Latest Posts by l30nh3rt - Page 2

Imagine Vampire!Barbatos tho....

Who else would be his perfect doll master but you? He will cook for you, brush and stylish your lovely hair, dress you up. Treat you like a princess 80% of the time, the other 20% he's feeding from you and letting his dark side take over.

Vampire!BARBATOS x gn!Reader, 1.2k words, nsfw. Content warnings: canon-typical vampire behaviour, possessiveness/jealousy, pet names, spicy towards the end—it's not really dubcon but it might come off that way. ♫ [ Song Rec ] | m.list

You feel his eyes on you as soon as you step into the ballroom of Diavolo’s castle. These fancy events always make you feel nervous and out of place. You usually spend the night together before these events so he can help you prepare, but last night you stayed at the House of Lamentation instead as his duties to Diavolo kept him busy.

His bedroom (and yours) are filled with the exquisite clothing he’s bought you, and he sent you instructions earlier with which clothing he wanted you to wear for him tonight. You bathed with the products he gave you too—he claims that the custom recipe he has made for you enhances your natural scent.

(He enjoys bathing you personally so he can massage you with his firm hands while he teases you with gentle touches, a playful reminder of how he'll reward you later if you behave.)

Every accessory you own—the collection of chokers, necklaces, bracelets, and chains he's bought for you—are made with the finest metals and jewels. Your outfits usually compliment your complexion and your eyes; your accessories are a reflection of him instead. The choker around your neck tonight is black and silver and adorned with tiny gemstones the same colour as the tips of his hair.

As you walk around the perimeter of the ballroom, you feel his warm, affectionate gaze linger on you from wherever he's hiding just out of sight. He weaves through the crowd seamlessly at these events, as the demon prince's silent shadow should, but you’ve yet to catch a glimpse of him.

One of the brothers tugs on your wrist and leads you towards the center of the room. Diavolo approaches you suddenly, and Barbatos follows silently behind him.

“You look radiant this evening,” Diavolo says, his voice laced with fondness for you. He respects his friend and your relationship and doesn’t dare touch you. “Don't you agree, Barbatos?”

You’re not sure anyone else notices the flicker of annoyance that hardens your lover’s expression before it's gone. Even you're not sure if you truly saw it when he nods and smiles at you.

“Quite lovely indeed,” he murmurs, but something about his sickeningly sweet tone sets you on edge. The tingling sensation of being watched follows you as you're dragged by your friends onto the dancefloor.

It's barely twenty minutes later that you finally break away from the party and mingle on the outskirts of the room with a cool drink in your hand. There's a sudden feeling of another body radiating heat against your back, and gloved fingers reach around you and gently pull your drink away. He sets it on a table nearby and touches your waist.

"Would you mind accompanying me to the kitchen? I have a small task to complete and would like the privilege of your company.” He’s always so formal to keep up appearances, but you suspect there’s some hidden meaning in his words you haven’t deciphered yet.

(There always is).

He offers you his arm and you leave the party together. His shoulders are stiff with tension as he leads you away from the ballroom, but despite his odd demeanor you're still grateful to spend time alone with him.

The rest of the castle is empty except for the servants carrying out various chores. When you arrive at the kitchen doors, he gestures for you to enter first. There’s a flurry of activity inside as the Little Ds pick up their trays of Demonus and make a quick escape through the servant’s entrance on the opposite side of the room.

You smile and wave at them as they leave, but the door shuts behind you and the lock clicking into place makes you freeze.

“You look exceptional this evening,” Barbatos breathes next to your ear. His gloved fingers caress your cheek and slowly run up and down the curve of your neck. “It's enough to drive me mad,” he confesses, lips brushing your skin just above the choker. He unfastens the clasp and slides the delicate item into his pocket for later.

He kisses the lingering puncture marks he made two nights ago—the skin is bruised and the puncture wounds are still not fully healed. He prefers that you don't use magic or potions to speed up the healing process, so you don't.

(He'd never deny you if you were in true pain or discomfort, but he would prefer to care for you himself than ask you to drink whatever flimsy potion one of your friends might try to feed you.)

“I get the sense that something’s bothering you,” you admit quietly, and he hums. "Do you want to talk about it?" you ask nervously, but when you try to look at him, he holds your chin to keep you still.

"A simple problem requires a simple solution," he mutters to himself. "All I could smell was them on you,” he clarifies for your benefit, and it’s the only warning you have before you’re pushed forward against one of the stainless steel counters. Deft fingers tug at your waist and unbutton the burdensome clothing that gets in his way of touching you. You gasp when cool air hits your bare skin.

No matter what bath products he buys you, it’s not enough to completely wash away the scent of the others you live with. The clothes that hang in your closet don’t smell like him, not like the ones in his castle bedroom do.

The possessive beast inside him seethes with rage others that see you and crave you like he does might think you’re not claimed. You taunted the beast inside him when you walked into that ballroom smelling like so many others but not him.

Even if you weren't wearing the choker around your neck, those healing bites alone aren’t enough to deter those that might try to take you for themselves. You’re his, and he’ll do whatever it takes to make sure everyone knows that—including you.

“What—what about the party?” you whimpered, overwhelmed by his body smothering yours and the pleasure of his hand exploring between your legs.

He's barely started and you can already smell the musky scent from between your thighs. The evidence he'll leave inside you when he's finished will drip down your legs and paint your skin; you have no doubt the stains will soak through the thin fabric of your pants for the others to see.

His fangs tease the sensitive skin of your neck, lingering higher than his other marks, too high for your choker to hide from view. Slick fingers tease at your entrance and you gasp as one slips inside.

“Everyone will know—“ you stammer, one final plea to remind him that perhaps this isn't a good idea, but his quiet, condescending chuckle interrupts you.

“Precisely, my dear,” he purrs, biting into your neck and groaning as the first pulse of blood coats his tongue. A hand encased in soft leather covers your mouth and muffles your cry as he buries himself inside you with a sharp snap of his hips.

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rise & s(h)in(e)

belphegor x f!reader

summary: you accidentally fall asleep in Belphegor’s bed, and when you wake up, innocent morning snuggling is clearly the last thing on either of your minds.

word count: 2.2k

content: 18+ ONLY, NSFW, smut, fingering, handjob, oral fixation, tail kink, biting kink, unprotected p in v, morning sex, creampie, cockwarming, referenced poly relationships, referenced consensual somnophilia

When you rouse from sleep, you’re momentarily disoriented as lazily you reach out to swipe your D.D.D. off of the end table beside your bed, only to find your hand limply swatting at empty air. Cracking open one bleary eye, you quickly realize you’re not in your room. As if in answer to the silent question ringing in your head, a warm huff of air curls against the back of your neck.

Belphie.

A jolt of panic floods your veins when you realize you must have fallen asleep while lying in his bed in the attic watching movies with him last night. Your face heats up with embarrassment, and you’re just about to attempt to slip out from under the covers when an arm snakes around your waist.

Belphegor’s tired, gravelly voice mumbles against your hair, “Where are you going?”

So much for avoiding an awkward moment.

Turning your head slightly to glance back at Belphie, you offer him a weak smile. “Sorry for the uh…impromptu sleepover.”

He frowns when you go to move again, pulling you flush against the heat of his body, and it’s a battle not to melt back into his touch. “You think I’m upset about that?”

“Well…” you trail off, and he lets out a contrary noise.

Belphie noses the back of your neck, sending a shiver of delight down your spine, and you can feel the smile on his face as his lips gently make contact with your skin. “Let’s stay in bed a little longer.”

Your heart flutters in your chest at his insistence, and you press your face into the pillow as you grin. But while it comes as no surprise that the Avatar of Sloth is in no rush to peel back the covers of his plush duvet, it’s only when you finally allow yourself to press back into his solid frame that you realize perhaps going back to sleep isn’t quite what he had in mind.

You’ve spent more nights than you’d care to admit sprawled naked across the lush sheets of your bed at the House of Lamentation, fingers desperately plunging into the heat between your thighs, Belphegor’s name a near-silent prayer on your lips. Because despite the way most of the demons and otherworldly beings at RAD have become more than a little bit enamored with you during your time in the Devildom, the one curled up in bed with you now has been the most aloof, leaving you to eagerly crave the rare moments where flirtatious comments fall from his lips, when you can spy a brief flicker of desire flare up in his violet eyes, when his fingers linger a moment longer than necessary against your own. 

And now, you’re belatedly realizing that the fantasy of your fingers was a far cry from the large, firm shaft pressing heavily against your backside. The embers of desire that have long-since been burning for Belphie now flare red-hot in your gut, and you nearly whimper out loud as your pussy weakly clenches down on nothing in response. 

If Belphie were one of the others, you might drag this out. You might roll over and lazily kiss him for a little while first, like you did with Beel. Or perhaps you’d tease him and make him work for it—which you’d shamelessly done with Solomon. While you hold the sound in, you nearly snort at the memory of Lucifer insisting on taking you out to dinner first before he ended up fucking you right there in the entryway of the House of Lamentation after you’d returned anyway—much to the dismay of Satan, who happened to be on his way upstairs with his nose buried in a book. 

But Belphie.

Bephie.

Fuck, you’re so wet already.

Running late for your movie night, you’d hurried over to Belphie’s room fresh out of the shower, only realizing after you’d stepped inside that you’d forgotten to slip on a pair of underwear beneath the soft, cotton shorts hugging your hips. Now, unhindered by the extra material, you can feel a slick trail of arousal leaking from your cunt and sopping into your shorts.  

You can lay in bed lazily kissing Belphie all that you want later, carding your fingers through his soft hair as a low grumble of contentment escapes his pouty lips. You’ll let him indulge in every inch of you with a type of greed that would make Mammon look generous.

But now? 

Right now, while each and every one of your nerve endings is still pleasantly sensitive from the soft edges of sleep lingering in your system, you need to feel him inside of you. You can’t wait any longer.

And when you finally rock back into him, grinding your ass against his erection, Belphie gets the message loud and clear. He hums, pleased, and you can feel the vibration reverberate in his chest. Fingers beginning to roam across the expanse of skin beneath the t-shirt you’d fallen asleep in, Belphie makes a beeline for your breasts, eliciting a whine from you as he begins to massage them.

“You like it when I touch you here?” he asks, voice a quiet rasp. 

He experimentally rolls your peaked nipples between his digits, and all you can do is nod in response.

“But what about here?” 

His hand trails down your stomach, dipping just below the waistband of your shorts, and you can hear the audible hitch in his breath when he realizes you’ve forgone underwear entirely. 

Chuckling, he slowly slides his fingers lower. “Did you forget something?”

One hooked digit reaches out, gently dragging against your swollen clit.

“It was an accident,” you breathe out, far too aroused to try to lace any faux innocence into your tone.

“Hmm,” Belphie muses, running his teeth along the nape of your neck. “Are you sure? Because I swear I’ve heard you whining my name in your room late at night.”

Fuck.

Before you can come up with a witty comeback, he adds, “Sometimes I can hardly make it back to my own room before I start touching myself thinking about those cute little sounds you make.”

Oh.

Rocking into his touch, you reply, “Why didn’t you ever just knock?”

You can almost hear the smirk on his face as he answers, “Because I wanted to wait until you’d had your fill of everyone else first to show you what you’ve really been missing.”

At that, you feel the tip of Belphie’s tail brush against your leg, and there’s something undeniably possessive about the way it wraps around your bare thigh, the normally prickly areas along it now flat and soft to the touch as it caresses you. 

“So fucking wet for me,” he murmurs with a groan as he slides two fingers through your slick folds. 

“Belphie, please,” you whine, pressing down against his digits.

“If I’d have known you were this impatient, I would have let you wake up with me inside you,” he whispers against the shell of your ear, and you know the words are more of a question than a statement. 

“Next time,” you confirm, cunt already aching with anticipation at the thought of Belphie sliding his cock into your needy hole while you’re still asleep. And because you know what your words will do to him, you add, “You’re the only one that I’ll let do that.”

A small growl of pleasure crawls up his throat at the admission, and he heeds your desperation by plunging two fingers into your pussy.

“Belphie,” you moan, biting your bottom lip hard as his dexterous digits curl inside of you.

“I love it when you say my name,” he rasps, letting your arousal coat his palm as he fucks you with his fingers.

But even after he adds a third digit, it’s still not enough to quell the ravenous desire rapidly crawling up and down your spine. When you reach back to grasp his cock through his sleep pants, Belphie groans, rocking his hips into your touch. As you begin to push down both layers of fabric covering his shaft, he’s quick to shove them off, his length hot and heavy in your hands when you begin to pump it.

The lazy confidence in Belphie’s voice falters as you stroke his cock, and he gasps your name when you slide your thumb over the bead of precum leaking from the tip. 

“Wanna fuck you,” he pants, jerking into your touch while he continues to stroke the wet walls of your cunt. 

In response, you tug aside the loose hem of your shorts, not even bothering to shuck them off. You push yourself back into Belphie’s cock, keening at the feeling of the head bluntly pressing against your damp slit, and he pulls his sticky digits from your cunt to tightly grasp your hip.

The sound that leaves your mouth is somewhere between a gasp and a strangled moan when he begins to ease the gratuitous length of his cock into your wet hole, your cunt greedily clenching down on each and every inch as he stretches you open. 

Morning sex, by default, is always a wonderful affair of tired, tender pleasure that never fails to leave your toes curling and your back arching as your heavy eyelids are nearly on the verge of fluttering shut once more. 

But with Belphie?

With Belphie, it’s more than you could have ever imagined.

Once he stuffs his shaft in to the hilt, he begins to ease it back out again, soon falling into a steady rhythm pushing and pulling through your tight, clenching walls. And there’s just something about the way he holds you, the way his fingers flutter across your collarbone, lips pressing chaste kisses along the side of your neck, his hair tickling your cheek, the whispers of your name leaving his lips. 

You’re still so tired and sensitive, and Belphie knows it. 

He revels in it, your whimper as he presses a kiss to the sensitive patch of skin just below your ear before dragging his teeth along the hinge of your jaw. The breathy pant when he teasingly pulls his cock out and drags along your wet slit for but a moment (and the quiet, choked out moan that follows when he slides it back in).

“So fucking tight,” he groans at the slick sound of his length being swallowed into the warmth of your pussy again. “I’m not gonna last.”

Any stray, wandering thoughts you’ve had in the past about the dexterity of Belphie’s tail are obliterated at the feeling of it brushing over your sex. With the soft end resting against your stomach, he presses the solid part into your clit, moving it in a circular motion as he continues to fuck you.

“Holy shit,” you moan at the added stimulation, the pleasure slowly creeping through your abdomen now dripping through your limbs like molten lava. He increases the pressure, shifting the hand gently resting against the side of your neck to cup your jaw. At the feeling of his thumb sliding over your bottom lip, you can’t help but dart your tongue out, and you hear a pleased sound in your ear as Belphie experimentally prods with his pointer and middle fingers.

“Fuck,” he breathes out when you readily take his fingers into your mouth, sucking on them while your cunt squelches with each stroke of his cock as he massages your sensitive bundle of nerves with his tail. Drool begins to slide out of your mouth and onto the pillow beneath you as you slide your tongue along his digits, the taste of you still lingering on them.

And just when tears are on the verge of slipping down your cheeks from the overwhelming pleasure cresting within you, the thick coil of tension in your gut snaps loose, and you moan around Belphie’s fingers as you writhe with the force of your climax.

Belphie knows you want him to come inside of you, he’s smelled the lingering scent of the others’ leftover spend dripping down your thighs day in and day out. But he asks anyway, only for you to reach behind and tightly grab his hip, nearly impaling yourself on his cock as you force him to bottom out inside of you, silently begging for it. 

And he’s nearly feral with it now—the thought of the two of you going down for breakfast, his cum still sloshing around in your pretty little pussy, eyes half-lidded in your sated state. The conspiratorial look you’ll give him from across the table as you feel his cum soaking into your uniform.

Maybe one of his brothers will try to fuck you afterward, only to find a load of his cum leaking out of you. 

Or maybe he’ll have to take you back upstairs to fill you up one more time himself before class. 

—because now that he’s had you. Belphie’s not sure he’s ever going to be able to get enough.

Belphie can’t help the way his teeth latch onto the soft skin at the junction between your shoulder and neck as his orgasm hits him, and you gasp out in pleasure as he bites down hard while he spills himself deep inside of you. And when he eventually stills, rather than moving away, Belphie just snuggles in closer and wraps his arms around you.

“It’s too early, let’s sleep a little longer,” he yawns, cock still buried inside of your cum-filled cunt as he curls against you and tangles his ankles with yours.

— likes, comments, & reblogs are appreciated!

ask me

barbatos x f!reader

summary: you can't stop thinking about Barbatos' forked tail, and he's well aware, so he decides to show you exactly how he likes to use it over tea one afternoon.

word count: 2.2k

content: 18+ ONLY, NSFW, smut, masturbation, tail kink, penetration in both holes, tail sex, praise kink

“Ask me.”

The smooth, low tone of Barbatos’ voice softly nudges you away from your idle thoughts, and you glance up from where you’d been staring down into the depths of the cup of tea in your hands. 

You furrow your brows in confusion. “Ask you what?”

A ghost of a smile plays across his lips as he tilts his head to the side, casually running a gloved finger along the filigree adorning the lip of the mug. As if in answer, his tail winks into view for a moment as his demon form pushes to the surface, twin tips twirling together before disappearing back under the table. 

Your heart rate picks up at the sight, and your fingertips dig into your thigh as you stretch and rotate your ankle in an attempt to stave off the desire to bounce the nervous energy right out of your leg. 

“The servants are a chatty, nosey bunch,” he muses, steepling his hands together as his green eyes sparkle.

Not quite trusting yourself to respond otherwise, you launch another question as you evenly ask, “Are they?”

He raises his eyebrows slightly and nods, leaning in slightly as if he’s readying himself to share a secret with you. “Leave anything out in the open, and they’re certain to see it.”

It doesn’t take much guesswork to figure out what he’s getting at. You’ll never forget the horror of tiredly walking back into your room at the House of Lamentation after a long day of classes last week to discover you’d left a new toy right on top of your sheets.

Asmo had excitedly drug you to a naughty looking little shop in town when he’d found you loose-lipped and horny enough one night to blurt out that one of the things you missed most about the human world were vibrators. Needless to say, you’d worn yourself out that night as you shamelessly plunged your new purchase your needy hole, bringing yourself over the edge thrice before you finally collapsed beneath the sheets, tossing the sticky toy aside and quickly falling asleep.

And it would have been fine, really. 

You’d have no issue earning yourself a whispered little reputation at RAD for masturbating, for fuck’s sake. You certainly weren’t living in a house of angels, after all. 

The issue was the specific vibrator that you’d chosen. The one you’d been unable to look away from after your eyes landed on it across the store, subtly clenching your thighs together the entire way home as you felt the weight of it in the shopping bag knocking against your leg with each step.

When Asmo saw the immediate glazed over look on your face the moment you walked into the store, he had gleefully explained that the Devildom’s selection of vibrators and dildos might be a little…kinkier than you were used to seeing in the human world. 

Kinky didn’t even begin to describe it.

But there was one particular thing nestled amongst the shelves of monstrous cocks of all shapes and sizes that you couldn’t look away from: a teal-coloured vibrator shaped like a forked tail. 

To your surprise, Asmo said nothing when he met you at the counter with a basket full of his own purchases—he simply offered you a mischievous grin as he nudged a small bottle of lube toward the cashier for you as well. 

It was only later, safely in the darkness of your bedroom, that you let yourself think of it. 

Think of him.

Face buried against your pillow and tears of pleasure leaking from the corners of your eyes, Barbatos’ name was a silent scream on your lips as you fucked yourself with the toy, one end of the tail stuffed into your cunt while you slid the other into your ass. 

You came so hard the first time you nearly blacked out, holes squelching wetly as you greedily chased two more orgasms while the demon butler’s face flashed in the forefront of your mind. And you’d left the evidence like a beacon right on top of your bed when you’d rushed out the door for class the next morning, not sparing a single thought for the servant that would likely be in to tidy up your room in the afternoon. 

Something brushes against your bare ankle, bringing you back to the present, but you can’t bring yourself to look at Barbatos. Not now that you’re certain he knows you purposely bought a fucking vibrator that looks like his goddamn tail. 

As if he can feel the mortification pouring off of you in waves, Barbatos lays a gentle hand on top of yours. “Ask me if I enjoy using my tail on my lovers.”

You suddenly wish you’d taken Solomon up on his invitation to join him in researching teleportation spells. Turning your hand over, Barbatos begins to rub a comforting circle with his thumb into your palm, patiently waiting for your response.

One could say it’s difficult to want for anything with seven demon brothers willing to dote on you day in and day out during your stay in the Devildom, especially when you live with them. But, in perhaps the most cliché manifestation of the age-old adage of wanting what you can’t have, you’ve found it a battle in and of itself to stop thinking about Diavolo’s elusive butler. 

At first, it was his deep voice that set you off-kilter, the tone stroking its way down your spine like liquid fire. Paired with eyes that always look like they know more than they let on and a disarmingly handsome face, the brothers and Lord Diavolo himself are hard-pressed to maintain your attention at the times when Barbatos skirts about the edges of the room, unnoticed by some but always seen by you.

While your time spent in his presence has been meager in comparison to how frequently you see your housemates, Barbatos often makes the most of it with playfully witty remarks that leave you reeling long after he leaves and kind gestures that make your heart ache, like the way he made sure the House of Lamentation was stocked with your favorite tea after you made an offhand remark about it one day. 

With a menagerie of demons eager to monopolize your attention, you were nearly ready to accept defeat in the face of an impossible conquest—because in what world was Diavolo going to let you seduce his fucking butler?

Your plans to stamp out the burning embers of your little crush went to hell in a handbasket the day you saw Barbatos flash into his demon form though, unfortunately. As if seeing his  elegant horns wasn’t enough to get your heart positively racing, you’d outright choked on your soup when the real star of the show revealed itself—that goddamn fucking tail. 

Levi had patted you on the back as you gasped for air, vegetables and broth launching an assault on your throat as your wide eyes took in the sight of Barbatos threateningly pointing the forked appendage in Mammon’s face as he held out a hand for the money he owed Diavolo. 

Once you saw that teal, forked tail in all of its slithering glory, there was no going back. The only direction you could spiral was further down into a frustratingly horny purgatory, wondering whether or not it would be uncouth to proposition the demon butler to fuck you with his tail. 

And now, it’s the steady reassurance in Barbatos’ eyes as he squeezes your hand that allows you to let the words tumble from your mouth before you can think better of it, “Do you enjoy using your tail on your lovers, Barbatos?”

What can only be described as a devilish smile curls at the corners of Barbatos’ mouth, and he briefly darts his tongue out between his lips before coyly responding, “In many ways. Was there a specific one you had in mind?”

Your mouth goes dry, confidence faltering at the insinuation in his tone. “I…” you trail off, unable to muster up the filthy thoughts about the male sitting in front of you that have long-since taken up residence in your head.

A contemplative noise escapes his lips as he shifts into his demon form, slowly pushing both of your teacups aside as his tail slithers up onto the table. Your breath hitches in your throat as he lazily flicks the forked edges before pressing it closer to you, the surface of it cool and smooth as it ghosts along the curve of your jaw.

“I’ve been told the secretion has a…pleasant flavor,” he muses, eyes glittering with delight when you unconsciously part your lips at the feeling of his tail now prodding against them. 

Sweet, viscous liquid that vaguely reminds you of honey, though more slick than sticky, hits your tastebuds as one forked tip presses against your tongue. 

And fuck does it taste good. 

You let your jaw relax, and Barbatos readily accepts the invitation, slipping his tail further into your mouth as the other tip caresses your throat. A fresh spurt of the sweet nectar pours onto your tongue, and you greedily gulp it down, moaning softly as you begin to suck on his tail. A soft growl of encouragement rumbles in Barbatos’ chest, plates and mugs clinking in protest when he tightly fists a hand in the ornate tablecloth. 

“And there’s also this…” he adds, tail sliding out of your mouth and trailing down your chest, effortlessly flicking open the buttons of your RAD uniform. 

Knowing full well Lord Diavolo could return to the Demon Lord’s Castle at any time, it’s a battle in and of itself not to cry out at the feeling of Barbatos squeezing your breasts with his tail. But once he uses the twin tips to tease both of your peaked nipples at the same time, the shameless whine you let out can’t be helped, not in any realm. 

Meeting his gaze, you try to steady your breathing as you ask, “Where else?”

Barbatos licks his lips. “Would you still like me to…show you?”

You nod, and his tail disappears under the table, wrapping around one of your ankles and tugging your crossed legs apart. One forked tip pushes your skirt up and out of the way and then tugs aside your underwear, the other spreading your thighs so wide that you slip down in your chair slightly.

And the moment that Barbatos slides his dripping tail through your equally slick folds, your body trembles with a jolt of searing hot pleasure, and a moan so wanton and desperate tumbles from your lips that you know you’ll never be satisfied again without this—

The feeling of one end of his tail firmly massaging your swollen, throbbing clit, the other teasing at your entrance.

The desire written plainly across his face as both tips curl around one another before he begins to ease them into your cunt.

The way he leans across the table and presses a kiss to the inside of your wrist, fangs scraping against your skin as you roll your hips to meet his thrusts.

The damp material of the chair beneath you, sodden with the combined arousal leaking from his tail and your wet heat.

The softly uttered, “Beautiful,” as you whimper his name. 

The feral, possessive snarl of frustration that escapes him at the sound of the front door opening downstairs.

…the way Barbatos continues to fuck you with his tail even as Diavolo unknowingly strolls into the room with a grin on his face, seemingly none the wiser to the activities hidden beneath the long tablecloth. But after he deftly snatches the last biscuit off of one of the plates in front of you, he offers you a sly wink before turning on his heel and leaving, none too discreetly closing the doors to the sitting room behind him.

You’re nearly on the verge of making a comment about what just happened, but all rational thoughts leave your head when Barbatos quietly rasps, “This is my favorite place to use it, though,” just as a forked tip nudges at the tight ring of muscle nestled between your asscheeks.

He pauses, just for a breath, and you whimper, “Please.”

Appendage covered with both of your fluids, Barbatos begins to stretch your asshole open. If you weren’t so busy moaning and whining unintelligible sounds, begging him to go deeper, you’d laugh at the thought of the silly vibrator now tucked away in your room. Because while the toy had certainly felt good, you know now that nothing can compare to the exquisite pleasure of Barbatos using his real, dexterous tail to fuck both of your holes at the same time. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs, reaching across the table once more to stroke your face, thumb sliding across your cheek. “So wet for me. You take me so well.”

You shudder at the praise, hardly able to contain yourself as a wave of pleasure like you’ve never felt before rises up inside of you. And when Barbatos curves his tail so that the part not ruthlessly plunging into your fucked out holes rubs against your sensitive bundle of nerves, you tug on the tablecloth so hard the teacups go crashing to the floor, your entire body shaking with the force of your orgasm. 

Barbatos lets you catch your breath a moment before he pulls his tail out of you, and you can’t help but whine at the emptiness that follows. 

Smirking, he brings the forked edge coated in your cum to his lips and licks it clean before purring, “I have some other things I can show you, if you’d like.”

