves has given you is that you're a danger to everyone around you. The only two methods of dealing with it that you know of are taking drugs with life altering side effects, or being locked somewhere for the night.

Before even the first full moon of the month you look at a form for other werewolves. Turns out a lot of people who are freshly bitten have these types of fears and come there for help. The form explicitly discourages anyone from thinking of themselves as dangerous. There are almost no lethal werewolf attacks, any safety tips they have for you are going to purely center around the fact that humans might hurt you while you're a wolf. Especially for an urban werewolf like you where being caught risks institutionalization, something you though of as neutral but most of the form is very much agaisnt.

Their main suggestion for your safety is to stay with a freind who has space to take care of you, someone who you know well enough so that you'll trust even while in full wolf form. If you can go somewhere forested for the night, though that's more a tip about enjoying being a wolf then being at your maximum safety.

You also probably will be a creature somewhere between a wolf and a human for the nights before and after the full moon, depending on the exact nature of your condition you might experience some amount of partial change for up to about ten days out of the month. When that starts to happen the assumption is that you'll have enough of your mind to be able to be alone, and the suggestion is just that you stay in an area where people are accepting.

Your first night is the night before the full moon. Your half wolf half human for the entire night. Your worried you'll slip away from your identity so much that you'll hurt someone. You don't. Everything is largely fine. You're worried though. So very worried.

The next night you stay with a freind, as they suggested. You don't remember anything. Your freind said that they were afraid of you at first, ready to shoot you with a shotgun you didn't know they had. But in the end you just sort of sat there like a big dog, and trusted them as much as you would when you were in human form.

As time goes on it becomes more casual. You don't think of it as a big deal. You realize how low the likelihood of actually hurting someone is. Some full moons you spend being protected by freinds and treated like a weird pet, other nights you go to the woods, and enjoy the feelings of running around. The nights before and after the full moon, you just treat like any other night, only really having to deal with people's perception of you as a difference.

Over time you learn how people treat you differently. You have to disclose everything to your employer, which makes finding a job far harder. It's harder to rent an apartment. Most first world countires outside America won't let you in. You can't buy a weapon in most states, can't get most insurance. Even the medical system has set you to automatically do not resuscitate. You can't even really date outside the werewolf community now, or occasionally withbrealated communities like witches or vampires, but most normal humans don't trust you.

People who know you worry to much. They suggest every restrictive solution you discarded in the first month. People want you to move "somewhere safer", wherever that it. They want you to take things you know won't cure you, or buy into whatever pseudoscience they've gotten a hold of. People are worried you'll hurt someone even when you're so very sure you'll be fine.

It was never that you were a wolf. It was that everyone else was that everyone else thought of you as one.

#196 #worldbuilding #writing #my writing #my thougts #wolf #werewolves #werewolf #fantasy #urban fantasy #short fiction #short story #flash fiction #mad pride

[lucid-heart]

Teeth in Your Throat

Vampire!Lottie Matthews x f!Reader 🔞

🩸Lottie hesitates to feed from you because she's scared of hurting you. But you know she would never, she just needs a little convincing🩸

WC: 1.7k+

masterlist • read on ao3 • request

CW: Blood Drinking, Kinda Subby Top Lottie,

"You can bite," you say. "You need to feed. And I trust you."

Lottie's eyes haven't left yours but the usual dark brown has been replaced with a glowing red. The beautiful vampire hesitates when given the chance to drink your blood. She's always worried she will hurt you.

But you know she wouldn't.

And she is very, very hungry.

"It's okay," Lottie says with a slight tremor. "I'll find Nat, she can get me-"

You grab her hand and tug her closer. Lottie stumbles and bumps into you. Her skin is cold to the touch but will quickly warm once in contact with you for long enough. She nervously looks away, as if looking at you for too long will cause her to lose control.

Maybe that's what you need her to. To give her the push over the edge.

"Lottie. Are you really going to run and find Nat when I'm right here?" You roll your eyes in fake exasperation. "Hmph. Maybe I should go find Shauna."

