#and i’m just... so happy that he has the safety and comfort to be himself

[kiwi-bitchez]

Double Down, Triple Threat 

Summary: insecure!Eddie x bartender!Reader

Eddie is constantly flirting with you after his Corroded Coffin sets at the Hideout, and you have the bad habit of flirting back. What happens when you overhear a conversation that wasn’t meant for you? Maybe you’ve had the wrong idea about the cocky metalhead who negs you for free drinks. Now you need to take it into your own hands to resolve some built up tension. 

Smut, as always, with a touch of angst but generally fluff/happy ending. 

Word count: 18k (eek! in retrospect I maybe should have split this into multiple parts but...fuck it, brevity has never been my strong suit LOL) Buckle up for a doozy.

Content warnings: smut, afab reader with she/her pronouns, use of y/n, alcohol consumption, smoking, the devil’s lettuce, mention of Eddie's scars and sustained injuries (slightly canon divergent obviously because our boy is ALIVE here, but the events of season 4 generally stand otherwise), also Eddie does some negative self talk where he refers to himself as mutilated but everything is happy in the end I promise, and scars are nothing to be insecure about he's just down in the dumps you feel me?, oral (fem receiving), fingering (fem receiving), unprotected PIV sex (plz use protection irl), pet names, reader and Eddie shower together

A/N: I know it’s been a hot minute since I’ve posted a fic on here, but I hope all y’all who are still riding the Eddie Munson thirst train enjoy this :) I’m trying to regain the motivation to write more, so hopefully more fics to come soon (no promises though lol) (maybe some Steve? Steddie x Reader? Let me know what y’all want to see.) I

"I'll have the usual," his hoarse voice and boisterous presence cut through what few other customers sat at your bar, forcing your attention his way.

"Yeah, and what would that be?" you try to give him your best deadpan voice, unsure yet if you were in the mood for his antics. 

"Come on, like I ever order anything other than a whiskey and coke," his curly dark hair stuck slightly to his damp forehead, not having bothered to wipe the sweat from his brow in between the stage and the bar. If you could even call it a stage. It was more of a sad corner with an extension cable and a few amps that his grunting bandmates were lugging back into their truck while he very helpfully came over and tried to flirt with the bartender. You were the only bartender. On Friday nights anyways. 

"That's because you're unoriginal," his drink was already half made as you flick your eyes up through your lashes at him, knowing he was watching you intently, not that he was particular about how his drink was made by any stretch. "You're actually going to pay for it this time," you slid the glass over to him, "I'm not joking."

"You wound me," he tries his best to give you puppy dog eyes, "but I'm pretty sure Randy mentioned something about drink tickets when we negotiated our new Friday slot."

"That's not a thing," you make up menial tasks behind the bar to keep your hands and eyes busy while he relentlessly chats with you, "never has been. Plus if I keep giving you free drinks you'll get the idea that I like you or something." 

Fuck, you told yourself you should stop flirting back with him. Your first excuse had been professionalism, which didn't make a lick of sense considering you were a bar back at this hole in the wall that paid local bands in drink tickets, apparently. Your second excuse had been that as fun as Eddie was to chat with, you hardly knew anything about him other than his loud band and his drink order. 

Unfortunately he liked to chat and sooner than later you knew more about him than you wanted to. Your newest excuse? If you kept flirting back with him he might get the idea that he could see you outside of this dingy bar, and you liked the comfort and safety of the three feet of wood separating you, it kept you from doing something you might regret. 

"Don't act like you didn't like our set," he threw the rest of his drink back, "I saw you watchin' from over here."

"Yeah, well you're kind of hard to ignore, you know, with the volume and all," your voice had a too-playful tone that you mentally noted to dial back on. 

If you were being honest, Corroded Coffin was one of the weekly acts that you didn't entirely mind. Most were groups of middle aged men trying to relive the glory days by booking a weeknight at the Hideout, instruments barely tuned and a setlist that was decades out of style. While Eddie's band certainly wasn't everyone's cup of tea, you found yourself tapping your foot along with their songs more often than not. At least they were original, you’d give them that. 

