#Vans Sport Low

[vansfriend]

#Vans #Vans Sport #Sport #Vans Sport Low #Sport Low #Off the Wall #Vans Off The Wall #2024 #Vans Style #World Famous #Swag #Vans Classics #Vans Classic #Vans Apparel #Apparel #Vans Sneaker #Out Fit #Vans Out Fit #Sneaker #Vans Sneakers #Sneakers

[one-bravo-tango]

#low approach #aviation #learn to fly #flying #flying experience #private pilot #sport pilot #vans aircraft #pilot #pilot training #aviation shorts #aviation flying #low approach landing #low approach take off #Youtube

[lovebugism]

eddie fucking you in the back of his van whilst it’s raining😫

hope you like it lovie!! — after a series of ruined date nights, eddie makes up for another failure the only way he knows how (established relationship, smut 18+, 1.4k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Eddie was gonna take you out, come hell or high water — literally.

It was like the universe was conjuring up ways to keep you apart. He tries to plan a date night with you, and suddenly you have to pick up your coworker’s extra shift and the brakes in his van don’t work anymore.

He takes you to a drive-in to see some black-and-white horror movie, and for the first time in weeks, things are actually looking pretty good. With some candy he brought from home, the two of you settle under the covers in the back of his van, lazing against one another as the projector flickers on.

And then it just starts fucking pouring.

It’s like he blinks and the whole thing gets canceled and the entire parking lot is empty.

“You’ve gotta be shitting me,” he grumbles under his breath, not unlike the black storm clouds rolling overhead.

You giggle at his dramatics. The heavenly sound melts with the wild cadence of rain, tapping rhythmically against the rusted tin roof of the van. 

You’re still being a good sport about the whole thing despite the circumstances. You don’t care what you’re doing, really. You’re happy just doing nothing with Eddie. 

“They refunded us for next week. We can just come back Saturday.”

“I wanted to do it this Saturday,” he whines, all boyishly angry. With his arms crossed over his chest, he leans his head back and bares his milky white neck. “This was supposed to be our night together— why does everything have to get so fucked all the time?”

“It’s not like everything’s totally ruined,” you assure him, practically cooing as you smooth out the frown between his brows with your thumb. “At least we’re together. Who cares about the rest of it?”

“I know, but… You were really excited about it. And I was really excited to watch you watch the movie.”

Eddie tries to be serious, but he’s grinning the second he makes you laugh.

“Shut up…”

“I mean it,” he tells you, serious and quiet with it. His cheek squishes against his shoulder when he pouts at you. “I think I might be heartbroken, babe.”

You know what he’s playing at. You lean into it, anyway.

“Yeah?” you hum with narrowed eyes.

He nods.

“Want me to make it better?”

“Please?”

You close the short distance between you to press a kiss to his mouth. It’s the chastest little peck — you’re practically gone the second you’re there. Eddie chases you when you pull away, tasting of nicotine and pink starbursts when he kisses you deeper.

You get lost in him like it’s nothing, sighing when his soft tongue juts gently against your own. He’s sucking softly at your bottom lip one second, and the next, you’re lying on a pile of fuzzy blankets.

His rings and cold knuckles brush your sides when he tugs at the hem of your shirt, a silent plea for its removal. You come to then, pulling back from him with a low click sounding between your kissed mouths.

“Wait…”

“What?” he wonders, lips rosy and swollen. His deep, chocolate eyes dart between both of yours, looking for any sign that something might be wrong.

“Won’t we get in trouble?”

“No— Everyone already left.”

He’s breathless from having been kissed so ardently. He leans down for more anyway. His stomach twists with rejection when you press against his shoulders to stop him.

With a sigh, he concedes and rises off of you again. His shirt is wrinkled and skewed around his neck from your passionate touches. Still on his knees, he reaches for the metal handle of the back door and shouts into the roaring rain — “Hello? Anyone out here?”

“Eddie!” you shout, giggling and jerking backward when rogue droplets sprinkle inside.

The van shakes when he slams the door shut again.

“See?” he lilts with a lopsided grin. “No one.”

You shake your head at him. “You’re incorrigible, you know that?”

“You love me, though,” he mutters as he settles back over you. The weight of his body is warm against your own. With your hands on his sides, you pull him somehow closer.

“Unfortunately…” you gripe, kissing the breath from his lungs a second later.

When he reaches for the hem of your shirt again, you let him take it off.

—————

The thundering rain against the roof almost drowns out your gentle moans. Eddie’s glad you’re breathing them right into his ear, so he can hear everything he’s doing to you. 

His thrusts are slow and measured. Almost painfully unrushed. He shushes your begging to go faster — “Just let me make you feel good,” he mutters, slurred and low, “Let me hit that spot.” He pierces you with his cock, tilting his hips to hit deep inside you until you make a pretty noise for him, then he creeps back out again.

He never pulls all the way out, though, ‘cause he might die if he left the warm velvet you are around him. He keeps his pelvis pressed intently against your own, the coarse hair at the base of his cock steady on your pussy. The pressure against your clit is merciless.

“Put your legs around me, baby,” he mumbles against your mouth because he knows the different angle will make it better for you. 

He almost smirks when you obey him without thinking, but his mouth parts with an unexpected moan before he can. You pull your knees back and tuck your ankles around his waist, heels pressing gently above his ass. 

Your cunt widens and suckles him further in.

Eddie grumbles a hearty, poorly muffled moan into your neck.

“There you go— just like that,” he praises. “Doing so good for me, pretty. Always so good for me.”

You whine again, high and light, like the praise is equally as pleasurable as his cock.

His metal chain glides between your breasts when he pulls back from you. He tucks his ringed fingers into your waist and sits back on his haunches, balls resting warm and wet against your ass. He keeps rocking into you, unhurried.

“What happened to that mouth you had before, huh?” Eddie wonders, still breathless.

He smirks when you moan in response. He knows you don’t have the words to answer him. He knows he’s fucked you far too stupid.

“Thought I was incorrigible, remember? What happened to that?”

Your mouth parts in a silent whimper, back arching and brows pinching when his cock hits deeper than you think he’s ever been. The pleasure feels borderline electric — makes your spine tingle and your legs go numb.

“Yeah… For someone who loves mouthing off—” Eddie continues to tease despite his breathlessness. You clench around him, and he has to remember to exhale. “—You open up so easily for me. Don’t ya, honey?” 

You wanna say something. You think you almost do. But his thrusts are as merciless as they are slow. He presses impossibly deep within you and keeps hitting that spot until you tremble. The words get caught in your throat, along with a silent moan.

“That’s okay, honey. Just let me fuck you. Let me make you feel good,” Eddie slurs, mumbling like he’s talking to himself. “Go dumb for me like you always do. So perfect at that— god.”

He tilts his head back to howl a groan. Through fluttering lashes and a blurry vision, you see his clenched jaw and taut neck and heaving chest. 

Eddie always talks a big game when he gets you all sweet and pliable underneath him. He loves to be dominant while he tears you apart, but as his own orgasm crawls up his spine, his true colors start to show.

He leans back over you again, caging you beneath his warm weight. He stops hiding his pathetic whines and whimpers and instead buries them into your sweat-slick shoulder. He babbles in your ear, a bunch of garbled nothingness because words are starting to lose meaning.

“Fuck, honey. Oh, fuck— you’re so fucking— shit. You’re so goddamn pretty, baby, you know that? So good for me. So soft, too. Shit. This pussy’s gonna kill me.”

He tucks his face into your neck and tries to kiss you through his whines. His ringed fingers crawl behind your back, holding you like his life depends on it while his measured thrusts grow rapid and sloppy. 

Eddie begs you to cum, or rather demands it because he can feel himself about to explode. “Cum— Cum for me— right fucking now.”

You do. You’ve been hanging by a thread the whole time, really. And like you expected, Eddie’s not too far behind you. Your unabashed moans entwine, mixing with the wild cadence of the rain against the tin roof of the rocking van.

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble #event: fictober!

[hairmetal666]

Eddie's supposed to be writing. The guys, they all agreed they'd each come to practice armed with two whole new songs they could pick from to add to their set list at the Hideout. And he's got his pen, and he's got his most recent trusty Composition Book, and all his lyrics are fucking bullshit about golden tanned skin and honeyed eyes and tracing constellations in freckles and moles, pathetic lines about being twisted in bed sheets, and the hopeless love he found himself in.

For the fifth time in an hour, he rips out the offending page, crunches it into a tight ball, and throws it across the room.

He can't write about Steve Harrington for the rest of his life; spend his nights aching for the boy who established himself as a fixture in Eddie's life and then just disappeared.

The worst of it--the very worst--is that Eddie knew better. Steve was never his, not in any real way, no matter how many times they fucked. He's Steve Harrington. Straightest guy in Hawkins. Popular. Rich. Whole fucking life laid out for him on a silver platter. And Eddie fell for him. It's the Munson curse, he supposes; always wanting what you can't have.

It started the way these things usually do, "got any weed?" and "come back to my place, Harrington" and "I got this stupid job at the mall, meet me there?" and lying "hey, guys, can't make band practice, gotta help Uncle Wayne" and "Munson, I really want--can I kiss you?"

In every other fantasy Eddie's ever had, it ends there. Steve gets his kiss and they never see each other again. But Steve Harrington--he's full of surprises. It catches Eddie off guard, makes him want, makes him trust. Because it's not just kisses. It's hands and mouths and "anything you want, Eddie. Let me make you feel good."

Maybe it wouldn't have hit so hard--maybe Eddie could've stopped from falling--if Steve hadn't been so good. Bitchy, sure, but genuine and kind. Had this whole gaggle of junior high kids he babysat, like what the fuck. Would hang out with Wayne and shoot the shit about whatever sports nonsense was on tv. Harrington never was as mean, as spoiled, as superficial as Eddie suspected.

Then Starcourt. That's when it all changes. Steve stops coming around then, in the aftermath. It hurts, but Eddie tells himself it's for the best. Now, he knows it would have been.

Two weeks with no contact, and Steve shows up at his door in the middle of the night. Eddie winces at the healing bruises and cuts on his face, can't imagine how much worse they were to start. He steps aside, lets Steve in, plans to say that he can't be whatever they are anymore.

Steve kisses him. It's a hot, needy thing, wild with teeth and tongue, nothing like before. Eddie is helpless to it, helpless to the way Steve grinds against him, already hard. He should slow it down, check-in that Steve is in the right headspace for this, but Steve is moaning low in his throat and Eddie can't think.

They're in Eddie's bed and Steve says, "fuck me, Eddie?" and Eddie says "are you sure" because he can't stop himself. Steve rolls his eyes (beautifuly bitchy), says, "I need to feel you inside me, baby."

How can Eddie say no?

Eddie's never done this before, but it doesn't matter. It's everything--Steve is everything--he could ask for.

The next morning, he expects Steve to be gone. Thinks they'll never see each other again. But he finds Steve in the kitchen, in his boxers and Eddie's Iron Maiden shirt, making eggs and talking to Wayne like it's the most normal thing in the world.

The next month and a half are the best of Eddie's life. He and Steve spend more time together than they do apart. Nights at Eddie's trailer, in Eddie's bed. Days lounging at the Harrington pool and driving around the nothing that surrounds Hawkins. Sometimes they'll stop in the middle of nowhere, climb on top of the van, and just--be. Steve takes his shirt off, and Eddie traces their names in the sun-soaked freckles, thinking maybe he really gets to have this, have Steve.

It ends as quickly as it started. One morning in September, Steve is cupping Eddie's neck, pulling him in for a goodbye kiss, saying, "sorry, baby, gotta get home for my parents. I'll see you later tonight, yeah?"

Except Eddie doesn't. Eddie doesn't see Steve that night, or the night after, or the night after that. He stops coming around and all Eddie is left with is a broken heart and these piss poor excuses for songs.

He rips out the latest page, waxing lyrical about the wonders of August, and time slipping away, and the boy he'll never forget. Crumples it into a ball and bats it into a pile of junk accumulated in the corner of his room.

Eddie needs a break.

He flies into the living room, snatches up his keys from the floor by the coffee table, and flees his house and all those memories of Steve. It's not like he has anywhere specific to go, so he drives around town, with his windows down and his music up.

His tires screech as he rounds the corner to the video store and arcade. He's not planning on stopping, but honestly, maybe a few rounds of Space Invaders is exactly what he needs.

The van hasn't even come to a stop in the parking spot when his eyes fall on Steve Harrington. He's standing in the middle of the parking lot surrounded by a gang of kids (including some of Eddie's new little sheepies) and Robin Buckley. Steve wears a sunny yellow sweatshirt, tight jeans, and his hair is perfectly coifed, falling in an elegant wave. His hands are on his hips, mouth and brows pinched stern. He's gorgeous, perfect.

It's an assault, an attack, Eddie's entire body shakes as the months they spent together crash over him. He has the van in reverse before he consciously thinks to do so, flooring it out of the space hard enough to burn rubber.

The noise, the speed, it draws the entire group's attention to him.

His eyes meet Steve's.

Time stops and so does he, idling in the middle of the parking lot. For a second, one moment in time, Steve's face falls. His mouth loses that grumpy pinch, his eyebrows drop, his beauty transformed by grief, by fucking longing.

Steve takes a step forward, and Eddie hits the gas, van screaming out of the parking lot. He watches the group shrink in his rearview mirror, sure that he imagined the sorrow in Steve's face, anyway.

They're nothing to each other.

Never were.

By popular request: Part Two

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #oneshot #ficlet #angst #no happy ending #august #summer romance #heartbreak #mutual pining #based on a taylor swift song #i probably went overboard with the references to the lyrics #i'm not sorry #it's about the longing #august slipped away into a moment in time #whatever you do don't think about how the next time they see each other is Eddie pinning Steve to the wall in the boat house

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Eddie Munson x fem!reader [6.7k] just smut, really. soft, sweet eddie, who finally gets a chance to take you home. a friends with benefits situation.

Eddie Munson was a really good kisser. He was really good at eating you out too. He had nice hands, big, heavy, with guitar string scars that felt rough and lovely on your bare skin. He liked it when you tugged his curls, he liked it even better when you got a little loud. 

He fucking loved it when you told him what to do. 

You weren’t sure how your situation with the boy started, but it had been a few months now.. He went from a pretty face you knew in school, to a friend of Steve’s, introduced to you at a party. Then there was a rolled joint offered to you in the woods behind school, shoulders bumping, eyes interested, laughter exchanged. 

Knowing eyes gazing over the other by the lockers, the offer of a ride home one day when it rained and didn’t stop. It went from there, more looks, heated and heavy, a hand on a knee, fingers that brushed back hair. 

And then you were on his lap, dress gathered in one of Eddie’s hands as he held it out of his way so he could watch the way his cock slid in and out of you. He was noisy, encouraging you to do the same with low, rough moans and teeth that nipped at your jaw, your neck. 

That was it, an addiction that needed to be fed, kisses that you couldn’t really go without for more than a day or two and after the last bell rang, you found his van in the school parking lot. Eddie could never make it further than past the old sports fields, pulling over somewhere private so he could get his hands on you, needy and greedy and all consuming. 

It’s where you found yourself now, parked behind the old building that used to house the soccer teams changing rooms, hidden from view from the school, its students, the main roads. You were comfy in Eddie’s lap, a familiar weight on his thighs, your skirt already rucked up around your hips. 

His lips were that maddening touch of soft, slow, fast, deep, lazy, needy, teeth, tongue, fuck, god. 

It turned heated fast, the same way it always did and it was fine, it was good. It always was. It didn’t matter if Eddie had you in his lap for five hours or five minutes, the boy always made you come. He had a way of making it creep up on you, hard and fast, eyes rolling, white flashes of heat rippling through your body and then there were stars. Stars everywhere. 

The boy kissed constellations onto your lips, dripping gold dust over your skin. 

He had his hands under your skirt, palms squeezing at the flesh of your ass, kneading each cheek in a way that made your skin prickle with heat ‘cause he was spreading you over his thighs and it that made you feel real fucking dirty. 

You were breathless, hands in his curls, pulling him closer, eyes fluttering at the way he sucked another bruise you couldn’t explain onto your neck. 

You felt close enough to fall apart without him even touching you, underwear still on, lace slick and wet already, but Jesus Christ, he hadn’t put his hands on you yet. Not really. You were a livewire, body electric, the air around you both buzzing. 

It wouldn’t last long when you were both like this, pent up from not seeing each other for five days, school and homework and jobs and hellfire meetings keeping you apart. And well, a five minute fuck wasn’t going to do. No, not anymore. 

So you pushed at his chest, firm enough that his head fell back onto the headrest and Eddie’s hair was a mess and his brown eyes were wide. He was staring, chest heaving, palms still squeezing at the curve of your ass, fingers grazing over the lace edges of your underwear.

"Slow down," you tell him, voice a whisper.

You were sure you heard him whine, a pretty noise that got stuck at the back of his throat. You plucked the chain that lay there, shiny against his collar bones, and you twisted it between your fingers. It was sinful the way you used it to pull him a little closer again, nose brushing against the bridge of his own, lips hovering just out of reach. 

He could’ve moved him he wanted to, surged forward and took control, kissed the commands right off your lips. But he didn’t. 

“You can have me all night, if you want."

He whined, whimpered. You heard it that time.

"Be a little soft about it, huh? Nice and slow, for me, please?"

And then Eddie was nodding, eyes turning to burnt caramel, hooded and staring at you. His jaw was slack, lips parted and glossy from your kisses and suddenly his hands were skimming over your thighs, climbing up to hold at your waist instead. He touched you a little softer, sweeter than before and it made your stomach twist. 

Fingers tucked your hair behind your ear, his heavy gaze taking in every feature, like he’d suddenly been told he could have you forever, like he wanted to commit you to memory in case you changed your mind. 

Then he was kissing you again, slower like you asked, like he’d never kissed you before. Sweet and soft, his mouth a gentle push against your own and you so desperately wanted to lick into him, to tug on his pretty hair and make him grunt into you but that’s not what you asked for. 