Lottie's eyes snap to yours and her brows furrow.

"What?" A single word but it's ice cold.

Lottie hides her emotions well, years of being forced to act like the perfect daughter for parents that never cared about her. But you know her too well. Even now as she tries to act casual, it bleeds through her stare. Hot, raging, jealously.

You shrug. "Nothing. Just I know Shauna would appreciate a taste. Since Jackie is away, she hasn't had human blood in a while. And I beat she would be real rough about it-"

Lottie grabs you with pure vampire strength. One moment you're standing face to face in her room, the next your back is against the wall with her body caging you in. She bares her teeth as her fangs snap down, eyes glowing red.

Your heart races in your chest. You should feel fear from being so close to someone so dangerous and the adrenaline rushes through your system. Heat burns in your chest and you let out a shaky exhale.

"Don't," she says. "Don't talk about Shauna."

You raise a hand to her lips. Slowly you press your thumb into her mouth and against the sharp tip of her fang until it draws blood. Then you press deeper into her mouth. Her tongue swirls around your fingertip as she catches the taste of you. Of what you're offering.

She groans and her eyes flutter.

"What are you so afraid of?" you ask. "You need to feed. I think it's hot when you bite me. I think there's an easy solution here."

Lottie lets your thumb slip from her mouth and she stares at you with intense eyes. Ever since you've started dating, you've chased the darker side of her. She worries that you'll be afraid of her. Doesn't she know you love it? You want her.

"Baby, please." You lift your head to expose your throat to her. "I need you."

Something in Lottie snaps and she pounces. Her lips lay waste to your neck as she kisses and nips, sure to leave a splattering of marks the next day. You moan and hold onto her. But she doesn't break skin. Not yet. Not even as she teases her fangs against your pulse point.

"You're such a temptation," she murmurs. "I want to so badly."

"Why don't you?" you gasp breathlessly.

She presses you against the wall and a thigh slots between your legs. You bite back a groan as you press against her, need pulsing through your core. She's hardly even touched you yet.

"Mm." Lottie kisses your jaw. "Adrenaline makes blood taste sweeter."

"Yeah?"

"Yes. Prey that runs, that is afraid. It's why we hunt. Why we chase. It tastes good." A hand dances across your chest over your clothes, a light tease. "But do you want to know what tastes best?"

She finds your wrist and lifts your still bleeding thumb to her mouth. She meets your gaze with hooded eyes as she licks the bead of blood welling on your fingertip.

Your heart thunders in your chest, so loud it might overwhelm you. You know Lottie can hear it. Her vampire hearing allows her to pick up on even the slightest of changes. The corners of her mouth quirk in knowing. She knows exactly what she's doing to you.

"Prey that wants it tastes best."

Wants her.

Needs her.

Needs-

Lottie leans in and claims your lips, the metallic tang of your blood still on her tongue. You taste it in a fleeting moment before it's just her kissing you. Usually Lottie is sweet and kind, a wonderful girlfriend who loves you very much. This side of her is that but also darker and possessive. She kisses you like she wants to devour you. To claim you.

You must have really ticked her off when you mentioned Shauna.

You wrap your arms around her neck and hold her closer. Her frame is slim but you can feel the power she possesses. If she wanted to, she could throw you across the room without blinking. You are weightless to her.

Evidenced by the way she effortlessly hooks a hand under your thigh and lifts you against the wall.

"That's it," you breathe against her mouth. "That's my girl."

Lottie groans and she slams a hand into the wall beside your head.

"You like that? Being called mine?" You tug at the front of her shirt until she gasps. "Do you want me?"

"Yes, yes, so badly." It comes out as half a needy beg and half a hiss. Lottie licks her lips and bares her fangs, twin points shining and full extended.

You want her fangs buried in your neck while her long fingers are buried inside you.

Lottie seems to get the idea as her eyes darken. She shifts her hands to your waist and carries you over to her bed. Down onto the many cushions you go with her on top of you. She can't stop kissing you. She can't get enough of you.