He held his glass up to signal a request for another. "Go help your friends carry all your shit," you swiped the cup from his hand, hating that you focused on how your fingers briefly touched his, "and then I'll make you another. And I'm charging you for both."

"Whatever you say, babe" he spun around three or four times on the bar stool before sauntering off and finally assisting with moving the amps and drum kit. You rolled your eyes, not that he was watching you anymore, but more to keep yourself from checking out how his shirt clung to his torso. His black t-shirt was always a size too small, revealing his tattoo covered arms that you never allowed yourself to stare long enough at to make out what any of them were. 

Eddie was nice. As much as you liked to push each other's buttons and joke around, he was a lot more respectful than most patrons that tried their hand at flirting with you. He never said anything gross or disrespectful, not something you could say about most men who've had more than a few beers. 

But you didn't want to risk pushing any boundaries with him, because you work here, and his band plays here weekly, religiously. You didn't want things to get weird, and as much as you learned how to avoid certain patrons, there was only so much space between the 'stage' and your station behind the bar. 

Despite this, you have his second drink made before he finishes putting his stuff away, and you haven't started a tab for either of them. A big smile stretches across his cheeks when he notices his already-made drink set by his stool as he walks over from the back door. You couldn't help but feel a tiny smile creep up on your face as well. 

"Really made me work for this one, huh?" he takes the first sip while still standing before setting back into his seat, "truly amazing service, best I've ever had, really." You glare at him while cleaning some cups absentmindedly with a rag. "Not sure if you can tip on a drink ticket though..."

"Fuck off," you giggle and throw the wet towel at him, "you can't charm your way into TWO free drinks you ass."

"Aww you think I'm charming?" the flirtations between you were always edged with sarcasm, which you both found a lot easier than admitting 'hey you need to stop looking at me like that or else I'm going to keep thinking about pinning you against this countertop.'

"No, I don't, which is why you're PAYING for both those drinks," a lie followed by another lie, and you both knew it. "Where'd your band go?"

"Why? 'm I boring you?" he didn't mind taking up all your attention when the other bar patrons were either too drunk to stand or too old to even notice that a metal band had performed for the past hour. "No one's ever accused Gareth of being more interesting than yours truly. Plus he doesn't drink anyways, so your venture capitalist instincts wont work on him." He raised his drink to punctuate his joke before taking another long swig. 

"Ha ha," you don't give him the satisfaction of a real laugh, "I just wanted to make sure you had a ride home in case you try and swindle me into making you a third drink."

"Oh no, I told them all to scram, that I had a hot date with you and my unsettled tab," he leaned over the bar, trying to eliminate as much space between himself and you, "plus I've got a friend coming by to pick me up in a bit. So if you wanted to make me that third drink in exchange for me keeping you company while you close up, I certainly don't have any reason to turn you down."

"Fine," you point at him with a stern finger, "but this one'll be more coke than whiskey."

"Deal," he pointed his finger back at you, moving carefully in so the tips of your pointers touched. This made you genuinely laugh, unable to keep up a wall for too long around him. 

He finished his second drink while you ordered last call, and settled up with crumpled cash and mumbled thank you’s from the few remaining drunks. After closing up the cash register you make him that more-coke-than-whiskey drink as promised, and get to wiping down every sticky surface. 

"What's your drink?" he asks.

"Hmm?" you glance over from your hunched over position, trying to get the wet rag across the underside of the bar where someone had clearly spilt what appeared to be an entire pint of light beer. 

"You know my drink order, I wanna know yours." you stand up straight and look at him. 

You consider pushing back and demanding why he wanted to know, but it was late and you only had so many quips left in you, "Gin and tonic with extra lime." You get back to soaking up the spilt mess.