— likes, comments, & reblogs are appreciated!

no other otome game will ever be able to replicate mammon from obey me because they miss the key thing that takes him from a tsundere archetype to an amazing love interest: he loves you so goddamn much. it is almost instantaneous, from the moment that you start coming into your own during the game, that he falls for you. then from that moment it's over. all he wants is you. to protect you, to be near you. he's the only love interest who hasn't threatened your life in their demon form, he's the one that held you after you freed belphie... even in the lamp event, he's willing to give up the world to have you instead. no other LI can match his level of blind devotion, no matter what's at stake

prrrr......i was thinking of this with Sidon too but.......being carted off to Gerudo with a few other potential partners for the king of the desert to choose from, having been drawn by lot or just voted by your village.......and even though the position is highly sought after and it would be a fabulous opportunity for wealth and power to be his spouse, you're more interested in visiting the city and getting to explore Hyrule outside of your hometown, so you figure you'll just do your due diligence and leave once he chooses someone.....but your plan is quickly foiled when Ganon takes one look at you and becomes so endeared he's on your heels constantly, buying you anything you glance at and offering you trips around the desert to explore his homelands.....and you think he's just being kind, because he puts on such a good front to seem reasonable yet strong-willed.....but then the other candidates start disappearing, they all start departing from the city and aren't being replaced, and you only realize what's happening when you're the only one left.....and the king has you dressed in Gerudo jewels and finery befitting a royal bride 🤭💕

TW: dubcon, noncon, blackmailing, threats of revenge porn.

karina who's been wanting to hook up with you for a while now but you always seemed to be more interested in ning, so when she finally gets you drunk enough and has the opportunity to fuck you she doesn't waste the chance to snap a couple of pics as you cum: she takes both close ups of your face as you orgasm and a few ones of your full naked body. she bites her lip as she stares at her phone, knowing she'll also save those for when she misses you later <3 she's so happy because now anytime she wants to fuck you she doesn't even have to ask! she'll just show you the pics and that's all she needs to do to get you in her bed all in fours, you curse her but she laughs because it's hilarious how you can be so brave when you're this drenched for her lmao she does not believe a word you say when you tell her she's sick or when you cry for her to stop. of course she also takes more of those pics any time you two fuck, but now it's basically just for her own enjoyment. imagine her eating you out and recording it, spitting in your cunt just to slurp it back, making fun of you for being this wet, and lapping at your clit even when you try to move her head away because it's too much and she smiles, perfect heart shaped lips and chin drenched in your cum. she's definitely sending you that video later when you're away and she's bored. that's the most effective way to get you to do what she wants. it's not blackmailing, it's just encouragement for when you forget who exactly you're saying no to ;) (she's too possessive to even think about sharing those with anyone so you're not that worried but she's also a bit insane so you decided it's better to not test her)

love's no problem in my hands

includes: barbatos x gn!reader (no pronouns mentioned)

wc: 1.5k | rated g | m.list | cross-posted on ao3

a/n: just had to get this out quick i swear im on hiatus lololol. for @messysketchyobeyme as part of the @omsecretsanta2022 event. i hope you enjoy!!

please reblog <33

Now, he keeps his feelings close to his chest, aware that he’s not the only one who holds them for you. That knowledge should be souring, should bring him to his senses, but it doesn’t. Maybe it’s because of you, because of how you make time for him, make him feel like the only demon in the world when you look at him, make him believe, if only for a second, that impossibilities are possible. Okay, yeah, it’s definitely because of you.

So he holds his feelings, keeps them to himself, and it’s okay. He’s not prone to jealousy, or possessiveness, has learned over the many, many years to be satisfied with what he has, and what he has is more than enough. He has Diavolo and a place in a wonderful community filled with wonderful people, and your friendship, which is more than he could’ve dreamed of.

Barbatos doesn’t know how it started. 

Well, alright, he knows when he first noticed it. But he has a feeling the feelings had been there, building, culminating, for a lot longer than that. 

He first noticed his affection for you on a spring day, one of the warmest the year had seen so far. You’d shed your uniform jacket, rolled up the sleeves, and gone outside during lunch, claiming the quad as your own. Claiming the attention of everyone on the quad. And like moths to a flame, everyone had followed, as they always did. Him included. 

“It feels so nice out,” you’d chirped, face turned up to the non-existent sun, and Barbatos had become aware of a buzz under his skin, a curious warmth that he’d never really felt before. It didn’t take a genius for him to place the feelings, and he accepted them a lot easier than he thought he would, with them clicking into place like the last piece of a previously hidden puzzle. He finally understood what everyone was talking about, finally understood why people were pushed to invent, to create, to conquer in the name of love.

Of course, while he was going through all of these realizations and acceptions, time had moved forward, and you were now surrounded by everyone, with him on the outside, like always, slightly distanced, the few feet like an uncrossable gorge. But you, you with your crooked half-smile and wonderful gleam in your eyes, had looked through, to him, smile somehow widening just for him, and that had made it all okay, made that gorge seem like nothing more than the few feet it actually was.

Now, he keeps his feelings close to his chest, aware that he’s not the only one who holds them for you. That knowledge should be souring, should bring him to his senses, but it doesn’t. Maybe it’s because of you, because of how you make time for him, make him feel like the only demon in the world when you look at him, make him believe, if only for a second, that impossibilities are possible. Okay, yeah, it’s definitely because of you.

So he holds his feelings, keeps them to himself, and it’s okay. He’s not prone to jealousy, or possessiveness, has learned over the many, many years to be satisfied with what he has, and what he has is more than enough. He has Diavolo and a place in a wonderful community filled with wonderful people, and your friendship, which is more than he could’ve dreamed of.

“What are you thinking so hard about?” you tease, poking him lightly with the blunt end of your pencil. He blinks, coming back to himself, coming back to the club meeting, and gives you a half smile. The club was one you both co-ran, some ‘community wellness’ thing that you were a lot more passionate about than he. But he put his everything in it, for you.

“I apologize, I must have been distracted. Remind me of our discussion,” 

“Barbatos? Distracted?” Your face is bright, cheerful. “Who are you and what have you done with the real Barbatos?” 

“Funny, really,” he returns, and the laugh he is gifted with is quickly saved, pressed into the scrapbook of his memories, to be taken out and admired every now and again, treasured close to his chest. 

“Anyway…” you pull him back into the meeting with vigor, with enthusiasm, as with everything you do, and he lets himself be pulled willingly. What a fool he must be, to take the chains from your hand and wrap them around his wrist himself.

Once the meeting is over you check your D.D.D., cursing. He directs an inquisitive look at you, and you grin guiltily. The school is dark, and mostly empty, and it feels like the two of you are the only ones in the world.

“It’s a lot later than I thought it was,” you explain. “Is there any way I can beg a ride off of you? I’d be really thankful.” 

“I suppose,” Barbatos replies, making a show of being long-suffering. You draw out his humor in a way no one else does, and he’s grateful, so immensely grateful, that you see his dry, deadpan remarks for what they are and don’t just think he’s dreadfully boring. 

“Thank you so much!” You squeeze his side in a hug, apparently not feeling the staggering static that emanates from where the two of you touch, that sends shivers of electricity up and down his entire frame. “I owe you one.” 

“You always say that,” he accuses lightly. “At this point, I believe you owe me a lot more than that.” 

“Probably.” You shrug, unrepentant. He really shouldn’t find that shamelessness so charming. 

Being in a car with you is like torture. Torture he can stand, revels in, delights in. 

You’re close, within touching range. Not that he’d ever put his hands on you without your express and explicit permission, but the forced intimacy gets to him. You’re so comfortable in his car, shown by the way you commandeer the radio, the way you dig through his glovebox like it was yours for the taking. 

(Everything of his is yours for the taking, for the having, for the keeping.) 

“What’s this?” you ask, more to yourself than anything, but he looks over anyway. You’ve got a CD in your grip, reading the back. 

“That,” he says, “is my favorite CD. So be careful with it, please.”

“It’s your favorite?” 

He nods, and you give him that crooked smile, ejecting the CD that was in the player, exchanging it out. 

“We don’t have to listen to it,” he tries, and you wave him off. 

“Of course we do! It’s your favorite, and I want to hear it too!” 

 You pull pieces of him to the surface, almost by accident, and he stands there in front of you, exposed. But you’re always careful with the new parts of him that are revealed, treating them as preciously and as kindly as you’d treat an invaluable glass sculpture.

The first track starts and he keeps his gaze on the road, humming along. He can feel your eyes on him, and eventually, eventually gives into the urge to look over, meeting your eyes. 

“I can see why you like it,” you murmur, quiet for once. “It’s very…” you hold the words in your mouth, tasting them, savoring them. “It’s very you.” 

“Thanks, I think.”

“You’re quite welcome.” 

It’s quiet in the car, aside from the CD, of course, but he doesn’t mind the silence. Never has. Others feel it as a pressure, but he doesn’t, and knows, despite your propensity to talk and laugh and be in constant motion, don’t either. It’s a comfort, to be in silence with you. 

The drive to the House of Lamentation takes forever. Isn’t nearly long enough.

When he pulls into the circle drive, past the immaculately pruned bushes and other ostentatious landscaping, he resists the urge to go slower, to coast at a snail’s pace. He’s better than that. Barely. 

“Thanks for the ride,” you say as he pulls to a stop, lowering the volume of the music. “I really appreciate it.” 

“Of course,” he says. “You know me. Barbatos: butler, glorified babysitter, and part-time chauffeur.” 

He’s rewarded again with your laugh, but it fades into something thoughtful, something intimate.

“You’re so much more than that,” you say, and when he looks over at you in muted surprise, you’re not returning his gaze, instead focused somewhere in the far-off distance, maybe in the far-off past. Either way, you blink and come out of it quickly, but don’t take your words back. Instead, you do something, that even with all of his overthinking, his planning, his habit of examining every possibility, he’d never seen coming: 

You lean over and kiss him on the cheek.

Your lips are warm, and dry, and un-lingering. He stares at you in shock as you pull away, heart pounding a mile a minute. 

“Well,” you say with another laugh, much more high-pitched and nervous than the others he’d heard from you, “thanks again. I’ll be going in now.” 

You slide out of his car quickly, crossing the distance between it and the door in seconds. He almost thinks you’re not going to look back, until you do, that damned crooked smile on your lips, fluttering your fingers in a wave, even as embarrassment and joy war in your eyes. 

It takes a long time, too long, for him to pull himself together enough to pull away from the House of Lamentation, and he has to take the most convoluted way home he can think of to fully rid himself of his blush– a herculean task, considering that kiss plays on repeat in his head, the memory of your smile almost tangible. Who would have thought a simple kiss on the cheek would have been enough to bring the always-composed, always-distant Barbatos back down to the realm of unstoppable, human emotion?

Maybe you returning his feelings isn’t as far-fetched a possibility as he’d thought. 

leviathans-watching's work - please do not copy, repost, or claim as your own

Needy Touches

You get affected by the gold hellfire newt syrup ((or,,, you get affected by an aphrodisiac kekeke)). 

Barbatos, Lucifer, Mammon x Reader

A/N: this came from a long line of word vomit -hence the double luci mention bc i could not figure out how i wanted to write this-…. i also tried writing a version where the reader eats enchanted pudding but i didnt finish it soooo perhaps ill post that later…. i just desperately needed barbatos smut

WC - 2.2kish

SMUT // NSFW ((reader w a pussy lol))

~~~

Keep reading

~♡ Gifts He Likes To Spoil You With. ♡~

(( Day #1 )) Barbatos, Lucifer, Mammon x Reader

A/N: I must write fluff for my fav demons to start off this ‘valentines day post dump’- I’ll try to post every other day but,,, I’ll def be more active on weekends!!!! I’m thinking of doing fluff and smut on alternating days leading up to Valentine’s day… so fun so cute I’ll also be visiting old series again just for you all (spoiler alert : hq and mha lmaoooo)

WC - 1,842

~~~

Keep reading

currently thinking abt pervert lucifer + MC getting stuck in a wall / hole and he’s just unable to help himself it’s his dream come true

HOLY-

YOU ARE A GENIUS-

—

A spell went wrong, of course. Trying out teleporting magic for "homework" that you were definitely studying for and you somehow ended up in the wall between Lucifer's room and the hallway outside.

Luckily for you, your upper body was out in the hall. But was Lucifer in his room yet ? You can't call anyone on your D.D.D.... it's in your pocket, on the other side of the wall.

Little did you know, Lucifer was sitting in his bed, the book that he was previously reading now ignored in his lap as Lucifer's eyes stare at what's in front of him.

Was this a dream come true ?

How could he ever pass up an opportunity like this ?

You heard shuffling from the otherside of the wall, oh good Lucifer was in his room. As long as you get out of the wall, you don't mind a 2 hour long lecture to come with it.

What you didn't expect were hands to grasp at your waist, caressing over your ass and up your lower back as you felt his hard cock press against your ass. You clenched your thighs and covered your mouth as yourface burned with heat, there's no way THE Lucifer would be turned on from you being stuck in a wall. What a pervert...

It wasn't long until Lucifer kicked your feet to spread your legs apart as he roughly pulled down your pants, he didn't even get to pull your pants down all the way until he was shoving lubed fingers into you. Hearing your moans from behind the wall made his head spin. Lucifer quickly prepped you, he wanted nothing more than to use this perfect circumstance and use you over and over as he pleased. And then he'll think about getting you out.

It'll be hours and you're still in the wall, your upper half slumped as you try to hold yourself up as you panted. You can feel so much cum dripping out of your hole and down your thighs. No doubt there's already a pool of cum beside your feet. It's a shame you can't see Lucifer. He is a mess.

His face a deep red with a stream of drool down his chin and his hair disheveled, you can't see him so there's no point in making himself look less of a starved perverted man. You could feel a drop of warm drool drip onto your back as you hear Lucifer moan on the otherside of the wall.

You felt Lucifer's cock slip out of you, and whimpered when cum followed out. Just as you think you'll finally be saved from out of the wall, Lucifer's hand is caressing up your thighs to your ass to spread you out to him. It's obvious he's not had his fill. It's gonna be a while,,

Needy Touches

You get affected by the gold hellfire newt syrup ((or,,, you get affected by an aphrodisiac kekeke)). 

Barbatos, Lucifer, Mammon x Reader

A/N: this came from a long line of word vomit -hence the double luci mention bc i could not figure out how i wanted to write this-…. i also tried writing a version where the reader eats enchanted pudding but i didnt finish it soooo perhaps ill post that later…. i just desperately needed barbatos smut