So you let Eddie set the pace, sighed into him, wriggled in his lap when he sucked the curve of your bottom lip between his own, and god were you going to regret this?

He tasted sweet, like the blue raspberry jolly rancher you’d seen Lucas hand him in the hallway, a little smoky underneath it, entirely like Eddie. He took his time with you, did as you asked him and the way he slowly curled his tongue around yours made your legs tingle, your heart skip a beat before racing a little faster than before. 

His hand found your face, curving at your jaw, his thumb on your chin and he tap, tap, tapped at it until you let Eddie drag your mouth open a little more, whining when it resulted in him licking into you a little deeper. 

He pulled away quicker than you would’ve liked, smiling all pretty at you when you gazed at him wide eyed. But then Eddie was nodding at the passenger seat, giving your ass a cute little smack. 

“C’mon, sweetheart, seat belt on.”

You let his chain fall from your fingers, unsure you understood. But Eddie was surprisingly strong, wide hands clutching at your waist to lift you back over the console, dropping you a little clumsily onto the seat next to him. 

“Eddie?” your voice was soft, a little worried, like maybe you’d crossed a line you weren’t sure the boy had. 

But he was starting the engine, the van rumbling underneath you and then he was gazing over at you, bottom lip sucked between his teeth and god, he looked sinful, he looked like he wanted to eat you up. You’d let him, without hesitation. 

“You said I could have you all night, yeah?” Eddie prompted, big eyes shining earnestly, his voice so sincere, like he couldn’t quite believe you’d told him such a thing. “Did you mean it?”

You nodded, suddenly shy and then Eddie was smiling, that wide, slow stretch of his lips that made you feel so many things. The van started moving, the boy tsked and nodded to your belt again, which you quickly pulled across your lap. 

“Okay,” he nodded too, final in his decision. “Let’s go back to mine then, sweetheart.”

—————

You hadn’t been to Eddie’s before, not really. You knew which trailer was his, had seen in across from Max’s when you dropped her off with Steve, waved shyly and with warm cheeks when you saw the curly headed boy out of the front window. 

You knew enough to realise his uncle Wayne was out, the older man’s car gone from the grassy makeshift drive. The park was quiet when Eddie parked up, making a noise of protest when you went to open the door for yourself. So you sat still, smiled hidden between pressed lips as you watched him bounce around the front of the van. 

He opened your door with a shy grin, bright eyes and a hand that was ready to clasp your own. Eddie helped you down, wet grass brushing your ankles and it felt like a storm was coming with the way the air was buzzing. 

Maybe it was just you and Eddie. Maybe it was just anticipation. 

He opened the door to the trailer for you too, unusually quiet as his fingertips found the small of your back, guiding you inside the small house that was much cosier than you expected. It smelled a little smoky, like coffee and boyish cologne. 

And then Eddie was rocking on the balls of his feet, fidgeting and pulling at a curl as he watched you take in his home. 

“D’you, uh, want a drink or-?”

You turned, smiling soft like you wanted to show him you weren’t judging anything about the trailer. How could you? It was all Eddie. 

“Do I not get to see your room, Munson?”

Eddie looked like he had all the air punched out of his lungs. The curl he’d pulled to brush against his mouth sprung back, his hands dropping to his sides as his eyes went wide. 

He cleared his throat, nodding, giving a little bow and a wave of his arm, showing you down the narrow hallway. It was sweet, you thought, the way he was acting. Like he hadn’t been balls deep inside you countless times, as if he didn’t know the exact way you liked his fingers on your clit. 

So you grinned at him, walked down the hall with your hands clasped coyly behind your back and you knew he was watching you, he always was. You could feel his eyes on you, a familiar burn that tickled your skin.

Eddie’s room was exactly like him, dark and warm, a little messy, littered with music posters, guitars on the walls, amps piled in the corner. His bed was unmade, pillows squint and sheets rumbled but they looked surprisingly fresh, the smell of laundry detergent, cologne and little smoke taking up space in the air. 

You knew you’d asked for slow, for soft, for the boy to take his time with you. But suddenly you didn’t know what to do now you had Eddie all alone, all to yourself. Maybe for the whole night. The thought made you swallow hard and you were overcome, overwhelmed with how the boy was surrounding you without even touching you. 

You never usually get Eddie for more than half an hour, a full sixty minutes at most, if you decided you could afford to be a little late for work that day. You never got to pull more than his belt off of him, jeans shucked down his thighs just enough for his cock to spring free. Likewise, you were confined to shirts and pulled up skirts, underwear hanging off one ankle or pushed to the side, Eddie’s fingers quick and concise against you. 

So you huffed out a little laugh, nervous, but Eddie was smiling down at you and you liked the way the pulse in his neck jumped when you grabbed his hands and pushed him backwards to his bed. The backs of his knees hit the mattress and he let you nudge him down to sit, playing pretend with you, as if he couldn’t easily overpower you if he wanted. 

He leaned back, weight spread on the palms of his hands as he looked up at you, silver chain and big, brown eyes shining in the low light that came through the crack of his closed curtains. 

“What’re you up to, trouble?”

You shrugged, playing coy, lips twisted into a pretty smile you tried to hide but then your hands were toying with the buttons on your shirt, your cardigan long lost to the floor of Eddie’s van. But the boy was enraptured, gaze trained on the way your fingers were popping each button, trailing downdowndown, until the soft material hung open and your lilac bra was on show. 

It wasn’t anything fancy, soft cotton triangles with ring straps and god, you knew for a fact that your light green underwear certainly didn’t match. But looking at Eddie, you had the realisation that he probably would care, no, not at all. ‘Cause his eyes were wide and his lips were parted, sitting the most still you’d ever seen him. 

There wasn’t any music, just the quiet sounds of the town outside, the hum of a generator, the chirp of some birds nearby in a tear, the wind rushing softly over the metal roof. Eddie’s soft breathing, a little choked noise he caught in the back of his throat when you let your shirt slip off your shoulders, let it pool at your feet. 

You toed off your shoes, eyes on Eddie’s the whole time and you wondered if this is what he imagined, what he thought about because all of sudden you were only in your skirt and bra and it was the most bare skin he’d seen on you. 

Was your tummy too soft? Were your boobs too small? Did he see the scar on your bicep from when you fell over when you were five? 

“Christ, you’re perfect,” he breathed out, eyes trailing over every inch of you. “So fuckin’ pretty.”

You flushed, cheeks and chest warm under his gaze but you didn’t stop, didn’t want to. Your fingers hooked into the band of your skirt, teased along the edges of it and you grinned when Eddie swore again, under his breath, hands fisting the comforter in a way that made your own breath hitch. 

“Yeah?” you asked, blinking prettily, looking at the boy from under your lashes, fingers still slipped underneath the waist of your skirt. “Y’think so?”

You were playing up, you knew that, Eddie knew that. Neither of you cared though, because Eddie was grinning, nodding as he let out a low whistle. 

“Prettiest little thing I’ve ever seen.”

You lit up at his words, cheeks rosy, lip tucked between your teeth to hide your grin but Eddie was still smiling enough for both of you. You rewarded him by putting on a little show, body turned to the side so you could pop your ass out a little, arch your back real nice and slide your skirt down your hips all slow. 

You didn’t let go of the material until you smoothed it down your thighs, letting it fall to the floor once it reached your knees and you were bent over for him. Nice and slow, you eased back up, almost scared to look at the boy who’d been hidden behind the mess of your hair as you eased your skirt off. But when you stood back up, pushed your hair back and pressed your thumb nervously to your lips, you saw how the boy looked a little wild. 

A little wrecked. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Eddie breathed, sitting up to catch your hands in his, coaxing you to stand between his knees. He licked his lips, smoothed his palms over the dip in your waist and drew a line up your stomach with the tip of his nose. “Look at you.”

He certainly was, taking his time to gaze over every part of you, hands following suit, fingers trailing across the soft curve of your stomach, snapping the lace edge of your underwear against your hip. He pressed a kiss to your sternum, an open mouthed and lazy drag of his mouth over the swell of your breast. 

“Y’wanna tell me what you want? Hmm?”

Your eyes fluttered closed at the feel of the boy so close, all this new bare skin for him to explore. His hands were so big, wide and warm and rough, scratching lovely at your waist, over the tops of your thighs, his mouth trailing down until his tongue licked at the edge of your underwear, flicking a little dirty at the cute little bow there. 

“Eddie,” you didn’t mean to whine, not already. Your hands clutched at his shoulders, disappointingly still covered by his shirt but you felt a little unsteady, dizzy. “Told you what I wanted.”

You felt rather than saw his smile, pressed to your tummy and you let out a sharp gasp when his hands spun you, catching you when you turned, facing the other way so his nose was pressed to the curve of your spine. 

You suddenly felt a lot more naked than before. 

He tutted, close enough to you that you felt his lips move against you, his curls tickling the curve of your ass, his hands keeping you between his knees. 

“Wanna hear it again, sweet thing,” a kiss, on the dimple of your lower back, another on the lace edge of your underwear. You squirmed. “That alright?”

You let out the breath you’d been holding, hands making fists by your sides and uncurling your hands again and again, at a loss with what to do with them because you’d never not been facing Eddie, tucked into his lap, able to watch him gasp and curse for you, fingers tangled in his hair. 

He seemed to notice this, caught your hands in his own and soothed this thumb over your palms. 

“This okay?” he asked you and the boy peered up to see your head tilted back, eyes closed, lips parted, chest heaving. You nodded and he smiled. “Yeah, baby? Lemme hear you?”

“Yeah, Eddie,” you murmured. “S’good.”

He rewarded you with a kiss to your hand, planted where his thumb was and then his mouth was trailing along your arm, lips pressed to the sensitive skin inside the crook of your elbow and he didn’t stop until his teeth were catching on the clasp of your bra. 

He fingered the band, ghosted a touch over the metal hooks and you were gasping, nodding again so he didn’t have to ask permission and the flimsy fabric was soon joining the rest of your clothes on Eddie Munson’s bedroom floor. 

Fuck. 

“Pretty girl,” he cooed, “my sweet little thing, huh?” 

Your heart stuttered over the possessive remark, your thighs rubbing together because you were still standing facing away from the boy and he wasn’t touching you where you wanted him to. 

You couldn’t see what he was doing, couldn’t guess his next move and when you groaned and tried to spin back around, Eddie ah ah ah’d and gave your hip a little tap. 

“You’ve not answered my question,” he tried to sound scolding, but he was sweet enough to kiss the spot he’d given you a little smack. “Gonna tell me what you want? Comin’ into my bedroom and givin’ me a little show? Then you can’t even tell me what you want me to do with you?”

He traced a line down your spine, tucked his index finger into the edge of your underwear, rings cold against your skin and he pulled the elastic back until it snapped back against you. You jumped, whimpered, pushed your ass further into his wide hands.

“C’mon now trouble, what did you tell me in the van, huh? You were so bossy then, what happened to that girl? Got you all fucked out already?” Eddie laughed, not meanly, but unkind enough to make your toes curl. “Hardly touched you, sweetheart, Christ.”

You loved and hated the way the boy could run his mouth, in and out of the bedroom. He could have you wet with just his mouth at your ear, spinning tales of exactly what he was going to do with you when he got you alone, sneaking away from your locker before anyone else had a chance to spot you both. Eddie was loud, brash, too confident, dramatic to boot. He was dirty, unashamed, hot with it, teasing. 

You loved it. 

But the boy couldn’t fucking handle it when you gave it back to him. 

“Eddie.”

Another cooing noise, almost sympathetic, but you knew him better than that. “Yeah, baby?”

“Want you to take care of me,” your voice was sticky soft, sweet like honey, just as easy to get stuck in. “Can you do that? Please?”

You heard his breath hitch, a hard swallow, a wrecked sigh he tried to hide. 

“Want you to take your time with me,” your hands found his, small on top of large, but you were the one taking control. You smoothed them up your hips, along the ridges of your ribs until both rough hands were cupping at your tits and you were lowering yourself into his lap. “Be nice to me, slow and sweet, baby.”

He was already hard against you, the length of him sitting stiff between your ass cheeks and you knew for a fact he’d been that way since the van. He’d admit it to you too, completely unashamedly letting you know the effect you had on him. 

Eddie liked to take your hand in his, cup his hard dick through his jeans and whisper to you, asking you if you knew what you did to him. 

So you stole his move, brought your joined hands to the heat of your lace covered cunt and leant back into his chest, his chin hooking over your shoulder so he could watch. His eyes were dark, almost black, hooded and staring through the line of his lashes. 

“Fuck.”

You nodded as if you were agreeing with him, coaxing one of his fingers to draw a line up the length of your folds, gathering enough slick under the lace that it stuck to you, showing off every outline of you for Eddie to see. 

“Eddie,” you couldn’t manage more than a whisper, but your lips found his ear under his messy curls easily, your head thrown back onto his shoulder. “Feel that? You’ve got me so wet.”

“Fucking, Christ, sweetheart.” He moaned, loud and wanting, his other hand grabbing a little roughly at your thigh, hooking it over his knee so he could spread you wider for him. “You’re gonna kill me.”

You pouted. “That’s no good to me.”

He huffed out a laugh, fingers kneading into the soft of your thigh as he kept you open for him. You let go of his other hand, happy to lay slack against him, propped up by his solid chest, arms holding you in as he touched and touched and touched. 

“Like this?” He whispered, his finger tracing up and down, up and down through your folds, bumping against your clit on every pass. He was impossibly slow with it, gentle and soft, a maddening tease that had you pushing the tips of your toes into his carpet so you could try and chase the friction of his touch. “Slow like this, sweetheart?”

You nodded, eyes clenched shut, mewling and then his middle and index finger were swiping over your bottom lip, tapping until you opened. 

“Suck,” he told you. “Good girl, hmm?”

If your eyes rolled to the back of your head, he didn’t see from the way he sat behind you. But you did as you were asked - no, told - laving your tongue under his fingers, enjoying the slight weight of them in your mouth, the cool silver of his rings at your lips, whining when he took them away from you, slicker than before. 

But then his hand was down the front of your underwear and his fingers were sliding through you. You keened, squeaked at the sudden touch and tried to clamp your thighs around his wrist but Eddie was shushing you, soft noises in your ear as his other hand held your thigh, spreading you back open for him. 

“Shh, shh, sweetheart,” Eddie quietened you, “y’okay? I’ve got you, can I touch you, baby? Yeah? Gonna squeeze that pretty cunt around my fingers?”

You were nodding frantically, hips thrust out to him in offering, desperate to feel a little more full than you were. 

“Eddie, please.”

He was the same boy as always, running his mouth, talking to you dirty, hands knowing every inch of you. He was just slower with it, softer, like you’d asked. It turned him into something you’d never seen before, this quieter version of himself. Just as cocky, just as eager to please, but Jesus fucking Christ, his touch was making you dizzy and the way he was whispering to you all soft made you want to cry. 

He was bordering on mean with it, a little condescending, hands petting at you to try and get you to settle. 

“Baby, c’mon, sit nice,” he tsked, grinning at the way you were wriggling on his lap. If the grind of your ass against his hard dick was doing anything to him, he did well not to show it. “I know, I know, just a greedy little thing, aren’t you?”

And then his palm was running flat down the front of you, spreading your folds so the heel of his palm could grind against your clit as he slipped two fingers into you. It was all so easy with you wet you were, the slick sounds of your cunt almost as embarrassing as the ones falling from your mouth. 

“I’ve got you,” he murmured low, lips against your ear. Your head was thrown back, laying against his shoulders and at his words, you cried out and pressed your face into his curls. You couldn’t do anything but let him fuck his fingers into you, a slow, wet drag in and out, in and out, in and out. “That’s it, sweet little thing, look at you.”

But then it wasn’t deep enough, it wasn’t fast enough and Eddie was still wearing far too many clothes, and suddenly, you were starting to regret everything you’d asked of the boy. 

Your hands reached up, finding his curls, fingers twisting in the soft strands as your nails scratched against his scalp and you rugged, moaning for more. 

Eddie stopped. Let go of your thigh and slid his hand out from your underwear, dragging wet and warmth up your tummy as he did so. You whined and you heard him laugh, a soft huff into your neck before he kissed your shoulder and patted your hip to make you stand up. 

You climbed from his lap, a little unsteady on your feet because the maddening push and pull of his fingers had made you dizzy, white spots floating in your vision and you turned to him with a pout. 

“Eddie, what the fu-”

But then he was pulling off his shirt, hands gripping the back of his collar to rip it over his head and it joined your clothes on his floor. He popped the button of his jeans but didn’t do much else, groaning slightly at the small relief it brought him as he palmed his hard cock through his boxers. 

“On the bed, baby,” he nodded to the space beside him, a pile of pillows that probably smelled like him and when you let yourself crawl into them, you found out you were right. “Good girl.”

He laughed when your fingers curled into fists, an honest to god visceral reaction to his words. 

Then he was moving over you, kneeling between your spread legs and crowding into you. It was a familiar sight, if not for the fact that you were horizontal this time. Nose to nose with the boy, lips within reach, big, brown eyes staring hotly back at you. 

So you did what you always done, pushed your hands greedily into his hair and arched up to him, tugging a little when he didn’t comply and suddenly it felt like a fucking month had passed since Eddie had kissed you. 

You whined, and you couldn’t deny you sounded like a brat. “Eddie!”

His hands wrapped around your wrists, gently pulling your fingers from his curls. He tutted, tried to look disappointed but he was hiding his smile by biting at his lip and then, fuck, he gathered both of your hands in one of his and pinned them to the pillow above your head. 

“Sweetheart,” he cooed softly, “you said you wanted me to take my time with you.” He leaned down to press a kiss to your cheek, so close to where you wanted him. “Nice and slow, is that not what you said?”

You whimpered, turned your head to chase his lips with your own but he was pulling back just slightly. His hold on you was strong enough that you could pull away, couldn’t get close enough and the realisation made you moan out. 

“C’mon pretty girl, that’s what you asked for, right? For me to take my time?” Another kiss, under the line of your jaw this time, his lips parted and wet and warm. “Can’t do that if you’re gonna yank at my hair, hmm? Like a dirty little thing? Can’t have that.”