"Woooooow," his drink was finished and he took it upon himself to grab the broom from behind the bar and start sweeping up the bottle caps and tracked in dirt, "and you had the nerve to call me unoriginal."

"I'm not some creative rock and roll guitar guy like you, I don't need to be original, I'm just a bartender," you let him keep sweeping and start checking off other tasks from your closing list.

"You aren't just a bartender, give yourself more credit than that babe," he held up the dustpan full of crap, silently asking where to put it and you hold open a mostly full garbage bag for him to dump it into before tying it off, "judging by your drink order I would also guess that you're, hmmmm, an 85 year old man."

"Oh my god," you slap him on the arm with another half dirty hand towel, "in that case, you're doing voluntary manual labor just to flirt with this 85 year old man, so maybe you need to reevaluate your priorities."

He takes a few steps forward, not quite caging you against the bar, but nearly there. "And how am I doing? Is it working?" He's the closest he's ever been to you, jokingly sliding the broom around your feet, pretending to sweep while maintaining searing eye contact.

As the which-one-of-us-is-going-to-learn-in-first question buzzes around you, an irritating light flickers through the big front window, indicating someone had pulled their car right up to the curb with their high beams on. Eddie scrunches his nose up, and your urge to kiss him somehow grows despite his annoyed expression. "That's my ride."

You give him a small nod, turning your head to try and squint to see who could possibly be picking him up at this hour, but not making out much through the foggy glass. "I suppose I can manage the rest without you," you grab the broom from him, fingers touching for the second time tonight, "see you next week, rockstar."

Eddie wants to do something smooth, a wink or a clever line, but instead nervously gives you a nod and is out the front door before he can give it a second thought. The minute the door closes behind him you let out all the air you had been holding in your chest, both frustrated and slightly relieved. Eddie on the other hand- was bursting with regret and frustration, immediately running his hands through his hair and pulling a cigarette out of his pocket. 

"Absolutely not," Steve craned his neck out of his car that always looked like it had just gotten a fresh wax and detail, "at least five feet away from the beemer if you're going to light that." 

Eddie rolled his eyes, considering putting the cigarette back into the carton and getting the fuck away from this bar, but ultimately gave in and pivoted on his heel storming back towards the brick exterior and slumping against it as he flicked his lighter and took an aggressively deep pull. 

"What's your damage?" Steve moved out of the expensive car, keeping a bit of distance from Eddie but close enough that the two could talk, "That bartender you like wasn't on or something?"

"She's inside closing up now, so keep your fuckin' voice down" he gave Steve a glare and then immediately an apologetic look for being so prickly, "I'm just bad at this shit, man."

"You can't be that bad at it, Gareth and Jeff said the two of you eye fuck across the room every Friday night," Steve shrugs, understanding Eddie's drawback but knowing his friend rarely gives himself the benefit of the doubt. 

"Yeah, well, that's not the hard part," Eddie rips his cigarette and presses his wild hair deeper into the brick behind him, exhaling upwards. 

You had taken note that Eddie's ride hadn't left yet, so you busied yourself for a minute before deciding who cares if you had to give him an awkward wave on your way across the parking lot, so you locked up and grabbed the trash to take to the dumpster out back before leaving for the night. 

You really didn't mean to eavesdrop, but as soon as the back door clicked you heard their muffled conversation from around the corner. Rather than give away your presence with the clanging of the trash you gently set it against the wall and moved forward silently, staying out of sight but well within earshot. 

"Flirting is the easy part, she's fuckin' easy to talk to, man" Eddie's voice carried, and you felt guilty but continued to listen, "I don't want to just fuck her though, I want to like, date...her."

"Oh," Steve's voice dropped knowingly, "well that's... good, I guess, that you like her like that."

"Well even if I didn't like her like that and was only looking to fuck her," he sighs out, and you carefully listen while furrowing your eyebrows, trying to make sense of their conversation, "she's gorgeous, and no girl that hot- scratch that no girl at all want's to fuck some mutilated freak."