WC - 2.2kish

SMUT // NSFW ((reader w a pussy lol))

~~~

Keep reading

3 days...

Minors do not interact.

Masterlist

You do it just to spite him, he thinks. Hanging out with his brothers, laughing so freely right in front of him, having such a good time. It irks him. He could make you laugh like that if you'd just let him.

No, that's not fair, he chastises himself, he's gross, and weird, of course you don't want to hang out with him.

So how did he end up in this situation? Stroking his cock the way he always does when he thinks about you, only this time you're watching him. You're watching him -- and you're touching your gorgeous, wonderful, juicy pussy right in front of him! Because of him!

Levi watches with rapt attention the way you pump your fingers into your core, use your other hand to play with your clit. His gaze is trained on your pussy, and if it were anyone else, you might feel shy from putting on such a show. But he is enamored, so focused on watching you that his hand has slowed on his cock.

"Levi," you hum softly, somewhere between a pant and a moan, "I want to see."

He starts slightly, moves his hand again in the same quick rhythmic pumps as before. He can't imagine why you'd want to watch him when you get to touch yourself like this. That's far more interesting to him than having to watch the gross way he jacks off, but you keep insisting, and he'd give you anything you asked for.

He won't last long. He knows as he flicks his wrist at the end of his stroke, that he'll blow his load so much faster than you will reach your high. Maybe you'll let him eat you out after, he thinks.

"I'm close," he warns, breath light and airy. His eyes are still watching the way you play with yourself, and you are far too focused on watching him than truly seeking your own release. He's pretty like this; long limbs outstretched, one hand splayed over his belly while he slides the other over his cock. A slight sheen of sweat coats his body, makes him glisten in the low light.

He comes with a whimper, spilling his seed over his knuckles and the using the extra slickness to finish the job. It's messy, fitting. He loves the way your eyes devour him.

"Now- now can-" He's about to ask if he can help you through yours, but you surge forward, seal your lips around his cock, slurp up all of his spend and he thinks he might pass out from how sensitive he is and how perfect you feel.

His voice peters off into a whine, "oh god. That's- that. That's -- fuck that feels so good."

Just wait until you sink onto him, you think, popping off of his dick like a lollipop. You move to straddle him, delighting in the way his eyes go wide and he starts to stammer something unintelligible.

"I'll do all the work," you whisper right next to his ear, "just relax."

Hospitality

No one makes better tea than Barbatos.

BARBATOS x f!Reader 0.9k words | NSFW | Yandere | Non-con somnophilia Content warnings: Yandere thoughts/behaviours, non-con somnophilia, drugging, stalking. A/N: Another segment of what I've been calling "The Creepy Castle AU" in my head.

When you enter the guest room provided for you at the Demon Lord's castle, there’s a steaming cup of tea on the nightstand. It’s not the first time Barbatos surprised you like this during one of your visits, and the kind gesture makes you smile.

You pick up the delicate porcelain cup and inhale the fragrant aroma - it’s sweet and slightly herbal, a blend of Devildom berries and flowers you can’t identify yet by smell.

You purse your lips and blow gently across the top. The murky red liquid ripples gently as you cool your drink. Your first sip is hesitant, but you hum appreciatively at the light, honeyed taste. You take another generous sip before setting the cup back down onto its saucer.

There’s a folded piece of clothing on the bedspread. When you lift it in front of you, you realize it’s a nightgown; the fabric is soft and semi-sheer, dyed a beautiful shade of dark blue. It falls just above your knees. You can tell by the feel of it that it’s luxurious, nothing that you would ever buy for yourself and certainly not to sleep in.

You attended a ball earlier this evening at Diavolo’s castle. Lucifer and his brothers insisted you join them. Diavolo welcomed you tonight with open arms.

The night was a blur of dancing and drinking and jubilant conversation. By the time the last guests departed, it was well past midnight and Lucifer readily accepted Diavolo’s offer to stay at the castle. Walking back to the House of Lamentation was a daunting proposition; more than one of his brothers drank too much tonight. 

Lucifer and his brothers wandered off to their nearby guest rooms to sleep. Barbatos led you further down the hall and showed you to an exquisite room for your own use. He explained he prepared it for you at Diavolo’s request, to ensure your privacy and comfort. He wished you a good evening before he walked away.

You have nothing with you except a small purse and the dress on your back, purchased earlier that day with Asmodeus. If you twist oh so carefully, you can just reach the zipper and tug it down. The dress slides off your shoulders and glides lazily to the floor and pools at your feet. You drape the dress carefully over the back of an armchair so it doesn’t wrinkle too terribly by morning.

The cool castle air chills your skin and you can feel your bare nipples harden. It might not be appropriate to sleep mostly-naked when you’re a guest of the young prince. You feel ill-prepared for a night away from the comforts of home, but then you glance at the gift on your bed.

The nightgown fits perfectly and the material is silky against your skin. You pull back the blankets and slide into bed, sitting against the headboard with a tired sigh. You cradle the teacup in your palm and take more small sips. The warm liquid relaxes you, and soon you’re sleepy and can drink no more. You set the nearly-empty cup back on the nightstand and shimmy down the mattress to get comfortable. Once your head rests on the soft, cloud-like pillow, you close your weary eyes.

When your breathing slows and you descend into deep sleep, the candles that light the room blow out. The shadows come alive when you're bathed in darkness. Sin slips through the cracks of stone, the walls giving way so no more barriers exist between you.

Greedy eyes drink in your sleeping form and the sheets are tugged away, revealing your soft, touchable skin draped in midnight blue. The sheer fabric clings to each dip and groove and curve when you breathe.

He knew you would look lovely in this.

He dares to reach towards your sleeping face - his once-steady hands now shaking with anticipation, the urge to explore too overwhelming to resist. Beneath the supple leather gloves he wears, he can still feel the warmth of your skin that makes the craving he feels for you bloom deep in his belly.

His hand traces the fragile column of your throat and over the slope of your breasts, fingers gliding over the dips and curves of your chest and waist. The swell of your hip fits so perfectly in his hand. He dares to trail his thumb along the top of your thigh and into the warm space between your legs. Wandering fingers skim the lacy underwear you left on. He feels a hint of dampness there, and he wonders what sinful dreams his tea has given you.

He shifts the fabric aside and your light scent is even stronger now, sweet and musky and all his. He teases the edge of your folds and revels in how soft and warm you are. His movements are gentle, smoothed by the barest traces of slick gathering on his gloves. He wonders how greedy he can be tonight–

You squirm in your sleep and he pulls away quickly as though burned by the temptation of getting too close. You unconsciously rub your thighs together and he already misses his place between them. He savors his consolation prize when he slips his fingers into his mouth and sucks them clean until he’s devoured every last drop of you. He barely suppresses the urge to moan.

He needs to go, now, or he never will.

He slips back into the hidden passageway buried within the castle walls and becomes nothing but a shadow once more. He leaves no trace behind, except for the dregs of sleeping herbs in the bottom of your teacup.

sometimes i think abt what if pervy brothers + innocent mc that unintentionally does stuff that turns them on like bending over in front of them or eating a popsicle in a less than sfw way aaaa

nsfw content MDNI

Let’s be real almost anything you do is gonna turn these boys on- They are demons after all~!

Like the first time they saw you eat a popsicles, everyone in the room popped a boner lol

The collective thought that, “It should be my cock in their mouth!” Running through the demons minds.

Thinking of how soft and warm your mouth would feel~

And imagining that bit of popsicle juice running down your chin was his cum~

Watching you lick ‘n suck the popsicle and how your tongue seemed to tease the ‘tip’ before sucking it into your mouth as far as it could go-

Do I even have to mention whenever you bend over, even just a little it has their minds running all over the place~

Thoughts of just how cute you’d look with your ass cheeks flushed red with his handprint, or just watching the fat jiggle when he’s pounding you from behind~

Hell even just watching movies with you is dangerous~

The little gasps of surprise you let out at certain parts, or when a jump scare actually catches you off guard and you bounce in place a bit-

It sends the demons minds all over the place~ ‘what sounds would you make when he’s inside you~? Would your gasps sound as pretty? What about your moans~’

Fuck they all wanna know so bad~

And after your favorite demon (or more then one of them~) has gotten to fuck you and he knows exactly what you look ‘n sound like underneath him it only gets worse~

Now whenever you bend over now he’ll slap your ass just to hear the little yelp you let out~ or even fuck you bent over right there if you’ll let him~

Then again on movies night, they’ll even fight over who you sit next to during movies or if you’re up for it who’s lap you’ll sit on~

nsfw content MDNI (repost)

To be completely honest, anon if I had a dick, I would buy one, it just looks like it'd be fun to fuck- 💀

Both boys have a similar reaction to you giving them the toy. "Yo-Y-You want me to what?!?" and blushing all the way to their ears lol

But moving on to the video part~

Mammon

Mammon is sitting on the couch in his room, pants around his ankles 'n legs spread he got the toy in one hand and is setting a little bottle of lube back down on the table, just next to where his phone is propped up recording.

He looks at the camera and frowns a bit, "Ya see the shit ya got me doin' for ya? Should'a just went to yer room." He pouts one hand rubbing lube up and down his cock.

He looks at the toy in his and finally moves to slide it over his cock~ his movements are slow, but even from the video you can tell he’s holding back.

He want to put on a show 'n make you feel jealous of this stupid toy you're making him use!!! A few low moans 'n grunts make it past his lips and he starts moving the toy a little bit faster, "Wish ya were here! Nothing better, than the real thing, 'n I miss ya so much." It doesn't matter if he saw you 15 minutes ago he already misses you! "Damnit, all w-worked up g-gonna- fuck~" Mammon ends up cutting himself off ‘n cumming faster than he wanted to, he had planed on making a longer video, edging himself a bit more, but all the thoughts of you~ ('n. the fact he was jerking off before he started recording ) didn't help. Just under the video is a text 'When yer done watchin' this head to my room!'

Levi

The video is shaky, it's an above view of his cock already inside the toy, and you can hear Levi's soft panting, almost whine like moans right away "S-sorry, needed y-you, s-so-hahh~ so-fuck- so b-bad I almost forgot to record……."

Unlike Mammon, Levi isn't putting on a show, he's chasing his high~! All he did was think of the way your hand brushed his thigh in class, and he was hard. He wanted a quick way to get off!

He was about to just jerk off when his eyes fell on the toy and he remembered you made him promise to send you a video.......

"R-really wish you were here~! This stupid toy isn't enough!"

His whines are getting louder and his moans are in a higher pitch, his hand starts jerking the toy faster, and finally he cums with a cry of your name~

A text quickly follows the video 'Next time you have to help me out!! And you can't say no!!!”

We’ve seen bully!eddie, but what about obsessed worshipper!eddie?

Like he sees the reader as this untouchable deity and he absolutely worships the ground she walks on, everything she does is perfect. He doesn’t feel worthy of her but he just has to have her, he just can’t let anyone else taint her

obsessed worshipper you say? ohoho.....

(cws: worshipper!eddie, f!angelface, self-esteem issues, stalking, delusions, masturbation, stick and pokes, punishment-centric self-harm, eddie literally licks your boots w/o you in them, mutual pining.)

he twists his rings whenever you walk by the table he sits at, a little squeak squeak squeak as he fidgets and fiddles until you're completely out of sight. he has to stare but he can't be idle, he's rarely ever idle, so he watches and ogles until it's a running joke at the Hellfire table that Eddie's whipped for the new girl.

maybe. no, not really--he's just in awe. probably. you're really pretty. and you don't seem at all like the fake people that far outnumber him and his comrades, he knows you're more genuine than they are because he's not scared of you, and you're not scared of him. you tell him good morning when you see him, your lockers separated only by a single one between them, and when he says it back you always smile and seem so happy. but it's not because people don't like you; you're so warm that everyone likes you. why wouldn't they? how could someone dislike you? it doesn't compute in his mind even somewhat.

it's always weird being around you, but good weird. like butterflies in his stomach that turn into hurricanes when you smile, or laugh, or when you get close to lend him a pencil and he smells your perfume. so pretty. he buys a bottle just to spray it in his room so it always feels like you're around, and that's a little creepy, but he's already a freak so it probably isn't any worse than what people think he gets up to. it's not any worse than when he's pricking his own arm with a homemade needle to tattoo your initials into his skin, or when he cuts a tiny lock of his hair off and sneaks it into the bottom of your backpack. you just need something of his, he needs people to notice that you shouldn't be messed with--he needs people to stay away from you because they don't deserve you. they don't deserve your kindness when they turn around and terrorize other people, and they shouldn't get to take away your smile when someone's rude to you and you flinch away. they're all beneath you.

when he starts following you home is when Eddie knows he has some kind of problem. at first he convinced himself it was just to make sure you got home unscathed, but soon he realizes that it's just because he needs more time with you. there aren't enough hours in the day for him to spend looking up at your godliness, and while he's gone from egregious truancy to a near perfect attendance, even worshipping you at home isn't enough after awhile. he can only practice so many love songs before his fingers bleed and his throat aches, and gripping his own cock as he drowns himself in fantasies of you can't satisfy him forever. he needs something of yours, but what he really wants is you. stealing one of your shoes is the next big infraction, although he reasons it out that because he brought it back it wasn't a big deal--even though he came all over the toe of your polished doll-like dress heel, just so he could lick it off and feel like he was polishing them for you. touching himself later that night was especially brutal, as he punished himself with as much pain as he could bear in some sort of confessional apology you don't even know about--mostly bruising pinches to his inner thighs just as he's about to finish, and a tight, dry grip that leaves him sore and shaking from his own abuse even though it felt so good.

after a while, he even worries over whether or not you're getting enough release yourself. you're so perfect, do you practice self-pleasure? how often? how do you do it? how long? what do you think about? do you use your hand, or....those questions and thousands more cycle through his head on a daily basis as he fixates on his new idea of you, but they don't stop and only get stronger the closer the two of you get. soon enough you're friends, he spends time in your room, you spend time at band practice and Hellfire. he loses his mind at the sight of the bed you sleep on and the furniture you touch every day, with the clothes that wrap around your body and the bits of makeup that cling to your perfect skin. he wishes he was all of that and more, he just wants to be around you, on you, 24/7. he has a moment of clarity one night, where he's so deliriously worried for you after a degrading comment was made earlier in the day by some jock, and he has to physically punch himself in his own stomach to stop himself from crawling through your window and cuddling up next to you as you sleep. after that he has to distance himself, worried he may encroach too far and scare you into fearing him.

but Eddie is beyond happy to find that's not the case when he finds whispers of his name in your diary entries. flipping through them becomes a passing hobby when you're not home, and once he's gotten through quite a bit to start reading more recent entries, his breath hitches as he discovers some passages from when you first moved to Hawkins.

"sometimes the only good thing about my day is seeing Eddie. I feel so worthless most of the time, but he makes me feel special."

"maybe he's lying when he says I'm pretty, but I don't care. I really like him. I feel like I've known him forever."

"this is so embarrassing, but I think I might have a crush on Eddie. I feel like he's with me all the time--I can't get him out of my head. but how could I tell him how I feel? how could he ever like someone like me?"

it's a dream come to life, but it's bittersweet all the same. among those glorious admissions of your feelings for him, someone so low and unworthy compared to you, there are so many sparks of doubt and self-hate that just kill Eddie inside. as your most loyal follower--your only follower--he can't allow that to stand.

so this time, he'll wait. and when you get home, oh, will he have so much to show you to prove that you're so much more divine than you seem to believe.

𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐲

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

tags: 18+ very graphic smut, rough van sex, dirty talk, analplay, sub!eddie but also very much switch!eddie, lust at first sight, major mutual pining, a sprinkle of perv!eddie but hes sexy so its okay, (1) guest appearance by dustin, post vol. 2 fix-it fic, 7k filth

summary: she’s the girl next door. eddie is the metalhead freak who’s just barely clearing his name after a whole town fiasco. opposites attract but certainly not like this, and certainly not in the back of eddie’s van.

a/n: pov vol 2 ended on a positive note and eleven miraculously fixed everything so a freshly-graduated eddie can now live his life to the fullest!!!!!!!! aka what should’ve happened… minors dni. not for u.

It’s rare for Eddie Munson to be roaming the white-picket fence suburbs of Hawkins. It feels like a fantasyland — golden retrievers and tabby cats, designated trash days and bright, green grass full of yellow daffodils, oak trees with makeshift swings and wooden playgrounds built by loving fathers. It’s too perfect, too uncanny, and Eddie knows deep down that he doesn’t belong in such a world as nice as this one. 

But the suburbs of Hawkins are also welcoming.

When he gives Dustin a ride from school to home, when the noon is at its peak, golden rays and soft sprinklers making rainbows rise from the soil, he thinks — for a moment or two — that he belongs. He could if he wanted to. When Henderson invites him over for dinner, or when Harrington needs help fixing his car, when Mike needs relationship advice (as if Eddie could know anything about that) and when Robin wants to know more about Iron Maiden to impress the metalhead ladies, he thinks that maybe, just maybe, it isn’t so bad on this side of town.

That is until he saw you. And he realized then why everyone called this part of Hawkins a slice of paradise.

Pretty college student. Cut-off shorts from the Gap paired with baggy baseball tees, and a cute nose always stuffed in a romance novel or — some days — a textbook. Glossy lips, adorable socks and checkered picnic blankets where you’d lay out on the too-pristine yard, kicking your legs back and forth as if acting like eye candy was your specialty. 

The perfect poster girl of Hawkins with just enough rough edges to be labelled the girl next door. 

Only, Eddie doesn’t live next door to you. Dustin does. 

“The least you could tell me is her name, Henderson. I don’t want gas money, I want her name. Spelled out for me, syllable by syllable. Government name.” Eddie rambles, shifting impatiently in the driver’s seat as Dustin leans over the passenger window from the outside. “We’re sitting ducks here, man. What if she sees us spying on her damn fence like some creeps?”

The curly-haired sophomore sighs, fingers strung together as he frowns at his older friend, “You are a grown ass man, Eddie. All you have to do is ask her, just say hi, make an impression or something! You can’t just be looking at her from afar everytime you come over, blasting this Metallica shit…”

“You are on very thin ice, boy.” Eddie wags a finger at him, wide eyes bouncing between Dustin and the front of your house. “I don’t know her like you know her. I don’t wanna be weird, especially after just putting all this town satanic cult bull behind my ass. She might think — dammit, I don’t know… I just wouldn’t wanna scare the girl, okay?” He sucks in a deep breath, shrugging the thought off with a hopeful smile, “Not this time.”

“Disgusting.” 

He snaps his head towards Dustin, reaching over and rustling the cap on his head with a playful smirk. “You’re disgusting, you fuckin’ booger.”

And as if on cue, like every other day he’s been through this neighborhood, Eddie watches your figure emerge from the porch, picnic blanket and weathered paperback in hand. His jaw goes slack at the image of your denim overall-clad frame, nothing but a bikini-like bra underneath the number while a fresh cigarette dangles from your lips. So much skin — the exposed flesh of your neck, the salty beads of sweat rolling down your collarbone, the cherubic glow of your complexion and the alluring blush of your lips as you sit out on the yard. 

Fuck.

A loud boom pulls the metalhead from his trance. Dustin’s palm comes down against the flimsy van door. “Earth to Eddie? Get a grip, you’re drooling.” 

And all he can really say is: “She’s so damn pretty.”

Maybe he’s overreacting. Maybe he’s just really that in-deep with a girl who he has never, ever spoken to. Maybe he’s a pervert rather than a misunderstood freak and this is all just completely wrong of him. But, god, it feels so right to stare. Eddie can’t help it, especially once you catch sight of Dustin and send him an adorable little wave — then your eyes flicker over to Eddie’s dumbfounded expression inside the van, where you wave at him too. 

And the twenty one year-old swears he dies. Right at that moment. His heart skips several beats all at once, possibly even flatlining as a small smile falls upon your graceful features, bursting right out of his chest even as you look away and immediately redirect your attention to the walkman in your pocket like you hadn’t just casually murdered him alive. 

Fuck me, he thinks.

The next time Eddie sees you, he gets a little more than a wave. He’s reveling in this newfound attention as he bounces down the steps of Dustin’s porch and catches sight of you on the other side of the fence, already staring his way before he sends you a nerdy two-finger salute with a close-lipped smile. And just before he reaches the sidewalk, your sweet voice stops him in his determined tracks. 

“Metallica at three p.m. in this neighborhood is a death wish, you know.” 

Eddie turns slowly on his heels, shoes facing you before his whole body follows hesitantly. He’s trying to wipe off that stupid expression on his face, lips parted into a skinny ‘O’ that makes him look like a fish out of water as you finally make eye contact. He heats up immediately from the inside, belly churning and throat tightening when you give him a once over. And it seems like you don’t exactly care for subtlety either — blown pupils raking over his tattooed arms, taking in the torn rips of his shirt-turned-tank-top and the tanlines just above his elbows. 

He hopes you think that the scars on his body are just as badass (if not, more) than his tats. 

Say something. “Didn’t know music was on a schedule.” Eddie manages to follow along with a shrug, lips tugging to the side nervously.

In response, you smile. You fucking smile as if he hadn’t just said the most stupid response ever. It’s gentle, airy, almost effortless as crescent-like lines shape your warm cheeks and you cup a hand over your eyes, adorably squinting through the bright sunlight. “Oh, believe me, I had Iron Maiden on blast one time and ever since then, the whole block has been thinking I’m some sort of cult apologist.”

His heart grows like a balloon filling with helium, voice even going so far to climb several octaves of excitement as his eyebrows shoot up his forehead. “You… you listen to that kind of stuff?”

You play with the lacy strap of your top. You’re beaming widely at him from the other side of the fence. “Do you judge books by their covers, mister?”

“No, ma’am.” Eddie swipes the glistening pad of his thumb across his bottom lip, stifling the grin that threatens to spread across his mouth. Sheepish, he shakes his head. “I think I underestimated you then. I’m… I’m sorry I…”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m kidding. Seriously though, I have a bunch of mixtapes back in my room. Ozzy, Dio, some Sabbath. No one really gets it, but you… you seem like you do.”

And Eddie wonders: could you get any more damn perfect? The suburban denim dream, the girl next door, the quintessential concoction of every teenage boy’s fantasy and every teenage girl’s desire… listens to metal music? And not just AC/DC or KISS (because everyone loves those guys), but the same music he’s grown up with and loved? 

He can’t help but picture you in your bed, records spread out across your comforter as you switch between Dream Evil and Peace of Mind. Your limbs stretched out on the mattress, shirt riding up with nothing but black panties underneath as you rock out to his favorites. 

Yeah. He’ll think about that one a lot.

“I definitely get it. I do, I really do. I love metal.” Eddie rambles, hoping to keep your attention by stalling this conversation as much as possible. You nod at him with those big, innocent eyes and roll your fleshy lip between your teeth, keen to every stupid word that falls from his tongue. “But hey, it can be our little secret, then.” He leisurely gravitates towards the van while you match his strides, taking note of his quavering pitch and the use of Eddie’s own hands waving through the air wildly as he attempts to withhold his nervousness. “And again, just for peace of mind, I didn’t mean to judge. I figured…”

“Madonna?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He chuckles. Feels the anxiety in his stomach build even more. “Nothin’ wrong with Madonna, though. Sexy tunes. Can’t deny that.”

Sexy tunes. Come on, Munson.

But that draws a giggle right out of you, “Sexy tunes, indeed.” Then, you’re both leaning against the side of his van. No fence or Dustin coming between the two of you, just your sweaty bodies and Hawkins’ summer heat seeping through your thin clothes. You hold your palm out, fingers welcomingly outstretched. “I’m Y/N, by the way.” 

Eddie’s gaze bounces from your smaller hand to the doting expression on your face before gingerly enveloping it in his own. “Eddie. Edward. E-Eddie. You can…” You give him a gentle squeeze, a sure smile dusting over your lips. “You can just call me Eddie, or whatever. Whatever you want, Y/N.”

“Well,” You laugh again, and Eddie blushes profusely at the lighthearted noise. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Whatever.” You share another one of those looks, and he swears that this time — this time, your eyes do all the talking that needs to be done. “I think we’ll get along really well… Eddie.”

His name has never sounded so perfect out loud.

Eddie sees you again. 

And again. Every time he drops Dustin off. Again. Leant against the side of his van. Talking and talking, until there’s nothing to talk about — but it’s rare. He always has something to talk about, even when his voice fails him and he stutters or stumbles over syllables because you’re so fucking pretty and he’s… he’s just Eddie. But you see him differently than the others, so he supposes that maybe being “just Eddie” isn’t such an awful thing after all. 

Again, you talk. The sidewalk. Along the road. On your lawn. Sometimes, Eddie will even join you on your blanket, skim through your books and take note of what you read, then he’ll recommend “true” literature like Lord of the Rings or something else with elves and witches. 

Summer has never felt so long. 

Again.

Until again becomes every afternoon. Even on the days Dustin doesn’t need a ride home anymore. Even on the days he has to practice with his band at four, but he can always just come see you at three and drive back because it’s no big deal. Even on the days your parents say you need to stop talking to that Munson boy because he’s no good, but who fucking cares? 

Again, anyways.

You’re not scared of him. He’s not scary. He never was.

And so afternoons turn into nights. And nights consist of sneaking out to Eddie’s van that he’s parked a few houses down the street, because God forbid he talks to the innocent girl next door. Innocent is one fat hoax. You’re smoking pot with him in the back of his fucking van for Ozzy’s sake, giggly and unrelenting as you sit next to each other and drench yourselves in the scent of weed and Eddie’s drugstore cologne while Metallica plays faintly in the background.

He’s all man, but soft with his eyes. Soft in the way he looks at you. Crude in the way he secretly desires you. Now that he knows you, really knows you, you aren’t just beautiful. 

You’re completely devastating. 

You take a long drag of his joint, wincing as the paper sizzles and burns orange. “Fuck, I wish I tried getting high sooner. You’re a horrible influence, you know that?”

Eddie hums with a toothy grin, fiddling with the pair of flimsy headphones in his lap. “And yet you still meet me back here every night.”

“Why do I even do that?” 

“Um, ‘cause I got, like, really fucking good ‘A’ quality weed and impeccable taste in music.” He shrugs nonchalantly, eyes following the mold of your lips around the bud. “Easy there, tigress. Don’t hog it.”

“You said…”

“I said, you could have one hit. And now, I’m confiscating it.”

You groan in protest as Eddie leans over to your side of the van and snatches the blunt from you, tossing it into a mushroom shaped ashtray as he gazes at you curiously. “Since when did you become so mean to me?”

“Weed is meant to be treasured, Y/N. And plus, I’m always mean.”

He has to admit — there has been tension between the two of you ever since your afternoon catch-ups turned into late night talking. Maybe he’s imagining it, but surely you feel it too. The bubbling in his stomach when your elbows brush in such a confined space. The heat rushing to his cheeks when you laugh and place a hand on his thigh, or the dizzy rush flooding your forehead when he picks a flyaway strand of hair off of your shoulder. The increase in your heartbeats as you stare at each other for a minute too long, even sneaking in a second glance because you just have to. 

“You know what you should treasure?” You quirk a brow at him. A smirk tugs upon your lips as you dig through your pocket and pull out a cassette tape, shaking it in front of Eddie’s face. “This week’s mix I made you.”

“My mix is better.” He flicks his walkman open, switching out the tape inside for the one you hand him. “Here’s yours, ma’am.”

And he supposes that no one really expected that his friendship with the girl next door would be founded on trading music with each other. Ever since you and Eddie found out your tastes were in alignment, you made it a goal to introduce new songs to him — Madonna included. Sexy tunes. 

You think he could get used to the oddity of The Cure. He thinks he can convince you that Guns N’ Roses will eventually be a rock sensation. You’re skeptical. Maybe.

So you marinate in each other’s stagnant presence, leaning on opposite walls of his metal tin can of a van, holding your own walkmans with ears caressed by Koss headphones and lids shut as your heads bob to the acoustics. Eddie can’t help but crack an eye open, sneaking a peek at your chewed lip and your look of concentration. 

“I like this one.” You pipe up, feeling his stare on you. He glances away before you can actually catch him, training his gaze on the mess of blankets behind the driver’s seat. “You know, your choices this week are very interesting, Munson.”

Suggestive. His choices are suggestive, is what you’re thinking. From the first to the last track, the list of songs messily etched onto the cassette with the most boyish handwriting you’d ever seen, you can only hope that the metalhead holds some sort of attraction for you in the same manner you do for him. 

Eddie chuckles, and winces apologetically at you. “I still hate The Cure, by the way.”

You nod unconvinced, and pull one of the cups of your headphones away from your ear. There’s a smile of amusement, an interested dimple in your cheek. “And yet you included The Perfect Girl on here?” 

“Only because it made me think of you.”

For once, he realizes that he has flustered you. Your jaw goes slack, your pupils widen, brows softening before your nose crinkles at him. “Shut up, Eddie.”

His palms raise in a peaceful surrender, ringed fingers wiggling adorably. “You asked, Y/N.” A beat. Then you’re playfully throwing a jacket at his face and squealing before he instinctively lunges forward at you, gentle hands pulling you back by the elbows. Despite the struggle, eventually he’s pinned to the floor of the van and you’re on top of him straddling his soft belly. “Get off, you monster!” He near-giggles, sputtering as his hair gets into his mouth and he feels your body racking with laughter. 

“You’re so rude to me. Like the rudest. When has The Cure ever hurt you?” You pant out, chest rising and falling steadily as you both catch your breath. Eddie’s headphones haphazardly hug his head, walkman in the palm that rests above him. “Do you treat your girlfriend this way, hm?”

“No girlfriend.” 

“Oh?” 

“Mmm, I thought it was obvious.” He replies quietly, the sound comes out more like a soft moan rather than an agreement. His plushy lips are wet with saliva, tongue poking between the pink flesh as his eyes flicker from your parting mouth to your curious, swirling irises. “S’why I’m here with you.”

“So I’m the second choice is what you’re…”

“Please, you are farthest from the second choice, sweetheart.” Eddie laughs, ribs rumbling against his torso. Only then does he become hyper aware of the way your breasts push up against his shirt, the warmth of your skin intermixing with his, your nipples hardening against the thin white fabric of your camisole. Sweetheart, you repeat. Sweetheart. Sweetheart. Sweetheart. “Do you have one?”

“A girlfriend?” You ask, tone playful and curious.

Careless Whisper echoes through his headphones; your mixtape is still looping through his walkman as you trail your fingers down his wrists and brace yourself on his chest. 

Fucking hell. It’s ironic. It’s pathetic. George Michael needs to shut up. Why is this damned song on here? He’s struggling to think, struggling to focus on the words coming from your mouth, struggling to keep it in his pants because you keep shifting farther and farther away from his stomach, and more and more towards his crotch. Focus. Tune out that stupid saxophone.

“Sure.” He shrugs breathlessly, tingling with anticipation. 

“Nope.”

“Boyfriend?”

“Not yet, no. Why is this a conversation, Eddie?” You bite your lip cheekily, knees planted firmly on either side of his lean body when you gaze down at him then survey the still-lit joint resting on his ashtray. Silence, then: “Can I have a hit? Please?”

Eddie glances at your lips, fixating on how your tongue darts out to lick at the sticky gloss. The moonlight casts a glow over your frame, highlighting the path of your curves through your tank top. And without really taking his eyes off of your beautiful face, his fingers reach for the blunt, a blush spreading across his chiseled cheeks when your hand brushes against his to grab it. 

Please.

A sizzle rustles through the heavy air as you take a slow drag.

And Eddie can’t help himself. Not this time.

“You’re so pretty, you know that?”

You’re slowly tossing the perfectly-good blunt aside, leaning down and lazily grabbing Eddie gingerly by his chin. 

He thinks you’re gonna kiss him.

And before he can lift his head to meet you, instead, you’re blowing a puff of smoke between his parted lips with an exhale. “Fuck… ing… heck…” He instantly groans, eyelids drooping as your ass pushes against him teasingly like you hadn’t just shotgunned into his goddamn mouth. Party trick. You flutter your lashes bashfully, dimples poking at your cheeks as Eddie gapes at you just inches away from your face. “Y/N, where the fuck did you… learn that?”

You sigh. “Eddie Munson, you just keep on underestimating me.” 