You find the hem of her shirt and tug it over her head. The second she's free, she's back kissing you again. It's hungry, pressing you back against the pillow with even the slightest touch. She's so hot.

"(Y/N)?" she groans.

"Mm?"

You dig your nails into her shoulder blades and she shudders.

"Can I...?" Her eyes sweep down your body.

She doesn't need to ask, you've wanted this since the moment you lay eyes on her. How could you not? Lottie Matthews can command a room with her smile alone. She enchants and entrances, and that's even without her vampire powers. You've wanted her since the beginning.

The vampire thing is just a bonus.

"Please."

Lottie shifts back and lifts your shirt. As she takes it off, she plants kisses up your stomach, your chest, your throat until she reaches your lips once again. Your entire body feels like it's burning alive.

You need her to touch you.

"God, you are so hot," she murmurs. "I could just eat you."

You bite her bottom lip for emphasis and tug it back. "Do it then. I'm here for the taking."

She doesn't need anymore encouraging. Lottie eagerly leans in and kisses you again. But this time, as her lip strays across her your jaw, her intent is clear. Sharp teeth tease at your skin as the hunter finds her mark.

But Lottie doesn't bite just quite yet.

She trails a hand down your stomach into your pants, finding you wet and ready for her. It doesn't take her long to find the perfect angle and then she's sinking into you.

"Fuck, Lottie!"

You arch up into her waiting mouth. She kisses your neck, just below your ear.

"God, (Y/N), I want you bad," she gasps. "You're so-!"

How can she say that as her fingers thrust in and out of you? She quickly finds a strong rhythm, curling deep inside you. Heat spreads through you until you feel like you're aflame. You're burning for her. You won't last long.

Lottie lets out a shaky exhale and her body presses against you.

"Fuck, that's it," you groan. "Just like that! Keep going, Lot, I'm so close!"

"Y-Yeah?"

Your nails find themselves in her back again and she whines, the noise sending a hot flash right through your chest. You scratch down her spine and she moans.

"So close, you're doing so well, Lottie," you gasp.

As if spurred on by your praise, she ducks her head against your skin. Her fangs caress the vulnerable expanse of your shoulder, just waiting for her moment. You know exactly when she will bite you. And you weren't lying when you said you were close.

You cry out her name as you come, drawing blood from how hard you're clutching to her back.

And Lottie sinks her teeth into your neck.

Jackie described to you what it felt like but nothing could have prepared you. No pain, no sting, just hot pleasure spreading through your entire body. Lottie drinks from you and it completely overwhelms you.

Fingers in you, teeth in you.

"L-Lottie! Oh god, Lottie!"

She drinks her fill. You can't quite tell if you're lightheaded from that, from coming, or a messy combination of both. Either way, you never felt anything like that before. Intensely euphoric and addictive.

Lottie paints your throat red with kisses, tongue lightly pressing to the weeping wounds. She groans deep in her throat.

"(Y/N)... that was..."

You know.

You released your hold from her back and flop back against her pillows. Lottie raises her head and her lips are painted blood red. You raise a hand and wipe the drop trying to roll down her chin.

"Good?"

She laughs. "More than good."

You touch your throat and your fingers come away red. Lottie flushes, embarassed at the mess she made. No matter, she will have plenty of time to clean it later. You reach a hand towards her. Lottie meekly accepts your fingers and licks them clean.

"Still hungry?"

"Uh... I... not really-!"

You hook a leg over her hips and turn the two of you. Lottie ends up sprawled beneath you, hair spread out like a dark halo. You smile down at her. Her blush is very cute for someone who is so dangerous.

"Okay. Then I guess it's my turn to feed on you," you smirk.

You have so much exposed, unmarked skin to work with. When the night is over, your claim on Lottie will be painted all over her skin.

Lottie nods. "Yes, (Y/N)... Please."

You smile.

As if you needed asking.

#lottie mathews x reader #lottie matthews #yellowjackets #x reader