"Don't call yourself a freak," Steve's voice seems apprehensive. 

"Yeah, sure, but you can't say I'm not mutilated." There was a beat of silence, and you didn't have time to think too much about his words before he went off again, voice laced with thick sarcasm, "Oh hey babe, so glad you were able to look past that I live in a trailer park and all my neighbors think I'm a satan worshiping murderer, but I hope you can be cool with my singular nipple and weird lumpy scar tissue, I know it's super hot, you're gonna have to get in line." His voice carried easily far past your hiding spot. 

"You're not giving her much credit dude," Steve was still apprehensive to respond, knowing how Eddie got when he started to spiral, "Maybe she's not that shallow."

"It's not that," Eddie's voice started to calm, "I'd just rather take my twenty minutes of flirting after our Friday gigs than risk it and have her look at me like she's sorry for me or something." 

With that he snubbed out his cigarette butt with the toe of his combat boots, let out a big sigh, and moved to get into the passenger side of Steve's car. You take a few slow, careful steps back towards the slumped garbage bag and wait until you hear the engine start and see the lights pull out onto the opposite side of the road. 

Fuck. Part of you felt incredibly guilty for listening to what was obviously meant to be a private conversation, especially a private conversation about you. But your gears were turning far too fast to get hung up on guilt. 

You always felt apprehensive about Eddie because you figured he was a flirt, a player, the kind of guy who talks to all bartenders like that, and you just happened to be the one he flirted with after his Corroded Coffin shows. You never wanted to get too invested in making him smile or waiting around for him to chat you up, because you know how most guys are, especially guys who carry themselves with that much confidence. And you were fucking wrong. 

Now fully realizing that the ball is in your court, you need to plan your first move. You decided, Eddie was worth taking the risk. 

It was truly a shot in the dark, but if your intuition ended up being a bust then no one would know about your wasted afternoon other than yourself. The following afternoon you drove aimlessly up and down the unpaved residential streets of the trailer park. There were two in town but you had a pretty good feeling that this was the one. 

You only started to feel stupid when you got some confused and slightly angry looks from people going about their business, hanging laundry or smoking on their porches, scrunching their noses and trying to make out the unfamiliar car driving in circles around their neighborhood. 

Aha! There it was. You knew that your gut could only fail you so many times when it came to Eddie. Exactly what you had been looking for, a big black and blue 1971 Chevrolet van strewn with dents, patches of rust, and, your telltale sign, a homemade Corroded Coffin sticker crookedly placed on the faded chrome of the bumper. 

Step one, complete. Step two was contingent on Eddie even being home. The presence of his van had you feeling hopeful. 

You attempt to rid yourself of lingering nerves with a deep breath and silent pep talk. You park adjacent to his van and hop out before your legs can convince you not to, and suddenly you've rung the doorbell and are standing with your hands clasped nervously in front of his door. 

"Just a minute," you hear him yell from inside, step two, complete, "What're you here for? Cuz I only got weed right now so if you're..." his hollering voice trails off from inside as he catches a glimpse of you through the screen. "Y/n? What the fuck are you doing here?" 

"Jeez, hello to you too," you try to lace your voice with the same flirty edge that you always took with Eddie, but you didn't have the comfortable barrier of the bar or the security of being the person serving him his drinks. 

"How the fuck do you know where I live?" His tone wasn't quite angry, but it was bordering on more pointed than just confused. 

"Sorry, I didn't mean to drop by totally unexpected," you suddenly felt vulnerable, regretting this whole stupid plan, "I can go." 

You start to scurry back to your car and hide your face forever, but he cuts you off with, "No, no, just, why are you here?" He softened his voice, and came down the stoop to hover over you on the last step. 

"Well," here goes nothing, "last night I felt like we sort of got interrupted." You pause, trying to gauge his reaction, "And I couldn't stop thinking about it, and I didn’t want to wait a whole week to see you again."