A kiss again, anywhere but your lips, his mouth trailing over your throat, a sweet peck pressed to your chin. You wanted to cry, eyes glassy, overwhelmed at all the soft, lovely touches he was giving you, all whilst he had you pinned and pressed down underneath him. 

“Baby,” Eddie tutted, eyes on yours, watching the way wetness brimmed at your lash line, threatening to spill over when you gave him a watery smile. “Baby, too much? Y’alright?”

You could feel the way his hand around your wrist let up, slackening just a little but you were crying out, a babble of noise that had him raising his brows and you were nodding furiously. 

“M’good, Eddie, so good,” you could hardly catch a breath. What the fuck had he done to you? “Want this, want you.”

That seemed to appease him, his hand pushing yours back down into the pillows and he smiled, all lovely just for you, dimple showing. “Yeah? You do? Oh, good girl, what d’you want, huh?”

Another fucking kiss, the cutest little peck, right by the corner of your lips. He knew what you wanted, he was just being a dick about it. 

“A kiss,” you huffed, shivering when his chest dragged across yours, the hang of his chain coke against your tits, a moan bubbling in your throat when he deliberately let it graze and catch against a peaked nipple. 

“That’s all?” Eddie asked you, “better make it a good one for my girl then.”

His girl. 

You didn’t have time to process that before he was on you, free hand curving around your jaw, thumb on your chin to tug at your mouth, licking into you almost immediately. It was like he’d went too long without it too, like not kissing you was the worst thing imaginable because it had been at least half an hour since he had his mouth on yours and well, that just wouldn’t fucking do. 

He kissed you like he missed you, like someone was going to take you away from him, mouth and hands greedy on you, tongue curling around yours. His lips were always soft, so impossibly soft and every stroke of his tongue over yours made you whine, hands flexing in his hold because holy shit, you wanted to grab and scratch and pull at him for making you feel so damn good. 

You were gasping against him when he pulled away, eyes still glassy, lips swollen and rosy and Eddie’s hand was getting greedy, trailing down your sides to hook into your underwear, pulling at them until they slid down your hips. 

His nose nudged yours to grab your attention, unable to help himself when you pressed another, quick, sweet kiss to your still parted lips. 

“You listening’ sweetheart?” 

You nodded, blinking up at him. 

“There’s my girl,” Eddie cooed, “good, ‘cause I need you to keep your hands up here for me, ‘kay?”

You whined, ready to argue back but then Eddie was pulling off lace from around your ankles and kissing his way down your naked body, hands bracketing your hips, curls tickling your stomach. 

You clenched down on nothing. 

He was eye level with your cunt, eyes shining, lips smirking as he pushed at your thighs, spreading you out in front of him, grinning when you wiggled against his palms. 

“Nuhuh,” he told you, “let me see you, yeah?”

He’d never done this before, was never able to, with the logistics of a quickie in the front of his van. Sure, you’d gone down on him before, a much easier task over the console, his dick heavy on the flat of your tongue and Eddie always promised you that next time, he’d return the favour, get you spread out in back but, well. 

Next time would come and you’d be too pent up and he’d be too impatient and before you both knew it you’d be sinking down on his cock in the driver's seat of the van, bouncing up and down whilst Eddie could only watch, fucked out in minutes at the sight of you. 

So this? Eddie blowing warm air over your already hot cunt? This was new. 

“So pretty,” he told you, voice awed. “Can I taste you baby? Would you like that?”

You couldn’t do anything but whimper, moans catching in your throat until they came out like needy little gasps and it took everything you had to follow Eddie’s orders and keep your hands to yourself. You fisted them in his pillow, gripped on tight because his lips were ghosting over your folds, butterfly kisses pressed to the outside of you, the tip of his tongue peeking out between his lips like he couldn’t help himself. 

“Don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this,” he groaned, hips rutting into the bed as he palmed at your ass, tugging you down the bed so he could settle himself closer to you. “Could just eat you up, pretty girl.”

His tongue was swiping through you before you could answer, before you could beg. And despite the way he was grinding himself down into the bed, Eddie took his time with you, licked through your folds real slow with the flat of his tongue, pushing the soft of it over your clit at the end. 

He kept you spread wide, hands on the inside of your thighs, fingers splayed over you, thumbs pulling gently at your folds so he could push you open for him. His nose hit your clit when his tongue dipped inside of you, and fucking hell, Eddie was moaning almost as loud as you were, his lips wet with you, getting himself messy as he sucked and kissed his way across your cunt. 

“Can’t get enough of you,” the boy groaned into your thigh, kissing the soft skin there too, a reminder of how fucking sweet he was. “Christ, sweetheart, look at you, so pretty, all fucked out, huh? Look at those eyes, fucking hell.”

He was babbling, talking sweet in between licks, dirty flicks of his tongue that had your stomach clenching, your chest heaving. You were pushed onto your elbows to watch, a move that Eddie had given you in trouble for because your hands were still twisted in his sheets, kept to yourself. 

Your eyes were glassy, tears pooling at the corners, kissing your lashes that couldn’t stop fluttering at every kiss he gave you clit, every soft suck. You were sure you looked a mess, wrecked, ruined. Hair a riot, cheeks blooming with heat, lips still swollen and slick from his kisses and when Eddie slid one finger, two fingers back inside of you, you fell back with a wail. 

You were close, so close already, the thickness of his digits dragging in and out of your cunt was enough to throw you onto the edge but then the boy smiled against your stomach and dipped his head back down. His lips wrapped around your clit and suckled, soft and gentle, enough to keep you hanging. 

“Can feel you,” Eddie whispered, placing soft, quick kisses around your folds, across your tummy, one on your hip bone, followed by a scrape of his teeth. “Can feel you gettin’ tight around me, sweetheart. S’fucking hot, so fuckin’ hot.”

The boy sounded as wrecked as you felt, his voice shot, lips slick with you as you looked back down the length of your stretched out frame, eyes rolling at the sight of him between your thighs. He was watching you, brown eyes dark and hooded as he held your gaze and licked back over your clit. 

“Oh, fucking hell,” you moaned, “Eddie, Eddie, Eddie-”

“That’s it baby,” he encouraged, wrist twisting, fingers moving in and out of you a little faster. His rings weren’t cold anymore, but you could feel the hard nudge of them against your cunt, the feeling making you clench down. “Christ, that’s it, yeah, you gonna come for me?”

You couldn’t help it, not anymore. 

You grabbed at Eddie’s hair as your back arched, pushing your hips further into him, his fingers reaching places inside of you that had you seeing fucking stars. You tugged at his curls, unable to stop yourself but Eddie groaned at your toughness, letting you pull him into you, his hips rutting against the bed as he hooked his digits up and rubbed, tongue circling around your clit relentlessly at the same time. 

You broke, shattered, fell apart, cried out. Your eyes clenched shut, your body curling in on itself as you clamped your thighs around Eddie’s poor head, his mouth still sucking and kissing over you as you came. 

And then you  were whimpering, patting at the mess of curls you’d created on his head, trying to shimmy away from the overstimulation and Eddie took pity, dragging himself up your bottom, laying kisses on your damp skin as he went. 

He was grinning when he reached your face, kissing your neck to let you catch your breath, looking entirely proud of himself. You shined at the drag of his denim jeans over the inside of your thighs, laughed weakly when Eddie snorted at your shivers. 

Then he was pushing himself up on his elbows to hover over you, a palm smoothing back the hair that was clinging to your forehead. He looked down at you with eyes that were shining, so full of affection and fondness and something that it made your heart ache, made fresh tears spring to the corners of your eyes again and you huffed out a watery sigh. 

“That good, huh?“ Eddie asked smugly, smiling when you nodded, still a little dazed. He thumbed at your mouth, squished at the soft of your cheeks with his fingers and rubbed his nose against yours. “Gimme a kiss, sweetheart.“

You obliged happily, humming a pretty sound against his lips when Eddie kissed you soft and sweet, his mouth a gentle slide over your own. 

“Love your little noises,” he whispered, kissing you between words. “Sound so fucking cute when you’re coming for me.”

Your body burned at his words, another ache creeping across your cunt and despite the way he’d made you fall apart, you wanted nothing more than Eddie to be buried to the hilt inside of you. 

“Eds,” you whispered, hand palming at the front of his jeans, groaning when you felt him straining against the denim, the hardest he’d ever been. “Let me help you.”

But he took your hand in his, kissed your palm before you could feel the sting of rejection and he was crowding you back into his pillows, curls falling in a curtain on either sideed of you, lips back on your neck. 

“Give yourself a second, sweetheart,” he mumbled. “You said it yourself, I’ve got you all night.”

PART TWO

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things fic

[corroded-hellfire]

not sure if you’re taking requests, but could you write something where perv!eddie has a thing for the reader and they catch on to it? they act like they’re sore from a work out or something and ask eddie for a back rub. (cue them making happy moaning noises and asking him to go deeper/harder and making poor eddie lose his mind)

Perv!Eddie is amazing. 18+ because of spicy themes.

Words: 1.2k

Eddie is not nearly as slick as he thinks he is. He’s not sly about asking you to take a look at his geometry problems when you’re wearing a low-cut top, where you have to bend over his desk to look at his work. He’s not fooling anyone when he “accidentally” spills some water on your white shirt—conveniently right over your nipples. Honestly, he’s lucky he’s so cute and that you have a big fat crush on him, or he’d be in deep shit.  

After no sign of Eddie easing up on his perviness, you decide to start teasing him. Just subtly at first, by wearing a sweater on a day that’s too warm for one, just so you can strip it off in front of him, or acting annoyed when you see a piece of trash on the floor of the hallway, so you have to bend over to pick it up, giving him a perfect view of your ass. As completely unsubtle he is about being perv, he’s even less so when he tries to adjust himself in his pants. Maybe it’s just because you know to look out for it, but you’re pretty sure he’s always sporting a boner around you. You were hoping all the teasing would get him to finally say something, but he’s a stubborn teenage boy so it seems like you’ll have to amp it up. 

You waited for a day when you knew Eddie had Hellfire right after school to ask him to pick you up from the gym on his way home. He’d drive right past it anyway, so it seemed like a simple, normal request. But the moment you see his van pull up to the curb of the gym, your plan gets set into motion. 

Rolling out your neck, you walk around to the passenger’s side of the van. Opening the door, you pull yourself up, making sure to do it with some extra gusto so your breasts bounce slightly.

“Thanks for picking me up,” you say as you buckle your seatbelt. 

“Yeah, no problem.” You’re not sure if he’s even aware that he’s ogling your chest. “Want me to take you home?”

“Can we hang out at your place?” you ask.

“Sure.”

The drive to Eddie’s place is short, and when you get out of the van and walk up the few steps to the front door, you make sure to emphasize the motion of your hips. Inside, you head straight back to Eddie’s bedroom, leaving him no choice but to follow you. When he steps in the room behind you, you plop down on the bed and sigh as you bring a hand up to your shoulder.

“You, uh, okay?” Eddie asks as he shrugs out of his leather jacket.

“Really sore from the workout,” you say, stretching out the muscles in your neck. “Would you mind giving me a back rub?”

“Oh,” Eddie says, clearly taken off guard. He raises his eyebrows as he slowly inches towards the bed. “Yeah, okay.” 

Doing your best to suppress your smirk, you roll onto your stomach and lay your head on Eddie’s pillow. When you feel his body weight sink onto the bed next to you, you slip your hands beneath the pillow and wriggle your ass under the guise of getting more comfortable. 

“Where, uh, where should I rub?” Eddie asks, voice shaky. 

“Anywhere. Everywhere.”

The bed shifts a little as Eddie leans in, and his strong warm hands land on the middle of your back. You’re forced to bite your lip to keep from letting out an instantaneous moan. That’s meant to be saved until he’s been massaging you for a bit. His thumbs dig into the muscles along your spine. 

“Oh, that’s so good,” you say. The room is so quiet you can hear the brief hitch in Eddie’s breathing. You swell with satisfaction, knowing he hasn’t heard anything yet.

“Right there!”

“S’g-good?” Eddie asks. 

“Ugh, yes. Harder.”

The bed moves beneath you and the mental image of Eddie needing to adjust his hips has you smirking to yourself. Deciding to really mess with him, you inhale before letting out a purely pornographic moan. 

There’s a sharp inhale from above you, but he’s quick to cover it by letting out a few fake coughs. 

“Shit, deeper Eddie.”

His hands hesitate against your thin shirt, only for a second, before he’s digging deeper into your muscles. Letting out another moan, you silently wonder how long you should keep this going. A soft grunt escapes from Eddie and you figure you’ve tortured the poor boy enough. Slipping your hands out from underneath the pillow, you push yourself up and swing your legs around Eddie so that you’re sitting next to him. 

His hands are in his lap—conveniently over his crotch—and he twists his rings around. There’s a rosy color on his cheeks that looks like it’s spreading. A smug smirk comes to your face when he can’t meet your eyes. It seems like he’s looking anywhere but at you.

“So,” you say, leaning in towards him. “How about I give you a different kind of massage?”

Eddie’s eyes widen as he finally meets your gaze, and you hear him audibly swallow. His mouth opens, but nothing comes out as he turns impossibly redder. Giggling, you lean in even further towards him, giving him a peek down your shirt. His eyes dart down to your chest before back up to your face. When you bite your lower lip, he looks away from you again.

“Y-You don’t have to do that,” he finally says. 

“Eddie,” you say. “Do you really think I’m that mean that I would tease you like that and not help you out?”

As wide as Eddie’s eyes were before, they grow three times the size now as his head shoots towards you. 

“That was all on p-purpose?” he stammers.

“Of course,” you say with a giggle. “You haven’t exactly been subtle lately, Eddie. Figured I’d see how far I could push it before you said something. Turns out you’re about as stubborn as I am, though.”

“Well, shit,” Eddie says, letting out a chuckle. “Yeah, you pushed it pretty far.”

“So, let me help you out,” you drawl, hand ghosting over his thigh. Eddie’s quick to catch your wrist though, letting out a hiss through his teeth.

“I, uh, really don’t need it,” he says. You drown in confusion until Eddie moves his other hand off of his crotch. There’s a wet spot on the front of the denim and you raise your eyebrows.

“Oh, guess so. Well.” You swing your leg over both of his until you're sitting in his lap, straddling his thighs. “I’m pretty sure I could work you up again. What do you say? Up for the challenge?”

Eddie laughs and shakes his head. “Not gonna be much of a challenge at all, baby.” 

He flops back on the bed, pulling you down with him. Giggling, you press your lips to his and start to work your hips against his body. Almost instantly, you feel a stir in the denim below him. No, this would not be a challenge at all.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #request

[seat-safety-switch]

Real estate is the big industry in Canada. When I say "the" big industry, I mean it. Our top three are basically pulling goop and rocks out of the ground, chopping trees down, and selling houses to each other. What this means is that houses are crazy expensive, being the foundation of our whole economy and all.

Here's the secret about capitalism: it needs fat profits to work. You need to go back to your investors and show some growth every year, or they get mad that you're just making "enough" money and pull the plug. Inevitably, this leads to really bad business decisions usually involving fraud. That's why your local mall imploded; some combination of lies caught up with a series of liars and everyone looked like an asshole. Now it stands empty and unused.

These two things together mean that, in order to support the weight of the entire Canadian economy's expectations of infinite growth, house prices have to keep going up. More profit = more growth = more trying to keep our mind off the inevitable heat death of the universe. And everything worked out great, up until people had to start living in their vans because they could no longer afford to sleep inside the completely unoccupied houses around them. This drove up the price of vans, at which point it became my problem.

As the new prime minister of Canada, I will take our surplus decrepit 1970s motorhomes and revive them. Then, I will do sick donuts in various farmers' fields, municipal parking lots, and sports arenas until some part of the powertrain lets go at high RPM and slip angle. Once this occurs, my lackeys will bury the vehicle up to its wheels in soil and plant some nice sod. I present to you: a new house. We'll solve both walkability and affordability at the same time, and also provide some surplus Mopar 440s and low-cam Chevy V8s for the gearhead psychopaths who voted my party into office in record numbers.

[machetegirl109]

Synopsis: Physical activities were not something you enjoyed. Never participating and distracting other students was all you did during class; but as soon as the new P.E teacher’s aid catches you slacking, she decides to teach you a lesson. *inspiration: bad liar by selena gomez*

Warnings: 18+, MIDN, F/F, suggestive and offensive language, 80s!AU, abby is 19yo & reader is 18yo, smut, top!abby, bottom!reader, dom!abby, sub!reader, thigh riding, oral (r!receiving), fingering (r!receiving), after care, T.A!abby x popular!reader

important info about my stories here

©machetegirl109 (credits to bad liar by selena gomez that inspired me to write this) DO NOT copy/steal my work OR post it on any platforms

Word Count: 3.5k+

Oneshot: Bad Liar

❝︎you're taking up a fraction of my mind❞︎

The mid-day sunlight entered through the gymnasium windows just right. The sound of shoes squeaking against the light wooden floor along with vivid and loud voices were present as the ladies played around and talked to each other, waiting for the teacher’s arrival to the last class of the day. The girls were wearing a loose fitting white t-shirt with a small logo of the school printed on the right side of the chest, the low-cut sleeves colored navy blue as well as the matching pair of shorts. Tall retro socks with two blue stripes and a red one in the middle covered their calves, each of them wore a different brand of worn out white sneakers.

Your high top vans tapped onto the floor as you sat on the bleachers, elbows positioned over each knee while you kept your head high and talked to some of your classmates who surrounded you. Ever since the beginning of the school year you seemed to attract other girls. Not only your good looks, but also your “I’m too cool for this,” energy made them fall head over heels for you; making them chase after you every day — The most lucky girls were the ones who also had Physical Education on the last period of their schedules, just like you. You weren’t fond of the class; either always showing up 5 minutes before it was time to leave, or laying on the bleachers while the others runned around and participaded on the sports.

What even is the point of running around chasing after balls? There are better ways to exercise.