“I really do, I really fucking do…” He huffs, knuckles turning white around his walkman as you sensually tug his headphones off. “I just — just thought you were…”

“Innocent? Oblivious? I may be your girl next door fantasy… or whatever the fuck you Hawkins boys think about me…” You smirk, taking Eddie’s much-larger hands into yours and placing them firmly on your hips. “… but I am not fucking blind… you’ve been acting so off this entire night, must need something to take the edge off, don’t you?”

Fucking Ozzy. He can’t take it. His lips tug into a wince. “That easy, huh?”

Red-handed, you coo. “The easiest.”

“So technically you’re calling me easy, then?” Eddie jokes, heart pounding against his chest as he tenderly digs his fingertips into your love handles.

This is what he’s wanted. This is it. 

And it’s not a fucking dream at all. It’s absolutely heaven. 

Just like heaven.

“Eh, I think it’s endearing. The way you…” He curses under his breath as you lean over and trail your mouth up his jawline, biting his earlobe. “… savor me… savor looking at me. The way you think I don’t notice your stare, when your eyes wander a couple inches down whenever I talk? Oh, you think you’re so slick. I’m not naïve. Why do you think we hang out in your van at night?”

He shudders when your teeth find the cool surface of the guitar pick around his neck. “You’re evil, sweetheart.”

“And you’re horny, but maybe I shouldn’t talk about that.”

“No, definitely…” Eddie laughs nervously, swallowing as he looks down at you. “Definitely not. I’m… fuck, I’m fine. I’m good.”

“Or, maybe I should.” Back and forth banter. It’s natural with you. Too natural, almost like it has always meant to be like this between the eager pair of you. You don’t kiss him, not yet. He can wait. “Acting like a gentleman, like my friend, when in reality you can’t help but think of banging me everytime we see each other?”

“M’sorry, okay? We are friends — fuck, Y/N. Can’t focus… can’t exactly t-talk when you’re on my lap like that.”

Heat pools to his lower stomach, breaths quickening as his hands mindlessly drift down to your upper thighs, squeezing your skin through your little shorts when you grind against him. “Like this? How does it feel? Touching me, feeling me on you like this?”

Eddie’s eyes are dark, almost black in the dim shadows of his van. He looks up at you with the most dilated, entranced look, and you swear it almost makes you break. “Feels… feels so nice. Warm. I just… fuck, I don’t… don’t wanna make you do anything you don’t wanna do… Y/N, goddamnit…”

“I think it’s both clear what we want, no?” You press a kiss to his cheek, running your thumb along the skin beneath his lower lashes. His self-control is slowly diminishing, inch by inch, he feels himself melting in your presence. “I stare, too, just so you know. I stare a lot.”

“Yeah?” Eddie lifts a shaky hand, nervously cupping your jaw and nudging his nose against yours. His voice ghosts your skin, raspy and more of a whimper than a command. “Tell me about it.”

Your mouth hovers over his, lips barely brushing against each other. Touching, touching, touching, only to pull away at the very last second. He can almost just taste the marijuana from your tongue, almost taste the honey dripping from your voice as you peck the corner of his lips. Almost. “I look at your arms, and your really cool tattoos, then I picture… where else you have them on your body…” You gasp into his ear as his hips rut into you, his fingers drawing shapes against the side of your face. “Picture your lips on my chest… kissing me, leaving marks… bruises, hickies, whatever you want, Munson. Your mouth between my — my thighs… tugging on your hair because you’d be so good to me, wouldn’t you?”

“M’want you so bad. You don’t know the half of it.” He whispers, stroking a knuckle across the shadow of your cupid’s bow. “Please… let me… fuck, let me kiss you. Please, Y/N. Want it so bad. Been wanting you ever since summer started. Makin’ me crazy, got me feeling like I’m insane with the way I just… just obsess over us.”

He’s earned it. 

“Like I said, whatever you want.” You grin devilishly.

Eddie’s lips finally collide with yours, erotically wet and far from smooth. It’s incongruous, sweaty skin rubbing against each other and clothes rustling as Eddie sits up, your arms swaddling his lanky frame while you crane your neck to kiss him deeply. His hair is in your mouth, his nose smushed against the side of your face, strained groans slipping from his throat as he traverses down your neck, selfishly licking the divot of your collarbone before his palms are venturing under your camisole. 

“You’re so fucking hot.” He whines, lashes fluttering against your thin bra as he pulls your top over your head. He’s mouthing at the cups, biting at the stringy lace of your push-up before he’s tugging the material down to reveal your nipples. “I just… fuck, I’m just in awe of you. You’re the perfect girl, and I get to have you.” He wraps his lips around the hardened bud, moaning as he alternates between the two and litters your flesh in dark hickies. You fist his hair, caving into his frame. “You’re so sexy. Just… fucking… took the words out of me, leavin’ me speechless… I’ll make you feel so f-fucking good if you let me.”

Your head rolls back as he kisses up the underside of your chin, meeting your lips in a more tender kiss. Your nails trail underneath his Iron Maiden ringer tee, lightly tracing over the raised scars on his abdomen, his belly, skimming over his sparse happy trail and the subtlety of his v-line. “You’re all talk, Eddie… wanna make me feel good?” He nods meekly, the veins in his neck flexing as you stroke his brow bone. “Think you should start by undressing me…”

“Christ, please.”

And without a beat, Eddie’s reaching around you to unclasp your bra, tossing it aside so that it lands over the back of the driver’s seat. He kisses his way down your belly, the little pudge when you sit, only for him to lay you down on your back, clumping up a bunch of jackets to make a pillow for your head. His fingers unbutton your shorts, tugging them down the length of your legs with your panties until they get caught on your Chucks. 

He takes those off too. Quite frankly, chucks the Chucks across the van with a squeaky mutter of ‘goddamn shoes…’  before he’s pocketing a lineup of chunky rings into his jeans.

Eddie’s mouth makes up for the dorky mishap, his lips make haste against your tender calves, biting the squish of your thighs and nudging his nose against the glossy patches of arousal on the inside of your skin. He inhales the scent of your cunt, and you jerk with a moan of surprise as he kisses you there, open and fluttering for him while he lays on his stomach.

He’s never seen such a pretty pussy. It emboldens him, leaves him brazen and aching for more even though it’s the first time he’s ever seen you this naked. Even though he’s barely even had you, he still needs more.

“Need you so bad it hurts.” Eddie growls, looking up at you with a smirk as you gnaw on your bottom lip. “You’re just… fuck, how did you get this wet? God, you’re unreal, baby… let me? Please? Let me… let me eat it… I’ll do anything…”

Let me. Let me. Let me. It’s his mantra. You’d be lying if you deny that it stirs something animalistic within you.

You nod violently, biting down on your forefinger as he props you up against the wall of the van and parts your knees even further before he’s shoving his face into you. Your hands dart straight into his curls again, pulling and tugging until you’re holding him by a wiry ponytail, watching the eager way he suckles at the bundle of nerves just at the apex of your sex. 

Eddie feels like a fucking virgin. Desperate. Impatient. Aggressive. He’s too excited — it displays itself when he slips two digits into your needy slit, taking in how you instantly buck against him. You need him. Need him in the same manner he needs this. His ego fires up as he drives his fingers further, running his tongue over and back and down your clit until your grip on his hair becomes suffocating.

“Having fun down there, h-hm?” You croak. Even with his head buried between your thighs, you’re mischievous, challenging, witty. He’d fuck the brains out of you if he could, but honestly, he isn’t even sure if he could survive one second with his cock in your little fist. “Fuckkk. You’re makin’ me feel so good, Eds…” Your head hits the metal wall, a soft bang that goes unnoticed with all the squelching and creaming as Eddie scissors his fingers. 

“You’re so perfect. You’re so perfect, I love the way you look right now, s’fucking hot… could cum just by watching you.”

“Yeah? Just wait — just fucking wait till I suck you off.”

Eddie can’t wrap his thoughts around it. His tongue, his hands, where he’s buried inside you. He’s wanted this, ever since the start of summer, and he’s here with the girl he thought was untouchable — the perfect girl with a perfect, filthy secret that is him. 

You’re grinding your mound against his mouth, quivering jaw unhinged in the darkness of his large van. His eyes flicker up to your tits, slick with his spit and your own as a dribble of saliva falls from your lips, tainting your skin. 

For once, you aren’t put-together. He’s ripping your façade apart at the seams and leaving nothing to sew back.

“You’re a fucking mess, Y/N… oh, I do this to you?” He’s touching you till you’re vibrating and mewling. He’s lapping every drop of you up, tasting you permanently on his lips as he prods at your clit. “Fuck, honey…” Eddie bites you, hard enough to nurse a bruise on the inside of your thigh. “Please cum for me, yeah? Jus’ look how wet I’ve gotten you, sweetheart… you’re practically — oh, my god… you’re practically gaping… you wanna cum that bad?”

You really can’t help it. Not when he’s cooing at you with that whiny voice, teasing and suggestive as your cunt spasms over his pink knuckles. Your hips rise from the carpet flooring, and Eddie leaves another bite-mark on your stomach as slick trickles out of you. You don’t moan. You don’t scream, nor cry. Just a broken whimper and a restrained, quiet utterance of Eddie’s name beneath your breath. 

Somehow, it makes his cock pulse even harder.

He gently kisses your cunt, running a soothing tongue over the bruises he’s left and the dip in where your hip meets your thigh. “Fuck, that was hot.” He smells the aftermath of your orgasm, really smelling you this time, and it ends up driving him nuts. “Oh, Y/N… your pussy…” You follow his gaze, letting out a lewd sound as Eddie admires the puffiness of your folds, swollen and open from his work. You jolt as soon as he tries to spread you. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry, d-didn’t mean to get so damn rough with you. You tasted so fucking nice, s’all.”

“No, I…” You brush his hair away from his face, pushing his bangs aside as he sits up and wedges himself between your knees. “I love rough. I can take it. I can take this.” Your other hand palms him through his jeans, before you’re dipping yourself beneath his waistband, hairs prickling at your skin as you grasp him. “Do you want me to be rough with you, Eds? Because I just… I really, really want your cock, and I… I dunno if I can hold myself back…”

“Oh, you little slut.” He gasps brazenly as you pull his shirt off, eyes wide at your sudden conviction for him, “Take it. Take me, Y/N. I’m all yours, whatever you fucking want.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, baby.”

You smirk, helping him kick off his jeans and boxers. Your cunt pathetically gapes for him once he’s bare, contracting around nothingness as Eddie takes your place against the wall. He leans back, and you just stare — drinking him in the same way he drinks you in. Your puffy nipples, still damp from his spit, your darkened neck a testament to his artistry, your mouth parting in awe as you fit his erect cock into your hand. Barely.

He’s big — lengthwise, and it curves heavily in your grasp as you lean down to pop him between your lips. Eddie nearly knees you, palms flying to cover his face as he desperately cries your name. “Y/N… oh, f-fucking… oh, Jesus…” You rake your nails up and down his thighs, licking a stripe up his manhood as you play with his sopping tip.

You chuckle in amusement around him, “Such a leaky cock. You like that, Eds? Mmm, you messy boy. All this pre-cum and I’ve… aw, I’ve barely touched you. Tell me what feels good, ‘kay?”

“S’all of it… all of it is — it’s good… fuck, words are so… words…” He melts even more as you sheathe him into your mouth, stuttering as he feels you hold back a gag. Your whole body convulses, back arching upwards as Eddie watches you take and take and take. “Oh, Y-Y/N… you just keep — keep getting better and better. Holy shit.” His belly aches with desire, tightening with each bob of your head and every seductive blink of your eyes. “You’re gorgeous. Thought about you.. whenever you’d — mmm, whenever you’d lay out on that darn lawn, what if I took you right there? What if I just… fucked you on that grass…”

“You and your dirty mouth, Munson.” You glare up at him in feigned annoyance, jerking his shaft with fast, purposeful movements. “I think it’s funny… how you pretend like you’re such a nice guy when really, you’re only a perv for me.”

“So what? Are you gonna punish me?” He challenges beadily, tongue poking out between gritted teeth like he could win this fight. “Or are you gonna fuck me, pretty girl?”

And just like that, the air changes. He feels the shift, the veil that falls over your eyes, nothing but sex and his scent running in your mind.

“No, Eds.” You move to straddle his thigh; your bare cunt dragging against his scarred skin. “I’m gonna make you beg.” 

You take him into your fist again, stroking him between the generous suction of your lips and the sweep of your tongue. He tastes good to your surprise, and then you’re creating a pool of spit that trickles from his abdomen to his balls. 

Messy girl. “Christ, Y/N.”

You release him with an erotic pop! — there’s stringy saliva connecting you to the crown of his cock, your throat is raw, his dick impatient, twitchy and excited. “You wanna fuck me so bad, you can’t even think straight. Look at my hand right now, look how tiny it looks when I hold you…” You grind yourself against his knee, groaning with him as you quicken your pace. Your brows furrow, a wicked grin ghosting itself over your features. “Baby, are you going to cum already?”

“Y/N, don’t s-stop. I’m beggin’ you, please…”

“Oh, you’re begging? This is what you call begging?”

“Please, s’too hard.”

“Too hard? What’s too hard? Me not letting you cum, or…” You give him one good jerk, twisting your fist so that your thumb brushes over his white-coated tip. “… your cock? Because you’re awfully, awfully rock hard right now. I bet it hurts doesn’t it, my love?” My love. His eyes gloss over. Your mouth hugs the shell of his ear. “You wanna cum?”

“Y-Yes…” He near-whimpers. Desperate. “Wanna cum so badly.”

“No.”

You release him for what feels like the hundredth time tonight. His climax dwindles back to square one, and his leg thrashes out in dismay. There’s sweat beading down your forehead, drops forming on Eddie’s brow bone as he scowls at you. 

You kiss him, almost like an apology, but Eddie can tell you’re not sorry. Far from it. You enjoy this, enjoy getting him off just to start over and make him beg. Is it so sick that he likes it? The more you stretch this interaction out, the more he gets to touch you. Like now, as you swing your knees on either side of him, his palm gingerly clasping the nape of your neck as he presses your face to his.  

“Let me fuck you? Let me be inside?” He pleads, nudging his nose against yours in anguished yearning. He drags his hand over your cheek, enveloping your jaw with outstretched fingers. “Just wanna bury myself inside you and stay there. Don’t even wanna cum anymore, I promise. I promise I’ll fuck you so good, m’not pathetic like the other guys… wanna feel you jus’ dripping on me, Y/N.”

You don’t answer, just gasp into his parted mouth as you line each other up. The angry head of his cock catches on your swell, snagging your clit before his tip lodges itself inside you and he — quite literally — goes rigid. You curse, slowly sinking down his length until your pussy refuses to take more. 

“You’re s-so big.”

Eddie feels like he’s going to fucking burst. “Sweetheart,” He pants, panicked and frenzied as you squeeze around him. Your head lolls onto his shoulder, arms thrown around his body as he tangles his slender fingers into your scalp and pulls you impossibly closer to his chest. “Sweetheart, I can feel every p-part of you… you’re so — fuck, just like that, you wet messy thing.” He whines, the curve of your ass coming down against his lap as you keenly bounce on his cock. He meets you with gentle thrusts, your cunt already milking him thin. “Look at you, fuck, you’re loving this.”

“E-Eddie…” Your tits are squished against his pecs, his necklace sandwiching itself between your damp skin. “More. More. Give it…”

“You can’t take it, baby. I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“I can take it. I can. It’s not enough, I’m telling you.” You rut your hips stubbornly, guiding his palms to your waist before he’s carefully rolling you onto your side and hiking your calf over the tender slope of his shoulder. “S’not nearly enough, Eds.”

“Okay.” He breathes out, inhaling deeply as he slips himself deeper inside you. The stretch stings harshly, flashes of white prickling at the cones of your vision as he splits you raw and wide open. “Is this enough? You fuckin’… god, you perfect whore…” Your spine tingles as Eddie tugs you closer by the hip, ramming himself into you relentlessly. “… such perfect tits, a perfect leaky cunt…” He presses a kiss to your ankle, before flipping you onto your knees so that he can fuck you from behind. He wants to see you, see you flutter for him, feed his sick thoughts and relive the nights where he jerked himself off in this very van in empty parking lots to the idea of you. “… and this perfect ass… another hole waiting to be used, right, Y/N? You’d let me use it, wouldn’t you? If I’m nice enough, I bet you’d let me fuck it…”

Fucking hell.

You cum as soon as he dips the pad of his thumb against the responsive ring of muscle. You both grow feral at the sensation. Soaked. Pussy chafed raw from his cock. You can’t tell whose fluids are whose, if it’s Eddie’s spit or yours, if it’s your juices or his — the embarrassing manner in which your cunt just sucks him in, the tight walls of your ass fluttering around his gentle finger as he drives into you.

How is the van still upright? Eddie doesn’t know. 

He’s an Ozzy clusterfuck of strangled, broken sounds and you’re a broken record player of Eddie-Eddie-Eds-Please, I’m cumming!

He doesn’t stop. Even when you’re shaking and bent-half in now missionary, he sheathes himself inside you till his pelvic bone is crushed to your body. “You feel so good, I’m sorry… I can’t — can’t stop, baby…”

“Don’t. Don’t stop, it’s a-alright.” You heave out, interlocking fingers as his glistening cock disappears into your used cunt. “It’s a l-lot, but it’s okay.” Eddie’s body engulfs you, your heels digging into the dimples in his lower back as he pounds into you. “You’re such a good — good boy, fuck…”

“Yeah?” He bites your throat. “Say.” The under-swell of your boob. “It.” Your arm. “Again.”

“Good boy. Such a good boy, fucking me the way I deserve.”

“Fucking you like you’re a slut.”

“Fucking me like I’m not the girl next door…” You chuckle, breathy and airy before he knocks the wind right out of you. “The whole town is gonna call me a w-whore for once.”

“Suits you better.”

You swear your soul leaves your body. You’re dying. You are dead, nearly limp in his fumbling boyish hands as he cradles your head against his chest and wipes the sweat from your eyes like he loves you. His balls slap against your loosened rim, his thumb putting pressure on your clit until you’re frantically pushing him away. 

“I can’t cum again. I can’t.” You sob in pleasure, clawing at his tattoos as if they could save you from his insatiable hunger. “Eddie!”

“Need it, need your cum again, Y/N.” Eddie growls, thrusts stuttering and cock pulsating wildly before he’s spitting onto your sex as if you needed to be any more wet. “I-I think you’re so… so fucking cool, you’re just… you’re too good for me, but I fucking adore you.”

I adore you.

I adore you.

You can’t even talk anymore, vocal chords ripped right out of your throat as your stomach cramps, cramps, cramps and then drops to a low point. Crashing. Flatlining. Clenching hopelessly.

You nearly choke Eddie as a hand flies out to touch him, pulling him close as your walls trap him for a second time. Only now, he’s locked in tight, unable to move, unable to go anywhere and he fucking cums immediately because it’s just too inviting. You feel him seeping out of you, painting your holes with his sticky cum as he stills there like a good boy. He grunts against your lips, kissing you poorly as his orgasm eats him alive. 

He’s milked. Spent. 

Eddie collapses on top of you, one leg jutted straight and the other bent as he embraces you close with his whole weight resting on your frame. How can he already miss something he just had? Gaining your strength, you kiss down his shoulder, fingertips swirling over muscle and scar tissue and ink as the smell of him floors you.

It’s so Eddie. Woody, earthy, with a spicy fresh top note reminiscent of oak moss and a hint of gasoline, dry cedar and herbs. It makes you dizzy in the best way possible. He’s drenched in the girlish smell of sex, sweat and salty but you’re eager to taste him anyways.

My good boy, you think. 

“Are you okay?” Your voice comes out raspy and winded, almost sickly but Eddie knows it's a good-sick. 

“Yes, yeah. I just… need a sec.”

“Hm, don’t take too long, Munson.” Shit. Is this over already? Just like that? “Might get wet again.”

Oh. It’s a joke. 

And he laughs, wheezy and exhausted as he irritatedly tugs his own hair out of his mouth. “You’re gonna be the death of me, ma’am.” He leans back on his hinges to properly look at you, your cheeks rubbed red-raw from his teeth and your abused, achy cunt still stuffed full of his prick. “Are you okay?”

“I’m alive.”

“Barely.”

“Barely.” You repeat heartily, shaking your head at him with a look of bewilderment. “S’gonna hurt when you pull out, you know.”

“Are you telling me to stay here forever?”

“If you admit that you like The Cure, then yes…” You bite your lip, drumming your fingers against his wrist. “… I’ll let you stay there forever.”

Forever. You both push down the giddy, cheesy smiles that threaten to spread across your faces. 

“Never. Never ever.” Eddie chuckles. When he tenderly and patiently pulls out, a wet rush slowly floods out of you, his fingers frantically plug you shut — his thick, translucent cum dripping from his knuckles as he selfishly fucks his hot spill back into you like the perv he is. “But that can stay there forever.”

A freak, but not in the way Hawkins thinks.

You melt at the feeling, limbs spasming awkwardly as he spreads himself over your pussy distractedly. His eyes are so goddamn soft, kind, attentive — even when he’s pushing some of it into your poor asshole, he’s still the sweetest guy you’ve ever hooked up with. 

He kisses your clit before he lovingly hikes your panties up your legs. 

Fucker.

“Did I ruin you, sweetheart? Awfully quiet.”

You scoff, shimmying into your shorts and camisole as Eddie tucks himself back into his boxers. “Just wondering how you expect me to climb back into my window after all that.”

“Who said anything about climbing…” He laughs boisterously, leaning over and fixing the strap of your bra. “What do you say I walk you to the porch, ring that bell and introduce myself to mom and pop?”

You stare at him like he’s crazy.

“Absolutely not, Eddie Munson.”

He finds himself liking the suburbs a lot more.

Only this time, he doesn’t imagine himself surrounded by picket fences and golden retrievers, mailboxes with his last name painted in unreadable cursive or having to mow his front lawn at seven in the fucking morning. 

Eddie doesn’t need to when Hawkins’ slice of paradise is just next door. 

And he gets to taste it every fucking day and night. 

So, fuck it. He’ll climb your window so you don’t have to wobble back to your house with his cum dripping down your leg. He’s a gentleman, railing you in the abandoned parking lot of Starcourt because you can’t handle the embarrassment of getting caught by someone at home. He’ll cover your mouth in the shed in your backyard so the neighbors don’t complain about the howling coyotes that have gone loose in the neighborhood. 

God forbid they have coyotes, right? 

But really, they should be worrying about the devastatingly gorgeous girl next door and her favorite, good boy with a dwindling hatred for The Cure.

Even though, the album is growing on him.

He’ll never admit that, though.

grrr i just wanna be the fruity fours chubby gf & have each of them lay on my tummy :(

like you wear a outfit that shows a little more skin than usual bc they’ve helped you gain more confidence. all their brains just completely short circuit. they all make different comments on your outfit, but each one makes you more flustered than the last.

I JUST WANT THEM TO WORSHIP ME AGHHH -🛸

PRRRRR!!!!

(cws: plus size!f!angelface, fruity four, body worship, a lil fluff, a lil spice, the four being soft and thirsty for their gf <3)

being fruity four's chubby girlfriend propaganda.....your tummy is the most coveted napping spot in the house. you'll be splayed out on the couch or the chair or in bed, and so often you'll have a fluffy-haired head (usually Eddie or Nancy) sinking down on your exposed belly to snuggle in and kiss before they fall asleep. Robin especially likes the spot on the floor at your feet while you're sitting up on the sofa, a movie playing on the tv while she sits back and gently rubs your calves, your thighs resting on each shoulder for her head to be squished between while she turns and nuzzles your soft skin. Steve purposely keeps the house warm so you'll be more apt to wear shorts when you're just relaxing inside, half because he loves seeing your bare legs and half because he wants to feel you shiver in delight when he squeezes them as you walk by.

and yes, please, please wear those outfits you like that show off your skin! they're so happy you're comfortable enough to do it, and to pull out those clothes that you've shoved into your closet because you liked them, but were too shy to wear them out. Steve and Robin will have conversations at length about your boobies, about how they look in those cute outfits and how flattering they are on your curves--and for once Robin won't clock him about using that particular word, because she's clearly lost in her own fantasy when they daydream together about the perfect items that would show off those goods, even though in reality you'd never wear them out the door before they'd be tearing them off of you. sometimes Nancy will come up behind you while you're looking at yourself in the mirror, and fix your clothes so they sit where they naturally do and not where you've adjusted them to try and cover certain areas you dislike. it just so happens that that usually means you've got your tummy out and you can clearly see those lines and curves and soft spots, and she just goes feral over it. like really feral, I'm gonna eat you out right here so you can watch your beautiful self cum kinda feral. Eddie does the same thing as well, except he's more apt to get on his knees and kiss your belly if you say bad things about it--cause c'mon, don't insult his favourite pillow! don't hide her all the time! let her out of containment!!

either way, if ever you wonder whether they're really sincere about liking your body type, just stand in front of a mirror or just have your tummy out and available--rest assured there will be someone sniffing you out like a bloodhound and descending on you to turn you into a human pillow or a cum dumpster cause they just can't help it

HighSchool!Cartman x Reader Smut

Basically I have a high school au where Cartman goes to fucking therapy and becomes a slightly better person

He doesn’t support hitler anymore and isn’t racist/homophobic, just a general bitter asshole now. He joins the high school’s boxing team and earns the nickname “The Bull” because of how strong and big he is, and he gets one of those funky nose rings and a tongue piercing (which will come into play later 😳👉👈). He’s still friends with the others but trying to focus a little more on his academics as well so he’s not seen as some kinda dumb jock.

Reader is afab with gender neutral pronouns because I’m kinda half writing this for myself but I want all y’all to read this too 💀

Some ideas of what they look like ^^

OK ON TO THE FIC

—————

You stepped out of the car and onto the icy ground, shutting the door behind you. You waved your mom goodbye and turned to look at the entrance of the school. South Park high, one of the shittiest schools in the country.

Walking up the steps, following the stream of people, you heard a familiar voice calling your name. You were about to turn and look before a gloved hand clapped you harshly on your back and slid down to your waist, hooking you tightly to the side of the person grabbing you. You immediately knew who it was.

“Kenny! Off, off you perv!” You shoved the taller guy off of you, his muffled laughs getting louder as he took his hood off.

“Sorry babes, I just can’t help myself with that pretty little waist of yours.” He purred, looking you in your eyes with those piercing blue points. You scoffed, not fazed one bit.

You had moved here in your freshman year, two years ago, and quickly became acquainted with Kenny and his group of friends, eventually joining them on their outlandish adventures. You were used to Kenny and his perverted nature, although he had become more persistent towards you this year. You supposed you had hit some sort of growth spurt over the summer, but you were all together during the break so you couldn’t understand how he would be able to tell a difference.

The others caught up to you and Kenny, panting and almost slipping on the ice. Stan smacks Kenny on the head.

“Stop creeping on y/n, Kenny.” He scolds him.

Cartman chimes in. “It’s not his fault they got so fucking hot over the summer.” You blush and look up at him, he’s staring directly at you. He has an almost hungry look in his eyes. You turn away.

“Don’t talk about them like that!” Kyle spouts, towering over Cartman.

Kenny laughs, “Kyle, you’re just saying that because you want a turn with their gorilla grip pu-“

“Can we please change the subject?” You interrupt him. They all look at you sheepishly, except for Cartman. He’s still eyeing you hungrily.

“Right. Sorry y/n. We’ve uh, reached class anyway.” Stan apologized for his friends.

You all sat in your respective seats and listened as Mr. Garrison (who according to the group really shouldn’t be teaching anymore) drawled on about nonsense in his personal life.

You caught Cartman staring at you a few times, to which he would resort to playing with his nose ring and looking at the back of Bebe’s head.

He had always been a bit interested in you, but recently you kept catching him looking at you all the time. You wondered if he would make a move at some point. You would definitely accept if he did, you knew that. He had grown more attractive each year you knew him. This year he let his hair grow out, and every time he would box, two locks would fall in front of his face and his hair would get all messy. You loved it.

His reputation as “The Bull” had grown recently when, during a match, he knocked his opponent straight out of the ring. To celebrate his victory, he took his shirt off and flung it into the crowd, spurring a movement of girls to start fangirling over him at every turn. They called themselves “The Bullshitters” which was literally the worst name they could think of. Cartman acted like he hated the attention but you could tell he secretly loved it. They followed him everywhere when he wasn’t under the protection of the friend group.

Anyways, by the time Garrison actually got to the topic you were supposed to talk about that day, the lunch bell rang.

You got your lunch from the lunch lady, the group making their usual remarks about how they missed some guy called Chef. You all sat at a table, you taking your place next to Cartman.

After talking for a while, Cartman laughed at something and placed his hand on your thigh. You froze and looked up at him, but he kept talking with the others and didn’t move his hand. You bounced your leg once to try and get him off, he didn’t budge. He gripped a little tighter and rubbed it with his thumb.

You knew you weren’t able to move his wrist, he was one of the strongest kids in school, so you just accepted your fate and kept eating.

Suddenly you noticed a girl walking over wearing a shirt with Cartman’s face on a Bull’s body on it. You groaned.

“Bullshitter, four o’ clock.” You muttered to the occupants of the table. They all turned to look at the girl approaching. Cartman finally took his hand off your thigh so he could stand up.

“I got this, it’s fine guys.” He waited for the girl to fully approach. He hulked over her like a beast. “What do you want? An autograph? Lock of my hair? What.” He crossed his arms, clearly trying to seem intimidating.

“i want bnnbvjvjbmb” she mumbled softly.

“Speak up.” He held his stance.

“I want to have sex with you.” She said, looking him in the eyes. He kept his cool, although you could tell he wanted to laugh in her face.

“No.”

She teared up and tried to punch him in the stomach, but he caught her fist, twisted her arm behind her back, and pushed her on the ground, leaning over her.

“Stay away from me and my friends, you hear me?” He growled into her ear. He glanced at you through his peripheral, making sure you could see his smirk. Almost as if saying ‘wish this was you.’

He let her up and she ran off crying. He sat down like nothing had happened and started eating again. After a second of everyone staring at him, he said, “What? She attacked me.”

They all shrugged and agreed and continued eating until lunch ended.

——

After school, Cartman got the attention of the group before you all split up.

“You guys wanna stay over at my place tonight? My mom’s out, probably fucking some guy, and the house is free. I have Zombie Destroyers 4~” he said, a lilt in his voice on the last word.

“Sounds good.” Kyle said.

“Yeah fine with me.” Stan.

“Mhmhmhh!” Kenny mumbled through his hood, you all took it as an ‘absolutely!’.

“Yeah, I’ll ask my mom.” You said, texting her. You got a quick response, a yes. “Yeah I’m good, let’s go. I have extra clothes with me already.”

“Sweet.” Cartman said, mostly directed at you.

——

After hours of playing Zombie Destroyers 4, watching badly directed pornos, and gorging yourselves on all the snack cakes and cheesy poofs you could fit in your stomachs, you were exhausted. Everyone except you, Cartman, and Kenny were sleeping. Kenny was still up watching some shitty porno on the living room floor and you were sitting next to Cartman above him on the couch.

Cartman had snaked his arm around your shoulders a long time ago and pulled you close into his chest. You could feel his warmth radiating into your body.

Currently the girl on screen was getting nailed by the guy and moaning like a bitch in heat. Cartman started to breathe heavier, you could feel it on the back of your head. You turned up and looked at him.

“You good?” His stone cold gaze twitched down to meet yours, and you could tell something was up.

“Follow me.” He grunted, yanking you from your seat. You looked back at Kenny, who waved and wiggled his fingers, smirking.

Cartman dragged you all the way up to his room where he threw you onto his bed. He leaned over you and pressed all his body weight into you, knocking all of the air out of your lungs.

“Cartman..?” You wheezed. “What’re you doing..?”

“You have NO idea what you do to me.” He groaned, grinding into you. You whimpered and closed your eyes.

“Please don’t hurt me...” you cried softly. He stopped. He lifted himself off of you and backed away, looking almost scared.

“Hurt you? I- I would never- Jesus Christ y/n what makes you think I would ever hurt you?!” He ran his fingers through his hair.

“Because you’re so big... and like...” you mumbled. You saw the thought run through his head but he didn’t dare say it. “You almost broke that girl’s arm earlier..” You crossed your arms over your chest.

He paced the short length of his room. “Yeah, but, I would never do that to you.” He paused. “Y/n, I dragged you up here to rail you.” You clenched your thighs together under his gaze.

“You don’t actually want to do that, do you? I’m not as pretty as those Bullshitters.” You frowned.

“Y/n, it’s literally taking every bit of strength in my body not to hurl myself at you and go fucking haywire right now. I don’t give a shit about those bitches. Please give me your consent or I’m gonna go throw myself into the snow to keep me from going into a frenzy.” He huffed, his voice strained. He wanted you. Bad.

You slowly uncrossed your arms and spread your legs to him. “Ok.” You whispered. As soon as it clicked in his head that you were saying yes he rushed back over to you and gave you the strongest kiss you’ve ever had. He strung his fingers through your hair to pull you impossibly closer.

“Fuck, y/n, I’ve needed this for so long...” he groaned into your open mouth before resuming his barrage of rough kisses. He moved down to your neck and sucked deep hickeys into your skin, not caring how visible they were.

He quickly lifted your shirt over your head and gave you a sharp toothed smirk once he saw you weren’t wearing a bra.

“Doing my job for me, huh?” He purred.

“I was just trying to be comfy...” you shied away from him, covering your chest. He grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head on the bed and snarled in your ear.

“No way, cupcake. If you want out, you gotta say... hmm...” he thought for a second. Then he smiled. “Kenny fucking sucks.” You frowned.