"Oh," his face and reaction didn't give you much of a clue as to what he was thinking. 

"And," you started filling the empty air with words, as you often did out of anxiety, "I know where you live because I've heard you sing 'fuck everyone in the trailer park, I'll play my music and curse your existance' probably a thousand times, it really wasn’t that hard to figure out where you live." 

He let out a chuckle, despite being deep in the throws of processing your earlier statement of feeling cut off. Of course he wanted to see you outside the confines of the musty bar, he just hadn't expected it to be like this, so sudden. "Well that's fair. I’ll give you double points for perception."

"I didn't mean to interrupt your Saturday," you began to reel again, "just wanted to tell you I'd like to hang out with you sometime, preferably not at The Hideout."

"Can sometime be now?" he hopped down from the last step and gave you an inquisitive smile, nose slightly scrunched and giving you butterflies. 

"Yeah, sometime can be now. You promise I'm not interrupting anything?" you felt a wave of relief, his energy had fully shifted from confusion to your comfortable flirty banter.

"Just a packed bong and have some laundry I probably wasn't going to do anyways," he suddenly realized he either had to invite you inside, which would be slightly embarrassing given the current state of his trailer, or suggest a secondary location, "you hungry? We can grab lunch or something?" 

He offered to drive, and you suggested sandwiches and beer to go for a backseat van picnic. He was relieved that you were down with doing something so casual, no stuffy cafes or overpriced food. If you were more than happy to suggest eating deli counter sandwiches in the back of his clunky van then maybe he had less to worry about than he thought. 

The passing moments between you had him realizing he truly didn't know much about you. Your job, how you had no problem snapping back at rude customers, and most recently your favorite drink. He wanted to know more, and quickly did as you had a 'regular' sandwich order and gave him directions to a side street that looked out onto a small lake, explaining that you'd eat lunch out here sometimes when the weather was nice. He parked the van in reverse, letting the back doors swing open, giving you the perfect bench looking out to the scenery to sit back and eat. 

"All my years living 'round here, I've never been to this spot," he noted through bites of sandwich wrapped in white paper.

"Yeah, most people know the spot across the lake with the rope swing and all that," you gesture across to where there was a popular jumping rock littered with empty beer cans, "too crowded for me though, it's more peaceful over here." 

"Sorry if I was a bit rude earlier," he started, but you quickly cut him off before he could finish his apology.

"No, no," you move your hand over to gently grab his mid gesture, "don't apologize, your reaction was incredibly reasonable."

"I just-' he started but you gave his hand a squeeze, "I really am happy you decided to come by, I didn't want you to think otherwise."

"I'm happy you chose lunch with me over a bong and laundry, that was some tough competition I had," he rolled his eyes at you.

"Don't make fun of me," he nudged your side, "I'm usually pretty wiped from Friday's show and trying to think of clever things to keep up with you, so my Saturday's are usually pretty lazy," your shoulders rubbed against each other, "being a washed up wannabe rockstar and flirting with a girl way out of my league can really do a number on me."

You share a soft giggle but reassure him that playing live music, even if it is only for you and a crowd of five drunks is still pretty cool. "Plus I like that you dress like this all the time, it's not just an act, this is just how you are," you gesture to his ripped jeans and ring clad fingers.

"What did you expect, babe? Surprise me at my trailer to find me in a polo and khakis?" the suggestion alone had the two of you laughing, brainstorming an alternate universe where Eddie was an accountant by day and only let his rocker side loose on Friday nights. 

"If you aren't secretly an accountant, what do you do when you're not playing music, if I may ask," you realize this was really one of the first personal questions you'd exchanged, keeping things punchy and surface level until this point.

"Ah, well," he scratches the back of his head, "although I wish the drink tickets we make at The Hideout were enough to cover rent, I work down at the body shop, you know the one down the street from the grocery store? My uncle knew some guys there and hooked me up with a job fixing cars after high school, and it's not too bad, I'm not half bad at it either, so that's where I'm at."