“Alright, ladies! Get in line!” Joel Miller, the gym teacher, yelled as he got into the gym, pushing the double doors hard enough to make them knock on the walls, letting out a loud bang. Everyone stopped talking as soon as he made his way to the middle of the space with a tall, muscular blonde girl walking beside him, silent as she observed the spacious gymnasium and all the students present there. The girls that previously talked to you went ahead to join the line that was forming and Joel soon stopped in front of them, holding his clipboard in one hand and a pen in the other. The blonde curiously stares in your direction, seeing you lazily seated over the aluminum while the others stood before the teacher.

“First things first, M’ gonna do the roll call and then we’ll go over some things! Amber?”

“Here.” Joel wrote a checkmark beside her name and followed to the next.

“Ellie?”

“Sup’ teach’.”

“Dina?”

“I’m here, teacher.” As he called out each name, the girls announced their presence and he scribbled down onto the paper, eyes never leaving the list.

“Okay, last but not least, Y/N?” Joel finally looked up, eyes going through the line of girls in front of him as he looked for his least favorite student.

“Hey, Mr. Miller.” You called out from your seat, all of those inside the warm gymnasium looked over to you; a shameless smile on your face when you waved your hand.

“Ah, glad you finally decided to join us for class today.” He dryly chuckes, adding a checkmark to your name. “M’ not even gonna ask whatcha doin’ sitting down.” You giggle at the annoyed tone in his voice and he turns back to the other students. “So, from today on we’re gonna have a new addition to the class! I want you all to welcome Abigail Anderson!” Joel points to the girl beside him, who stands proud with her arms crossed and her braid falling onto her broad shoulder. Abby opens a small smile and nods as the girls babble hellos’ and welcomes’. “Abby here, will be working as my T.A for the rest of the school year so make sure to respect her and follow her orders, understood?” The girls nod and let out sounds in agreement.

“Thanks, I'm looking forward to working with you all.”

“With that out of the way, we’ll be playing volleyball today! I want one team on each side of the court, now!” Joel blows his red whistle and the students start to get ready in two different teams as you only sit back and watch. He turns to Abby and begins to give her some heads up on how things work during class and what to expect.

“What about that one?” She points to you, who looks bored as you pick out your nails and talk to Ellie and Dina. Joel blows the whistle once more, making you and the two girls look back at him.

“Ellie and Dina! I advise you two to go play or I’ll give y'all zero’s for the day!” The girls shoot you an apologetic look, wishing they could talk to you a little longer since they were enamored by your charming presence. You wave them a small goodbye and Joel directs his attention to Abby once more. “I gave up on her a long time ago, all she does is sit around and distract the other girls; that is when she actually shows up. Definitely the worst student I’ve ever had in all my 30 years of teaching.”

“She’s that bad, huh?”

“Y/N has an F in P.E, which is the easiest class in her entire schedule… She’ll most likely fail.” He says in disbelief and they both look at you.

“Hm, maybe I can help,” The blonde says, a small smirk forming on her face.

“Yeah? What do you suggest?”

“She can stay after class and do some extra-credit, maybe run some laps, play some volley, just to make up for the time she wastes in class. I could also make her clean the gymnasium afterwards.” Joel smiles at the ideas and nods, patting her on the back.

“Great. You’ll definitely make a good teacher someday, Abigail!” Abby thanks him, and soon they switch their attention to the game.

After 30 minutes the class comes to an end as Joel checks the time in his Seiko Diver wrist watch. Placing the small whistle between his lips and blowing on it with force, he claps his hands together signaling to the girls that it was finally time to go home.

“Alright , ladies! Class is over, you’re all free to go!” The students drop the volleyball to the floor and begin to make their way to the exit. You stand and stretch your body, a wide playful smile on your face.

“Ahh, thank God, I was about to fall asleep here!” You say walking towards the double doors, but as soon as you reach for the handle, Joel shouts your name, making you stop on your track. “Need something, Mr. Miller?”

“No, but you do. You need to get a passing grade for my class and Abby will make sure you do. You’re staying here until she tells you to go, understood?” Your face falls to the ground as you look at the girl beside him. She’s wearing a tight light yellow t-shirt under a red sports jacket and some white shorts that exposed her strong, pretty legs, as well as tall white socks that hugged her thick calves and a worn off Adidas Top Ten RB — At least she’s cute you think before the current situation hits you again.

“What? Why?!” You ask shocked, making your way towards the middle of the room, where both of them stood.

“ ‘Cause you’re falling and Abby was kind enough to suggest you earn some extra-credit.” You groan loudly and throw your head back. “I’ll be off now. Be sure to behave, Y/N. Don’t cause me any more problems. Good luck, Abigail.” You watch as Joel leaves, leaving you and Abby alone. You turn to the girl, a bitter smile on your face as you think of what to say next.

“Ha… You could’ve been kind enough to keep your suggestions to yourself. I can’t believe I have to spend the rest of my Friday here! I had plans, you know?” You ask sacarstily, as you move forward, chest to chest with her. Abby looks down at your pretty face, a pout on your lips as she lets out a small laugh; making fun of your anger.

“I’ll be kind enough to suggest you keep that pretty mouth shut and run 100 laps around the gymnasium.” A naughty grin plays on her lips as her blue eyes stare into yours. “Now, princess.”

“You’re fucking joking right now, I’m not running—“

“150 laps now.” You gasp and try to push her, failing to since Abby is built like a tank.

“You’re not the boss of me, I don’t have to do anything!”

“Now I am, and yes, you do. Now run me 150 laps and I want you to count them out loud every time you finish one.” Abby states, grabbing the whistle that hangs from her neck and placing them between her pinkish lips, blowing into it and making the loud pitch hurt your ears.

“Ugh! The fuck is your problem?!” You say as your hands go up to your now sensitive ears, massaging them; you throw the girl before you a dirty look.

“The more you whine, the more you run. 200 now. Go.” Hearing the seriousness of her voice, you shoot her another expression before you walk to the side of the court; quietly calling her a cunt as you get ready to run. “I heard that!” You roll your eyes and you run, counting each lap as you reach the starting point before circling the gym, over and over again. Sweat accumulates around your forehead as your body begins to feel warm and tired, your legs ache as tremble and all Abby does is stand there, staring at you. Soon you reach the 200 count. You stop running and you press your hands on top of both knees, your chest rising fast as you catch your breath.

“I-I’m fucking done now.” You shout and close your eyes, thanking the Gods you can finally go home now. Abby laughs and you look at her, not sure of what is so funny.

“I don’t think you are. Come here,” She says as she grabs the volleyball that was on the floor. “We'll play a bit and then you're cleaning the gymnasium, princess, you can go home when you're done.” Abby throws the ball in your direction and you shrug away from it, like it was contaminated and you didn't want to catch whatever disease it carried. “You know, if you actually participated in class instead of sitting there n’ look pretty, you wouldn't have to be here?”

“Oh, so you think I'm pretty?” A playful smile makes its way to your lips as you cross your arms.

“If anything, I think you're lazy and a distraction to the students.” She answers you, annoyed by your lack of care towards the class. “Get the ball and bring it to me.” You walk towards where the ball landed and grab it, making your way towards Abby.

“So, you think I'm a distraction because I'm pretty.” You stop in front of her, pushing the volleyball to her chest.

“I didn't say that. Now get into position and play me until you win.”

Abby walks to one left side of the court and you to the right; each of you stopping a couple feet away from each other. She serves the ball and you do your best to receive it, returning it to her as you messily position your hands closed together, making the ball go back to her side of the court. You two keep volleying the ball back and forth, Abby making multiple points while you had the total of zero.

“Okay, let's stop. You're way too bad at this.” The girl says after holding onto the ball for the last time you threw. You stretch your arms, tired from all the movement, legs sore from the running, body sweating under your P.E attire. “Grab the mop from the supply closet and get to work.”

You tiredly nod and follow her orders, just wanting to take a shower to go home. After cleaning the whole wooden floor of the gymnasium, you put the bucket and the mop back to their original place and you walk towards Abby, who's sitting at your previous spot on the bleachers.

“I'm done. Can I go now?” Your exhausted voice comes out as you stop in front of her and she looks up at your sweaty and worn out face.

“Yeah, just do whatever you need to do in the locker room so I can lock it and go home, too.” Abby says, standing up and you follow after her as she makes her way to said area.

“I'm gonna take a shower so, guess you'll just have to wait ‘till I’m done.” You begin to strip your shirt off in front of your locker once you two are inside and Abby sits down, her eyes locked on the ground.

“Just hurry up, I have things to do.”

After getting rid of your clothes you grab a towel and a liquid soap you have in your locker and make your way to the showers, sliding one of the curtains open as you get in closing it again. You turn the water to a hot temperature, taking your time to wash yourself up and let the water fall onto your sore muscles. As the minutes go by, Abby shouts out to you, warning you get out soon or she'll just leave you here. Almost thirty minutes go by and she’s had enough, standing up and walking towards your stall; she pulls the plastic curtain open and you gasp, covering your chest.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” You yell and press yourself onto the cold walls as she reaches her hand inside, turning the water off. She grabs your shower from the hanger and shoves it in your direction.

“What's wrong with me? What's wrong with you who needs to spend an eternity showering?! Go get dressed, now!” You wrap yourself in your soft towel and push her out of your way as you head back to your locker.

“You're such a bitch. You already ruined my friday night and now I can't even take a fucking shower.” You mumble and she stops next to you, watching as you drop your towel on the bench. Abby’s face turns red and her breath stops for a second, her eyes scan your naked body before she comes back to reality.

“Y-you ruined it your own by not doing anything at the easiest fucking class you have.” You turn to her as you roll the deodorant under your armpits. Her eyes fall to your chest, nipples poking out in all their glory. You talk back at her but she hears nothing, all her attention goes to the way your tits move as your breath in-and-out. You place your hygiene product back to your locker, eyes never leaving her face as hers never left your boobs.

“Are you fucking listening to me?!” You attempt to push her for the second time today, but she's faster and stronger, grabbing your hands as she backs you against the locker. A wave of lust makes its way through your veins, stopping right at your core. The sound of your body hitting against the metal echoes in the empty locker room as Abby diverts her attention to your lips. Her blue eyes seem devil-like as she looks at you – Her face displaying a hungry expression.

“I had enough of your bitchy comments today. Let me make something else come out of that pretty mouth, yeah?” Abby whispers, a raspy voice sounding like music to your ears as she gently rubs her nose against yours. You feel yourself getting wet, the between of your thighs getting more slippery with each passing second. You nod your head fast, needy eyes looking back to her.

Abby closes the small distance between your lips, smacking them together with fervor as she lets go of your hands and brings her own to the side of your face; thumbs pressed onto each side of your jaw as her palm and fingers gripped your neck. You kiss her back, licking and biting her bottom lip as you pull it back with your teeth. She chases your face back and her tongue invades your warm mouth; your hands go up, holding onto her wrists and she gently massages the pads of her thumbs onto your soft skin.

“Can I touch you, princess?” Abby asks, breaking the kiss as she looks at you.

“Yes, please do, Abs.” This time, you push her towards you by the neck, press another kiss onto her lips and her left hand goes down your leg, opening both of them apart as she places her thigh between them. Abby moans at the contact of your dripping wet pussy onto her uncovered skin, and you throw your head back as you feel yourself slipping onto her with ease.

As she holds one of your legs, guiding your movements, her other hand reaches your chest, going directly to your nipple. She spits on it and begins to flick it rapidly; you moan as you feel the immense pleasure run through all your body.

“Look at you, all wet n’ slippery for me. My pretty, bitchy princess.” Abby pecks your lips and moves her hand from your chest to your cunt, spreading your moist lips and exposing your needy clit to rub against her skin. You let out loud moans when she reaches to your waist, carving her nails deeply into you as she moves you more violently against her. She feels herself getting wet, too, and she knows that the way you sound and the way you feel will be enough to soon make her white panties sticky with her cum.

As your bud deliciously kneads while you move your hips, you suck the white freckled skin of her neck, causing the girl to close her eyes and bite her lips. You push her head back by her braid and you lick from the bottom of her Adam’s apple all the way up to her mouth; pressing your teeth there again, making Abby hiss and moan.

“I-I want–” You try to speak but your moans interrupt you when Abby takes one of your boobs into her mouth, sucking on it and licking around your sensitive nipple. She lets go of it for a second just to talk back to you.

“What does my princess want, hm?” She goes back to massaging your tit with her muscle, hands never faltering on your hips.

“I want, I want you to-to eat me out,” You blurb out fast, not waiting to wait any longer to feel her tongue circling around your clit. Her breath hitches at the request, saliva pooling in her mouth at the opportunity to taste you. Abby grabs you with ease and lays you down on the bench, ready to have a feast. She wraps her arms around your legs, placing each of them beside her head, making your back lift a little from the wood. You shiver as her hot breath hits against your exposed pussy. “Please, ju-just fuck me…”

Abby looks at you, a needy expression on your face as you stare down at her and she spits onto your throbbing bud; the liquid making its way down to your hole resulting in you throwing your head back and closing your eyes. Your legs tremble and she holds you still, finally diving in. She runs her tongue up your slick collecting the wetness before bringing it to your clit. Abby sucks on it while she circles her tongue with speed and precision; her body taking in the way you taste as your pleasure filled moans enter her ears, making her head fuzzy as she fucks you.

“Fuc-fuck Abs, so-so good…” You praise and it only fuels her more, taking two fingers to your pussy, she caresses your entry before shoving them in. You moan and whine, pressing her head impossibly closer to your pussy; her tongue working on your clit nonstop and her fingers pumping in-and-out of you at full speed. “M’ gonna cum so-soon,” You announce as you feel yourself getting closer and closer to your limit, and unbeknown to you, Abby was getting closer, too. The thought of you creaming all over her mouth excited her, making her tongue swirl more frenetic over your clit as her fingers finally reached the soft spot deep inside you — The tips of her fingers pressing onto it made you finally brake, cumming over her face. As she felt your juices run down her chin, her orgasm hit her, too, and she slowly removed her fingers out of you; pressing one last kiss on top of your, now sensitive, bud.

“Fuck, princess,” Abby kisses your thighs as she lets your legs fall back down. “You taste so fucking good.” She kisses her way to your stomach, soon reaching your lips. “You were so good for me, baby.” You tiredly smile at her and she pecks your cheek before sitting back up and grabbing your towel from the bench. She softly presses the tower onto your cunt, cleaning you up as you quietly observe her.

“Are you gonna make me stay after school next week?” A shameless look appears on your face and Abby laughs.

“Oh, I just might.”

ೃ⁀➷ thank you for reading! feel free to comment your thoughts, reblog, leave a heart and follow me˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

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[lvlyghost]

In the Midst of War: III

PAIRINGS: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Shadow!Reader

SUMMARY: Home is no longer where it used to be. Left with no one else you wonder who your friends and foes are.

WORD COUNT: 2.3k

TW: blood, descriptions of wounds, an old friend shows up. feelings! attempted fluff. mind the english🐸!

A/N: this GIF is my new fixation and i will not stop posting it in a long time so be advised 🤩 things are hitting the fan next chapter💗as usual thx for reading 🍁🩵

Masterlist✨Masterpost

"𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒊𝒕 𝒃𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒆 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒚 𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔?"

Heavy boots, a ragged breathing caused by adrenaline and the sound of his heart thumping inside his ears, those are the things that Ghost can hear as he approaches the white van. Price shouts behind him but he can't make out what he's saying.

The blood... crimson blood that spills from her wounds is frightening. He's a man accustomed to witness horrible things. Seen the worst the world had to offer. Experienced in the flesh what evil can do to a human being. And simply because the woman that he holds in his arms is supposed to be his enemy that didn't mean he wanted to see her bleed out to death. Especially when they learned the truth.

Ghost had a moral code. Things he never wanted to see people go through despite being consequential to their own decisions. She had decided to join the army. She had decided to join the Shadow Company. It was bound to happen. Still it was hard for him.

That very moral code was to not hurt women nor children under any circumstances, and may God —if it even existed— help him when he'd have no other choice.

"Open the fucking door!" He yells, accent becoming more prominent; the door instantly sliding open, readjusting her near dead body in his arms to get them inside. "Gaz, give me everything you have." He commands the Sergeant, who's quick to open his medical pouches as well as the first aid kit they had loaded just in case someone needed it. The eyes of the woman flutter shut and then open slightly again, drifting back and forth between consciousness and the arms of the reaper. Ghost barks again at Gaz, so he helps him undoing the straps of her vest so he can check the wound properly.

"There's another one on her leg, Lt." he points out, moving around him as much as he can with the vehicle moving. With no time to waste he rips the lower part of his shirt, long and wide enough for his Sergeant to work. "Tourniquet , now." Gaz nods, at the harsh and cold commands of his superior. He then turns, lifting her shirt to inspect the wound. The bullet is still lodged inside her stomach, he notices sucking in a sharp breath; part of Ghost wonders who could've been the one who shot her? What if it was him? Taking the disinfectant from the kit he poured a generous amount on her wound. Her face scrunched, lips pouting and a low whine leaves her mouth. "Sorry about that, kid." He muttered, before pressing down on her wound every single gauze he found only to slowly start tainting red. He knew well she couldn't hear him her mind far away from where she physically was.

"We're back." one of the Vaqueros announced, as the van comes to an abrupt stop.

"We need to get her to the helo as soon as possible. She's lost too much blood." Price orders.

The three men get down, military doctors rush to them.

"We'll take it from here." One of them declares, patting Ghost on the shoulder, he nearly growls.

"Let's go. This isn't finished yet."

So Price dragged him in the opposite direction where they were taking her. He didn't know if she'll make it. But that was everything they'd do for her.

-

Stepping out of the room, showered and changed into comfortable sporting clothes you look around for Ghost. The safe house is silent. Deadly silent.

You wonder if he's even here, and you wonder if escaping would be a good idea. But as for now this was everything you had, at least a bed to sleep and a roof above your head. Sighing you walk to the kitchen just to find it as empty as the rest of the rooms.