“Whyyy?” You whined. “I don’t wanna say that about him.”

“If you want me to stop, that’s what you’ll have to say.” Then he pinched your nipple, spending a bolt of pleasure down your spine. You squeaked and gave him the stink eye. He grinned.

He made his way down to your navel, giving your s/c skin sloppy wet kisses the entire time. He pulled down your pajama pants and underwear at the same time, not being patient at all.

He lifted your legs over his shoulders and sneered up at you. “You ready?” You looked confused.

He stretched his tongue out to its full extent, showing off the little black piercing on the tip, glinting in the light of the moon shining through his window.

You shivered. You had always heard rumors from his hookups about how that piercing enhanced the feeling while he was eating girls out. You often imagined what it felt like, and now you were about to experience it for yourself.

He stretched your folds open and licked a stripe up the middle, hitting your clit with the piece of metal affixed to his tongue. You jumped at the sensation between your legs.

Then, he held you down by your hips and ate you out like you were his favorite fucking meal. Your body shuddered as you tried to keep your scream inside. He shoved a finger inside you and started to curl it towards him, making it harder for you to be quiet.

He maneuvered that little piece of metal around your clit like it was an 11th finger, at the same time pressing into your g-spot with his middle finger as hard as he could.

You arched your back, whimpering and screwing your eyes shut. It felt like heaven, what he was doing to you, yet you knew this act would be looked down upon there.

You grabbed a chunk of his hair and pushed his face in farther, moaning as he went faster. He dug his free hand deep into your hip, anchoring you to the bed so you couldn’t squirm away. You were gonna end up with some crescent-shaped bruises there in the morning.

He entered another finger and you knew you were reaching your end. You groaned and threw your head back.

“M’ close-“ you grunted, clenching your teeth together. He abused your clit, making it sore and sensitive.

The then somehow hit just the right spot, making you writhe underneath him and put both of your hands on his head as he finished you off.

He kept going through your orgasm, and as you tried to pull away he held you to his face. Your eyes rolled into your head and you saw stars. You finally collapsed into his bed. You couldn’t take any more.

“Kenny fucki- ng sucks-!” You choked out, tears from overstimulation streaking down your face. He pulled away immediately.

“Good job, using the safe phrase. You alright?” He asked, petting your head. You nodded slowly, taking a deep breath to calm down. You felt like you couldn’t move and yet everything inside you was going insane at the same time.

“Cartman, I knew you had a good tongue but I didn’t know you were THAT good! Who knew you cared so much about your partner’s pleasure?” You said, astonished. He scowled at you.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You just kind of have a reputation for being a selfish asshole...?”

He huffed. “I’ll show you selfish.” He stomped over to his bedroom drawer and rummaged around for something.

After finding it, he came back and sat down on the bed. You heard a belt unbuckle and his zipper unzip, and his pants fell to the floor. You lifted yourself on your elbows to see what he was doing.

He had his cock out and was putting a condom on it. It wasn’t that long, maybe around 5.3 inches or so, but it sure was thick. He was gonna fill you up and you didn’t know whether to be scared or excited.

He stood before you and lifted your legs again. He glared sternly down at you.

“Are you ready?” He asked, tapping the inside of your thigh.

“Not really but I doubt you’re gonna let that stop you.” You laid back down, preparing yourself as best you could.

“Damn fucking right.” He rammed himself inside you to punctuate his sentence, making you let out a choked moan. He was just slightly too big for you, stretching you out a little farther than you were used to.

He leaned over you so that his body pressed into you once more but allowing for you to breathe a little better than the first time. You could feel his breaths on your lips as you looked into his eyes. Something felt different this time. More… intimate. You looked down at his lips, back up at his eyes, down at his lips again, and leaned up and closed the gap between you two.

It was a sweet, gentle kiss that you held for a few seconds before he broke it and dropped to your ear. His breaths grew heavy and you could feel his length twitch inside you.

Right. He was still inside you.

He put his lips up close to your ear.

“You are my. fucking. cocksleeve.”

You whimpered, and at that, he fucked into you once more, earning a louder whimper. Again. A louder sound. Again, harder. Again, louder. Cause and effect. He picked up a steady pace, digging his face into your neck and his hands into your hips.

He got harder with every thrust, and it got easier to take his girth, but more difficult to be quiet. You slapped a hand over your mouth to which he immediately grabbed and pinned down by the wrist.

“No. Let them hear. You’re mine now. Let the whole fucking world know, I don’t care. Just make those beautiful fucking noises.” He groaned into your neck, lifting your hips with his remaining hand so he could angle his dick deeper.

“Oh, fuck it!” You exclaimed, finally wrapping your legs around his waist to get as close to him as possible. “Cartman~” you moaned, grabbing on to his hair with your free hand.

His pace slowed and he growled. “Say my name.” You whined from the lack of friction.

“Cartman.” You said again. He groaned.

“No dumbass, my other name.”

You were confused. “The Bull?”

“Eric! My name is fucking Eric!” He snarled, grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head, fucking into you at a manic pace.

You shrieked, your fingers opening and closing, grabbing at nothing. “Eric! Fuck, Eric! Oh fffffuck~” your moans grew louder. Tears started to stream down your face, you were so fucking overstimulated. You were so close, and he was not. Your eyes were cloudy and you couldn’t see anything, but you could tell he leaned closer again. He started to kiss the tears off your cheeks, all while railing you like an animal. It felt so… good.

“Ngh, Eric…” You moaned, clenching your fists. You could feel the knot building up in your stomach. “M’so close- FUCKNH~” you screwed your eyes shut and the tie broke. He fucked you through it, keeping his pace up. His cock stretched your walls deliciously, even as your orgasm threatened to push him out. He shifted a hand back down to your hip and gripped it tightly, holding you in place.

You were so fucking blissed out at this point. Stars danced in your vision, distracting you while Eric used you as his personal fleshlight. He pulled out at one point, flipping you over and pulling you to the edge of the bed.

When he reentered, it brought you back to consciousness a little bit. You turned your head enough so you could see his face, and he made eye contact with you. “M’tired..” you whined, clutching at the bedsheets. He continued to fuck you, but the look he gave you was a gentle one.

“I know. Almost done.” His voice sounded a bit strained, so you believed him. Your thighs were wet with your own arousal, the sounds of skin on skin filled the room for the longest time.

It suddenly felt like he had some kind of energy boost, and he rammed into you as hard as he possibly could. It felt like he was in your stomach, and it was delectable.

He grabbed your shoulders and slammed you onto his cock over and over, making you release guttural moans that were sure to be heard by the others downstairs.

You came once more, electricity shooting across every nerve in your body. Every sense was alight. Your skin felt so cold but so hot at the same time.

His grip on your shoulders loosened.

He leaned over you one last time, encapsulating you in his arms as if he was protecting you. He gave a few more hard thrusts. “Fucking. Mine.” And he stilled. His hot breath felt heavy on the nape of your neck. He didn’t move.

“Yours.” You whispered.

That finally caused him to stir, kissing your neck, down to your back, before unwrapping you from his arms and pulling out. You heard him dispose of the condom before returning and flipping you over. You sat up slightly so you could see him.

He looked so… ethereal. His hair framed his face, two locks coming down in the middle just like you liked it. You guessed you looked worse, and rubbed your eyes with a sore wrist. You laid back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. You were so blissed out you could barely think.

“Fucked ya stupid, didn’t I?”

You didn’t answer.

He sighed and stepped over to get something, before pressing the cloth of your panties to the base of your legs. He helped you into them before sitting you up.

“Arms up.” You complied, lifting your arms over your head. A shirt three times your size was placed onto your figure, and your foggy brain managed to compute that it was his shirt.

He put on his own clothes and tried to help you stand. Your knees wobbled like crazy, but eventually he got you to walk with his aid.

You went back downstairs to, no surprise, Stan, Kyle, and Kenny all awake and staring at you two. Kyle’s mouth was agape as his eyes searched your sex-riddled figure, while Kenny just smirked at Eric. Stan glared at you both.

“Jesus Christ, Cartman, what did you do to them? You guys look terrible.” Stan huffed, punching his pillow a few times and slamming his head back down into it. “We’re having a talk in the morning.” He grumbled.

Kyle just laid back down, unable to take the sight of you like that when it wasn’t done by him. Cartman led you over to the couch, stepping over his body.

“Can I have a turn with them next, Cartman?” Kenny gave you a cheeky grin as you laid on Eric’s muscular but cushioned chest.

“No.” His voice rumbled throughout your body. “They’re mine now. Isn’t that right?” He asked you, rubbing your back. You hummed and nodded your head, too tired to form words.

“Worth a shot.” Kenny shrugged and went to sleep.

“You do want to keep doing that, right?” Eric whispered to you. You nodded again and snuggled deeper into his chest.

“Mine.” You mumbled. He hummed.

“That’s right. Yours.” He petted your hair gently.

“Will you shut the fuck up?” Stan called.

“Shut up asshole, I’m tryna have a moment here!”

“Fuck you, fatass!”

“Fuck you!”

Eric turned over and enveloped you completely into him. You felt so tired, and finally succumbed to the exhaustion.

This was the best sleepover ever.

excuse me for being vile, but.....ehe......<3

(cws: perv!roommates!fruity four, f!angelface, modern au, voyeurism, noncon picture taking/sharing, nc somnophilia, masturbation)

the thought of pervy roommates fruity four having a secret, privated groupchat that you stumble upon when one of them leaves it open on the house laptop--and when you glance at it, you realize it's a chat full of photos and videos that detail every filthy thought they've had and every nasty thing they've done to you.

they've had huge, long conversations just thirsting over you or talking about something you did that they thought was hot, candid pictures they've sent of your ass or your tits in tight, short clothes around the house. Eddie has an ongoing video diary that he sends to them of every time he's jerked off over you while you're sleeping. every time he's cum on your face and wiped it off quick, before he chuckles quietly and slips out of your room. Robin's got videos of her fingers in your mouth as she sleeps in your bed, mindlessly sucking on them as she rubs one out under her panties. Steve apparently likes to cum into your food when he makes it for you, usually sweets or icecream that he brings home now and again, along with the whipped cream-topped drinks he brings you every morning. and the amount of times Nancy has humped your pillow or the clothes you've left out to wear the next day--you swear you see so much photo evidence and so many clips of it that she must be doing it daily. it's disgusting, and you spend hours touching yourself as you read through it all.

honestly, you should be furious, but it's too hot for you to get your fuzzy mind past anything else. they wanna fuck you so bad they're exposing themselves to each other with every gross thing they do, especially when you find the same pair of your panties in Robin's room that she took a video of herself cumming all over, or other hard evidence that proves they're completely genuine about their obsessions--like sticky photos of you tucked into Eddie's lunchbox and lewd love letters to you in Nancy's diary. even Steve, sweet Steve who pretends he's above casual sex or the filth of being a pervert, is recording himself fucking a fleshlight and crying out your name while he begs to cum inside you--at least once a week, no less, based on how many clips he's sent. they're all fucking perverts....and you just have to see where this all goes, if they'll ever end up making a move on the angel they can't help touching themselves over.

.......

I think your stuckage fruity four fic awoke something in me.

please....

WRITE MORE STUCKAGE, THERE'S NO STRANGER THINGS STUCKAGE FIC ON A03 AND IT'S DRIVING ME CRAZY!!!!

Omg ELLIE! You drive me nuts with this stuff!!!!

oho? stuck in a wall? my pleasure >:)

(cws: fruity four, mostly robin and eddie, bi/pan!f!angelface, post-vol 4, stuckage, jealousy, best friends to lovers, seemingly unrequited love, teasing, flirting, mentions of group sex + alcohol, squirting, oral (f/f and f/m), face riding, loud sex, praise + degradation, throat bulges, cum drinking, mentions of anal sex, fingering (a+v), mild spanking, references to virginity loss, references to steve fucking eddie, love confessions, a little angst around hookup culture, fluff and smut.)

This is just ridiculous. Eddie had laughed unbelievably hard when you'd had that initial moment of panic, that tug to try and get out only to be met with unbroken resistance. That alone was enough for you to huff and kick at him, and throw a mediocre punch in the direction of his crotch when he had come around the other side to check your situation there--no attempts to get you out though, just laughter and teasing touches of your hair before he went back around.

You'd just wanted to help him and his roommates with renovations--they wanted to knock down a wall between two bedrooms to make one larger one, for whatever reason, it struck you as a little weird considering there were four people living in one house. And Harrington's house might be big, but not four singles with their own bedrooms big....at least, you don't think so, but what do you know? That one hole just ruined it, though. You'd tried to be funny, ran at it with your hammer outstretched to joust through the first chunk of drywall--and then you went straight through both sides, your lower half still in the room you started in while everything above the waist is hanging out in the next. Fucking dingus.

You were just trying to be funny. Well, no, you were just trying to ease the tension. Eddie's been your best friend since freshman year, you've been through thick and thin together and you swore to always stay friends no matter what. But then all that stuff with earthquake happened last year, and the bounty hunt for his head, and you were suddenly the only person in Hawkins who didn't want him dead--and you were the only one to mourn him when you thought he was, aside from Wayne, of course. Only for him to come back with a new friend group, a new attitude, new scars, and.....you felt left behind, honestly. Hellfire and the band didn't feel the same after that, and when he moved in here with all his new friends, you just felt so abandoned that you did something stupid.

You got really, really drunk one night, called him up, and told him you loved him. Not friend love, either, not something you could brush off--you spilled your guts out to him, told him you always wanted to kiss him and how you dreamed about touring the world with him, how you wanted to marry him, and you think you told him you wanted his babies, but that part is where it gets fuzzy. And he said nothing, the line had been so silent that you mumbled an apology for calling the wrong number and hung up. You knew what you had done in the morning, though, when Eddie was throwing pebbles at your window and trying to get you to talk to him, which you declined, thinking through tears that it was time for you to finally just let him move on like he obviously wanted to. But the week after that--last week, exactly six days ago--you had been invited to this very house for a smoke and a drink, a celebratory one to warm the house even though they moved in like two months ago. And you went, because fuck it, what else did you have to lose?

As a woman scorned with unrequited love and slowly dwindling friendship, you had obviously taken the opportunity to get fucking wasted as soon as you possibly could. The others had followed your lead too, they were surprisingly fun people despite their reputations, so it wasn't long before you were laughing and chattering away like there wasn't a shred of awkwardness between you all--like you didn't hold any resentment towards him or his new friends for taking him away from you. You kinda lost all that when you started drunkenly making out with his friend Robin, so faded from the world that you didn't even register the fact that none of them were jeering or wolf whistling at you kissing another girl. You knew even then that, even though you were in the midst of convincing yourself that this was just spite and you were doing it to piss Eddie off, you really liked it--and that hadn't been a surprise, you knew you liked women and Eddie knew that too.

But it escalated when you started pulling at her clothes, and when you started kissing Steve, and then when you moved on to sit in Nancy's lap--and before you knew it, you were in the middle of the most hazy group sex of your life, nothing but pure ecstasy running through your body the whole night until you passed out. Waking up next to Eddie the next morning had been a moment of temporary bliss, but you remembered it all pretty quick, and grabbed your shit before practically running out of the house and not bothering to ask questions. Though you'd sat in your car for at least ten minutes with your head in your hands, recalling every second of what you had felt.....how Eddie had whispered such sweet things to you as you made love, how his touch had burned wherever he grazed you, how he kissed you like he was just as in love with you as you are with him......but also how his friends had touched you; how sweet they had been, how unusually tender they were with your body, how they stroked your hair and cuddled you after they had finished making you scream each individual name into the ceiling. It wasn't.....normal. It wasn't how you were used to being treated, it wasn't how your average hookups went--where they would fuck you, get their rocks off, and leave you when they finished if they made you finish at all. Or worse, when you'd find a girl you really liked, you'd have sex, and then she'd bounce right back to whatever boyfriend she had lined up so she could say she did it with a chick. Those were the worst.

Being stuck in the wall of the house where you fucked your best friend's friends, though? That's pretty bad, too.

"Goddamn it, Eddie, just break the wall around me! It's not hard, a fucking monkey could do it by now." You hiss, face burning with embarrassment at humiliating yourself for the umpteenth time.

"Nah. Enjoying the view too much, plus, you did this to yourself....hey, are these new?"

You're not too sure what he's referring to--until his fingertips graze your lower back, and he hooks his thumb into the strap of your thong that's peeking out. It's black, and soft....it's what Eddie likes, so it stings even harder when he snaps it back against your skin after pulling it taut.

"Stop fucking teasing me, Eddie. You're being a huge dick."

"And why am I being a dick?" He asks from the other side of the wall. You can huff as much as you like, but you're not getting out of this anytime soon, so you have no choice but to be honest.

"It's a dick move to lead a girl on. Especially when you're just....just dangling it over my head." You sigh in defeat, slumping over the wall and letting your arms hang limply. "And don't ask what. You know what."

"....You mean sex, right? You wanna have sex with me?"

God, you could just groan at his bluntness--not just because he's oblivious, but because it's making you fucking wet as it always does.

"Obviously."

"Eddie! Not fucking now, you idiot! Your roommates-" He spanks you again, rings leaving a pleasurable sting that lasts long after, and makes you bite your lip to keep from squealing and giving him the satisfaction. You just stomp your feet instead, heels raised off the floor that's still covered in a sheet of plastic to catch the debris.

There's a bit of shuffling behind you, an unusual silence from Eddie that you're not used to. You swear you can feel him brush by your ass, but you must be imagining it.....until you're not.

"Oh, that's good news....real good news, sweetheart." He mutters almost too quietly for you to hear, before his hand comes down hard on your ass and you suck in a gasp, arching up immediately with your hands grasping at the wall beneath you.

"My roommates are my partners, and they think you're a fucking sex goddess."

"Shut up--ah! E-Eddie!" You shake your head, hair flicking all about, but it isn't stopping Eddie from reaching around and unzipping your pants for you--and when he gets them down your legs, he moans out loud at the sight that he's rewarded with.

"Fucking Christ....listen, they like you, and I've been in love with you since I was, like, fourteen--shit! S-Since we lost our virginities to each other.." You do remember that time, tenth grade--you were fifteen, but you're not gonna correct him right now--when you were such good friends you made a pact to take each other's virginity. That was when you were such good friends that it felt like nothing else mattered, and now.....now, years later, you're finally turning into something else.

He doesn't even bother playing around with the thin piece of fabric stretched over your cunt, he's too eager to just pull it down your hips with those rough fingers. You can tell he's on his knees by the breath on your thigh, and the almost tender way he spreads you out with his thumbs to look--he obviously didn't get enough out of the last time you hooked up, and it's a good enough thought that you find it in you to chuckle about it. You relax a little bit, finally, and he must be able to see it if his "fuck, baby" is any tell.

"You fuck like a virgin, Eddie." A smirk flickers across your face, confidence filling you back up now that your best friend's attention is on you again. "Desperate and clingy. And...cute. So damn cute."

"I am desperate. Anyone who sees a pussy like this'd get fucking desperate." He presses a gentle kiss to your inner thigh, slowly trailing them up your skin with his hands ghosting over your thighs to hold each one. You only twinge a bit in pain when he bites a mouthful of your flesh, sucking on it til it aches before he lets it go with a pop. He seems to stop there for a while, but he's close, that pretty mouth poised so near to your bare pussy that you have to force down the urge to beg--but just when you seriously consider doing so, Eddie gives you an experimental lick, and you jerk so hard you swear a new crack forms in the wall. Then another, and another.....each one slow, and maddeningly soft, barely testing the waters and just getting a taste, yet it's making you drool and you can't stop yourself from pulsing down there. Eddie noses your clit and pays it a few special kisses, but then he's done and you're muffling your own whines with both hands clamped over your mouth. You know from last week that he's fucking good at eating pussy, and he knows it, which is exactly why he won't let you have it like you did last time. Too fucking cocky for his own good, and it's so goddamn sexy.

"Listen, I...I just gotta let you know," He mutters as he stands and unbuckles his belt, the frantic clicking only mildly distracting you from what he's trying to say. "I didn't pull away for no reason, I--I was trying to protect you, cause I-"

"Oh, Eddie, for god's sake, just fuck me!" You call over your shoulder, frustrated and horny and....fuck it, you're desperate, desperate for your most treasured friend in the world to screw your damn brains out. And he just chuckles, cock finally freed for him to tap it against your asscheek.

"Alright...alright, it can wait. I had a reason, that's all you need to know. Now, no more fucking around. You're mine." As he says it, he angles himself down to massage your lips with the tip, dragging it up and down through your slick before slowly feeding it into you. He's trying to be nice, but you're just too wet, and Eddie hiccups and chokes on his own gasp when your hips move and you swallow him in like you're just desperate for him to get on with it.

"Like that, huh?" He slaps the side of your ass, eyes trained on the way it jiggles around him and ears perked to hear your whining. Eddie doesn't have to try to get deeper, doesn't have to strain to be rougher--he's just perfect as he is, cock curving up to put pressure on that weak spot that's making you shake. "Better than fucking some jock, right?"

It is. Eddie's better than any guy you've ever hooked up with; more attentive, more creative, more....sizeable. You might have had bigger on some occasions but never so skilled to match, never someone who you'd be begging to move inside you like you are right now. And because Eddie's a nice, attentive, reliable guy, he obeys that plea--and he doesn't start slow, he rears back and fucking plows you like he's trying to push you right through the wall, and he might. His hips bash yours so hard on the down thrust you can feel parts of the broken plaster crumbling around you, but it doesn't make it any looser for you to wiggle through, and thank god it doesn't. This is what you wanted, and you have no shame in screaming that for the world to hear, for everyone to know that you're taking Eddie Munson's dick and you love it more than life itself.

"I love how fucking loud you are. Make the neighbors jealous, honey." You can feel that smug grin from across the wall, one hand possessively squeezing your ass while the other's hooked around your bent waist to keep you steady against him. The constant thwap thwap thwap of his hips meeting your ass and his balls kissing your underside is so echoey, you aren't even paying attention to the door opening on your side and don't notice the person standing there until she sucks in a gasp.

Your head swiveling to look, you lock eyes with Robin--that adorable girl that made love like summer rain--and see that she's empty-handed, hand hovering over her mouth while her face explodes into a rosy-red blush. Curious, you think, and your ditzy smile gives her an idea of exactly what kind of mood you're in as you beckon her over, to which she complies quite hastily. You raise two fingers to your mouth and spread them in a 'v', the gesture earning you a pair of lust-blown eyes and a soft smile crossing her features as she moves to unbutton her pants in front of you, obviously having missed your touch from last week. As she should, you liked her so much from the first meeting that you'd been determined to make her see stars when you were done.

"That all you got, big boy? Or are you just a huge dick and nothing else?" You call over your shoulder, shooting her a wink while you reach your hands up to help her out of those bothersome clothes. The confidence is staggering you a little bit, the feeling of Eddie stirring up your guts a familiar one, and it's homey, almost--but it kicks up when you feel him stroke a place you weren't sure he'd be into touching, at least not before that last encounter when you'd woken up in his bed the morning after.

"Eddie! Eddie, fuck, that--f-fuck, that's sensitive-!" He spits on your asshole and rubs it in with his thumb, pressing it in just hard enough until it pops right in and sends your eyes rolling to the back of your head--right when Robin's got her panties down too, and you grab her by the hips to move her towards you, tongue stuck out to meet her clit in a near-feral swirl. Robin's knees buckle almost instantly, and she has to brace her hands on your head out of instinct just to keep herself upright, although it also means she accidentally shoves you down to lick her up even deeper.

"Yeah? Still sensitive after Harrington fucked it raw? Kept touchin' yourself when you watched him fuck me, ass already full of his cum....you know how fucking dirty you get when you're sloshed?" You remember that too, now--shamelessly palming your tits as Nancy nursed on your clit, your eyes zeroed in on Steve driving his cock in and out of your best friend for you to enjoy. He'd been too happy to do the same to you, and fill your head with dirty admissions of what he'd do to you if he had all the time in the world, but it was a different experience to watch him bend Eddie over and take him from behind. You felt filthy for watching it all the way through, and even filthier for letting Eddie eat Steve's cum out of you with Nancy when he was done.

You break off for a moment from your partner's body, breaths heaving. "You like it." Before diving right back in, moaning into a mouthful of Robin's pussy.

"I love it," His incessant bucking grows harder, the hand once being used to steady you now occupied with stroking your clit in messy circles. "Love watching you get all stupid and slutty when you've got a drink in you....you and Buckley were so cute..." Eddie moans, and you hum into Robin's clit in a knowing way that has her fingering her way through your hair, clearly trying to be gentle but so lost in pleasure that she's keeping your head static between her legs. Huffing soft breaths and whimpers that Eddie wouldn't be able to hear, grinding forward against the flat of your tongue to get that coveted ecstasy lapped into her clit.

"Always fucking wished I was one of those guys, knockin' on your trailer after dark....came in so many damn socks listening to you get fucked..." That's a new one, you've never heard about that. But it makes sense, now--the way he always seemed to avert his gaze the morning after one of your hookups, when you'd waltz into his trailer to have breakfast together with a pleasant glow and a satisfied smile. Thinking about Eddie rubbing himself raw with the window open as he listened to you getting your guts pumped....oh, if your face wasn't buried in between Robin's legs, you'd have the biggest smirk right then and there.

"An' now you're balls deep," You pant, pulling off of her one more time just to get an adorable whine out of her. "Made me so wet when you got that pout on your face, when you were jealous."

That almost immediately earns you a smack, not on the ass, but on the clit--and the aching, burning sting makes your pussy clamp down on him in a vice grip, your hair sticking to your face with a fresh wave of sweat as he keeps brutalizing your most sensitive spot with the palm of his hand....and it's so fucking good you could just melt right there.

"Yeah? Hear how wet you are now, angelface? Soaking wet for the freak?" He's right--for once, you can hear the sloshing and shucking of your own cunt gushing for him, your body responding to his treatment with no aid from your own hand or an active imagination. With your thumbs spreading Robin's sticky cunt apart, you look up to watch her whimper into her hand as the cool air hits her sensitive areas, before choking on her own moan as you shove your face back between her legs with your tongue outstretched. Your hands come up to grab at her ass, poor cheeks dug into with little crescent-shaped nail marks as you trap her against your lips to suck her clit into your mouth, her hips jostling you as she chases the pleasure with both hands firmly grasping the back of your head.

"Drenching my fucking balls, lucky there's plastic down....you gonna squirt for me again, huh?" He spanks you again, and maybe he can hear how muffled your squeals are from having a mouthful of his girlfriend-roommate's pussy, but you don't fucking care. Even less so when Eddie makes a noisy show of sucking his middle finger into his mouth, before he presses it right up against that empty hole he was teasing and working it all the way inside, his spit making short work of any resistance your body might have had. Your hips jerk at the filthiness of it, as well as the ache he stirs back up that you remember from the last time--god, you swear you can still feel his roommate's monster of a cock splitting your asshole open, and when Eddie spits again to lube you up more, you're left completely at the mercy of his assault on all three sides as you feel that familiar rush of heat churn in the very deepest pit of your stomach. "Make a fucking mess for me, sweetheart. Then I'll come around and let you lick my balls clean." He moans, and with his cock bruising your inner walls as they cling to him on every thrust, and Robin riding your face to kingdom come as her cunt starts spasming with an orgasm she can't hold back, you just let go completely and mumble out a myriad of frantic cries as your brain muddles into a whited-out void of pleasure--and as you do, Eddie's finger hooks inside your ass to bring you all the way down to the base as you feel that release of fluid burst out and spray indiscriminately all over his lap.

"Shit! Damn, fuckin' gushing for me, you're so fucking gorgeous--ohh, that's a big one, isn't it angel?" His tone has a twinge of mockery to it, shakily pulling out but keeping both hands where they still work, so he can no doubt stand back and watch your pussy continue to weep and gush out that clear fluid all over the plastic-protected floor. His other hand moves clear to see the stream properly but he keeps it on your clit, arm curved around the underside of your belly to keep rubbing more out of you even when there's black edges to your vision and you can't even keep up with Robin's orgasm--you just let her yank your head by the hair and hump your face, unable to keep down her gasps as she spasms and clenches around nothing but rides out that endless pleasure on your flexing tongue.

When she finally manages to stumble back, and breaks that constant assault on her nethers that she definitely thought might melt her brain to mush, you're left panting and starry-eyed with a sticky face, your hair matted down with sweat and slick as you try to let yourself come back down to earth. Your ears barely register Eddie coming around to the other room, but when he appears there in all his half-naked glory, all three sets of eyes widen when he gets a look at the sight waiting for him.

"Buckley?"

Meek and shy now that she's not having her pussy eaten, she just waves, still breathing heavy and hunched over to brace her hands on her knees. But annoyance is not the emotion etched into his face, especially not when he clicks his tongue and moves over to where you're still stuck, a hand soon fisting itself in your hair to yank your sagging head up and get a look at the state of you.

"Ohh, I see....angel here was helping herself, huh? Eating up like a fucking dog?" Robin nods, letting out a soft laugh like she can't actually believe she just did what she did. Maybe it's remorseful, and that stings a little bit....but the feeling isn't dwelled on too long, when Eddie guides his achingly stiff, dripping wet cock towards your mouth, and smirks from above you as he taps it against your lower lip. "There's your bone, pup."

In one long stroke, he splits your lips apart and tests the boundaries of your throat as he squeezes himself all the way to the back of it, the instinctual clench down around him giving him the go-ahead to start moving. He's slow at first, attentive, wanting to warm you up, but you're not that inexperienced and you show him exactly how ready you are by sucking him off so hard he flinches, and snaps his hips forward so suddenly he breaches an even deeper spot that he didn't even think was possible. Eddie keeps thrusting harder, chasing his own pleasure with only a casual interest in your comfort--it's exactly how you like it, head pinned to his hips and throat bulging like you're in Alien.

But then, like a fairy breezing by your skin in the middle of a quiet wood, Robin's fingers brush a few errant strands of hair from your face, and she kneels by the wall you're still a prisoner of to start kissing up and down your jaw to the shell of your ear. Whispering sweet words that drown out the shucking of Eddie resizing your throat to fit his girth, showering you with much-deserved praise that has you spilling and leaking down your legs all over again, like you didn't just squirt so hard you probably soaked the whole floor of the other room.

"Look at you, pretty girl, taking Eddie so well." She croons, grazing her touches over the bulge of your throat as it sinks and stretches, inadvertently causing Eddie to groan as he's stroked off in an even more intense way. "I've never cum that hard in my life, all thanks to this gorgeous mouth. You make love like an angel, baby."

Her voice feels so smooth in your ear, presses down any of those ugly thoughts you might have been keeping in, and makes your mind go so fuzzy again that it doesn't even hurt--the ache in your jaw just kind of simmers down, and the serene relaxation you feel opens up an even deeper path for Eddie to blaze down that has him humping your mouth more erratically than ever, crying out that he's gonna cum, he's gonna cum for you, fuck, he's cumming baby he can't hold back-