"You just really keep getting better and better, huh?" at first he wonders if your comment is sarcastic, but you continue "So what I'm hearing is you'll look at my rattling engine for free? I know nothing about cars and am always worried the people at the body shop are going to overcharge me."

"I only charge in sandwich dates and drink tickets, so you're in luck," he responds quickly without giving it much of a thought. 

You take a second, "What about dinner dates? Maybe movie dates too? Are those acceptable payments for your mechanic expertise?" 

"Not usually, but I'll make an exception for you," he responds after a few beats, realizing you wanted to see him again, and not just at the bar. 

You both are looking out at the lake, the buzzing energy around you making you nervous to look at each other. So you just tilt your head sideways to rest on his shoulder, "Phew, that's a relief, because I have a lot more of these planned."

"Oh yeah?" he shifts his body towards you, lifting your head from his shoulder and finally meeting his gaze, a stupid grin plastered across his face, he couldn't help it. "Which one of these dates do I finally get to kiss you?" You let out a breathy laugh, half amused by his corny line and half surprised he was being so forward. 

"Hmmm, I'm not sure," you pretend to think it over, stringing this out was killing both of you, but you couldn't help but push his buttons a bit more, "I'd say I'm kind of a third date kind of gal."

"Three? As in three from now or three including this one?" He seemed genuinely concerned, causing a genuine laugh to slip through the act you were putting on. 

You move your hand to his chest, faces closer than they had ever been. You had always been sucked into his big brown eyes, but now you saw flecks of honey and deep browns that bordered on black in them, faded freckles dotted across his cheeks, a chapped patch on his lower lip that had clearly been the victim of some anxious chewing. "I'll make an exception this time, for you."

He let you make the first move, leaning in and gently pressing your lips to his, soft and slow. You could feel his breath catch in his throat, prompting you to pull back and look at him through fluttered lashes, as your mouth parted slightly to ask him if that was okay, his big ring clad hands cupped the sides of your cheeks and pulled you right back into him, kissing you like he was afraid you'd evaporate if he ever stopped. 

The wind was knocked out of you. You couldn't be bothered to breathe when your attention was solely focused on his lips, his tongue, the sharp intake air he sucked in between slotting your top lip down to your swollen bottom one, nipping with teeth and holding your face so close. 

After a minute of soft whimpers and exploring the new intimacy you pull back to finally catch your breath, fully ready to ignore the need for oxygen and lean back in when you see his face, rosy and buzzing with excited energy. 

"Sorry, if that was kind of a lot," he realized you had given the sweetest peck and he proceeded to practically shove his tongue down your throat. 

You however, were already brushing his apology off and leaning in for more, missing the feeling of his big hands cradling your face, sending tingling shockwaves down your body. Before you could lunge back at him and take more of what you wanted, he takes your chin in between his fingers and tilts your head up to his.

"I don't know if you can tell, but I'm sort of crazy about you. And I really don't want to fuck this up, but I've wanted to do that for a really long time.” 

He could tell by your pout that you were begging for another kiss, and he couldn't refuse you. You were completely lost in it. Learning that he let out a little gasp when you ran your fingers up into his hair, that he would catch your bottom lip in between his teeth when you started to pull away and he needed more, that you were already completely wrecked for him. You weren't even conscious of the fact that you were now fully seated in his lap, sandwich wrappers and empty cans long pushed aside. 

Part of you wanted to wait, to let things build up organically over time and get physically intimate when the moment felt right. But fuck it, the moment felt right now. 

Any apprehension or worry of scaring him off dissipated when his thumb ran across your cheekbone, his other strong arm holding you steadily against him, you don't think you could wiggle away if you tried. Swirling in your apprehension you also fought the urge to press your hips down into his and grind against him harder. You wanted to let him take things at his pace and not rush anything, but fuck you could feel his cock getting hard between your legs and it was driving you insane. 