The chilly air of late November causes your skin to erupt in goosebumps the moment you step outside, the backyard stretches farther away in the distance and as if on cue, the tall broad form of the Lieutenant appears walking through massive pines, wearing nothing but the jacket and his mask.

Ghost gradually stops when his eyes land on you standing still right outside the back door, arms crossed over your chest to protect you from the weather. He remains silent for a long minute before taking another

step closer.

"All set. Come with me." He orders you.

Biting on your lower lip, stopping your mouth from saying something you'll regret.

"Are you always this bossy?" Despite not liking his tone you oblige and begin to follow as he turns on his heels. If your question annoys him he doesn't let it show in fact he ignores you completely. "Where are we going, Ghost?"

Suddenly a wave of fear washes over you, steps faltering, hands shaking ever so slightly. What if this was it? The end of everything. You didn't want to believe Ghost could kill you like you were nothing you just don't do that to someone you've taken care of for the past month. Why bothering? Why tending to your wounds and worrying for your wellbeing, even if he was forced to do it. You wanted to believe that at least he didn't hate you. Not the way he hated your former Commander. You thought something had changed between the two. He had seemed more relaxed around you; like he somehow had lowered his defenses around you.

"Silence." he hushes you in a low mutter. "M'not gonna kill you if that's what you're worried about."

His words are cold and measured, as if he doesn't want to be here at all and the feeling, the knowledge that you're a burden to him makes your heart ache. A tiny pang of sadness that that's all you've ever been. All you could ever hope to be. So you ball your clench your hands, head hanging low when the so familiar lump in your throat becomes unbearable.

Both of you make it to a clearing, birds faintly chirping on the horizon. The sun no longer greets you, a storm announces itself with heavy clouds appearing in the sky above.

And then you're not alone. Another person stands in the middle. Hands clasped behind. Your heart skips a beat.

The only person that cares enough to save you. Blonde hair in a low tight bun.

Kate turns around, eyes going wide when she finally sees you. She's about to say something but words die because you're practically running to her, ignoring Ghost's warnings on being careful.

A smile appears on her face when you finally hug her and tears roll down your cheeks.

"What took you so long?" You sniffle. Kate's arms hold you tighter.

"I came as soon as I could. Forgive me, Vesper."

Shaking your head you try to stop the tears. It's honestly humiliating but she's known you since you joined the military. Kate Laswell was the closest thing you had to a family just like Graves. "I hope Lieutenant Riley has been good to you."

You huff, making her chuckle.

"He's taken care of me. For that I am grateful."

So now you knew more about him.

Riley.

Better than just a callsign. And it suited him.

Ghost stands a few feet away, despite this being a secure area he can't afford himself to relax. He can still hear everything you say to each other.

He can hear you crying on her shoulder and bloody hell if that didn't made him feel all sorts of distressed. It was a rare thing. Something he wouldn't have thought when he first scooped you up back on that forgotten highway.

But he guesses that happens when you spend too much time with someone you were supposed to look after. It didn't help that just last night you had asked him to stay the night in your room. All kinds of wrong.

Although he had refused he could sense what was happening and he needed to stop it. Getting attached wasn't part of the plan, and it would end terribly.

Deep in his thoughts he misses the look you send him.

"He really is something else." You murmur to Kate who keeps you know at arms length. "If it wasn't for you, I'm sure they'd have killed me." A sad smile appears on your lips.

"Let's not think about what happened darling, but rather what's gonna happen, yeah? Things have taken... a turn. No, hear me out." She says, interrupting you with a soft smile. "You're not alone. Never have been." Another quick glance at Ghost confirms the both of you that he's heard you.

"You know I don't like it when you say mysterious things, Kate." She sighs, giving you another hug although this one isn't as long as the first.

"Trust me. That's all I'm asking, and hey..." he levels you with a serious look. "Ghost may seem frightening but he's a good man." A low confession that doesn't reach his ears. Your cheeks turn red and you don't know why, leaving you mortified when she notices.

"Yeah..." you mumble.

"I don't have much more time. There's matters that require my attention but you'll hear from me again sooner than you think."

-

"What's that stance?" He gruffly asks as he stands next to you, eyes sliding up and down your body. His arms are tightly crossed over his broad chest. You turn to look up to him and away from the scope of your sniper rifle, blinking rapidly not understanding the disapproving look in his brown eyes.

"Uh, this is how I shoot Ghost." You answer like it was obvious what you were doing. You notice the way he furrow his brows beneath the balaclava.

"Bloody Christ." He mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. He comes behind you. "Widen your stance." He kicks one of your foot so it slides along the dirty soil.

Yelping you lose balance for a second before he steadies you with a strong hand to your waist.

"Hey! What was that about?"

Ghost tilts his head eyes narrowing.

"That stance was utter shite. Your legs were not separated enough, you'd get knocked down easily by a waft of air."

"I've been doing it like this forever."

"Well you've been doing it wrong."

"But that's..." squinting your eyes you stare at him, fuming. "My legs are not as long as yours, they're like five damn kilometers long." Ghost snorts. "What's so funny?"

"Shocked you know what a kilometer is." Shaking your head you decide to ignore him and readjust the grip on the rifle. "One of his best soldiers, I heard." He points out. He returns to his spot next to you, trying not to think of how you felt under his touch.

"You've never seen someone like me, Lieutenant Riley."

Ghost freezes, heart skipping a beat at the way you say his name. It's soft and endearing. He watches you closely, you're focused on the target one eye closed and the other fixed on the green bottle.

Breathing slowly and steadily, the exact moment when the sky rumbles you press the trigger. The bullet sound echoes through the lone forest as it hits the target, sending birds flying away from their nests. A wide grin makes its way to your lips, turning to look a Ghost who remains silent merely watching the near-perfect shot, the average size bottle shattered in a thousands pieces.

"Bullseye." you comment in a casual tone. "Your turn."

Offering him the rifle you stare at each other for a long time before he shakes his head, refusing to take it.

"Mine's better." Unfazed by his refusal you wait as he goes to the black duffel bag that he previously placed on an old wooden table. He takes out his preferred weapon. Your was... lethal, but his own, the sheer size and way it was customized for him left you speechless. You even doubted you'd be able to hold it still. "And just so you know." coming back to where he was, Ghost readies himself but not before taking off his leather jacket. Only left with his black hoodie he offers you the jacket, eyes serious. Hesitating for a second before grabbing it and putting it on, it smells like him. It's soft and warm around your body. "We're going out tomorrow."

His body prepares to take the recoil of the gun. Yet another perfect shot is made that day; body barely moving, barely flinching when he fires. You hold your breath at the sound of shattering glass and then everything goes silent. Ghost turns to look you in the face, the way his clothes hang around your body swallowing you whole. A sight he finds himself liking too much for his own bloody good.

"Taking me out on a date I see." His lips twitch although you can't see it. "Where to?" You ask rolling your eyes.

Laying down the weapon he motions you to follow him back inside, he'd clean up afterwards.

"Your first mission. Laswell wants you back asap." The air gets stuck in your throat. "Don't look at me like that. We could use a good soldier. And don't worry too much. I'm coming with."

Teaming up with Ghost was the last thing you thought would happen in your lifetime, even if you had before needlessly to say not directly. For all you knew, they considered you a hostile for your connections with the Shadow Company. But your commander was off the equation. Gone forever.

With a final glance to your way he starts to cook dinner for two so you join him.

Your new life starts now.

-

"When does this end, Laswell?" He asks her, it's not that he doesn't want to be around the girl. That is exactly why he's desperate to put an end to this, enjoying her company wasn't a part of the plan.

She breathes the cool air, and tries to calm him.

"Don't tell me you've grown to care about her, Lieutenant."

Ghost doesn't answer but the CIA agent notices the way his shoulders tense.

Part 4

#cod #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod x reader #cod mwii #cod mw2 #cod mw22 #call of duty #simon ghost riley #cod ghost #simon riley x reader #cod simon ghost riley #cod simon riley #simon riley imagine #simon ghost x you #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost modern warfare #ghost call of duty #ghost mw2 #modern warfare x reader #modern warfare fanfiction #cod mwiii #modern warefare iii #modern warefare 3 #call of duty imagine #cod mw3 #call of duty modern warfare 3

[pepsiluvr0209]

White Ferrari

First imagine yay!

WARNINGS: Angst, mentions of blood and hospital tubes etc, low-key sad

Matt Sturniolo x Reader

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧.˚ₓ

"Bad luck to talk, on these rides."

Your head gently laid against the cool window of Matt's minivan, the sunlight hitting your face, reflecting against your hair.

Matt looked over at you and smiled, completely entranced by you. You thought he looked so good. One arm on the wheel and one on the gear stick, looking into the rear-view every now and again.

Looking at him, you adjust your elbow to lean on the side of the car door, resting your head in your palms. "How much longer?"

"Soon baby." Matt replied reassuringly, switching into gear before moving his tattooed arm to your thigh, softly rubbing it. Matt couldn't stop looking at you. He thought you looked particularly pretty today and quite frankly could barely keep his eyes to himself.

"I can't wait to see Central." You smiled at him.

"I know, I have so much to show you, I just know you're gonna love it." He said, facing you with a giddy grin.

'Ladders' By Mac Miller came up on your shared playlist and you instantly reached over to put the music louder.

You both started laughing and singing along, zooming along the seemingly empty highway. Brows furrowing, your once loud words trailed off in the distance, making Matt look over at you.

"Matt..." You squinted, seeing something in the distance, your eyes widening seeing it has no intention of stopping.

"Hmm?" He mumbled, still admiring you.

"Matt, keep your eyes on the road. Matt!"

He turned his head quickly, only to find a blazing sports car coming towards you head on. With the speed you guys were going, attempting to quickly swerve to the left only led to the car speeding into the side of his van.

The side you were sitting in.

"Mind on the road, Your dilated eyes.

Watch the clouds float."

A pounding head, three broken ribs, a punctured lung and a severe concussion but all he could think of is you.

"Hey." Matt said, looking at you. He started attempting to unbuckle himself, harshly landing on an array of broken glass and disrupted gravel. "Baby? Are you okay?" His voice was raspy and he was attempting to crawl his way to your lifeless body, hanging sideways in your seat.

Trying to sit up, Matt gently placed his arm under your head and unbuckled the torn seat belt with the same amount of care. His whole body was shaking, to the point where he couldn't even feel the raging, bleeding burns on his back. You were his number one priority.

He adjusted your body to rest on your lap. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry." He repeated in your neck. "Please be okay." His neck went up to look down on you, gently grabbing your bloodied jaw. "Please, I'm sorry." He cried out more strongly. "Oh sweetheart." He sobbed going back into your neck and cradling your body. It was so cold.

Matt didn't know how long he stayed there, holding you and waiting for you to come out of whatever trance you were in. The red and blue in his peripheral didn't even phase him, encased with you in his minivan. Part of him couldn't even wrap his head around it. That you were hurt. Matt already decided in his head that you were just sleeping the pain away, and that tomorrow you would be as good as new, and you could go to Central together.

But something told him you were far, far, far away from okay.

"I didn't care, to state the plain.

Kept my mouth closed."

"Internal bleeding, bruised potentially broken-"

"Male, 20 years, Caucasian-"

"Send him to the x-ray machine now!"

Everything was crossing over each other as doctors and nurses pushed him around quickly on a red-stained gurney. Matt groaned at the bright lights, blinding his sunken blue eyes.

He turned his head, trying to make eye-contact with you, but with no avail. "Wh-what's wrong with her?' The surgeons ignored him, frantically discussing with their partners. "I said, 'What's wrong with her!?' Matt started trying to get up, breaking off IVs and random tubes pricking his arms.

"Restrain him!" Suddenly a wave of medical professionals towered over him, pinning him down.

"No, no, no, no." He sobbed. "Is she okay? Please." He cried making eye contact with a nurse pinning his arm down. She just looked at him sympathetically before re-inserting his tubes. "Please, this is all my fault." No one answered.

"Prepare anaesthesia." A voice came from in front of him.

"No, wait, I have to see that she's okay-" Matt tried to wiggle out of the doctor's grasp, only making them hold him down tighter. "Wait, wait, no-"

"That's just a slow body.

You left when I forgot to speak."

"Can I go see her now?"

Three days. At this point Matt didn't care what they did with his body, he only cared about you. They put him on a tube to feed him, because he refused to eat. Gave him pills because he couldn't sleep.

"They're just running some final tests." A nurse said, adjusting his monitor.

"Is she okay?" His voice was gravely and strained from yelling out for you. Even medication couldn't stop his dreams leading to your lifeless body.

Instead of answering him, the woman looked down at her clipboard checking off numerous things. "Your allowed family visito-"

"God, I don't care! I want to see her."

The nurse left.

Around 2 hours later a man clad in a suit came up to him and sat in the chair next to Matt's bed.

"How... well, would you say, you know y/n."

"Very well." Matt's voice cracked. "We've been dating for 4 years."

"I see." The man looks down at his hands. "Your her emergency contact, you know that?"

Matt shook his head. "Why are you here? Is she okay? Are you freaks finally gonna give me an answer?"

The man sighed and looked up at him through his gold rimmed glasses. "It's not looking well."

Matt just blankly stared at him. "You're pathetic."

"Yeah, well, she's hanging on by the thinnest thread we've ever seen. I'm going to give it to you straight. She's got three days max."

Matt's heart monitor started beeping rapidly. "What do you mean... three days left?" He gulped.

"Metal shards impaled her abdomen causing severe internal bleeding, I mean we are so lucky she got the urgent care she needed when she did. Top that with a fractured neck, ribs shattered beyond compare. There's not much we can do.... Look I'm sorry, but you can visit her."

"N-now?"

"Yeah c'mon up." Matt slowly swung his legs to one side of the bed, away from the man so he couldn't see the aching pain in his face and the piercing sounds of his heart snapping in all different places. Doctors helped him stand up and grab his IV, assisting him with walking, despite his protests.

Matt stood outside your door, knowing he could never be prepared for the amount of pain he's about to see you in.

"Well..." The man in the suit said. Matt took a deep inhale and softly opened your door.

And there you were. Bruised and slightly bloody. Tubes coming in and out of every end of your poor pale body. Matt felt faint and almost fell to his knees if it wasn't for the medical professionals holding him up.

"My sweetheart." He cried out, kneeling on the edge of your bed and grabbing your hand, softly kissing it, the cold skin burning his lips.

"She's just resting now, but she'll be awake in about 30 minutes."

Matt struggled to even get the words out. "So she's like... conscious?"

"Yeah." A tear fell down Matt's sickly face. "She's just in a lot of pain."

"Stick by me, close by me

You were fine."

Around an hour passed and Matt was staring at your face intently, crying every now and again at your fragile state. He wanted to so badly, see you smile again and hear you laugh. But you were gonna die, and he's the only one here with you.

"M-matt?" You voice was small, tiny even. Ridges and croaks with every letter but it was just enough for Matt to burst into tears. "Hey don't cry." Your weak hand moved to his soft hair, lightly scratching at his scalp in an attempt to calm him down. It didn't.

If only he cried harder, leaning into your touch and grasping the rails on the bed, so tightly his knuckles were a snow white. He couldn't do this. Watch you die. "I'm so sorry." He sobbed.

"No-" You cooed but you were cut off with his rapid and heart-wrenching apologies. "Matt, it's gonna be okay."

He looked up at you and your heart broke. His face was red and puffy, eyes watery and blue. "No it's not, you don't understand-"

"I do."

You stroked your thumb under his eye, soothing the purple and red hues. "It's okay."

Matt desperately shook his head under your touch. "No, no, no. I-I was gonna- w-we were supposed to have twins, o-one girl and one boy, and live in B-Boston near my brothers and get married, sweetheart we were going to get married." He cried, holding your hand. "Remember? W-With two dogs a-and Chris and Nick next door, and no we, we were gonna die together. Like that scene in the Notebook." He sobbed. "It was gonna be us together. It was always us together." He squeezed his eyes shut and cried into your hand, whispering sweet nothings about your future you won't get to have.

"I'm sure we're taller in another dimension.

You say we're small and not worth the mention.

You're tired of moving, your body's aching.

We could vacay there's places to go."

"White Ferrari. Had a good time."

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧.˚ₓ

Yikes.... Lemme know if you guys down w a part 2 🤞

Thanks sm for the support <3

#christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x you #sturniolo fanfic #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #Spotify #frank ocean #white ferrari #angst #sturniolo angst

[lambtotheslaughterr]

I Burn : Part Three

A Rafe Cameron Mini Series

[THIS STORY WILL CONTAIN THEMES OF NON-CON/DUB-CON, MENTAL-EMOTIONAL-PHYSICAL ABUSE, ETC. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. 18+. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT]

WC: 4.3k

Dividers provided by @firefly-graphics

PART TWO | MASTERLIST | PART FOUR

            Community service was a joke. The whole time you were pretty much frustrated. Working under the summer Virginian sun was not how you imagined spending your summer, but you also didn’t anticipate your parents having a mental breakdown & forcing you into an addiction facility. So, there you were, with your knees dirty from planting baby trees, the paint on your nails chipping from all the handiwork, & sweat building under your arms & between your thighs. You were at least relieved you chose to wear a skirt.

            You were taking a break inside the community center, watching the rest in the garden through the ground to ceiling windows. Nurse Carney was all smiles as she worked alongside Albert to lay down soil over the freshly planted flower patches. Siena worked alongside Renee on the far end of the garden. The at-risk youth kids were all high school age. You had been assigned to work with two of them, their names already forgotten. They too quite clearly didn’t want to be there so working with them was quick since hardly anyone said a word. For that you were relieved.

            You didn’t know how much longer was left of the service for today, but the clock on the wall over the door said it was nearly noon. You hoped you all would be back in the van & on your way back to the facility by then.

            Just as you were leaning back in your chair, your neck resting on the back of the chair, you heard the doors to the center open, bringing with it a hot wave of air. You groaned internally.

            Cracking an eye open, you suppressed your rage as Rafe came inside, his eyes set directly on you. You hated how fucking good he looked. He sported only a white tank top which was marked with sweat down the center of his chest & a pair of loose fitting cargo shorts. As he walked towards you, Rafe lifted his shirt to wipe at the sweat & grime on his face, shamelessly revealing the contours of his abdomen & the v-line at his hips. You squeezed your eyes closed & turned away.