"Th-That's it--take it all, swallow, don't think too much about it....just drink it, kay? S'good for you." He moans down at you as he slows to a crawling stop, hips jolting once or twice with an especially good shot of cum, but otherwise he spills into your throat at a feverish pace that matches how good he fucked you from behind. Robin sucks a bruise into your neck, shaking from reciting those dirty words she had memorized to say to you, and gingerly strokes that poor skin of yours to ease the flow of Eddie's cum down into your belly. Warm. Everything's so warm, and while you feel an overwhelming urge to pass out as soon as Eddie unhinges himself from your mouth, a smack of your lips together reignites that bitter taste of cum that instantly has you alert and squirming again for more affection. You don't want it to end yet--please, don't end too soon again.

"Forget the big bedroom--we should leave the glory hole, make it a permanent fixture." He smirks, and squats down to look you in those glazed, hazy eyes. He can see it, see that neediness in you again, made only stronger with Robin sweetly stroking your hair as she fixes her clothes back to normal. The thud of a car door slamming shut has his head swiveling to glance over his shoulder towards the window, curls bouncing back and forth again when he turns his attention back to you. "Now, I need a piss, and a smoke. You wanna come out, or you wanna wait for the others to find you? I heard their car pull up just now."

Now you can hear the distant sounds of the front door opening and closing, shoes being kicked off, Nancy's voice reminding Steve to leave his dirty sneakers on the mat. The heat stirs up again as you remember the last time you saw them....

"Steve's gonna want to have a turn, so's Nancy. Think you can handle all that?" Though you've gotten your release and gotten it good, it still feels like there's something churning up inside you, like there's a pressure in your groin that you need to relieve and it's burning the longer you go without stimulation. You want it bad, so bad, and a whine has Eddie getting to his feet with his hands braced on his knees for balance. "Ah, forgot. Can't relax unless you cum hard enough to pass out, can you?"

You hum in agreement and it induces a chuckle out of your best friend, who while rosy-cheeked and has a look of satisfaction about his glowing skin, seems like he doesn't yet want to leave you even though he needs a bit of time to cool off. "Alright, I'll be back. I love you." He ruffles your hair and kisses the top of your head, before readjusting himself and heading out the door as Robin finally gets back up herself. Even the thought of being alone right now has you wriggling where you're still stuck, but the thumping footsteps climbing the staircase draw that desire back up into your throat.

"Sweet. I, uh....I love you, baby. See you soon."

"You need anything, sweetness?" You shake your head, looking up at Robin with pure, glimmery eyes that don't betray how eager you are to get used as a cumdump for the second time. "Okay. I promise Nancy and Steve'll get you out when you're done, so don't worry. Come sleep in my bed after, okay?"

She's so nice. So sweet. She's your partner now, huh? That's what Eddie said he wanted, and what they wanted, and he wasn't all that clear about it but Eddie's never really that transparent when it comes to his feelings....at least when they're about you. Or maybe you're just not used to his directness being so honest and from the heart, so you don't know whether to take it all as truth or not. But Robin really looks like she's feeling the same as she fixes herself up, nervously fluffs her hair before she fidgets with her belt and swings around to head towards the door. Maybe you could get her to stay....but Steve and Nancy are almost here, and you can bet she needs a little break after you blew her mind. Heh. You really did, didn't you? You really made her feel so good she wants to stay, and that's just....well, it's a first. A really, really, really nice first.

Okay but miscommunication trope is only super yummy when there’s a happy ending. Liiiike reader thinking they’re getting kicked out of their relationship in the fruity four, they’re not wanted anymore, maybe even bring replaced (ie with someone like Chrissy), and so every little sarcastic quip or ignoring is seen by them as the others not loving them anymore 🥺. Until one day it all comes crumbling down and I can’t decide with is more angsty, you breaking down telling the others they don’t love you anymore, or you trying to be brave by announcing you’re leaving and the fours hearts just dropping as they try to scramble to convince you to stay and why?! Why are you leaving!?!?! Please! But of course, happy ending when everything’s properly explained and angel is reassured they could never all fall out of love with them ❤️

oh.......miscommunication trope, you say? >:)

(cws: fruity four, gn!angelface, jealousy, post-s4, PTSD, huge miscommunication trope, domestic arguing, you have a tattoo + kinda shitty parents + bad home life, chrissy's a jealousy target, breakups, jopper appearance, you're childhood friends with jonathan, mentions of grief, an almost car crash, very mild head trauma, crying, angst with a happy ending--stick with me angels!)

Sometimes you wish Chrissy would just disappear. Just--poof--and she'd be gone.

It's awful of you to think, but you can't help it. She's just always around, ever since her breakup with Jason she's been by the house much more frequently. You were happy for her at first, because you liked her up until then, and she's always been nice to you. Plus, your partners saved her life back when all that crazy stuff with the Upside Down happened, an event you weren't privy to until after the fact, when you started dating them.

But she's always on Eddie, always chatting him up, always giggling at his attempts to cheer her up, and now she's attracted the attention of your other partners too. They're good friends, and that's good, but....why can you not shake this feeling that there's something more going on? That the arm touches over his jacket and the inside jokes aren't as friendly and harmless as they want you to think?

It's worse than that, though. The honeymoon phase is clearly over--cause all four of them just brush off your concerns, insisting that you're overreacting or just not addressing them at all. So you haven't been piping up when a joke hurts your feelings, and you've bitten your tongue when one of them has to reschedule something you've planned, and it's gotten to the point that they've wondered why you're so quiet all of a sudden. Why would they care? You think with a sour feeling in the back of your throat, rubbing the tattoo on your arm that Eddie gave you and wondering if that was just practice for someone else. You're not oblivious to the way Chrissy is slowly being invited into gatherings and dinners with everyone.....just like you were in the beginning. And after an especially heated fight with both Eddie and Robin, the worst one you've ever gotten into in your entire relationship, he got so pissed off that he just told you not to come to the dinner they had planned, and they'd take someone who actually wanted to go.

That was a couple days ago, and the air in the house has been strained for nobody else but you. You're equally as hurt by Eddie yelling at you as Robin silently going along with it, even though you slammed your bedroom door in her face when she tried to follow you, and waited until Eddie tugged her along to leave before you allowed yourself to cry. You're sick of the feeling that none of them really care for you, that you've been demoted to a piece of furniture in the house, because they've clearly lost interest. And they don't care when your things start disappearing from the house, when the clothes in your closet start dwindling, leaving behind nothing but the ones they've bought for you--no, they'd rather moon over Chrissy fucking Cunningham, and you've just taken all you think your heart can handle.

"I'm going out!" You call into the house from the front door, without any of their four voices responding. When you sigh, turn, and step out to turn the corner of the house, though, you bump right into one of them.

"Oh! Hey, baby." Steve steps back and readjusts the paper bag full of groceries he's got his arm around, keys halfway tucked into his pocket. "Where you off to?"

"Um....just, uh, gonna go visit my parents." You weren't really expecting him to pry, with how in your head you've been lately. But you're not gonna relent just cause one of the people who promised he'd love you forever, yet somehow can't be fucked enough to find the time to even watch a movie with you, asked you a question that remotely shows an ounce of concern.

"Your parents?" He blinks, shifting again to rest the bag on his hip. "You sure?"

That tone is so irritating. You used to love that almost parental sense of duty, the desire of his to know every detail of every problem so he can solve it. But now, you just feel suffocated, even though you're more distant from all of them now than you've ever been. "What, I'm not allowed to see my family?"

"Hey, that's not what I said! hold on," He moves to put the groceries inside, but you wave him off and start walking past him, your tone clearly frustrated as you encourage him to just forget it. But, in a tizzy, Steve hurriedly sets the bag down on the ground and runs to catch up with you, his hand descending on your arm only to be swatted away--but not for long, when he grabs it again and grips it tighter as he turns you to face him. "Jesus, wait! What's the big fuss? Did I do something?"

"Let me go, Steve." You refuse to look him in the eyes, but you can't break his grip. Why can't he just let it go, so it's less painful? "I don't wanna drag this out."

"Drag what out?" Finally, it dawns on him as his eyes dart from the keys clenched in your hand to the windows of your car parked in the driveway, boxes clearly piled up in the trunk and in the backseat that none of them seemed to notice you moving.

".....So that's it? You're breaking up with us?" Steve says it with disbelief, like he's expecting you to say something or anything different. It's almost a little satisfying when you respond in the way he never could have expected, even though he should've by now. Even though it feels bitter on your tongue as soon as it comes up.

"You know what? Yes. That's exactly it." You finally wrench your arm out of his grip, and each of those words sting as they come out, but you won't cry, you refuse to cry in front of Steve today. "I'm leaving tonight, and I'm never coming back to Hawkins again."

"Why?"

"Ask your new girlfriend."

"Who? Wait--Chrissy?" He shakes his head, and what comes out next is more cruel than you wanted to be--but he just won't get it, it won't happen unless you make them realize why they don't want you anymore.

"Wow, the jock has a brain! Well done, Stevie." He grimaces at once, and god, you wish it would all stuff itself back into your throat.

"What the hell is wrong with you? Why are you being such a-"

"I know you're in love with her, Steve! For fuck's sakes, I'm not as stupid as you think I am!" You shout into the broken silence of the front lawn, wishing from the deepest reaches of your heart that this could all just be a horrible nightmare. Not reality. You don't want to be facing those big, soft eyes of Steve staring back at you in shock and pain, so you just turn your head and hope he doesn't see how much you're shaking.

"I get it, okay?! She's prettier than me, and nicer, and she doesn't have my fucking issues--and you guys clearly like her. It's like I don't even exist when she's around." You move aside to gesture towards your car, keys clutched in your hand so they won't fall or get taken from you, because you know Steve is reckless when he's upset. "None of you even noticed I was packing. Nancy fucking helped me put a box in yesterday."

Just then, both your heads turn at the sound of a car approaching--and just in time, you realize it's Eddie, his van's tires crunching the gravel of the long driveway as he pulls up to a stop beside your car. And lo and behold, sitting in the front seat with a smile on her face is her. Chrissy waves to you through the window, and as if your heart isn't in the process of shattering into shards that dig into your lungs, you raise your hand to acknowledge her back. You turn back to look at Steve one last time. Memorizing his face, because you know you won't ever see him again, as you take a few steps backward and hand him your parting words.

"Don't break her heart, Steve. It sucks."

With that, and with nothing but confliction reflecting back at you on his face, you turn on your heels and make your way around your car, bidding Eddie and Chrissy a stiff goodbye as they get out of the van and you get into your car. You reverse, roll back out of the driveway, and shift gears to start puttering down the road. And as soon as the house is out of your rearview mirror, that's when you feel those tears spilling out that won't stop until well after you pass the Leaving Hawkins sign on the side of the road.

A week into your new start in the city, you haven't gotten any more closure than when you left.

Living with your aunt isn't great, but it's something. The apartment is small, and you still haven't found a new job--you did call the Palace to inform them that you were quitting, though, to which you were greeted with nothing but indifference as you left a message on the answering machine. Figures that nobody in that town would miss me, you think, but you can't dwell on it for too long, because then you'll start thinking of them and it'll have you sobbing into your pillow again. Even worse is that you can't even fully express your pain to your family, your aunt, anybody--because they'll all think you're a freak, and it won't be surprising that your "relationship" ended so badly. You don't even really speak to your parents or your family in the first place, so you can't expect them to show you any sympathy. In fact, if they said anything to you, it would probably be that you should be glad it's over so you can live a normal life.

You don't want normal. You want your Robin talking your ear off about something gross for hours, you want Eddie burping into your ear and laughing, you want Nancy falling asleep on top of you and drooling on your chest, and Steve--you want Steve to come over while you're both on your breaks, talking with his mouth full and stealing bits of your lunch while kissing you in between each bite. You want that love back, you want it so badly it hurts, it hurts your heart every time something reminds you of them.

Maybe that's the worst part. That they don't want that anymore, they want someone that can share those memories with of that terrible tragedy, who knows how they feel and relates to those nightmares that wake them up in a cold sweat, who they can compare scars with and laugh with now that it's all over. They want someone scarred but beautiful, someone perfect, and you can never be that way no matter how hard you try. It explains why you haven't gotten a single phone call, or a letter, or anything since you left, and that treatment extends into your second week in Indy and right into the third. But it doesn't get any less painful, even when you get a job at a convenience store around the corner to busy yourself and help with the rent. Nor when you try going on a date or two, just to spend the whole dinner staring off into space as they talk and wondering what the people you loved are doing right now.

While you're behind the counter at work, your thoughts often drift back to that house by Maple Drive. The path around the back that leads into the woods, where Eddie would take you out for a smoke and to watch the stars for awhile--always with a walkie on hand, just in case, as Steve used to say. The pool that often sits empty, and sometimes you'd look out the window to see Nancy lifting up the cover on it to peek underneath, before breathing a visible sigh of relief and briskly walking away. Sometimes even in the middle of the night, creeping out the sliding glass door in her pajamas. And you remember that bed you often shared with Robin, who gets so clingy when she sleeps....and you wonder if she's sharing it with Chrissy now, if the cheerleader you always thought was such a nice girl is occupying the spot you thought would be yours forever.

Your brow furrows as you stock Camels on the shelf behind the counter, sliding each one into the perfect spot but feeling an itch of irritation when they don't line up. Is Eddie holding her right now? Is he coming up behind her every morning, and nuzzling his nose into her cheek as she stirs milk into her coffee? Is Nancy cuddling her and chatting her up about whatever project she has going on right now? Is Steve picking up her bag, and insisting she let her boyfriend hold the heavy stuff while she sits and looks pretty? They probably are. And they're probably much happier doing it with her, than they ever were with you.

Something thuds on the counter behind you, and you sigh without a sound as the gruff voice at your back asks for a pack while you're at it. Your fist squeezes around the box you've got in hand, and when you turn on your heels to toss it on to the tabletop and reach for the scanner, your eyes widen, and so do the ones on the moustached man that's towering in front of you with a petite woman at his side.

"Hop?"

You breathe out the name, trying to regain yourself as quick as you can--you're pretty used to keeping your tears back now, adjusted to having a straight face so nobody will pry or prod for your feelings. The former sheriff of your hometown that you used to duck out of sight from, laughing and hiding your goods with Eddie right behind you, is standing at your counter with a shocked expression, along with Joyce Byers who seems just as surprised to see you here. And with little else you can think of, you clear your throat and try to crack that tense silence.

"Uh...so, you two on vacation, or someth-"

"Are you fucking with me?"

Hopper cuts you off, hands bracing the edge of the counter as he looks you up and down, the two glass bottles of Coke getting shoved aside by him to fall over and roll across the counter as he reaches across the barrier to grab your arm. Without much struggle, because you have no clue what's going on, you allow the older man to yank your wrist up and turn it over, Joyce hurriedly pushing up your sleeve with her gaze pinned to your skin, like she's desperately searching for something that has nothing to do with your confused questions spilling out on top of each other.

When they've finally uncovered that patch of skin they were looking for, the two of them share a look between themselves, before finally looking back up to acknowledge how baffled and worried you are. It isn't until you scan down to see what they found that the pieces start coming together, the black ink of the tattoo Eddie gave you when you first started dating peeking out at you. It's just a thin, mid-sized black circle on your inner forearm, with five points reaching outward like a sun. But the detail of it has always enchanted you, Eddie's diligent stare as he inked it into your skin burned into your mind. You've considered getting it covered since then, but....you can't bring yourself to do it yet.

"I'll call it in," Hopper says cryptically, stepping back and turning away to bring out the walkie from his belt and start mumbling into it. In the meanwhile, you're left with his partner, and the lady you've practically grown up with since she babysat you a long time ago. You often forget that time, when you and Jonathan would run around her backyard with sticks and rocks to try and build your own castle, while his baby brother watched from the stairs and giggled at your antics. You were so young, and so carefree, it seemed....but it was a happy time, one of few before you met those four.

"Honey, you're alright?" Joyce's voice quivers, anxious for the answer, but you nod as soon as her question registers because you hate to see her like this.

"Ye...Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" She circles round the counter, coming right in for a hug that you return without question. The squeeze is tight, like a mother's embrace upon returning home from a long time away, and you instantly feel a pinch of guilt for neglecting to include her in your plan to leave Hawkins. Now that you think about it, you really didn't tell anyone, except....

"-Kid, relax, we're coming there. No, do not get in your car, sit your ass down so you're there when we get back! Jesus," Hop gets more animated as he talks over the channel, and your hug splits as your head swivels towards the sound of a familiar voice through the static. Steve.

"Are they there? Let me talk to them! Please, Hopper, let me hear their voice-"

It's so frantic, desperate. The first time you've heard one of their voices in what feels like your whole life, and you have to struggle not to cave, bringing a shaky hand up over your mouth as you whisper a "What's going on?" to Joyce. And with your ears perked up, you can distinguish the background noise in the transmission--there are three other distinct voices, talking just as fearfully amongst themselves as they also try to get through to Hop. Nancy, Eddie, and Robin, each with as much indignation as Steve, who must be holding the other walkie.

"We're coming down right now, kid. Just try to calm down in the meantime." With that, Hopper shuts the antenna and gestures for you to follow him, the sweet woman at your side holding your arm as you obey him, like she's afraid you'll vanish if she lets go. You're led out of the light of the fluorescent bulbs overhead to Hop's truck parked by the curb--you at least have the sense to fumble with your keys and lock the front door before you leave--you let him open the door and sit yourself in the backseat, and shakily buckle yourself in as they get in front with promises to explain everything. Still struck dumb with shock to the point that it hasn't really registered that you just left work in the middle of your shift.

But you get an idea of what's happening when you turn your head, and catch a glimpse of a scattered stack of papers on the seat beside you out of your peripheral. Tentatively, as Hop starts up the ignition, your fingers brush over one of the nearest pages--and when you lift it up to survey it closer, the two of them notice you and share another sobering look between them. What's staring back at you is undeniably, unmistakably, a missing person's ad. And the picture is one you recognize immediately, because it's yours. Your photo, details of your last sighting, a description of your tattoo, a list of things for people to look out for....

"You really worried everyone back home, kid."

Suddenly, a bitterness rises up inside you, and the paper crumples slightly as you realize what's really happening. "I'm fine. I just...decided to get out of Hawkins."

"Yeah, well, maybe tell your roommates that, first."

"Hop-"

"They didn't care! I told Steve anyways, so what's the big fucking deal?" Even though Joyce flinches at you raising your voice, you can't be quiet right now. Anger is something you've been almost too numb to endure these last few weeks, but now you could just put your fist straight through Hopper's window--they put up such a fuss for what? To drag you back to that shitty inbred town in the sticks, just to make sure they didn't want you in the first place? It's bullshit.

"They sure as shit care!" Hop shouts right back, casting his signature scowl over his shoulder as he drives through semi-empty streets. It's so late, and so dark, it's unlikely there'll even be many pedestrians. "Do you realize how many times Nancy Wheeler has shown up on my doorstep, begging me to go on another search and rescue for you?! They're worried sick!"

"Why?"

There's silence for awhile, very tense silence, before you repeat your question that says much more than just that one word.

"....Because they thought you were gone. They thought you were there."

There. That's what he means--the other world, the Upside Down. The place you've never seen, only heard horror stories about and snatches of descriptions of when you comforted one of them during a night terror. The missing people, the murders, the experiments....they're all so hard to believe, but then again, you can't deny Will's remarkable return from the dead or Barbara Holland's coverup death, both of which you've been close enough to to know that there's no way they're just elaborate lies.

So they were worried you had died. That your disappearance wasn't of your own volition. They're going to be in for an unfortunate surprise, but by the tightly shut locks on Hopper's truck doors, you know there's no getting out of this until he brings you right back to drop you in their laps.

"We came here to look for you. Your mom finally told us you had an aunt in the city." Joyce offers you another piece to the puzzle, but your mind is still stuck on the fact that your ex-partners seemed so desperate over the walkie. They....they wouldn't want you to die, but that doesn't mean they want you. Figures that your parents would make it more difficult for two of the only people that even remotely have any concern for you too, they're probably profiting off all that glorious attention of having a missing child.

"I have a life here, now. I don't want to go back." Lies. You know it's all lies.

"Listen, kid, whatever happened with your friends, I promise it's not worth throwing in the towel. You've gotta see things through." Clearly it's not worth an argument, you'd rather save your energy at this point. You're gonna need plenty to face that hard conversation you know is coming, when you're gonna have to confirm to them directly that you're moving on. No more running away, or hiding from the problem. You have to face it.

"You don't know anything about me, or them."

The already long drive drags on even longer in the silence that follows, and you make a mental note to call your aunt when they get you back to Hawkins, so she doesn't freak out when she comes home to an empty apartment. You can imagine your manager's gonna call and cuss you out before firing you for leaving the store unattended, too, and you groan and let your head hit the seat behind you. Now you're gonna have to find another job, gonna have to explain to your aunt what you did....or maybe she won't even notice your absence, not until someone makes a fuss about it.

Your mind is left racing with so many thoughts and worries that the scenery passes by without note, the moon barely shining any light on the landscape, like it's all one huge plain with little dots for buildings and trees. Like one big hellscape, but it's numb and frozen over with nothing left but a mocking echo of the world that's no longer here. You don't even really recognize your surroundings until a couple hours have passed, and the Welcome To Hawkins sign zips by and has you sitting up in your seat. Just as you pass it, though, you think you see the glimmer of another set of headlights, a rarity on these quiet streets--and then your whole world shifts violently.

"Shit!" Hop curses as he swerves suddenly, and Joyce shrieks as you all nearly careen off the road and into the ditch, your head cracking against the window and bouncing off for you to clutch at it in pain. A groan is all you can get out when he calls back to you, the dizzy feeling making you a little sick, but as you lift your head and the truck rolls to a stop, you spot the culprit of that downright suicidal speed driving that nearly caused a head-on collision.

Your heart is pierced with a deep chill immediately. You'd recognize that van anywhere, and that curly mane of hair as the driver stumbles out his door even moreso. He's not hurt, just dazed--and for the moment, your brain doesn't immediately go to the question of why you should even care. As he stands there in the road, in the dark, Eddie's form is lit up by the headlights still shining without a flicker, but he doesn't flinch even when it must be glaring directly into his eyes, just holds a hand up to block it out. And when they meet yours as you lean over the console to see him, he doesn't wait a second, hurrying around the passenger's side of the truck to fumble for the handle of your door. With a click, and the light above you switching on as a beeping starts to emit from the vehicle, Eddie's suddenly cramming himself into the backseat with you--and there's tears already wetting his cheeks as he grabs you in a hug, gasping in a shaky lungful of breath like he's shocked he's really touching you. Crying and mumbling into your hair, Eddie buckles when you squeeze him back, falling victim to that desire in the deepest part of your soul that just wanted to hold him again.

"I didn't mean it, I didn't mean it baby, I didn't--everything I said, I swear, I was being such a fucking moron-" He starts babbling from nowhere, and his voice itself is a comfort, having not heard it next to your ear for so long that it aches now.

"Eddie-"

"You're mine, okay?! You're my everything!" He cries, burying his face even deeper into your neck and inhaling whatever scent he can get. You're stunned into staying limp, letting his hands grab and squeeze at you wherever they land--his curly hair tickles your cheek and sticks to it, and that sensation alone drags tears up to the surface, only allowing them to spill when you hear him whispering those croaked pleas of "I love you, I love you, I love you" until you're crying right along with him. It's been so long since you heard it, you'd started believing it was never really true.

It takes minutes that feel like hours for you to both calm down enough to look at each other, your face cradled in Eddie's rough hands as he sniffles and murmurs a "You're so beautiful" so innocently sincere, that it instantly makes you wish you had never left. He smiles, and the world that seems so dark grows a little brighter around you. You're not even privy to the looks Joyce and Hopper are giving each other in the front seat, clearly a little surprised at the passion you two share that nobody else has ever seen. But they know. And when Eddie starts pulling you out of your seat with the promise to take you back, Hop only reminds him to drive safely before he allows you two to shut the truck's door and circle round the vehicle with Eddie's arm clinging to your waist. The air hits you, cool and dry, just like it always is in Hawkins. And when he opens your door for you and waits for you to clamber in, before getting in on the other side and fumbling contently with his keys, you're not sure you really know what to expect. He briefly elaborates that he'd gotten worried, and that he's just glad he spotted Hop's truck before he'd sped all the way out of Hawkins and missed you--but it doesn't last, because soon he's grabbing your thigh and sighing out a breath of relief.

"We'll talk about everything when we get home. For now, I just want to hold you." Eddie offers his hand to you, giving it a grateful squeeze when you slip yours into it and interlace your fingers together.

They'll all hate me for real, this time.

That's exactly how the drive goes, Eddie's shoulders relaxed even as he steers with one hand, and navigates while stealing glances over at you with relief written all over his face, and brings your hands up to kiss your knuckles every so often. But he's just one. The other three....your heart sinks as you run over that last conversation you had with Steve, the way you'd ignored Robin completely, and how you pretended everything was absolutely fine with Nancy up until the moment you left. And it somehow dawns on you only then--they thought you were gone, that you had been taken to the Upside Down, and your heart sinks as you watch the trees pass by in clusters while that dread creeps closer down the road that's so familiar.

Not even the comforting warmth of Eddie's hand could drive that thought out of your mind, even less so when he turns and you hit that patch of gravel that leads up the driveway. He'll stop soon, and you'll be facing the music....and when Eddie shifts into park, you sort of float from your seat to the walkway where you threw your feelings back into Steve's face, and up towards the front door that Eddie opens for you before you cross the threshold into the house. It does feel like home, and you don't want to lose it right on the welcome mat, so you blink away any tears that threaten to spill before you quietly follow him into the living room.

Three heads turn to look your way, too inundated in conversation around the coffee table to hear the door opening, but that stops the second their eyes land on you. Steve and Robin are the ones sitting closest to where you stand, but Nancy's the one that makes her way to you first, her lower lip already quivering enough to break into a sob as she crosses the patch of carpet to throw her arms around you. She's strong enough to grip you tight enough to hurt, but too weak to keep herself on her feet, and you end up sinking to the floor with her as your name floods out of her lungs on repeat, getting louder and louder and louder until she's wailing. You could swear the walls rattle with the volume she cries at, completely coming apart in your arms like you've never seen her do before.

"Don't you ever do that to me again!" She shouts, yet her voice is like a child's, wobbling and whiny and so miserably pitiful that it pains you even to listen to it, especially when she's clutching you so close to her body--so afraid that you won't be there when she pulls away, so she refuses to. You don't have any right to cry when she's so distraught, but with your head over her shoulder, the other two watch your lips curve downwards and your eyes screw shut into a flood of tears that won't stop easily.

"I'm sorry, Nancy. I'm okay." You whimper, burying your face into her curls until your lips brush her jawline, and she shudders into each gentle, praiseworthy kiss that you press there. Up until her sobs subside, and she breaths a sigh of relief that you can feel from her chest against yours, each one sinking and rising into each other as you breathe along with her. "I thought you didn't want me anymore."

She shakes her head, and finally pulls herself back to look at you, a fresh wave of tears streaming down her cheeks when she gets a good look at you. Nancy touches your face, thumbs away your own tears--and you know she's not just looking at you, but the girl she lost so long ago, whose smile she sees in yours on those days she misses her the most dearly. "I never wanted you more when I thought you weren't coming back," She whispers back. "How could I not want you? I love you."

The kiss she lays upon your lips is breathtaking, shaking and sweet and just....everything. Everything you missed and craved like air and water and life.

You're already halfway into her embrace when she laughs out that half-hearted joke, walking back with you a couple steps when you throw yourself into it. And she squeezes you so tight, so hard, the kisses a flurry of needy, fluttering touches all over your face until she somehow finds your lips--and when she does, she makes that last one a kiss you won't shake off for days, the feeling tingling your lips even when she pulls away. Still rubbing that spot on your back that she knows is sensitive, Robin grips you in an even harder hug that nearly cracks your spine, and whispers into your ear: "I'm so happy you're here with me." before she kisses you one last time, last one, she swears, fingers crossed behind your back. But then, she takes notice to the man standing just a foot away--and she lets you go to turn you around, her fingertips grazing your arms as you finally face him.

"Yeah, she, uh....she cried, like, every night," Even as Robin says it and breaks the quiet, she herself is rubbing tears from her cheeks, trying to keep that smile going as you stand and Nancy loosens her hold. She moves aside for Eddie to lay his hands on her shoulders from behind, and keep her steady on her feet. "So did Steve. I told you he cries when we watch Princess Bride!"

"I-I....I didn't mean it, Steve. I never...I've never thought you were dumb." Your voice comes out as a whimper, fingers fiddling with each other as you endure that big, brown, wide-eyed stare.

"I know." He breathes, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. He wants to move, he's antsy, but he won't take another step. "I know, baby."

"Can I hug you?" Steve just nods, but his lip quivers and his features gain that pathetic, sad puppy look, because he was hoping and praying you would say those very words. Your heart soars as he meets your step forward and flings his strong arms tight around your body, crushing you with his huge stature but never loosening up. He instantly brings his hand up to cradle your head against his chest, kissing the crown of it with so much firmness that you know he's reaffirming you're really standing in front of him again.

"I shouldn't have let you leave. I should've slashed your damn tires." He chuckles along with you at the lighthearted crack at breaking the tension, until he chokes up again into a sob. "Nobody could ever replace you. And I swear, I'll never break your heart again."

Steve holds you for a long time, squeezing you and kissing you and brushing strands of hair from your eyes to just look at you, surveying the face of the love he feared he'd never get to cherish again. It's a long time coming, and when he's done, there are three other warm bodies in the room that need attention from the sweet thing they've been killing themselves over these last few weeks.

From there, they catch you up with what had happened in your absence. Steve had walked off to clear his head after you left, and hadn't returned until late in the day--burst through the front door during an unusually quiet dinner and sent them all into a panic, when he realized you really had left and you weren't coming back. The four of them had jumped into action to split up and look for you, Nancy contacted your parents and other family while Steve and Robin tried to find some hint of your whereabouts in the house, cracking open your drawers and notes and realizing how much of your stuff was missing. Meanwhile, Eddie had driven in circles round Hawkins and the outer city limits, trying to find any trace of your car in the dark with the help of passing streetlights.