He dragged the knuckle of his middle finger up your neck along the curve of your jaw, speaking softly into your kiss, "can I kiss you here?" pressing his touch into the side of your neck.

"You can do anything you want to me," you pant back, slightly embarrassed at how desperately horny that came out.

"Fuck," he groaned out, cock noticeably twitching against his black jeans and into your thigh, "you can't say shit like that to me."

"Sorry, sorry," you try to gain your composure and lift off him slightly, “I-"

He took a hold of your waist and pulled your back down into his lap, diving into the side of your neck and nipping and sucking until he found the spot that made you squeeze your thighs slightly around him. "Anything I want requires a lot more time and space than we have right now, pretty girl." He mumbled into your neck in between kisses, his words making your back arch slightly more into him. "Plus I need to be a gentleman," you rolled your eyes at this. 

"Since when have you ever worried about that," you tug his hair back to force him to look at you.

"You really want to know what I want, right now?" he quirked an eyebrow.

"Really, really," you let your weight sink down onto his lap a touch more, feeling the stiff length under his jeans slot between your thighs a bit deeper, making his breath hitch before he could respond. 

"I want you to lay back on those blankets up there," he nodded towards the few crumpled up blankets he had shoved behind the driver's seat, "and let me eat your pretty pussy until you're screaming loud enough for the people across the lake to hear."

Whatever you were expecting, it wasn't that. 

This unexpected burst of sexual confidence threw you for a loop, as you were fully prepared to be the one making all the big moves. Your mouth hung open slightly, struggling to form a response when all that was swarming through your mind was holy fuck, holy fuck, that was so hot, what the fuck do I say. 

Rather than respond with words you just roll off his lap and start moving deeper into the back of his van, propping your torso up on bent arms and sending him back a suggestively raised eyebrow. He swung his legs up over the ledge and took one of the doors with him, sliding into the van and quickly shutting the other as well. 

It took a second for your eyes to adjust, the previous sunlight coming in from across the lake was cut off, and the light source now was only coming from the front windows, making things darker but not invisible. You quickly had no trouble making out Eddie's slender form shuffling around and getting situated in between your bent knees, urging you to lay back a bit more and relax as much as your body would allow against the lumpy blanket pile. 

"This is okay?" he asks while leaning down to pick up where you had left off a moment ago. 

"Yes, fuck," you wiggle up into his form, wanting as much contact as he would allow, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down into your lips. 

It all had moved faster than you were used to but fuck if it didn't feel so right. Why did you feel more comfortable with this person you hardly knew than you had with your past few long term relationships? He just had this way of taking your nerves and throwing them out the nearest window. 

After sucking on your lower lip until it was puffy and slick he dips his chin into the crook of your neck, dragging his perfect nose up your jugular and nestling into the junction of your neck and ear, licking a stripe all the way. You wanted to desperately buck your hips up into his, but only allowed yourself half the satisfaction of lifting your thigh slightly to give him more space to sink deeper into your slumped form. 

When Eddie’s life flashed before his eyes, on more than one occasion- actually- he wasn’t particularly satisfied with what he saw. In the moments before what he assumed was death, his brain searched for the best moments to accumulate and reminisce on before his body succumbed to the untimely demise he was facing. It wasn’t much. 

He wished he had more than smiling moments with his D&D club, a few killer performances at the Hideout, no killer audiences, some nights of revelry with his friends, and a few forgettable hookups in dingy bar bathrooms. That couldn’t be it, right?

In the wake of his life flashing, fading, and flashing again, he made more space for good things. After his shows now he let himself think about you, and how much he liked you, let himself try his hand at flirting. Because if he was going to come anywhere that close to death again, he needed more to show for it than a few trysts with nameless girls and an unnerving amount of scar tissue. 

So he wasn’t about to fuck this up. If someone came at him with an axe tomorrow, at least he’d have the memory of you splayed out beneath him in the back of his van, lips shiny and cheeks rosy. If his life were to flash before his eyes again it wouldn’t be as bad.  