            “Don’t be shy.” Rafe huffed out, you could hear the smile in his tone, “Nothing you haven’t seen plenty of before, I bet.”

            You wanted to ignore him, needed to ignore. Fortunately, the last couple hours you had hardly interacted with him, but you couldn’t deny feeling his eyes on you every now & then. You also couldn’t deny how your eyes would stray to him earlier as he was digging up holes for the trees, the muscles in forearms flexing & glistening with sweat under the sun. The image of those forearms wrapped around your body, tightening around you as he—

            NO!

            You stood up as if you had a bucket of ice water poured over you. Rafe watched you with amusement.

            “You good?” No. You were not good.

            “Fine.” You lied. As you made to pass him though, he held out his arm to block you from passing him. The feel of the palm of his hand against your hip was brief but the tingles from it lingered. You bit your lip to keep from breathing heavily. You glanced up at him through your lashes.

            “Where ya going? We still got a few mins for a break.” His voice was low, even but suggestive.

            “I’ve had enough of a break.” You responded, but even you could hear how much of a lie it was.

            Rafe chuckled at that, using the same hand that stopped you to turn you around. Your hip burned where his hand touched. He led the two of you away from the windows towards the backside of the community center. On this side of the building was a small lawn before the vast Virginian forest. Rafe slid open the doors & gently guided you out. You reprimanded your body for following in his lead, for allowing you to go with him without putting up a fight. It’s not like you wanted to be alone with him! At least that’s what you kept telling yourself to keep the images at bay.

            Rafe then closed the door behind the two of you as he led you to a bench near the tree line. You licked your lips, the salty taste of your sweat coating your tongue. You didn’t miss how Rafe watched your mouth. You were growing hotter than ever, more than just because of the summer sun.

            “Here.” Rafe pulled out a cigarette, handing it to you.

            You made a disgusted face, pushing his hand away, “No, thanks.”

            “No?” Rafe smirked as he brought the cigarette to his lips. Your eyes lingered on the stick resting against his pink, plush lower lip. “Not what I expected.”

            He lit the cigarette with a zippo, & you watched with slowed breath as a cloud of smoke billowed from between his lips & out of his nostrils. Fuck. He looked sexy. You blinked fast, looking away.

            “Why?” You asked, needing to focus on anything that wasn’t him.

            Rafe spoke around the cigarette hanging from his lips, “Just seemed the type.”

            “The type of people who smoke that shit are gross. Poor hygiene.” You commented. You had never been drawn or curious about trying a cigarette yourself. You hated the smell. But you’d be lying to yourself if you weren’t drawn to those who did smoke. There was something desirable about the look.

            “And you have good hygiene?”

            You shot him a pointed look, “Of course. I shower twice a day & floss. That’s more than ninety percent of the human population can say.”

             Rafe laughed lightly at that as he looked at you. His blue eyes stood out against his tanned skin. You could easily stare into them, lose yourself in them, look into them as he fucked you into your mattress. You winced, shaking your head to remove the thought from your head.

            “What are you thinking about?”

            He knew. You knew he knew, & he knew that you knew he knew. It was only a question to put on the spot.

            You chuckled humorlessly, “Why won’t you leave me alone? Is this funny to you?”

            Rafe’s eyes drifted to the top you wore before moving back up, “I think you’re hot.”

            The confession surprised you, & left you shuddering all over.

            “And only a little funny.” Rafe added as he leaned forward to look at you more, catching your eyes, “You get bothered easily. I like the look on your face when I tease you.”

            You rolled your eyes. He was like an annoying little brother.

            “Gets me hard.” Okay, absolutely nothing like a little brother.

            You felt your eyes widen, muscles stiffen. Was he hard right now? Would it be obvious if you checked to see?

            But as if he could hear your thoughts, Rafe brought his hand to yours, bringing it over the crotch of his shorts. A gasp left your lips as you felt the hard bulge there. When you meant to yank your arm away, Rafe secured his hold on your wrist, pressing the palm of your hand against his hardened cock.

            “It fucking hurts.”

            God, you knew what he meant. The walls of your pussy were clenching with need, hungry for him to stretch you out & fill you up. Your chest was heaving. Rafe leaned into you, his face near the side of your face as he spoke.

            “Do you imagine me fucking you as much as I do?”

            “Yes.” You breathlessly admitted as you squeezed your thighs together.

            “You want me to fuck you, don’t you?” His question made your spine arch. He brushed your hair behind your shoulder, allowing him direct access to your neck. You felt his lips ghosting over the skin there.

            “Tell me you want me to fuck you.”

            You bit your lip, words failing you. You did, you needed him to. Right here would be fine. You didn’t care. You wanted him to fuck you against the bench, to feel his hands on your hips as he took your mercilessly.

            You turned your face towards his, your mouths only separated by an inch. You finally opened your eyes, staring into his deep blue ones.

            Then he started laughing. And it wasn’t the sexy kind of laughing. He was laughing at you.

            “God, you’re fucking easy.” Rafe removed your hand from his crotch & stood up.

            You were mortified, confused. He tossed the nearly finished cigarette onto the grass & snuffed it out with the heel of his shoe. Rafe smirked at you as you felt scrutinized under his judgmental gaze.

            “Guess I was wrong.” Rafe said, “You do have a problem.”

            Feeling humiliated enough as it was, you shot forward, sure to shoulder check him as you did & practically ran back inside. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes & you angrily wiped them away.

            You were going to head back to the garden, tell Nurse Carney you weren’t feeling well, but before you could you ran into another person.

            “Sorry.” You muttered, not even glancing at the person. But the sound of your name stopped you.

            “Oh, my god. It is you.” You spun around & were further mortified by the person in front of you. She had been two grades above you in high school, but you were friends with her younger sister Courtney.

            “What are you doing here?” Lucy asked. She had been known as a ‘mean girl’ in your high school, so you immediately knew that if she put two & two together then it’d only be a day before everyone in your hometown knew about your whereabouts.

            “Court said you were abroad for the summer but uh…” She cocked her eyebrows knowingly, “this isn’t Europe.”

            “Hey, Luce.” You returned, swallowing down your discomfort. Your parents had told your friends & family that you would be studying abroad, too ashamed to admit they were putting their daughter up in a loony bin. “What are you doing here?”

            Lucy smirked proudly, “Volunteering for my senior thesis. You?”

            But her question already had her answer as Rafe suddenly appeared, “We were working with the at-risk youth.”

            Lucy jumped slightly at Rafe’s intrusion, but her surprise was quickly diminished when she noted how a cute guy was talking to her.

            “Oh, you guys are from the Arrowhead Center?” Lucy’s eyes flashed to yours, “How interesting.”

            Rafe swung an arm over your shoulders, pressing you into his chest, “We’re addicts.”

            Having had enough, you shoved him away & left the two of them, uncaring of Lucy. It’d only be a matter of time before you heard from your parents. They would certainly blame you for getting caught. Now they’d just have to come up with more lies. Lies you wouldn’t be able to keep up with.

            Back outside, you stormed up to Nurse Carney as she picked out flowers from their plastic pots to put into the ground.

            “I don’t feel good.” You forced out, “Heat.”

            She frowned, “You don’t look good. Well, alright.” She offered a sympathetic smile, reaching into her jean shorts pocket to hand you the keys, “Go sit in the van with A/C. We’re just about finished here.”

            You snatched the keys from her, mumbled a ‘thanks’, then marched towards the parking lot. You were tempted to steal the van, drive away from the embarrassment of today, but knew your parents would only make it worse. You had to be tougher, stronger. And the only way to get there would be to avoid Rafe at all costs the rest of your stay at the facility. The task was challenging, & it’d be the first time you made it your goal to avoid a guy, but if you were anything when it came to something you wanted, you were determined. Today would be the last time Rafe got the best of you.

            The rest of the week passed by in a blur. Even seeing Dr. Mooney again & your daily one-on-one sessions evaded your memory. You felt like your body had completely shut down, your mind with it. The humiliation you had faced last week had completely numbed you. Rafe had tried picking on you some more, but you hadn’t responded to any of his teasing. It was the only time you felt even a little bit good, was knowing that Rafe was getting frustrated that you were no longer taking his baiting. A win was a win, you reminded yourself.

            Now it was Friday. And you were looking forward to holing up in your room. Your burning urges had happened only a few times since the day at the community service, but not enough for you to act on them. Dr. Mooney had been evidently disappointed in the fact that you only had one entry in your journal—not that he was reading it—but he was pleased to hear that you hadn’t masturbated all week. You were too angry to, but you didn’t share that.

            And tomorrow wouldn’t help. Saturday was going to be a family day. Your parents would be coming to see you. You had been at the facility for a little under a month, & once a month the center has a family visitation day. Others in your group were looking forward to seeing their loved ones. Albert wouldn’t shut up about seeing his boyfriend. But you couldn’t join in on their excitement. In fact, you loathed seeing your parents again.

            You hadn’t heard from them since your run-in with Lucy, so you imagined they were saving their reprimand for when they saw you in person tomorrow. Joy.

            Currently, you were lying on your bed in your room with the door cracked. You were staring aimlessly at your ceiling when you saw a figure appear in the crack of your door.

            “Hey.” It was Albert. His usual luscious curly hair was tied into a low bun, “We got trash duty tonight. Did you forget?”

            You groaned outwardly. Albert smiled at that, clearly feeling the same, “If we do it quickly we’ll be done in no time.”

            Chores before bed was typical. You just loathed trash day. It meant everyone got paired up to go around the facility & gather trash to take it out to the dumpsters. A method to teach responsibility. But if you were taking out the trash, you only wished you could stuff Rafe into one of those black bags & deposit him in the filthiest corner of the garbage room.

            You swung your legs off the bed & slipped into a pair of your slippers. Fortunately, you were already dressed for bed. So, as soon as trash duty was done you could head back to your room & go right to bed.

            Following Albert out into the common area, you joined the others & Nurse Carney near the ping-pong table. You ignored the smirk on Rafe’s face when you appeared, choosing to stand on the other side of Albert away from him.

            “Good evening, guys.” Nurse Carney greeted, “You know the drill so no messing about. I expect to see everyone back here in thirty minutes. Siena, Renee, you two will work the east wing with me, and the three of you,” she waved her hand over you, Albert, & Rafe, “will take the west wing. Thirty minutes, let’s go.”

            Everyone slipped on some latex gloves before each grabbing a box of trash bags to reline the garbage’s. Albert led the way out of the youth wing, which was on the east side of the building, & towards the west side. You stayed close to him, feeling Rafe’s eyes burning a hole in the center of your back as he walked behind you.

            Once in the west wing, Albert offered taking the largest—& often grossest room—the indoor gym. Trash duty in the gym meant not only changing out garbage’s but also gathering the towels used the last couple days. But as grateful as you were for him taking on the most dreadful part of the task, it meant you were alone with Rafe.

            It was fine at first. Surprisingly. The two of you went in & out of rooms on either side of the hallway, gathering the filled trash bags & tossing them into a bin on wheels that you rolled down the hallway with you. Rafe said nothing, even though you could sense how badly he wanted to. And you said nothing either, didn’t even bother looking in his general direction. But you knew it was too good to be true to think you could finish trash duty without any bullshit from him.

            When the two of you neared the rooms at the end of the hall, furthest away from any potential lingering eyes, you felt a sudden heat at your back before your body was being pushed into a small & narrow closet.

            It was dark in the closet, save for the crack in the door that allowed a little light to stream in. Rafe gently pushed you up against a wall of shelves, his hips pressed against yours. The burning returned immediately, but you fought hard against the feelings, resolving yourself to not fall into another one of Rafe’s traps.

            “What the fuck is wrong with you?” He seethed. Even in the dark you could make out the heated look in his glare.

            “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You feigned, resisting against him as you attempted to push him off you. “Get off of me.”

            “You sure you want me to let you go?” He questioned. And you knew he intended for it to sound teasing, but even he couldn’t hide the frustration he was feeling thanks to your non-responsive attitude towards his taunts all week.

            “Yes.” You swiped his arms away from you, “You disgust me.”

            When you made to move away from him & out of the closet, he stepped in front of you, effectively cutting you off from your only escape route, “You’re lying. We both know it.”

        ��   “No, Rafe.” You glared at him in the dark, “I’m not. You humiliated me. I’m just a joke to you. There’s nothing desirable about that. Just me alone, okay.”

            The second time you tried to move, Rafe grabbed your harshly, shoving you backwards into the shelving, jostling the items there. You gasped, gaping at him. But what you hated most in that moment was how your skin was erupting with those familiar goosebumps.

            “I won’t leave you alone.” Rafe seethed, “For as long as I’m here I will never leave you alone. And it’s about time you realize that.”

            Before you could argue with him, his mouth descended over yours. You whined into the kiss, both shocked & horrified that he was actually kissing you. Rafe brought a hand to the back of your neck, angling your face so he could have better access as he bit & licked at your lips. Your body was aflame. As much as your mind didn’t want this, your body was desperate for it. It had been too long, much too fucking long since anyone had touched you with want. Even your distaste towards Rafe flew out the window.

            A gasp left you when you felt one of Rafe’s hands slip into the front of your leggings. Rafe stopped kissing you, pulling away just enough to see the look of euphoria on your face as his fingers found your clit.

            “Rafe.” You gripped his wrist that was in your pants, “No.”

            “Yes.” He replied lowly, planting a lazy kiss on your open mouth. You felt your hips arch into his touch, desperate for more. As he circled your bundle of nerves, you felt his index & middle finger slip towards your slick entrance. A whine erupted from you. Your pussy was dripping. Fuck, how long had it even been? His touch was leaving a puddle in your underwear.

            Rafe pushed his fingers into you & began pumping them. You clung to him, fingers digging into the muscles of his shoulder as he fingered you. Your moans grew louder, enough to draw attention, so Rafe clapped a hand over your mouth.

            His lips left a wake of wet, searing hot kisses along your collarbone. As he kissed along the contours of your chest, you felt the smile on his face. You shared the same smile behind the palm of his hand. God, it felt good. So good. It’s like he knew how to play your body better than you ever did.

            Suddenly, the closet flooded with light. A disappointed moan left you as Rafe’s touch & body was removed from you.

            You felt dizzy & couldn’t comprehend what exactly was happening as Rafe turned towards the now fully open closet door. In your peripheral, you saw that Albert was staring wide-eyed at the two of you.

            “You fuckin’ mind?” Rafe spit out.

            As you caught your breath, which you would never truly catch until Rafe could finish making you cum, you noticed how Albert gave Rafe a heated, angry glare.

            “Get the fuck out.” Albert demanded, kicking back the bin behind him to make room, “Now.”

            “Fuck you, man. Mind your business.”

            Albert’s nostrils flared & you finally moved, although slowly. Your muscles tense.

            “This is my business.” Albert then reached past Rafe & yanked on your arm, pulling you out from the closet. When Rafe made to grab you, Albert stood between the two of you. He was taller than Rafe & was fearless as he stood up against him, “You leave her the fuck alone, creep. I catch you cornering her again & I will report you.”

            With that, Albert tugged you down the hallway.

            Your mind had cleared at this point, & you glanced over your shoulder to Rafe who now stood at the end of the hallway. He was quite clearly pissed off, his chest heaving.

            “What the fuck, Albert?” You ripped your arm out of his grip as you stomped ahead of him.

            “I should be saying the same thing to you. What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

            “You don’t get to interrogate me!” You raised your voice, stopping in the hallway to glare him down, “You’re not my mom, you’re not my doctor, you’re not even a fucking friend. So mind your own fucking business.”

            You continued on ahead, wanting nothing more than to get back to your room & finish what Rafe started but Albert cut you off.

            “You wanna fuck up your treatment, fine.” Albert shook his head, “And since I’m not a friend I guess you won’t mind me telling Nurse Carney what I just caught you & that fucking loser doing.”

            The threat immediately changed your mood & you chased after Albert, “No, wait, I’m sorry, okay?”

            Albert stopped to look at you, unimpressed by your antics.

            “I don’t know what just happened. But it won’t happen again.”

            Albert stared at you for some time before frowning, “Did he force you?”

            “What?” You replied, shocked at the implication, “No. He didn’t. It was… I wanted it. I wanted to.”

            He sighed, glancing back down the hallway but you two had made a curve at this point so Rafe was not in view.

            “We’re all here for the same reason, _____.” He began, “To better ourselves, to overcome our addictions.”

            You pressed your lips together.

            “And you’re right. I’m not your mom or your doctor. But believe it or not, I am a friend. And I wish I had a friend on the outside to keep me in line with my recovery. So, please, just take my advice. Avoid him. At least, for now. I can’t tell you what to do, but it’ll be better for you in the long run if you just give it a chance. Okay?”

            You felt like a child, having to bite your tongue, but with your parents coming tomorrow you couldn’t risk bringing more attention to yourself than your run-in with Lucy already would. So you nodded, feigning belief in Albert’s words.

            “Okay. I’ll stay away from him.”

            It was the middle of the night & you were restless. You had tried finishing what Rafe started but your touch was nothing compared to his. It was tempting to sneak down the hallway to his room, but the cameras in the common area were motion censored. You’d be caught before you even made it to his door. So, all you could do was lie there in horny frustration.

            But maybe a cold shower would help. There was no rule against going to the bathrooms in the middle of the night. Gathering your bathroom kit, you tossed your towel over your shoulder & crept into the hallway. The bathrooms were at the very end of the hallway, & you’d have to pass by Rafe’s door to get there. Though there were cameras, maybe just maybe, he was awake too & would hear you.

            He wouldn’t be able to follow you out, that’d draw too much suspicion & attention, but he’d know you were there, awake & restless because of him. But just as you were passing by his door, you halted in your steps. You strained your ears, wondering if you heard right. Inching just a bit closer to his door, you finally heard it. Breathy moans.