When those attempts had failed after stretching out into the next day to mid-afternoon, and with your very unhelpful parents insisting they had no idea where you could've gone, that's when your partners had started printing out missing person's flyers and put in an official report with the sheriff's office. And, seemingly having forgotten that you were really the only one who ever checked the voicemail at work, your message tendering your resignation had been errantly erased by your manager--worrying them even further when they questioned him, because if you were really planning on moving away like you said, how could you not tell your employer? It wasn't like you. Their fears had only gotten stronger from there.

The worst had yet to come, though. Because when your car had been found on the side of the road way out in the middle of nowhere, miles and miles away from Hawkins and completely destroyed, the four of them had reached the point of no return. The plates had been torn off, but it was your exact make and model of car, and what were they supposed to believe? That it was just coincidence? That's what Hopper had tried to reassure them with, tried to insist that plenty of cars get found gutted out in the bush, but they couldn't be convinced that it was just some freak happenstance and delude themselves to think that you were fine and dandy somewhere else. The same thing had happened to Max's stepbrother, and they all knew how that had ended.

So started the search parties, the nights spent staying up and studying maps by lamplight, the microwave meals in place of home cooking and sleeping in shifts by the phone, waiting and hoping for some kind of clue to your whereabouts to appear. Finding you had become more important than eating, proper sleep, showering, or attention paid to anything aside from looking towards the horizon to see if you would magically walk back into their lives.

And all that time, you had believed nothing but that they couldn't care less where you were, or what you were doing. When in reality, they could think of nothing but you. That was what had led Eddie to nearly crash into you as you re-entered Hawkins, having been pacing the living room for those long hours after Hop's call until he just couldn't take it anymore--despite the other three trying to stop him, he had dashed out to his van and peeled out of the driveway like a lunatic, just for the slightest chance that he might be there when you needed help. It was so stupid, so reckless, and you'll remember that moment he came rushing around the side of the truck to get to you forever.

Despite them reassuring you about Chrissy, too, when the tears have dried--promising you she's nothing but a friend, and they would have no problems limiting her interaction with all of you from now on--you wave it away, smiling off your stupidity and letting them know that it's fine. You were just being dumb, acting crazy, but you're fine now. And Eddie's eyes narrow at that.

"You're not crazy." He murmurs absentmindedly, and says nothing more until he can slip away from your reunion, and reach the phone in the kitchen. While you're busy dealing with your other partner's crippling absence of affection, he taps his blunt nails into each button, numbly dialing the number he's memorized until the ringing starts and stops.

"Hey, Chris. Angel's back home."

"Oh, that's great! Oh...Eddie, I'm so happy for you. You must be relieved-"

"Yeah. Yeah, I am. Listen, no hard feelings, but....you're my friend, so I'm just gonna be straight. Don't come by the house anymore."

"I--what? Really? I....Eddie, I'm sorry, if I did something to upset you-"

"No, no, nothing you did. Well, not really. But I know how you feel, Chris, and I can't really ignore it anymore." He swallows deeply, and sucks on his teeth as he tries to think of some better way to say it. "I don't want to hurt your feelings, but I don't feel the same. I never have, and I'm sorry if I made you feel like that might change."

"......So that's it?"

"That's it. We can still be friends, but we need space for awhile first, and I'm not gonna ignore you flirting with me anymore. I'm in love and it's not gonna change. Sorry."

"Can we at least talk about it, Eddie? Please? I'd rather talk this out in person."

"No. Bye, Chrissy."

He thuds the phone back on the receiver just a little too hard, and brings his hand up to rub at his neck and try and get the ache out. That didn't feel good, having to confront one of his very few friends with a truth he just wanted to ignore--but the sick feeling he has now can't even compare to how he felt when you were away, and it's an easy decision to make in that regard. He'd take you over her any day. It's a bit of a guilty feeling, but he knows it's the truth even if it hurts Chrissy's feelings, and he's happy even so.

"....Yeah, I missed you real bad, sweetheart. Don't you ever think I wouldn't....or else you are crazy."

"Eddie?" You call out from the living room, and following that sweet voice to its source, he feels himself light up at the sight of you settled back into the couch. Legs tucked up in Robin's lap, halfway into Steve and Nancy's, looking so comfortable and cute as you look up at him. You're where you belong. He's so distracted by the glee and relief of having you home, he didn't even realize how quiet it had been between you all until he came right back from his task. You say nothing more, just hold your arms out to him--and when he gets close enough, you capture him with those pretty eyes of yours, and melt away any ill feeling as you pull him into your chest.

don't leave me be, be with me - yandere fruity four

plot: regardless of how much you love your partners, their love for you grows stifling now and again. and the best way to remedy that is to be a little rebellious, which is what leads you to sneak out with Robin and go for a little joyride and on a quest for breakfast in the middle of the night.

cws: gn!angelface, yandere fruity four, st 4 spoilers, polycule, post s4, eddie lives arc, PTSD-related coping mechanisms (alcohol abuse, isolation, reckless behavior), drinking, robin and angelface are drunk, drunk driving, scars, hurt/comfort, implied sexual dynamics, softcore, very mild jealousy, mentions of violence, fluff.

word count: 3.6k

spice level: 0.5/5

"Where the fuck are they?"

Steve's pacing again, shoes heavy on the carpet as he tries not to lose his temper. There's music blasting in Eddie's room, but the door is shut, and Nancy doesn't even want to try and knock right now. She doesn't have any answers for him, and it would just stress him out more. While it's been months since he's gotten out of the hospital, he's still healing in…other ways.

"I don't know, Steve."

"Yeah, well, they have to be somewhere, Nancy! They can't just disappear, not unless-"

"Steve, don't go there. They took the van, they're probably off getting ice cream or something–you know how those two are. The only danger they're in is Robin driving without a license." Nancy bites her lip. She doesn't know if that's the truth, she just wants it to be.

"Oh, God, what if they got into an accident?" But Steve's practically inconsolable–he always gets like this, his brain is hardwired to sense danger even when there is none. Probably. But there's a chance, so he's sniffed it out and won't stop fussing until he has you in his arms again, she's sure.

"Steve-" That look on his face is definitely not a good one, that sudden realization that means he can't stay still any longer–even though he hasn't been, it's shocking that there isn't an indent in the floor from where he's been pacing back and forth for the last hour. He marches over to the couch and grabs his jacket, throwing it on one arm at a time as he slides past Nancy and heads towards the front door. "Where in the world are you going?"

"Gonna drive around town and look for the van." Typical. His solutions are largely straight to the point, if not a little over the top. The second she opens her mouth for a rebuttal, he holds up a hand to stop her. "I'm going, Nance! Don't try to stop me."

She knows how stubborn he is, it's a good if not occasionally frustrating quality. And in all honesty, he has every right to be as fretful as he is.

All four of them nearly didn't survive the horrors that Vecna brought to Hawkins, but Steve and Eddie definitely experienced a new level of physical torment that she knows she won't ever fully be able to sympathize with. You're the only one Steve's ever really told the full story to, the one he's cried to and held so close for fear that if he didn't, you'd be taken away yourself. They've all seen each other's scars, but you've taken care of each and every one of them–you know them intimately, know the pain and the story and the way they've healed but never gone away, and never will. You're what Eddie calls their "cleric", but he always refers to you as an angel. And you are one.

Speaking of Eddie, he hasn't been the same either. None of them have, but he's different–quieter. The hospital seemed to numb him after the demobat attack, barely alive and clinging to life for so long that even Nancy didn't believe he would really make it. But you did, you never gave up on him, and eventually he opened his eyes and smiled that sweet smile at the sight of you, and she'll never forget the wails you let out as you hugged him so tight the nurse tried to pry you off–the memory usually brings a smile to her face. Steve got kicked out of the visiting room for a week after locking her out of the room, just so the four of you could hold Eddie as long as you wanted and kiss him, stroke his hair, tell him you love him…they were hard days, but good ones. But now everyone is just trying to survive normal life, and that's mostly to your credit. You make life just a little more bearable…and when you're gone, like you have been for the last couple hours, they're all on edge.

Nancy hurries after him out the door to the trailer, knowing good and well that she can't let him run off on a rescue mission by himself. He's too reckless with himself and too tunnel visioned when it comes to you, and it's certain not to turn out well if he really freaks out without someone there to calm him down. And that's when the familiar sound of crunching gravel hits her ears and she stops to watch the sight before her, Steve having only gotten to the bottom step before he freezes too.

That familiar van pulls up slowly, slow like the driver is trying not to draw attention, and comes to a stop just about a foot off of the mark that carves out the driveway from the rest of the grass. The pause between the vehicle stopping and the passengers getting out is suspiciously long, but when the doors crack open and the two of them get a glance at you, they're sure they know why.

"Naaaaaancy!" You giggle, your footsteps so wobbly as you move around the hood that you have to use it for support, while Robin hops out from the driver's seat and throws it closed before stumbling towards you. The two of you have to cling to each other, your hands clutching Robin's arm, to even hope to make it up the driveway and towards the front door–and when you get close enough, Nancy's nose crinkles as the smell of liquor wafts over and hits her like a train. So does the realization–you two have been drinking, and drinking hard.

"Can I have a kiss, Nancy?" You cackle, tripping over your own feet and nearly hitting the ground, if not for Robin's surge of strength as she pulls you back up with a goofy smirk on her lips. One glance at Steve, and she can see it clearly–he is absolutely pissed, his scowl mean enough to burn a hole through concrete.

"Where the hell were you two?!" He didn't mean to yell, Nancy knows that, but you two don't even flinch. You're not even all there, too caught up in your own world and in each other's mouths as you capture Robin in a kiss instead.

"Pancakes! Errrr, and other stuff.." You giggle around a mouthful of Robin's tongue, your playful wink just earning you a furious huff from your big, strong protector.

"Oh nooooooo, I think we're in trouble!" The two of you can't contain your laughter as you break off and nuzzle against each other, Robin's arm clutched in your soft hands as she whisper-yells that into your ear. She even cups her hand to make it seem like she's trying to be subtle, and she probably is, she just doesn't realize how loud she's being and how late it is.

"You're drunk." Steve states bluntly. It's not a first for Robin since the Vecna incident, unfortunately, but it's surprising for you.

"Just a liiiiiittle," Robin pouts, her fingers pinched together to show just how 'little' you and her have been drinking. From the smell of you two alone, it has to have been at least a full bottle of straight liquor between you two, maybe more.

"Don't get mad, Stevie! We were havin' fun."

"You were being stupid. You were driving drunk! Without a license!" He's almost vibrating with anger and frustration. Robin's blasé tone pisses him off on a good day, and after putting your life and hers in danger, it does even more so.

"Bite. Me!" You share an even more girlish laugh at Robin's outburst, each word punctuated by a middle finger, like it's the funniest thing in the whole world. "You guys suck ass, you're suffocating us–you guys hate fun!"

Nancy would probably be grabbing Robin's tongue for that foul comment, but she's so out of it she knows that there's no use. She'd probably just laugh it off, or cry, and she doesn't want either of those two extremes to deal with right now. But there is something she has up her sleeve that always works.

"You two made Eddie very upset, you know." Nancy lays her hand on Steve's shoulder as she speaks, silently relaying to him that she's got it under control. A soft "Eddie?" passes your lips. It's incredible how quickly you both snap to attention when she mentions his name, sharing a look between you two before both turning back to listen intently.

"Mhm. He's been up all night worrying about you two. He doesn't like it when you're gone, it makes him scared. You know that." Her voice is stern, but still gentle enough for you two to take in. The 'mom voice' as you, Robin, and Eddie like to call it, which is largely reserved for when she really needs to get firm with one of you. Or all of you.

"Eddie? Where's Eddie?" Your tone wavers, giddiness turning to concern in a matter of syllables.

"Tell us, Nance!" Robin tugs at her sleeve, eyes big and wide with worry.

"He's in his room." Both of you rush past them, hurrying up the steps in a frantic bid to find your beloved boyfriend. You love them all equally, of course–but Eddie is sensitive. Sweet. He's always been that way, but it's increased tenfold since Vecna and caused you to be even more protective over him than you were before. You just want to protect that precious smile no matter what.

"Eddie! We're home, baby!"

It's when you both stumble through the front door that you see him at once. Frazzled, his curly hair mussed, dark circles under his eyes from worry. His nails are bitten down almost completely, bad habit he struggles to kick when he's anxious. He's standing in the living room like he heard the ruckus and had come to see what was happening, but his eyes are clear and set on one of you at a time, switching between like he's assessing that you're both here and both safe.

The two of you rush forward and knock him right off his feet, a startled shriek pulled from his lips followed by a grunt as his back thuds against the carpet, and the two of you collapse on top of him with your full respective weight in a hug so tight he couldn't squirm away if he tried. Even being taken off guard, Eddie squeezes both of you tight in a hug as best he can, a relieved smile flickering across his face as you press desperate kisses to his cheek.

Nancy and Steve step inside, and the sight at their feet just raises a sigh. They might not be happy, but they are glad you're unharmed and in relatively good spirits.

"We're sooooorry, Eddie! Soooo sorry!" You babble, pawing at his neck and his face to plant even more kisses on his lips. He turns only to ruffle Robin's hair and peck her on the forehead, but otherwise his mouth is occupied by yours, and gladly so, if his muffled little gasps and mumbles of "missed you" are any indication.

"What about us? You have an apology for scaring the crap out of us?" Steve asks, irritation still lacing his voice. Part of it is definitely a spark of jealousy, Nancy can tell better than most. It takes you some work and the aid of Eddie's hand, but you get up and stumble over wobbly feet, and throw one arm around Nancy's shoulder and one around Steve's to loosely hug them both.

"M' sorry, Nancy…sorry Stevie….I love you guys soooooooo much.." You maw on each of their cheeks as well, leaving wet kisses by their ears and down their necks as if each one is to make up for one of the many minutes you spent away from them.

"We love you too." Nancy squeezes you back, eyes screwed shut, a breath caught in her lungs as she tries to keep it all in, to keep it together. Breaking down and crying because she was so worried about you would only hurt you.

"I've been bad…"

"Yeah, you have been bad." Steve's hand is in your hair, and despite reaffirming your realization, he's still so gentle with you like you're made of porcelain. As frustrating as he can be, and as much of a dad as he acts like sometimes, he's still so softhearted when it comes to you that it's honestly comical.

"Sooooooo….you gonna punish me?" You pull away to look at both of their faces, and giggle when their eyes widen, and they share a look like they can't believe what you just said. They haven't really seen you drunk very often, so they're not used to the…mood you sometimes get in.

"Not now, baby. But you are gonna make it up to us, later." Nancy tenderly takes your arm off of her and rubs it, trying to be strict but it just comes out soft.

"Aww, Nancy…" Your eyes draw towards Steve, who still has some frustration lingering on his features. He'll never realize how sexy it is–how sexy he is when he's mad. You slide that free arm around his other shoulder, and lean into him for your lips to just barely brush his.

"C'mon, Stevie, wanna feel you inside me…" His shoulders stiffen up and his chest tightens, his lungs at a standstill at the sight of you rubbing your body up against his. And then you lean up, and your lips ghost over his ear, and you whisper that dreaded pet name that sends a shiver up his spine and has him tilting his head up that he wasn't ready for–not in front of the others, at least. "..Wanna be good for you. Promise."

Your little attempt to get him all worked up, and your teeth nibbling at his adam's apple, is interrupted by a soft groan, one that turns all three of your heads towards the two lumps on the floor. When Eddie sits up, he moves to clutch Robin's limp body as she lays against him, who is very clearly asleep and sighing quietly into his neck at the movement.

"Okay, bedtime! C'mon!" With a face still flushed and hot, Steve hups and squats down to wrap his arms around your thighs, before he lifts you up to throw you over his shoulder and starts walking towards Eddie's room. Every step is another bounce and your grin is still loopy and enthused as he does so, while Eddie hauls Robin up to her feet and Nancy supports her by her other arm to lead her the same way. Thankfully it's a short ride, and when Steve flips you back on to the bed and kneels to take your shoes off for you, Robin hangs off your other friends before collapsing into bed beside you. She's so pretty with that red flush to her face, warm and dizzy from the alcohol and laid out on her back, her breasts heaving as she breathes quietly before opening her eyes and turning them towards you.

Once Steve's hands are occupied with carrying off your shoes and no longer ghosting against your ankle, you find yourself moving up on your knees and throwing one over Robin's waist, her fingers lifting up to brace your thigh as you sit gently enough on top of her for it not to hurt. The words have left her vocabulary, but the pleased sigh that she emits at the feeling of you pressed up against her is enough for you to understand.

"Robbie," You lean down to kiss her, and moan the nickname into her mouth. "Wanna do what we did in the backseat…"

"Uh huh…" She whimpers, hands laid out by her head in total submission. Her hips are already rolling against you, mind clearly muddled by need that you apparently haven't satisfied quite yet. Your hands move to unbutton her jeans, your gaze set and tongue flicking out to lick your lips–when Steve grabs you by the wrist and your head tilts to look up at him.

"Prude," You stick your tongue out at him, annoyed at his familiar interruption. Robin wasn't totally wrong, sometimes Steve is such a stick in the mud. He looks genuinely hurt, though, and his eyes fall from yours like he's trying not to show you what he's really feeling.

"Noooo, not the puppy dog eyes…m' sorry for pissin' you off, baby.." His grip loosens on your wrist, but you just grab his instead to pull him close enough for your foreheads to touch. He can't look away now, not even if he wanted to.

"I wasn't really mad, I..I was just…scared." His voice is so rarely this shaky, unsure, that it almost doesn't sound like Steve. Not your confident, headstrong Steve.

"Why?" You smile so innocently, it's nigh impossible to still be mad at you. He knows that, and yet he can never, ever resist it. "I'll always come back, Stevie. Not going anywhere."

A tired smile tweaks at his lips, and he moves to turn away–but you don't let him, and you grab his face to hold it in place.

"I'm not going anywhere, Steve." You sound more sober in that one breath than you have since you got home. More than you ever have, maybe. And he has nothing he can say that can encompass his feelings in that moment, so he just simply nods, and shares a kiss with you that's so damn sweet even with the taste of liquor on your teeth.

Having been relatively quiet until now, Eddie crawls into bed beside you two, his sneakers kicked off but his clothes from the day still on. Nancy's busying herself with pulling up a blanket off the floor to throw over you three, nudging your arm for you to slide off of Robin and cuddle up between the two of them so she can do so. Eddie's breath hitches when your fingertips brush the scars beneath his shirt, the flesh of his belly torn up and only now having healed into what he thinks are ugly scars.

"Eddie's so pretty…" You mumble as you turn to face him, already nodding off with the warmth of both their bodies cushioning you like big, heated pillows. Robin snuggles up to your back and drapes her arm over your waist, and Eddie wedges his arm beneath you two so you can both use it as a pillow, his fingers laced in Robin's hair to help her fall asleep like it always does.

"You're prettier, angelface." His warm breath on your face draws a chuckle from you, and with your eyes closed he kisses your brow before finally settling in to drift off with you. And when Nancy's finished tucking you all in and Steve shuts off the lights, each of you sharing your "I love you"s and "good night"s, the two of them shut the door quietly behind them to leave the three of you in relative peace as you slumber.

It feels like the day has dragged on so long, and in some sense it has–the time is nearing three am if the clock in the hallway is any indication. She and Steve have been awake for far too long, but it doesn't look like he's in any mood to rest by the expression on his face.

"You think we were a little too-"

"Harsh? No." Steve cuts her off abruptly. He knows exactly what she's thinking, he usually does–but this time, for once, Nancy really has no clue what's running through his mind.

"I'm gonna make them regret that tomorrow. I'll slash the tires on that stupid van if it keeps them here." The sudden surge of emotion in his voice takes her by surprise. Almost always, your touch and a few gentle words in that beautiful voice of yours are enough to calm him from whatever is bothering him. He's infamous for falling for your reassurances, giving in to you so often that it's like you're a siren to him, his certainty so often falling to the wayside when you sway him into believing whatever it is you're telling him.

"They might just steal your car, Steve. You know Eddie's got those magic fingers." She waggles her fingers teasingly, she's trying to lighten the mood, and he does chuckle a little at the joke. But the way his face sets immediately after is…intense.

"Not if I break their legs first."

"Steve," Her hand reaches for his arm, but his eyes and his mind are somewhere else.

"Don't." He warns. There's not enough conviction in his voice for her to really be worried about that–at least not now, when not enough has happened for him to really think that's at all a good plan. You haven't scared him enough, but…it does frighten her to think that it's still a possibility, albeit a very small one. Even though it would work, she hates to see you in pain, to see you scared. "Wasn't even my idea. Eddie talks in his sleep."

He steps away with those words lingering on his lips, heading towards the front door to drop your shoes by the others–but not before he reaches over and grabs the bat he's kept since that first night he realized that the world wasn't as safe as he thought it was. He throws the door open, and leans back to call to her before he takes a seat on the step and waits to see if anyone–or anything–followed you two home. Like always.

"...So do you, Nance."

How about “I am not letting you walk out this house” “don’t cry sweetheart” and a “you’re safe with me/us okay?” With the yandere fruity four x angelface 😳🙏 I absolutely adore your writing btw 💘

ty!!!! 🥺🥺

ellie's sentence starter prompts

xxxix - "Don't cry, sweetheart."

xlv - "I am not letting you walk out this house!"

xlvii - "You're safe with me, okay?"

You know by the footsteps that it's Steve running after you, hurrying down the stairs of his house to catch up with you at the door. And while you're sure the others will be close behind as soon as they wake up, you keep tightening the laces of your sneakers regardless and haul yourself up off the bench in the foyer. If you don't leave now, you know you never will--and yet, the second you grab the front door's handle to turn it, a hand comes down hard on it right by your head before you can even open it. Steve's slid so fast down the hall he's almost crushed you against it, and thankfully not, because he's so big you probably would've busted a rib--he's just so strong when he's uncontrolled.

"I am not letting you walk out this house," He breathes, panting from the sprint, and brings his hand down just to turn you around by your shoulder and push you back against the door. It lays heavy in the middle of your chest, keeping you pinned where he wants you to be, while the other raises and settles on the other side of your head so he can lean in close. His brown eyes are stormy, hair wild and unkempt from sleep, and Steve is quite clearly more upset than he usually ever allows himself to seem. Above your head, you hear the pattering of more feet.

"You'll die if I don't. You'll all die." You want to keep the tears back, to be strong for him, but it's not working at all. It's even harder when you hear the voices upstairs and the steps coming closer. "The dreams keep coming. Something bad is happening to me, Steve, I...I don't want it to spill over. I don't want to hurt you."

He shakes his head, hair flicking out in every direction. "You're not gonna hurt us."

"I might not have a choice," Your words choke out, each one feeling like it might strangle you as you try in vain to swallow that growing lump in your throat. You're only aware of the tears spilling down your cheeks when Steve catches one, focused less on keeping you from stepping outside and more on thumbing those dreaded things off your face, and he's about to whisper something when a collective smattering of thudding noises breaks your attention away and turns both your heads towards the staircase, where Robin swings around the banister and stops when she sees both of you.

"Baby," She breathes, eyes wide and clear for you, and doesn't even have to make Steve step back because he does it on his own--he moves enough for her to rush past him and grab you, pulling you off the door and into a big, tight squeeze of a hug. As much as you wish it would last forever, she moves off you with haste, and clasps her hands against your cheeks to cup them with a shakiness to her breath. "Don't cry, sweetheart. We're here."

"We" is right. Nancy is only a few steps on the staircase behind, and Eddie close on her heels, the two of them equally as mussed from sleep but just as bright-eyed and focused as the other two. They hurry down the last step and crowd around Robin on either side, looking over her shoulders with outstretched hands to touch your arms, your hair, to assess you like they were worried you'd be hurt in the measly few minutes you've spent out of their reach. A shared look between you and Steve when they question what's going on is all they need to understand, and Nancy looks to you with fear in her eyes that you expected--but it's not from the place you thought it might be.

"You had another nightmare, didn't you? Worse than last time?" You nod, and though it's the truth, it drives a stake into your heart to see hers breaking in her eyes, because she worries more than most about your health and hates to see that familiar sadness etched into your features. Eddie looks over at her, at you, at Steve in that silence in between, and only he seems to break the tension that threatens to spill more tears from your eyes. He drops to his knees, and grabs you by the ankle for you to brace yourself against both Robin and Steve.

"You don't need these, then." He's so quick to unlace your sneakers it's almost uncanny, fingers working feverishly to undo what you had done in a hurry and hold your heel quite tenderly in one hand to slip off your shoe with the other. "Cause you're not going off on your own."

Once he's got both of them off, he makes a point of tossing them all the way into the living room just off to your right, your sneakers tumbling to a stop with one in the middle of the carpet and one rolling underneath the coffee table. You can just feel Steve holding his tongue, but some things are more important than his parent's carpet getting a little dirty.

"You're safe with us, okay? You'll always be safe with us." It feels like only then can you take a deep breath, you can dry the tears from your eyes with your sleeve, and allow yourself to collapse into a hug and a kiss on your temple. While you're certain all four of them would love to go right back to bed, none of them do--they usher you into the kitchen and light some candles to keep it dim, Nancy and Eddie find some milk and a pot to mix a batch of hot chocolate, Robin gets some paper and pencils, and Steve sits right by your side as he coaxes you into drawing out what you saw in your dream. Words aren't enough, and they're too painful for what you saw, but the four of them are so patient. None of them utter a word when you get focused, and when you need a break they take turns soothing you and taking you to the couch for a cuddle or putting on a song to calm you down. Whatever it is, they're there. And they prove to you that they were right--you are safe with them, no matter what haunts you in the deepest, darkest corners of your mind.

Yandere fruity four have a whole thing where they cannot see you bleed, not after what happened in the upside down. So when you fall over playing tag with Robin and Eddie outside and get a smallish cut on your leg, all four of them go crazy. They baby you to death and back

* rubs my little rat hands together *

cws: yandere fruity four, blood, minor/major injuries, scars, !!PTSD!!, angelface has aquaphobia, mental illness, trauma flashbacks, panic attacks, choking, drowning, near-death experiences, very mild emetophobia, mild self-deprecation, post-s4, gn!reader.

One of the first days that you wake up and feel that things are back to normal is in June of 1987. The sun is coming out properly now and brightens the yard with soft, summer rays, the grass is growing in enough to start being trimmed, and it's far too warm to stay in bed for longer than an hour past your usual alarm. Indiana isn't too hot yet, so when you crack open the windows to get a breath of fresh air, you're greeted by a comfortably cool breeze that cuts the warmth radiating off the ground.

Much better than the cold and the snow that kept you inside, although that wasn't the only reason. The world beyond the Harrington's front yard is still a little too scary to breach--but you've got a good amount of space to work with, so long as you stay away from the pool and the woods around the back. It's been drained for a while now though, and Steve reassured you he has no plans to fill it back up.

That first day is a good day, it's refreshing. The next week skirts by with a stream of good things piling in; you all built up the firepit to roast marshmallows, Eddie bought a sprinkler at a garage sale, Nancy and Robin have started buying seasonal fruits and cutting them up to make little salads. There's not much you have to worry about with your new life, but there are obstacles--and you're happy to say you've overcome one when you're especially full of confidence one afternoon, and peek into the garage to ask if Eddie can bring the sprinkler out. Obviously he says yes, a smile on his face as he tugs his gloves off and rolls out from beneath the van, excitedly grabbing the hose and hooking it in so he can take it out and set it up on the front lawn.

You were planning just to run it and watch, maybe stick your hands or toes in to cool off, but Robin comes running down the stairs with a giddy grin and jumps right through it--and at her shriek of it being so cold, you and Eddie both join in to try it and end up running around on the wet grass, laughing and flicking water at each other like children. It's not terrifying like you thought it would be, and you don't immediately break down like you did the first few months of taking showers after the watergate incident. It's the first time in a long time you've been so carefree. It's been even longer since you've thought of a moment as a memory you want to keep forever, of Eddie grabbing you from behind and kissing your cheek under the cool spray, and of you and Robin holding hands and shrieking as he picks the sprinkler up and chases you with it. That feeling ends, though, when you slip on the grass and tumble to the ground with her in tow, a sharp twang of pain running up the side of your calf from nowhere.

"You guys okay?" Eddie calls out, dropping the sprinkler and walking over to where you're laid out on your back, Robin scrambling to sit up at your side like she hadn't also fallen victim to the slippery ground.

"Yeah, I'm good--just fell!" You manage a lighthearted giggle, because that pain you felt is already dull, and you're sure it was just a twig or something that scratched you.

"You're bleeding," But Robin's voice tremors, her dulled and painted nails hovering over your calf as you bend your knee to pull it up. Disbelief runs through you at first--but with a glance and a double take, you realize she's right. You've got a long, thin cut up the side of your leg, and although it's clearly too shallow to do much damage, it's deep enough for blood to pool at the surface of your skin and start trailing downwards in little rivulets. She's stiff right now, and her eyes say too much--they spell out danger, and your first instinct is to cup her cheek in your hand and try to talk her down.

"It's okay, Robbie--calm down, okay? Just breathe."

"You're bleeding...." It pains you even worse because you know exactly what she's thinking, you know the place she's at right now, and it's not gonna be pretty if she doesn't come back to earth and starts reliving all those horrible days you left behind.

"Robin, it's fine, sweetheart. It doesn't even hurt. It's not deep, you don't need to worry, I'm totally fine." She shakes her head--she can't tear her eyes away from the sight of your blood. "Remember what the doctor said? Worst thing you can do is panic? So don't panic, my love."

By the time she's struggling to keep her breaths even, Eddie's knelt down at your side to assess what he just heard. A warm, wet hand grazes your calf to take a look, and you can tell by the shuddered breath he inhales that he's trying really hard not to join Robin in freaking out.

"Let's...let's get you inside. Robin, go-"

"I-I'll get Nancy!" Her assumption is thankfully correct, and she tears off across the lawn to run up into the house, probably taking the stairs two at a time just to get to your girlfriend and boyfriend faster. Eddie sighs, and pulls your arm around his shoulders to help you up, barely letting you put any pressure on your injury as he leads you into the house. Past the front door, towards the kitchen, and helps you up to sit on the nearest chair that he pulls out for you.

"Eddie, I'm fine. Really," You gesture towards the cut--which really is more like a scrape--but you know better than to move your leg or try to get up. Sometimes, as much as you love them, your partners just won't see reason.

"I know. I know you're fine, but...but if you're not-"

"This isn't the same thing. This isn't Vecna." He shudders at the mere mention of the name, but it's the truth and you're not going to just let them flip out. To keep him from pacing, and because you hope it might help, you grab hold of his hand. Upstairs, you can hear animated chattering and then the scraping of chairs, like whoever it was that got up did so in an enormous hurry. "No clocks, no ticking, no visions. Just a cut."

Eddie nods in agreement, but you're not so easily persuaded. "Just a cut." He repeats, his other hand coming up to rub your head and carefully, sweetly stroke your hair.