            Your thighs shook with need. Rafe was moaning, grunting, breathing heavily. All the audio you only dreamt about hearing. You licked your lips, your eyes fluttering as you pictured him just on the other side of the door with his cock hard & sprung, fisting it in his hand as he got himself off. If it wasn’t for the cameras, you’d rest against his door & get off with him, without him knowing. You just needed to cum with him.

            And then, like hearing the most beautiful piece of music created just for you, Rafe said one word mixed within the breathiness of his moans.

            It was your name on his lips.

part three! gonna try to update this series & the Rise series as much as i can in the next 2 weeks before i start my new jobs.

as always, please share your thoughts w me! comments, reblogs w reviews, & asks are the bees knees.

thank you for reading!

beau<3

Requests are currently CLOSED.

Read this post on why doing more than liking a tumblr writers work is essential to our content creation.

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#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #dark!rafe cameron #dark!fic #non con fic #dark!fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfiction #outer banks fanfiction #dark!outer banks #i burn part three

[redlegumes]

Dec 8th: Dead Give Away, Innit?

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles

prompt: Idiots to Lovers | AO3: link | wc: 861 | rating: G | cw: none | tags: Wayne POV, first kiss, oblivious

Summary: Wayne is tired of Steve and Eddie, beating around the bush. It's obvious that when their 'kids' ask them to host a holiday party together they're ready for these two to get together too.

❆˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗❆

Wayne ducked his head out of the kitchen to see Eddie struggling, arms full ,trying to get through their small home’s door. He was about to help when he saw a familiar tan hand and scarred wrist help his nephew. Steve Harrington, back again.

Wayne waited a beat and then headed out after them. Eavesdropping was something he rarely did around Eddie, the boy deserved his privacy, but… he was curious what the two were up to this time. He hung back a little, listening to the young men while standing just inside the front door.

continues after the cut

He didn’t quite hear what Eddie said but he caught Steve’s reply.

“No, this time Max called.”

“What?”

“Yeah, she wanted to make sure we weren’t just ‘throwing it together’ last minute.”

“What a little ingrate,” Eddie exclaimed.

Wayne cracked the door open and watched as Steve leaned in toward Eddie, startling him into a low chuckle. “You love her.”

“You… no, you ‘Mama’ Harrington,” Eddie said, poking Steve in the chest, inches away from his face now. “You know, that’s what they call you.”

Wayne held his breath. Is this it?

Steve stepped back. “I guess I’ve got a reputation to uphold. So you better be bringing your ‘a’ game Eddie.”

“Sports ref-”

Wayne exhaled and stepped outside into the chill, Indiana winter air. Idiots. “-what’s all this now boys?”

Steve waved, and Eddie grinned before picking his gear back up. “The kids insisted we host a holiday party for them,” he huffed, loading an amp and his guitar into the back of the van.

“Yeah, very specific that we head it up,” Steve added, grimacing. “I don’t know why. I mean I’ve thrown some parties but-”

“Oh, really Stevie?”

Wayne folded his arms over his chest as he watched his boy hip check the always well groomed Harrington, slightly throwing him off balance. He also watched as the blush covered the young man’s face, and groaned lightly. The two had been fawning over each other, teasing, and then pulling back every time it looked like they might be finally getting somewhere. It’d been like that since April, and Wayne had just about had his fill.

Steve had already won him over. Harrington wasn’t given a free pass just for saving his nephew’s life, but in the following months he’d proven to be no fair weather friend to the Munsons. He shepherded those kids Eddie cared about too back and forth to physical therapy and just about anywhere else they begged him to. Steve would put on a show, all put upon, but Wayne saw the protective glint in his eye and the smile he hid every time he was ‘pressed’ to help them out. Steve was good people. But tripping over his tongue in front of Eddie was getting a little old.

Wayne suspected their extended friend group felt the same way if Steve and Eddie had been pushed to plan a holiday celebration together.

“The ‘Hair’ and his masterful party skills squandered on a lil event for a group of sophomores,” Eddie wheedled.

“Hey,” Steve protested. “And us, and Robin, she’s bringing Vickie. Jonathan and Nancy will be back in town, your DnD guys-”

“-my bandmates-”

“-both.” Steve tugged on one of Eddie’s curls. “It’s not just the kids.”

Wayne shifted his weight, fighting the urge to light up a cigarette. This has gone on long enough. “So, it sounds like you two are planning. Are the other older teens bringing anything to help out? You know, the couples other than you two. Decorations? Food?”

Steve blinked slowly. “Um, Everyone is bringing white elephant gifts. I recommended they bring snacks and drinks, but I don’t expect anyone to so I make sure to have plenty.”

“Who all is dating who now,” Wayne asked as casually as possible. If these two knuckleheads are going to keep being dense I might as well act oblivious. “I know the redhead is with Sinclair. But I never seem to know who Hopper’s kid is or isn’t seeing. And your Robin is seeing the Carmichael girl.” Steve was mouthing words without sound. Eddie had frozen where he stood. “But I suppose they wanted you two to host since you're the ones who have been together the longest and are still in town.”

Eddie’s face steadily turned bright scarlet. “What would, Wayne, what… Steve and me?”

“Aw, don’t worry none boy.” Eddie’s jaw dropped. “What,” Wayne chuckled, “was it supposed to be a secret? Jeez, you both doing this holiday get together is a bit of a dead give away innit?”

Steve’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Dustin, it was Dustin’s suggestion, and then everyone said we should…”

“Hmmm?” Wayne chose not to catch what he was saying. “Well, my two cents, if you care, is don’t get too worried about making it all perfect. Make sure you both have a good time too.” Wayne turned back to the house to hide his smile. “And don’t forget the mistletoe.”

…

Wayne parted the blinds a few minutes later to catch a quick glimpse of Steve and Eddie wrapped up in each other, kissing as flurries began to fall.

Finally.

2023 RedLegumes Steddiemas 1 2 3 4 5 6 10 SteddieHolidayDrabbles 1 2 3 4 6 8 9 10

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #i write things #holiday drabbles #ficlet #steddie ficlet #steddieholidaydrabbles #first kiss #wayne pov #wayne munson #idiots in love #idiots to lovers

[luimnigh]

Okay, I wanna pitch a Marvel movie.

Now, this is a Marvel movie that will absolutely never get made. They would not allow this. So here's my pitch:

We open on a heist. A group of absolutely Z-list, one-paragraph-on-the-marvel-wiki, single-digit-appearance-count supervillains robbing a secure facility. The villain that hired them narrates the plan as we watch, and while it doesn't go off without a hitch, some of the more bloodthirsty villains cause some unecessary bloodshed, it succeeds.

Our villain protagonists leave the scene in a van, loot inside, and drive off into the countryside to a rural, isolated house in the forest to lay low for a couple days. Everyone's celebrating their success, they're drinking, there's some drugs, a few people sneak off for sex. This is the point where we get to know the personalities of our villains, some are assholes, some are complete monsters, and there's a few people who are pretty decent and are really only in supervillainy because life dealt them a shit hand. We can see factions dividing our group of villains.

Their boss finally arrives separately, sporting some more villains as muscle, and the conversation turns back to business: the division of the loot.

And then someone finds a body outside.

One of the villains has been murdered. Everyone is immediately suspicious of everyone else, accusations are thrown, motives speculated, tensions get higher and higher, weapons get drawn-

A shot rings out. Everyone either opens fire or runs. One or two villains die in the crossfire, others are injured, this goes on until one of the more sympathetic villains calls for a ceasefire.

They're in the middle of trying to talk everyone down when they hear a car engine start, and one of the villains who ran from the fight bursts out of the garage in the getaway van-

With the loot still inside.

A few of the villains fire shots at it, but are soon stopped- they could destroy the loot. The boss explains as the van drives down the road that with his resources, tracking the villain that's double-crossed them would be easy as-

And then the van explodes in the background.

As our main party of villains makes their way to the burning wreckage, flaming dollar bills falling around them, they speculate on who the hell boobytrapped the getaway van-

But are interrupted by a click.

One of our villains looks down to see that nobody boobytrapped the van. Someone landmined the road.

Thankfully, one of our villains is a techie, and after a few tension-filled minutes, they disarm the mine. The villain who stepped on the mine is thankful, and the techie explains that they should be able to clear the road soon enough, right before their head explodes in a shower of gore.

If the landmines hadn't made it clear enough, that certainly sealed the deal: this wasn't a double cross, this wasn't an ordinary murder.

They're being hunted.

This is a slasher movie.

The film continues on, the villains getting picked off one at a time in creative and gruesome ways, some even having their tech stolen and used to kill other villains. But throughout, we never catch a glimpse of the killer.

Right up to the end of start of the final act. By this stage, you've started to root for our supervillains to overcome this. There's a few assholes left you wouldn't mind seeing die before the final curtain, but the killer's will have lost sympathy by this stage, having killed some of the more likable villains. We wanna see them pay for that.

And just as the killer is stabbing one of those likable villains to death, our surving villains, and the audience, finally catch sight of the predator that's been stalking them through the night.

A man dressed all in black... except for big white skull painted on his chest.

And suddenly there's no guarantee that any of the villains you've come to like are walking away alive.

#marvel #mcu

[howtofightwrite]

Clothes Followup

Hi there. Professional sportswear outfitter and part-time athelete here just chiming in on how these choices are perfectly believable, in my humble opinion: #1 SHOES "sneakers" is a loose definition. but, if the character is wearing casual/lifestyle "sneakers" like jordan lows, vans, etc., these type of shoes are FLAT (not narrow running shoes). Flat soled sneakers are often preferred training shoes for mixed arts or lifting at the gym. You could wear boots, but you're sacrificing agility. As a female, I can say that a female character likely would not inflict such a handicap as BOOTS on herself. Feet are very resilient and resistant to pain and injury. Being able to move on your feet matters a lot more than protecting them does. PASS #2 PANTS. you are not punching someone's pants while boxing. and have you watched fight club? they mostly wear jeans. they're durable, wick moisture (although it feels unpleasant), and if they're fitted properly, they're not going to get in the way of your agility. Jeans are light armor if you're speaking in tabletop rpg terms. PASS #3 SHIRT. a good tshirt of a decent quality will wick moisture, will not be bulky or baggy, and will move with its wearer. tshirts are not expensive and are the best option outside a sleeveless top or topless for martial arts. Especially if you have boobs. Boxing in only a racerback sports bra is also viable, but a tshirt will provide light protection to the skin, which is a good idea in amateur boxing. If they're WEARING GLOVES, nobody is grappling anyone's shirt so there is no risk of clothes-grabbing violations happening there. If this ring is literally underground, it's probably cold. Clothes can be shed between matches, but it's often more important to be clothed appropriately so as to prevent both overheating and chills. Becoming chilled between fights is a greater danger to performance than getting sweaty is. PASS I also have questions as to the type of boxing gloves being used. Are they full padded gloves? Light knuckle pads? Do the boxers wear headgear? Mouthguards? What areas are allowed to be hit or is it a free-for-all? Maybe you think these details are mistakes, but I disagree. Half my job is punching boxes all day. Hot, sweaty, fully clothed, wearing comfortable shoes. Lots of moving around. If I am going to punch boxes (or faces) for hours, that's exactly how I'd dress. The rest of my job? Literally outfitting people with boxing equipment. Literally selling people clothing for athletics. I am also a footwear specialist. Thank you for taking the time to read this. :) -lilkittay

So, apologies in advance, lilkittay, but you're about to get dragged. This might come as a shock, but I actually have a copy of the novel Fight Club. I just found it wedged between a copy of Hell's Angels by Hunter S. Thompson, and the Demolished Man by Alfred Bester. I'm not going to try to figure out what lead to that sorting peculiarity. The book is exceptionally good, and if you've never read it, it's an easy (if somewhat unpalatable) recommendation. Stick it up there with books like Native Son, or Ivan Denisovich, in that it covers some really ugly subject matter, but discusses a problem exceptionally well. And, in the 27 years since the novel was originally published, it has proved itself fairly prescient. It's not about the violence, it is an excellent discussion on the underlying psychology of toxic masculinity.

Now, the last time I mentioned Fight Club, someone immediately piped up with, “you've lost all credibility.” That's their problem, but I didn't actually define it, and it is a term that gets thrown around without being defined. Toxic masculinity refers specifically to an individual who cannot engage with their own emotions, particularly painful ones, in a healthy way, because they view those behaviors as effeminate. As a result, they respond aggressively and, or, violently. That's the toxic part. You get dumped. Your pet dies. You get passed over for a promotion at work. And, instead of dealing with that in a healthy way. In any healthy way. You go out into the world and try to make someone else suffer. That is toxic.

Unfortunately, Fight Club is not the grown up version of Calvin and Hobbes, though that is an amusing fan theory, and something that holds together better in the film thanks to Brad Pitt's costuming decisions.

I'm saying all of this to point out, the characters in Fight Club have no idea how to fight.

More than that, jeans are not light armor. Motorcycle leathers? Sure, those would be light armor. In fact, I'm pretty sure they're described as light armor in D20 modern. But, the only place I'd expect to see denim categorized as light armor is a game that used, “light armor,” for mage gear, “medium armor,” as rogue's leather and chain, and, “heavy armor,” as warrior gear. Which is to say, yeah, that's not how that works at all.

The problem with jeans as armor is, they're really bad at it. Someone with a crowbar? Yeah, jeans aren't going to do anything about that. Someone with an axe? I've heard about the aftermath, it was not pretty. Against a sword? Nope. Against a knife? Personal experience says the knife will win without issue. In an underground fighting arena against someone driving a shin kick into your knee? Yeah, your jeans may look fine after the fact, but you're probably not using that leg again anytime soon.

But, that RPG comment made something click together a little, so back to footwear for a second.

Why would someone wear boots? Now, personally, I wear motorcycle boots in my day to day life. Not because I'm a rider, but because I find them more comfortable and convenient than normal dress shoes, and so long as I keep them buffed out, they pass for men's dress shoes at a glance. The interesting thing about this is that my heel has a wide, flat, block of wood under it at all times. If it was a matter of life and death, I could probably grind off a significant chunk of my heel bringing a bike to a stop without suffering any injury. Now, I bring this up, because driving 200-300lbs of force behind a sharply edged wooden mallet into your unarmored instep will not improve your agility.

In the real world, armor doesn't work like D&D. There's no equivalent exchange between mobility and being able to soak a hit. (And if you think there's an irony in substituting a term from one RPG for another... well, yeah. You're not wrong.) If you think someone's going to stomp on your foot, bring steel toed boots. What you lose in agility today, you make up for in your ability to walk without a cane tomorrow.

The paradox of humans is that we are both stupidly resilient, and horrifically fragile, at the same time. Now, at this point, I do want to say something genuinely nice to you, even if it sounds a tiny bit condescending. You've never looked at another person as 150-250lbs of ambulatory meat and considered the best way to take them apart with your hands. And you know what? That is a good thing. Embrace that, and don't let go, because never finding yourself in that kind of a place is a credit to you, and the world you've been able to live in.

All of that said, fighting another human being is not a workout. It's engineering. You're looking at an organic machine with roughly the same parts and pieces you have, and your goal is to make that machine stop thrashing around, screaming, and leaking on everything, before it does the same to you. It's not better. It's not worse. It's different, and it comes with different considerations. You don't dress to look good or stay comfortable, you dress to avoid life altering injuries if at all possible.

Competitive fighting does land at a meeting point of these two considerations however. The fighter wants to come out intact, the sponsors want good show, one that will draw an audience. This leads to things like fighting in a sports bra. Yes, it may be the most, “agile,” option, but if you're going to be in a fist fight, a heavy leather jacket, preferably one with fiberglass plates may not breathe, but it will take far more abuse than your body can. (Actually, I think sometimes the inserts are made out of memory foam these days, which should also take a hit pretty effectively, especially against an unarmed foe.)

This isn't a major issue, but it is something to consider, when thinking about the temperature of the arena, it's important to remember that human body heat in a crowded space is somewhat cumulative. So, a room that starts out at around 60 degrees, could easily warm up to a comfortable temperature once the spectators are present. There's actually consistent math for calculating what you should set the thermostat for in an amphitheater when it's unoccupied so that the temperature is comfortable when the seats are filled, but I can't remember the numbers, and can't find it on short notice.

You do bring up a good point, the original Anon did not specify what kind of gloves were used. I assumed those were nominally regulation boxing gloves, but those could be something like the UFC gloves from a couple decades back, that left the fingers exposed while armoring the knuckles. The armor on those gloves allowed the wearer to inflict all kinds of horrific injuries on one's foes. In an event Michi is quite happy to recount, her younger brother almost lost an eye to a skull fracture from one of those during a poorly supervised sparring bout. It's fairly credible to suggest that an illegal fight club might use those simply to excite the crowds with actual bloodshed.

Now, as someone who has worked in shipping, I know full well that sometimes boxes do hit back. However, they are the exception rather than the rule. There's nothing wrong with practicing on punching bags, but boxes aren't trying to break you. At worst, they may just want to take a nap on the floor without regard to whether you're in the way or not. Live opponents? They're looking at you as however many pounds of meat machinery, and trying to end you. Looking good doesn't make their job harder, but armoring up does.

Anyway, like I said to the original Anon, nothing in their explanation was outright wrong. A lot of it was non-optimal, but not to such a degree as to shatter belief. The mistake you're making, and I really do say this with respect, is that you're looking at it like any other physical activity. As I said, combat is not a work out. Combat as a hazardous environment beyond the reach of OSHA. You wear protective gear (if you can) because that protection may be the difference between walking out alive and (basically) unharmed, or never walking again. You wouldn't (or at least, really shouldn't) take a bike out on the freeway at 60mph in jeans and a tees, you really don't want to get in a fight wearing them either.

-Starke

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#writing reference #writing advice #writing tips #starke answers #how to fight write #martial arts

[itsyassbitch]

✈︎A plus one✈︎ Chapter I

Chapter II

Summary: Bradley has always been the single friend of all of his friend groups. However he’s tired of everyone trying to set him up with random women until one day he asks you to be his plus one to his friends marriage so they stop bothering him about getting a girl. What happens when you both start liking this lie you’ve been telling people? Warnings: None at the moment; probably smut, alcohol consumption, a little bit of angst, cursing, ...

Chapter one

Bradley has always considered himself as a lonely wolf, he’s never liked a woman enough to make it official. Besides, being a Naval aviator never helped his issues. Since he was aways on deployment, he didn’t really had time to find a good woman and settle in. As a result, this last decade has been more complicated to him than ever, with practically all his friends getting married, people constantly asked him why he was still single and even tried to set him up with some random women.

That’s how he finds himself in this situation, trying to convince one of his teammates to accompany him to his friend’s wedding. He was so sick of people trying to set him up that he told Thomas that he was having a plus one so they would stop embarrassing him. The problem is that he was as single as ever and the only people he used to socialize with were his coworkers.

He had thought about asking Natasha to be his plus one, but he knew that things would be so awkward, so he didn’t even try talking to her. Then, he wasn’t as close to Halo to ask her something like this. But at that moment he thought about you: You were good friends; you were funny and very pretty too. He could make more than one jealous by attending it with you.

Nevertheless, you weren’t fond of the idea and asked him “Why wouldn’t you just bring a real date to this wedding?” and he answered like it was obvious “Because I told him months ago about the plus one, so if I bring someone, she’ll have to know me quite well”. “Just take Hangman then, he knows you very well, biblically and all”, she said with a smirk on. “Stop teasing Viper, if I take Jake, he’ll only brag about the fact that he gets more chicks than I do… not to say that they know I don’t like guys. Come on, please say yes” he says with puppy dog eyes. “What’s in that for me?” you ask rolling your eyes. “Literally anything you want, I’ll do whatever you tell me for a week!”, “A month” you say trying to negotiate. “Two weeks” he says, “Deal!”

And that is how you found yourself caught up in this situation. Bradley told you that it would be a whole week in Hawaii with the bachelor / bachelorette party Wednesday, the venue would be Saturday along with the brunch on Sunday, so you’d have to fly Sunday night and be back the next Sunday after brunch.

Accordingly, you packed some beach clothes, swimsuits, your wedding and brunch outfits and some clothes more revealing for the bachelorette party or if you had another night out.

When you were done getting ready to go, you received a message from Bradley:

Chicken🐔:  I’m outside, do you want some help with your bags?

Me: Nah I’m good, I only have my bag and a suitcase, and it isn’t that heavy. I’m already coming out.

Chicken🐔: Alright, no problem.

Once you leave your house you see his blue Bronco parked at your from porch while he gets out of the car to help you put your suitcase in the trunk. He’s wearing black sport shorts, a grey Nike hoodie and black vans along with his aviators while you are wearing low waisted grey sweatpants, a navy-blue baby tee, new balance shoes and your own sunglasses.

“Hey fake boyfriend, how are you doing baby?” you say mocking him. “Hello sweetheart, you love pretty today”  he says carrying on with you little game. “Oh, shut up” you say with a desperate smile while getting in the car.

“So, how is this whole thing going to work? I mean, have you made up some back stories yet?” You say while he drives the car to the airport. “No, I haven’t yet, thought it would be better to do it with since you’ll have to remember all that bullshit too” “Yeah, you’re not totally wrong. Let’s start with simple things like how we met.” “Maybe we won’t have to lie about this one, we can say that we met on base when we were deployed together…” “Half-truths, I like that” you say with a little grin.

By the time you got to the airport, you had an acceptable story to tell people about your fake couple so they wouldn’t find it suspicious.  As you waited for your flight departure, you and Bradley had lunch because you didn’t have time to eat at home, it was nothing much, just a sandwich because you knew you were going to eat during you flight too. Before boarding you made sure to take yourself a green juice and a beer for Rooster.

The flight was quite long to Hawaii, around six hours, so you made sure to  take a book you wanted to finish but didn’t have time because of. Rooster only had his phone and his headphones, so you only talked occasionally.

Halfway through the flight, the lights were turned off so you decided instead of continuing reading your book you’d just watch the episodes of Vampire Diaries you’ve downloaded on Netflix, and you asked Bradley if he would like to watch it with you. At first, he was really into the story but then you noticed that he was falling asleep, but you didn’t say anything because you both had a rough day at work. At some point, he laid his head on your shoulder and was caught by surprise, you didn’t say anything and let him rest there.

About an hour later, the flight attendants started giving passengers their meals and drinks until one came to you and asked, “Excuse me ma’am, would your boyfriend like to eat something?” “Oh no, he’s not my… um actually yes, you can just give it to me, and I’ll wake him up” you answered with a smile, trying to get used to call Bradley your boyfriend. “Alright, what will you take then? We have fish, chicken, and a vegan option if you’d like” she said a little lower, to not wake him up. “One fish and one chicken please” “no problem, would you like to drink something?” “Two cokes please”.

“There you go” she said, making everything fit on your table while trying to not bump into him “Thank you!” You said when she started moving to another passenger and she just smiled at you.

“Roos… wake up, dinner’s here” you called as calmly as possible “what? What happened?” he asked, still half asleep. “The food’s here and it would be a shame to eat it cold. I took you a coke too” “Oh, thanks. You didn’t have to” “Don’t worry about it” you smiled; he looked like a puppy sleepy. “How long did I sleep?” He asked taking his food to his own table “Not very long, an hour maybe.” “Thanks for letting me sleep. What happened between Elena and Damon while I was asleep?” He said a bit embarrassed about the situation. “My my, Bradley Bradshaw was actually enjoying Vampire Diaries, who would have thought” you exclaimed. “Hey, it’s not my thing but it’s not either” he argues. “Whatever helps you sleep at night Bradshaw” you laughed while eating your meal.

When you arrived in Hawaii it was already one in the morning so Rooster decided it was better to take a cab to the hotel and explained that he would rent a car the next day. You didn’t argue with him, you were exhausted and only wanted to take a shower and sleep. As soon as you got to the hotel his friends were at Bradley told you could sit, he would take care of everything, and you thanked him while he walked away to the reception desk to check in. “Hello, how can I help you?” The receptionist questioned “Hi, I have a reservation under Bradshaw” “Oh yes, let me just check very quickly” she answered while typing on the keyboard. “Here you are! So, it was a suite with a Queen bed for a week. Is that right?” “There must be a problem, I reserved a room with two beds” “I’m apologize for our, there must have been a misunderstanding during the call. Unfortunately, all the rooms with double bedding have been booked. Would like me to add another single bed bedroom?” “Can you just wait a second? I must talk with my friend about it” “Yes, no problem. Sorry again” she him an upside-down smile while he returned next to you. “Hey, what’s up? Somethings wrong? “Yeah um, there’s a problem with the reservation? For the love of God Rooster, don’t tell me you booked in the wrong!” You started to panic because of how exhausted you are. “No, no, it’s nothing like that. They’ve accidentally booked our room with one single bed, so I wanted to ask you what you’d like to do. Maybe I can take another bedroom for you. I’ll let you take the room tonight and I’ll just find something for me”. “Oh, come on Rooster, you know how much it costs for a last-minute booking? Probably twice the price it would normally… I mean, we’re not kids anymore, I have no problem in sharing a room with you.” You say, relieved, that it’s not a big issue. “So, I just keep the reservation as it is?” “Yeah, plus it would be weird to your friends if we were a couple and didn’t sleep in the same hotel, right?” “Yes, you’re right! I’ll be right back then”.

You see Bradley talking to the receptionist but you’re too tired to even pay attention to what they’re saying so you just wait until he comes back to you and take your suitcase, leading you to the elevator. When you get to the room, you’re the first one to go inside and it is simply enormous. It has the classic Hawaiian aesthetic, but you think it looks so good. When you first enter, there is a sort of living room with a small kitchen in it, a double door that leads to the bedroom and a simple one to the bathroom.

“Hey, look, there’s a couch in here. I’ll leave you the bed and I can sleep here” he says, looking at the small couch in the living room “You’re not serious, are you? Have you seen your size and this couch? You’d never be comfortable in that. I’ll take it”. “I’m not going to let you sleep on the couch, I’m already thankful that you accepted coming with me, you deserve at least to have the bed…” “I’m tired and I don’t have time for this so let’s just share the bed, ok?” You say, opening your suitcase to take your pajamas. “Are you sure?”  “Absolutely!” You reply entering the bathroom to take a shower. “Sharing it is then” he mutters while sitting on the bed.

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I know it's a little short but I'm still getting used to all the writing, hope you enjoy it and please don't hesitate to tell me things I could change/improve xoxo <3

#miles teller x reader #miles teller #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster top gun #rooster x you #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw smut #bradley bradshaw x female reader

[pianokantzart]

By The Numbers (Pt. 1)

Luigi hoped to use one of his own special talents to give the Super Mario Bros. Plumbing company the leg-up it needed to succeed. But as usual, for all his good intentions, the younger of The Mario Brothers finds himself in over his head.

Part two: X Part three: X

Also available on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52624285

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When Luigi heard his brother’s gentle breaths fall away into a low snoring, he slipped out of bed and tiptoed to the closet, where his black vest, collared shirt, pleated pants, and green bow tie were folded together on a low shelf. He was glad he’d the forethought to gather everything beforehand. It was hard enough navigating his room in the dark, clumsy as he was. He hated to think what it’d be like trying to find everything piecemeal without waking anyone.

All the sports equipment and copper pipes left strewn about the floor didn't help in the slightest. By some miracle Luigi stumbled only once, bumping his shoulder painfully against his dresser. He clamped a hand over his mouth and nose to stifle a yelp, and waited with held breath to see if he’d given himself away. The mishap only elicited a small snort from Mario, who – after mumbling something under his breath– rolled over and fell right back to sleep.

Luigi let out a long sigh of relief, and after tucking his bowtie and a hair comb into his pocket he tugged on his striped socks, laced up his shoes, and plopped his bright green cap onto his head. The newsboy cap with the bright green “L” was identical to the one he wore as a child. Mario had a matching one, firetruck red and emblazoned with an “M.” Mario had insisted it be part of the uniform of their budding plumbing business, and their mother was ecstatic to put the hats together. “Budding,” as if their business had even a seed to sprout from. Quitting The Wrecking Crew felt amazing. Stepping back and realizing how much money it took to start a business of their own? That was far less pleasant. Luigi had three hundred dollars in his pocket, two hundred in his checking account, four thousand in savings. It was a fine amount for a man in his early twenties who worked a blue collar job. But even with Mario’s funds added on, plus all the tools and materials he’d gathered from his apprenticeship while working at The Wrecking Crew, there was no way they could get a business off the ground in a place like Brooklyn. If they only had a couple extra thousand… get a proper work van, some more tools, a bit of advertising… then they would stand a chance. Wearing the cap, he felt, would be good luck, and after giving the brim one more self-assuring tug, Luigi carefully opened the bedroom window and slipped out, shakily navigating his way to the fire escape, and creeping along the creaking metal to the pavement below. 

He couldn’t believe he was doing this. He had planned it, researched it, and thought about it constantly, but he couldn’t believe he was actually going through with it. This felt like the kind of crazy scheme Mario would come up with. Anyone else would assume this was something Mario had talked him into, but no, this was all him... one hundred percent Luigi. Maybe his brother was finally rubbing off on him. Luigi hoped so. If their dream was going to be realized, then they both needed to be a little reckless.

On his way to the subway station Luigi stopped once to look in the reflection of a shop window, where he brushed his mustache and put on his bowtie. That was the last moment of true clarity he had during his journey, which quickly descended into an anxious blur of dimly lit tunnels, rumbling trains, and crowded streets as he shifted like a man possessed to the nearest Casino, already echoing with the hustle and bustle of Saturday night.

Luigi paused at the door. He loosened his bowtie to try and swallowed away the lump growing in his throat. He whispered one more quiet “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” then forced himself to step through the glimmering doors into the mayhem.

Walking through the maze of bells, music, muddled conversation, cheers, shouts, and blinking lights, he fully realized just how unaccustomed he was to being without his brother. Mario always entered unfamiliar situations like this with boldness, friendly and confident, as though he had every life experience under his belt. When Mario was around everything came easy to Luigi, there was not a single worry about how he looked, what steps to take, where to go, or what was the right thing to say or do, he simply walked in step with Mario and everything worked out in the end. Every now and then Luigi glanced around for his brother in the half second it took for him to remember that he had come here alone. In these instances he took a deep breath, counted the colors in the room, and rubbed the tops of his hands, putting into practice every little trick he had learned to ground himself when his breath and heartbeat began to outpace him. It was okay. He was okay. He could do this. His eyes were lowered and his hands were curled protectively to his chest when he found the cashier counter. Shakily, he asked to sign up for the next cash game, and exchanged the three hundred in his pocket for plastic chips. He asked where the poker tables were, and was directed to a room adjacent to the main corridor of the casino. It was only when all was in place, and all of his competitors were dealt their hand, that Luigi was at long last able to get comfortable. He didn’t chat, he didn’t drink, he simply stared at his cards, and allowed himself to become completely engrossed in the game.

He didn’t even realize that “counting cards'' was a term when he first learned to play poker. Although, as opposed to blackjack, the method was perfectly legal, and far from uncommon. It was merely deduction and strategy, focused on probability and numbers, and Luigi had always had a head for numbers.

He’d played regularly as a teenager… wiped the floor with the competition to the point that none of his peers would take him on. Recently he brushed up with a few rounds online, and though he was at that time too uncertain of his skills to risk any real money, he discovered he was still good at it. Really, really good at it.

His biggest worry was his poker face. He was never known for his ability to keep his emotions hidden, no matter the stakes, and yet poker proved to be an unexpected outlier. In the thick of the game his mind didn’t register victory and loss, the fine line between financial ruin and easy street, or much of anything at all. It was all just numbers: multiplication, calculation, and probability, completely detached from his heart. No matter what card he drew or discarded, his expression remained unchanging.

Of course, a perfect poker face couldn't change the luck of the draw. At the start the cards weren’t in his favor, and Luigi found himself folding early for a couple of rounds. He narrowly kept himself from going into the negatives, but to his relief his fortune turned around after the first two hours. It was only after the fifth hour of playing that he was finally knocked out of his numeric stupor. His eyes drifted down from the cards in his hands to the mound of chips in front of him. Actually taking the time to register how many there were in total, his heart skipped a beat. He was barely able to keep it together as he closed out the round with a win, making it through with a straight flush, his highest card only barely beating that of his closest competitor. He startled even the dealer as he broke his five hours of perfect silence with an elated laugh, and gathered his mound of chips to himself. “Wowie zowie! Ha ha! I… I can’t believe it!! Look at all this!” His sentiment was genuine, but he only realized how condescending he sounded after the words left his mouth, especially considering where his newfound wealth had come from. His unease worsened when he got a better look at the faces of the other players, their expressions ranging from somber resignation to boiling resentment. From there, Lu kept the brim of his hat tugged anxiously over his eyes while the dealer exchanged his hoard of low-value chips to a handful of high value chips that he could easily transport to the cashier, which Luigi did immediately, handing his dealer a tip before scurrying away.

His heart battered against his ribcage like a tiny bird, light as air and racing with so much excitement it was almost painful. He received the payout, and hurried straight to the Casino ATM, where he put every cent into his checking account.

It took everything in him not to skip when he returned to the subway station, though he couldn’t help but hum a cheerful tune as he descended the stairwell into the underground.

An old analogue clock hanging from the sticky stone walls showed it was half past four in the morning. A few commuters were scattered through the subway, creating a scene that was eerily quiet and dreary compared to flashing opulence of the casino, but the familiarity did Luigi’s heart good. Still humming, he leaned against a pillar, not even minding how unsanitary it probably was in his exhaustion as he drowsily waited for his train. He was confident that he would make it home in time to change into his pajamas and climb into bed before anyone could figure out what had been done. His mother, being a very early riser, was the biggest cause for concern, but she rarely woke before six a.m on Sundays. If his luck continued at this rate, he wouldn’t have to clamor up the fire escape, and could instead get the spare key from the potted plant and slip quietly through the front door. “There you are!” A stranger’s voice pulled Luigi from his thoughts, a shrill squeak leaving his throat as a heavy hand slammed down on his shoulder. Luigi turned to lock eyes with a heavyset man, nearly a foot taller than he, clean shaven and well dressed.

“Hi?” Luigi looked the individual up and down, struggling to put a name to the face. After a long moment of uncomfortable silence between them, he ventured to ask, “...do I know you?” “Forgotten already? We met only a few hours ago.” The voice was gruff. It feigned friendliness, but the malice was unmistakable, especially when paired with the ever-tightening grip on Luigi’s shoulder. “...Oh.” Luigi tried to pull away, but to no avail. “Heh, uh… s-sorry.”

“Are you?”

Luigi shuddered, the stranger’s tone ringing every alarm bell. He took hold of the wrist in an attempt to ease the mounting pressure, and looked around in hopes of spotting someone who could help him. There were some commuters further down the tunnel, faces illuminated by their phones, earbuds in. There was no telling if they’d lend any aid, even if they weren’t distracted. It was the Brooklyn Subway, after all. Everyone knew to mind their own business in New York. Looking back toward the confrontational stranger, Luigi let out another startled cry when he saw he was suddenly joined by three more men, all without an ounce of sympathy in their eyes.

“What’s going on?!” The question was met with silence, causing Luigi's mind to race. At long last, he remembered the man who held him. He recognized a pretty golden lapel pin he had admired in the split second before he was reabsorbed into one of the many poker games he had played that night. The others, he couldn’t figure out for the life of him. Did he forget their faces over the five hours he had played? Or were they uninvolved friends? Before he could ask anything else, he felt himself being dragged away, the offending grip now joined by a second hand clamped over his mouth. 

“Let’s talk.”

Luigi let out muffled protests, struggling in vain as each of the men took hold of him, and began to usher him down a darker, emptier subway tunnel, where they could speak freely without fear of interruption.

#my writing #Luigi #Mario #Super Mario Brothers #Mario Movie #super mario bros #mario fanfic #a little rushed there in the middle but I do NOT comprehend poker and am in no place to pretend I do