"Baby!" The two of you both jump when Steve comes skidding into the room, having leapt nearly over the entire banister just to land with a thud and dash in. Nancy and Robin aren't far behind, equally as hurried as they come to crowd around you with panic-stricken looks on their faces. Steve drops to his knees at once to take a look at the cut, while Nancy peers over his head and thankfully breathes a deep sigh of relief when she sees how calm you are.

"Why are you soaked?" Are the first words that come out of her mouth, and only then does it click. Your chest tightens a little, and you feel a cloud hanging over your head, but it makes sense. It wasn't just the cut, or the blood--it's the fact that you're also drenched, your clothes clinging to your skin and your body wracked with a chill that pierces you through the bone.

That night on Lover's Lake was much the same. You'd never been much afraid of boating or swimming, but those circumstances were different--that was when you thought your alternating crushes on your friends were the most painful thing to deal with, back when you kept switching from one to another. From Eddie to Nancy to Steve to Robin and back again, wondering what the hell was wrong with you and why you were so whipped you'd join them on a dinghy in the middle of the night, just to check something out that they swore was something they could never fully explain. You just had to see it, and you'd been so determined to help them that you wouldn't be left behind.

But you did a lot more than seeing when you leaned over the side to look down at whatever 'gate' Steve had found as he clung to the edge of the boat, drenched and handsome as ever. Even though you struggled to piece your memories back together after the ordeal was over, you remember squinting your eyes at a shadow flitting under the water and praying it was just a fish. Nancy's voice had cut through the chatter to ask you what was wrong--and then your arm went under as a tendril burst out to hook around it, and Eddie's hand shot out to grab your hoodie, but you were gone before you could even scream. The boat had rocked from side to side and you heard muffled yelling, screaming of your name that you couldn't call back to. Steve's fingers had grazed your ankle in a flash to catch you as you were yanked through the murk, but even he could do nothing as you were thrust through watergate and thrown into another world, one you never would have believed in if you hadn't been forced to.

After that, you still have only bits and pieces you can recall of the ordeal. Flashes of blood and veiny wings spread out against a crimson sky are the worst, they're the visions you try to forget, especially since you associate them with some of the most biting, stinging agony you've ever felt in your life--at your hips, your legs, and your neck, all of which still bear prominent scars. Choking, you remember choking for so long, until you blinked and Steve was above you--his palms thrusting painfully into your chest, and your throat flooding with water and bile that you spat all over the ground. You remember stumbling through some overgrown forest, the flash of a bike light, cloth being pulled tight around your stomach, and being slumped over someone's back as you rode down semi-familiar streets, but that's the most you can bring to your memory. They've always told you it would be better not to try--that you don't want to remember all the horrors they encountered there. That you don't want to wake up. Wake up.

"Wake up!"

You manage to mumble out a single, incoherent word, before a chord splits through the muffled quiet of your mind and you clap your hands over your ears, bass thrumming so loud you feel like your brain's bouncing around inside your skull. It's not totally inaccurate though, because there's an ache in your neck and fingers painfully dug into your shoulders as whoever it is stops shaking you, yells for the music to be shut off, and then worriedly encourages you to open your eyes.

"Huh?" Still completely dazed, you hone in on two warm, sweet-looking brown eyes when your own blink open, before zoning back out and letting yours wander towards every angle of the room. Your head is almost lolling back, trying to get a glimpse of anything out of the ordinary--anything that would reveal that you're still in that other world, and only when you're reassured that everything's real do you look down at Steve's terrified expression. "What's...wrong? Steve?"

Even your voice feels discombobulated, you raise your hand to your neck to touch it, as if you could feel if something was wrong just by feeling it. But it drifts to his throat instead, and you run your thumb over the long scar that's still there--the one that matches yours. Steve doesn't utter a word, just stares up at you from his knees before finally managing to breathe again.

Robin and Nancy are standing over him, and you can see they're just as scared--but Eddie's gone, and before you can ask where he is, his sneakers squeal against the linoleum as he rushes back into the kitchen. In his hands, he's got a tape. The bright sticker on the side of it warns you that it's the one he carries with him everywhere, with nothing but your name written on the tracklist along with Steve's, Robin's, Nancy's, and his own.

"F..False alarm. False alarm." Nancy finally turns back and nods at him, just barely making it to one of the chairs at the table before she collapses into it in a fit of hiccups, like she's trying not to cry and just holding it all in. Robin hits the ground behind Steve and she buries her face in his back, hands clutching at his shirt while his trail down to grab each of yours. It's only in those moments that your senses really come back to you, and you feel an immense wave of guilt settle on your shoulders at what must have looked like a dire situation. You've had those flashbacks before where you've dissociated completely out of the realm of reality--but this must have been a long one, you can feel it, because your body's sore from being jostled so much and your leg is all wrapped up. You've got a towel draped around your neck. You've missed a decent chunk of time, but you're sure it felt like a lifetime for them.

"I'm sorry..." You whimper, hating their body language and their expressions and wishing you could just go back to when you were having fun--and wishing that you would just stop having these episodes already, for God's sakes.

"Don't!" Steve shakes his head, strands of perfect chestnut hair flicking to and fro as he does so. He tightens his grip and pulls your arms closer, a kiss placed on your knuckles in the hope of offering some reassurance. "Don't be sorry--you didn't do anything wrong. This was out of your control."

If Robin wasn't clinging to him, you can sense by his shoulders hunching towards you that he would be moving in for a hug--one of those warm, tight ones that crush you against his hard chest, but couldn't be a better place for you to cry into. You don't really feel the urge to, but surely once some time has passed the reality of what just happened will really hit you. The relative silence in the room is biting into you, and the shakiness of your own voice betrays that. "Are you okay?"

He nods at once, one hand finally moving away to pat Robin's thigh. "Yeah. Little shaky, but I'm okay. You okay, Rob?"

"I'm fine. Just...almost passed out." Robin's voice is muffled in Steve's shirt, but by the comparably calmer sigh that escapes her, you believe it. You turn your head to Nancy, sitting just across the table from you, and reach your newly-freed hand out to clasp over hers. The tight squeeze is enough to say more than she can get out at the moment.

"I'll be fine, soon. I need a minute." She rubs her temples, focusing on breathing in and out and nothing else. Eddie's who you're really afraid for, though, and he's just staring in cold silence from across the room. He only takes one step when you look his way and shoves the tape in his pocket, but after a pause, he takes plenty more to come right up to your side.

"God, I'm glad you're alive," He grabs both sides of your face, and tilts your head up to plant the sweetest, deepest kiss on your lips. He tastes of smoke and sweat, bitterly warm on your tongue as he shows you his affection--something you thought you'd never get when you were sure you had died. "Never letting you go again."

It sits there in the air. Never letting you go. You've heard it in movies and read it in books, although you thought that if you ever heard someone say that to you, it would be.....well, it wouldn't be like this. But it quirks a smile up on your lips at the thought that this is what you've got, this is the reward you've been given for following your heart straight into death. At least you can say you're nothing if not loyal, even though you sometimes feel like you're just....crazy. Like you belong in the nuthouse. They've tried to reassure you you're not, but there's always that inkling in the back of your head. The looks people in the town give you when you go out don't help, either--especially the ones that boldly declared you as one of Eddie's failed victims. That one was especially hard to overcome.

"I...okay. I'm gonna go bring the sprinkler in." Eddie's hands linger on your face, and he seems to evaluate something for a moment before giving in, and pressing another delightfully wet kiss to your mouth. Only after that can he break away, and get himself walking towards the front door--mumbling quietly all the while that he's gonna find whatever hurt his baby and make it pay. To think, this is the man people thought had tried to sacrifice you....how ludicrous.

"Yeah, um...S-Steve, c'mon." Nancy, finally managing to pull herself together, gestures towards him in a way they both seem to understand--and you let out a squeak when he gets to his feet, and slides his arms around your waist to haul you up in a bridal carry, while Robin uses him to pull herself up and messily dry the tears she was hiding.

"H-Hey, it's okay! I can walk-"

"Nope." Steve interjects, waiting for Nancy to take Robin gingerly by the arm and lead her towards the stairs, whispering low enough into her ear that you can't make out what she's saying. Your girlfriend seems to start perking up when she hears it though, so whatever reassurances she's offering, they must be pretty good. "While Sir Eddie is securing the yard, you're gonna be spending some time with us." He raises his brows, that smoldering wink shooting sparks of youthful giddiness into your belly. It's hard not to smile and give in when he's being coy--the flirt in him just always manages to capture your heart, even when he's carrying you up the stairs despite you being certain you can do these things on your own. "Nance still has to finish her article, so we'll just hang out with her til it's done, kay?"

As he reaches the top step, you hear the distinct clanging of something being thrown around in the area of the garage, Eddie's distant swearing filtering through the open windows all over the house before he slams the door shut. Knowing him, he probably got all caught up in the hose and tripped himself, the visual of which evoking a laugh from you that nearly startles Steve as he walks with you into the master bedroom. Nancy's got her desk in there with all of her papers, photos, and notebooks scattered all over the top, a lamp on a bendable frame aimed from above so she can arrange things as precisely as she likes. She's already eased Robin into the bed, a kiss pressed to her forehead that she leans right into--and when Steve comes around the other side and slowly sets you down beside her, she's quick to pull an arm around you and nuzzle herself right into your side to get nice and comfortable.

"It's not gonna take too long, okay?" Nancy glances over her shoulder to look at you after she takes her seat, the second chair by her side soon giving a squeak as Steve drops himself into it. "I just have to organize the spread so I can send it in. Then we'll do something fun, okay?"

Her content smile feels more hollow than usual--you can kinda tell when she's masking her feelings to make everyone else comfortable, versus when she's really showing her emotions. But that's to be expected after what she just went through, so you're not about to pry. Usually it's a lot harder for them to vent to you than it is to each other, because they've admitted themselves they're sensitive to putting too much stress on you, and the doctor himself had warned you to avoid straining yourself lest your heart give out on you. That's a big worry for them too....worrying about you.

Soon enough, though, Eddie comes hustling up the stairs and bursts into the bedroom, narrowly avoiding a frustrated jab when he almost sweeps a pile of scribbled notes off the table--but he looks happy, sweaty and happy, and kicks off his sneakers to climb into bed next to you with a bowl full of cut fruit in his hands. He sets it delicately in your lap, having haphazardly tossed handfuls of the little cubes into it out of the tupperware containers Nancy was keeping them in, and pops a chunk of pineapple in his mouth with an uncanny grin.

"Showed that branch who's boss," He declares proudly through a half-chewed mouthful of fruit, before nuzzling your cheek with his nose and stuffing some more into his gob. It's a convenient way to distract you from Robin's fidgeting, as well as Nancy and Steve's hushed conversation that he glosses over by blabbing on about his newest potential escapades that he's got ideas for regarding the next Hellfire campaign. The best thing to do for you after an episode is give you something positive to focus on, they've found, and Eddie's pretty good at finding things to talk about that just hook you right in and keep you attentive to him, and little else.

You're not delicate, after all, you're strong. But the world has proven to be quite unkind to you, and clearly you've had too much exposure to those things that remind you of that awful, awful day. So does it not make sense to keep you safe, and take all those potential dangers away? It's not like you'll be lonely, after all. You'll have them! And that's all you need--just them.

Waking up to wet sounds when you live with puppy!steddie. And when you open your eyes one of them is licking inside your mouth and the other is licking out your cunt. Although you suppose they both had a shot down there

hybrid au faq

this post is 18+ and dark, minors dni. (dubcon; somnophilia)

the messiness and the sloppiness and the drool... *wistful sigh*

hnngh you're so groggy that your body's not awake yet so you're trying to figure out what the sound is and then you start feeling something wet and warm and really good down below. you open your eyes to try and figure out what's going on but you can't see anything past two inches in front of your face!! eddie's got his hands on your cheeks and he's straddling you, more your stomach than your pelvis, though, because steve needs room. you can taste your arousal on his tongue as he laps at your own, tail thumping happily against the mattress. he catches your eyes fluttering open and he's all of a sudden even more eager, drool slipping down your chin as he licks his own into your mouth. you let out a moan, hazy with sleep, but it peters out into a whine when you feel steve suck on your clit. You try craning your head up and over eddie's shoulder but he chases your mouth, tongue smearing saliva against your cheek as he fights to continue - you catch a glimpse of steve before eddie's messy curls are in your way again, and you feel his tongue lap up the drool pooling under your tongue. you hum as steve ravages you, grunting and groaning as he's licking up the remains of the orgasm eddie had prompted from you and building up a new one just below your belly. you reach around eddie as best you can to scratch at steve's floppy ears and you feel him tilt his face in your hand to lick your palm in a very messy good morning, a sticky stain left on your skin as he goes back to making out with your sloppy cunt - you feel him lap your slick all the way up to your clit, smearing it over the sensitive bud, then he sucks it clean and goes back to fucking his tongue into your hole - you suppose it's just the fact that it's your second orgasm of the morning but it hits you like a freight train, a steady build of pressure that bleeds out of you in a wave of cum that you're surprised doesn't splatter onto steve's face from how deeply he's buried inside of you - you have to stop scratching at his ears as you come down from your high because the moans that you'd let out while cumming had made eddie even more excited, and you're starting to gag on his tongue - you give steve one last good scratch and tug his shirt towards you as you retract your hand, prompting him to join you on the bed. when you get your hand back you gently push at eddie's cheeks, keeping him at a reasonable distance so that you don't choke on his tongue anymore - steve nudges his way into the kiss as well and his chin and tongue are still glistening with your slick, you can taste yourself on his tongue as he licks his way into your mouth for a kiss of his own. eddie shifts his focus at the taste, tongue rolling over steve's own to clean him up, and trailing to his chin when the hybrid realizes there's more mess there. you're given momentary peace as eddie cleans up steve's face, chest heaving as you process what you woke up to - as soon as steve's sufficiently clean eddie turns back to you, licking up a smear of drool that had seeped down your chin. he tucks his face into your neck as he starts calming down, scooting back to his own side of the bed so that steve can have his. you wrap your arms around them both as they snuggle into you and thank them for waking you up so nicely, their tails thump against the mattress as they tell you you smelled and tasted so good, they just couldn't help spoiling you <333

Ellie hear me out…

Chrissy joining the yandere fruity four to make it the fruity five

*drops mic and walks off*

/GRABS UR MIC AND THROWS IT, KNOCKING U OUT. GET BACK HERE.

Chrissy would be such an addition to the fruity four. Feeling indebted to Eddie for saving her life from Vecna, she follows him around like a puppy trying to offer her help whenever he takes it, even though he seriously just wants her to stay safe. But then the danger passes over Hawkins (for now) and Chrissy catches wind of the strange absence of Eddie and his newfound friends from their normal schedules. He makes it to Hellfire weekly, and she usually sees him around his general hangouts, but he often is accompanied by one or a few of his friends--plus one that she's not so familiar with. You.

To say she's infatuated is an understatement. It's not clear why or how she falls so hard so fast, but she does, and thus she starts sticking her nose into yours and the fruity four's business. She can see how weird Eddie gets when she asks him questions, so she tries to get you alone--but you're never alone, you've always got Nancy or Robin or the boys on your arm or at your side. And that Steve Harrington is always staring her down, he catches her every time she's looking at you and she usually ends up shrinking back at how intense his gaze is. And if it's not just him, then Nancy's sharp eyes or Robin's soft ones lock with hers and don't look away until she buckles.

It's quite the difficult task to get her fill of you when you're always being protected, but eventually she'll find her way to your house and climb in through your bedroom window, hoping to at least find something she can take as a souvenir. But when she gets there, you're nowhere to be found--and waiting for her instead is Steve, perched on the edge of your bed with his arms folded like he's been waiting for her to show up. He's definitely a hardass to her, thinking she's got some kind of ulterior motive or she's an agent for Vecna or something, until Eddie comes crashing through the window after her to intervene. Babbles on about how Chrissy's a good girl and makes a case for her, and lucky he does, because Steve when he's jealous comes off like he's prepared to kill her just to keep her quiet.

Thankfully it doesn't come to that. Eddie's happy to introduce her to you, let you get to know each other a bit with supervision, until he and the others and you can gauge how you all feel about Chrissy. And seeing you two giggle and get along makes at least some of them smile, while others (Steve and Robin) feel pangs of jealousy. They'll learn to get along, though--especially when they find out how manipulative Chrissy can be to lower the suspicion about them and keep people away from you, plus how good of a liar she's learned to be. Whether that's to sway the outsiders into thinking nothing of your "friendship", or helping the four keep some truths from you that such a pretty little thing doesn't need to worry about.

𝟑:𝟑𝟑 𝐀𝐌 | 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐋'𝐒 𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍

cw. f!reader, demon form!beel, size difference, dubcon, pussyjob, multiple orgasms, creampie, belly bulge 

an. since season two is coming out and i missed beel and i’m tired of reading him portrayed as a “pure angel" 

he doesn’t know if that is love.

he knows you make his heart beat fast every time he sees you; he knows his palms start to sweat when he watches you smile at men who are not him; he knows his stomach stops growling when your eyes meet by sheer coincidence and he knows his cock gets hard when he watches you sleep, hiding in the darkness of your bedroom.

he asked so many permissions to come to the human world, just for you.

he followed you around town while you ran errands in that nice short sundress and picturing how you were wearing nothing underneath. he’d learned the streets and routes you took when you went out shopping with your friends, the stores you liked best, the dishes you preferred to eat when you went out to lunch with them, the drinks you loved to sip on warm afternoons. he watched as you turned away men who approached you on the way home, the ones who whistled at you — and hell, he would have loved so much to step in and break their neck but it was too soon.

the way you smiled at some of them pissed him off. your smiles should have been just for him, not for men who wouldn’t even know how to treat a woman like you.

men who wouldn’t even know how to make you pleasure and satisfy. not the way he could.

when in the middle of the night you feel yourself being dragged out of your bed by a strange presence your first thought is that you might be dreaming. but the grip on your hips was too strong for it to be a dream.

the demon easily lifts you by the waist. he rips off your panties with his thick fingers, his chest is hard as he pulls you toward him, and a thick cock begins to rub between your folds.

“i’m gonna make you feel good,” he coos in your ear, “just … be a good girl.”

Keep reading

Time and Time Again

*** This fic is something I've been excited for ever since @dicetheroll, @rainiishowers, and I brainstormed the concept for it in the Hive Discord! It the most voted for the recent "Help Me Choose" post, so alas, Barbatos simps, this one's for you. I hope you all enjoy it ❤️-B ***

Summary: Barbatos loves MC. He has loved them for nearly as long as he has known. He goes back and relives every second that he can with them, over and over again. But, after experiencing a time line so many times, one begins to notice certain patterns — MC getting hurt, for example. And after one too many times, he decides that he can't stand idle by any longer.

*Spoilers up to Lesson 16*

The confusion, but glittering curiosity that shimmers in your eyes never ceases to excite him upon the inevitable first meeting. It's one that he's lived a thousand times, yet still, it remains one of Barbatos's favourites.

Sometimes, when he first gets there and hears Lord Diavolo and Lucifer discussing your new pact with Mammon, he'll see you — the slight twitch of irritation in your brow in the way they converse as though you're not there. The proud puff of your chest as they remain in awe of your achievement. The flickering of your gaze around you, ever alert and cautious — and he'll forget you're not an MC who knows him yet.

But there comes the moment, where your observant stare falls onto him and your soft lips purse.

"Who are you?" You ask, just as you have a thousand times before. He's memorized the question and the way your voice dictates the words.

To him, the question reads like poetry. Who are you? So innocently unaware of the history you've shared with him. As friends. As allies. As enemies. As lovers. You ask the question, completely unaware that you are his polar magnet — a ruthless force that constantly draws him in no matter how he may resist.

And resist he did — at first at least. He had responsibilities and duties. Diavolo was meant to be his priority, not a rambunctious human who had no concept of self-preservation. And yet

"Ah yes. Pardon me," he responds with a subtle grin. "I suppose we haven't met before, have we?"

There it is. The slight flush that painted your expression as he took your hand into his and kissed the back of it.

He already knew which way this route will be going, he decided it before he even entered the timeline.

He has seen you choked, and broken, and ripped to shreds. He has seen you destroyed both mentally and physically to the point that had become nothing but a shell. He has stood as a bystander as you lived a life with each and every one of the brothers, his lord, and even Simeon and Solomon — and he has witnessed both the good and bad endings of each of those relationships.

Time, as it seems, was not kind to you, despite all the kindness that you gave. It would chew you up and spit you out with every chance that it got.

But not this time. Barbatos would be sure of that.

This time, he spared no mind to being suspicious to others or acting out of character. His only concern was you and your safety — and in order to ensure your safety, he needed to become close with you as quickly as he could.

He spent your lunch hours by your side — claiming he needed your aid with paperwork or surveying the students. It would hurt your connection with Mammon, sure, but for all his efforts, Mammon never was all that great at his job of protecting you.

He, much to Diavolo's delight, would often invite you over for tea and dinners at the castle — it was a joy to be the one to introduce you to your favourite Devildom delicacy. The honor was usually reserved for Beelzebub, but he found he couldn't help himself.

It was after one of these dinners, as you aided him in doing the dishes that he dared to spark a conversation he had only initiated a handful of times before.

"MC?" he questioned as you scrubbed the porcelain plates with the same care and ease as one would when handling an ancient artifact.

"Hm?" You hummed in response, squinting your eyes to glare through the soap suds at a particularly tough stain.

He smirked knowingly as he set down his drying towel and faced you. "Make a pact with me."

He quickly reached down and caught the plate slipping through your fingers before you had time to even process you had dropped it. You blinked at him with wide eyes as he carefully set it back on the counter.

Barbatos could feel your gaze on his back — filled with pure shock and confusion. It was one he knew all too well.

You had told him once, after the first time he had ever proposed the pact, that you had never expected him to ask you this. Not in a million years. You knew he had a pact with Solomon, but no one truly knew how that particular agreement came to be (and he would much rather keep it that way). But you also knew how much trust went into bestowing a pact with someone. It was not something to take lightly.

"Barbatos," you breathed with awe on your tongue. "You ... Why?"

To protect you. To ensure that he could be by your side in an instant the second you call out for him. To keep you safe from the world — from time. To love you.

He smiled and went back to putting away the dishes as though he hadn't just offered his entire being to you. "You already have Mammon's. And I hear that you have a contest with Leviathan soon approaching to earn his. It seems you've become a collector of sort."

And if the promptness of the decision had anything to do with the lingering threat of Leviathan's rage during said competition, well, Barbatos was hardly one to offer spoilers.

You huffed and placed a hand on his shoulder, forcing him to face you. He reveled in the closeness. "This is serious. I- You're not usually one for jokes. I- I mean, pacts are a big deal, right? I'm just beginning to understand that. I-"

He gently scooped your hands into his own gloved ones and peered deeply into your eyes. "We're friends, are we not?" he couldn't help the flare of pride that ran through him as your expression grew flush. "I like to keep my friends close. I like to protect them. And this, this pact? It's the best way I can think of to keep you as protected as possible."

A frown dug at your lips as you tilted your head in confusion. "Isn't that what the brothers are for? Do you not trust them?"

Quite honestly, no. He didn't. More often than not it was them who were the very cause of your pain. He would never understand why his Lord thought that it was best to keep you there, with the brothers who had barely agreed to the program in the first place, over keeping you in the castle with them. But that was out of his control.

This, however, was not.

"I think they do the best they can," he answered instead as he peered down at your joined hands. He would never grow tired of just how nicely they fit together. "But this is different. It's a personal comfort that you're alright," your breath hitched as he his thumbs caressed your knuckles. "Would you allow me that one little peace, MC?"

"Okay," you whispered, and that oh-so-beautiful burn ran through him and branded itself into the base of both of your throats, just under your voice box.

He couldn't help but smile. Teal always looked so good on you.

He lifted a single hand to touch the mark — it was still warm to the touch. "Perfect," he muttered.

The pact was good. It meant you two were connected now. But it wasn't enough.

He knew from experience. The pact alone wouldn't prevent you from nearly dying in the competition. It wouldn't stop you from getting Leviathan's cursed album and finding your way to the attic.

It wouldn't stop Belphegor.

The night before the competition he made his way to the House of Lamentation with one goal in mind — to take the pendant of the Lord of Corruption's lost wing that Solomon had given you.

You hadn't spoken in detail with Simeon as Satan had advised you. Meaning this pendant was your only chance of winning the competition. Without it, you would lose, Leviathan would never go into a frenzy, the two of you would never form a pact, and most importantly, he would never give you the cursed TSL album that would allow you access to your doom.

Barbatos knew what this meant. He would be completely shredding apart the timeline and creating a number of unknowns.

But it had to be done. To save you.

As he was making his way out the door, a large hand on his shoulder stopped him in place.

Barbatos felt his heart nose dive from his chest to his stomach as he stared at the door not five feet in front of him. "I have to do this," he said firmly even as dread began to swirl within him.

"You know you can't," came the Young Lord's voice — calm, for once. Thick with morose solemn.

The butler swallowed thickly around the lump in his throat. "They're going to die.

"They will." "I can stop it." "No. You can't," Barbatos felt his hands begin to shake at the finality in his tone. "You know this. It's fate."

Anger boiled deep in his stomach at those words. "It's fate," Diavolo would always tell him, as though that excused the endless hardships you were forced to endure.

It wasn't fair, he knew that. Diavolo loved you just much as Barbatos himself did. But he didn't understand. How could he?

While he may be able to see through lies, he couldn't travel through time as Barbatos could. He didn't have the power to actually change fate like Barbatos did.

He wasn't the one who could do something, but has been forced to stand by and do nothing every single time and just watch.

Watch as your back broke and blood trickled out from your lips. Watch the soul leave your eyes as your face remained frozen in eternal horror. Watch as you died. Time, and time, and time, and time, and time, and time, and time again all because it was fate.

His hands twitched at his side. "Why?" He pleaded in grievous whisper. "Why not just this once? They live, and they'll be safe."

The grip on his shoulder tightened. "It's MC's fate to sacrifice themself for the betterment of the Devildom and those within it. Just as it was Lilith's fate to die so her brothers could fall and take their rightful place here. If it didn't happen here, and now, it would only happen later on. But in ways that we won't be prepared for."

"I know" he damn-near growled. Where Diavolo could only speak based on theory, Barbatos had lived it.

One time you were kidnapped by a rebellion who disagreed with the exchange program and publicly mutilated you as an example. The next, your head was sent to Mammon by the witches he loved to infuriate. In another, your soul was claimed by the very nature of the Devildom — torn apart by beasts and plants alike. And one more, the angels stole you to "train" and shape you until you're the perfect weapon against the Devildom that they'd been searching for.

And again, and again, and again.

"I hate it," he spits as exhaustion bleeds into his tone and his voice cracks. "No matter how many times I reset the timeline. No matter how many things I change, I-I can't-"

"You can't save them, Barbatos," a sob escapes him as Diavolo speaks. "I'm sorry, but you can't. It's ... It's impossible."

And that was it. Wasn't it? There were simply somethings that, no matter how hard you tried, you could simply never change.

A little over a week later, his pact ignited. He felt the air cut from his lungs. He felt his spine break into two. He felt the blood trickle down his throat and flood his lungs. He felt his stomach flip as he plummeted.

He felt you die. Just as you had before. Time and time again.

***Oh this may be on of my favourite fics I've written yet. I hope you all enjoyed this as much as I did! Thank you all again for endless love and support. You guys are the best community I could ever ask for. Love you all! ***

Tag List: @thegrimgrinningghost @henry-and-the-seven-lords @satans-beloved-riv @cosmixbun @sufzku @obey-mes-treasure @kissed-by-a-dementor @yukihaie @justtiarra @mammoneybb @poly-bi-mf @burrixino @rul-of-demise @pumpkins-mainside-blog @acousticpen @sucker-for-angst-and-fluff @itskrispy @10paradox10 @vallison-rea @ivoryclive @newfangled-artistry @pumpkinpatchkid @chirikoheina @sailboat21 @theother4 @todoroses @circus-of-freaks @fuzzyphotography @avatar-mikazuki @curatoroffiction @sunlightocean @taare-ginn @dragon-rider-with-a-book @korneatto @rphantom1

Hi Cloud ☁️ I just want to say I love your stories they always make me feel happy and horny 😉 I love how your write for plus-sized/chubby people. If you don’t mind can I request skinny yandere boyfriend asking his girlfriend to sit on his face?

mmm all my nonnies are so smart <3. remember ladies, if he dies, he dies. to die by thigh is the way of a warrior ☁️

your wish is mama cloud's command <3

(gentle reminder that mama cloud does not condone real life acts of "yandere" behavior. do not harm the people you love and do not harm the people that love your person. this is all fiction and should stay that way.☁️)

so let's talk about your bf eating u out on your shared couch as punishment <3, you've already cum several times that evening n even though he's been going for hours, his tongue never slowed. your face is stained w tears, you're trying your best to pull his head away, only for him to slap your thighs n give u a warning glare.

ofc you just had to speak to an old classmate while the two of u were on a date, didn't you? even now, he's still seething with anger from watching that guy eye-fuck you. how dare he?! his precious angel is his and he can't- won't let anyone take you from him!

soon his movements get even rougher n more depraved <3, he's grabbing the backs of ur knees to get deeper into your sopping cunt, but it just! isn't! enough!!! he needs to remind you who's the only one who can eat you out n leave you breathless. When he pulls away, his mouth dripping from your arousal, you think hes finally gonna give you a break!!

oh how wrong you are, angel <3

he's climbing on the couch with u, leaning closer to your ear slowly. you think hes gonna praise you? oh no no noo. he's telling you to stand up now. you still need to be reminded of who you belong to. once you stand and he gets in position, your cute lil protests n whines die almost instantly with a dangerous look he shoots you.

he's pulling you to him by your wrist, pulling you down that that you're sitting just below his face. be a good girl. sit on his face. he pushes you forward with the hands he has on your ass, sticking out his tongue to flick your clit, making you jolt n moan. begging him to please give you a break :(.

ofc he's not gonna! he loves you sm, but he can't let you forget it <3. just let him make u cum a few more times n maybe you can take a break :)!! he's finally got you on his face, his mouth sucking harshly on your overstimulated clit, your arousal dripping down your thighs and onto his face. yes this is what he wanted!

his hair is all messed up, his face is red n burning up, n his tongue never slowed, either playing w your clit or fucking up into your sopping hole. he doesn't care much his lungs beg him for a break! you need to be reminded of who can make you feel this good!!!

ofc he drinks in all of your release! he loves all things you'll give him, angel <3 he's getting drunk on your essence n he's no where near finished.

now be a good girl n sitt pretty on his face while you tell him just exactly who you belong to <3

facesitting is so yes????? yes i will sit on your face??? yes i will probably suffocate u but it's ok just tap if u need air <3☁️