“Do you know how long I’ve thought about this?” he mumbled into your neck, his denim clad thigh pressing perfectly in between your legs. You could only hum back as if to say, “no, tell me.”

“I think you do know,” his teeth grazed upon your earlobe, sending a jolt through your hips and finding solace in the friction between your thighs with his.

“Yeah, I know,” you breathe out, arching your neck down to nudge the tip of his nose with yours, “do you?”

“I didn’t have a clue,” he mumbled into your lips before slipping his tongue against yours, sickly sweet and laced with all the regret of not asking you out sooner. 

You let your ankles hook around one another, locking your hips together and earning a deep rumble of a moan from the man trapped. “I recall you mentioning something about the people across the lake hearing me…” you playfully trail off, equal parts confidently flirty and deeply desperate for him to act on his earlier promise. 

He had nudged his way down into the neckline of your shirt, licking and nipping at as much of your breasts as he could find, fingertips grazing the waistline of your pants. Part of you wanted to just lay here and let him have his way with you, but the conscious part of your brain recognized the insecurities he expressed in that conversation you weren't supposed to hear, and signaled you to be as forward with him as you could be. 

“Fuck,” you struggled to pry your hands between your pressed bodies to reach your jeans button, “Eddie can I take these off, I want to feel you.” 

With your hands moved south, you managed to undo the clasps of your jeans while also running your hands upwards towards his shirt, wanting to feel the skin beneath. 

It was subtle, but impossible for you to miss, when your fingertips grazed his lower stomach and trailed up his t-shirt his body shifted into a tense state for just a moment. You could have easily missed it. It took all of a millisecond for him to subtly jerk away from you and redirect the attention to your now unbuttoned pants. His hands were dragging the material down your thighs before you had a moment to register the way he averted your touch. 

He playfully tossed your bunched up pants over his shoulder, as if they had anywhere else to go other than the three feet of van between him and the doors. After that flashed moment of shyness, you noticed nothing but a playful smirk on his face, smile crinkled at the corners of his cheeks and eyes full of wild mischief. 

His hands spread against your thighs, digging his fingertips into as much skin as the width of his palms would allow. 

“So fucking perfect,” he drank you in, hardly noticing the moment you pulled your shirt and bra over yourself, but dumbstruck as soon as his eyes caught sight of your reveal.

Knowing he had yet to put his money where his mouth was, he adjusted downwards and let his flushed cheek make contact with your thigh. In that moment he vowed to let the sight of the little damp patch in the center of your cotton panties stay forever in his mind. 

He didn’t let a single thought register in his brain before he leaned forward and let his tongue lick a fat strip up the middle of your clothed center, adding dampness to the apparent arousal already there. 

“Jesus,” you were slightly taken aback at his action, letting your head fall back, while still lowering your gaze down to where his hooded lids and pink tongue sat in between your thighs.

He reveled in the feeling of being between your thighs, letting his tongue play around the center of your panties for a few strokes before the twitching in your legs signaled that you had had enough of his teasing. 

Taking a blissful moment to hook his finger through the crotch piece of your underwear and pull it to the side to reveal your slick center, he simply couldn’t help himself. He pulled back and drank the sight of you in, panties wet with your arousal and his spit pulled to the side and your perfect cunt finally in his sights. 

The groan he let out only tripled your level of neediness for him. You let your chest puff up and hips gyrate forward at nothing to signal that you needed him, like, now.

Before you could even think of something snarky to say to get him to get on with it, his entire face was fully buried in you. An involuntary ahhh escaped you as he let his entire tongue press as far into you as space would allow. 

“Ohmygod,” all coming out in one breath, “fuckeddie.” 

He groaned deeply into you at the feeling of your pussy on his mouth, your taste, how your hips twitched slightly when his nose pressed against your clit. He didn’t even think about all those drunken chats with the boys or stupid cosmo articles he couldn't help but read, eating your pussy didn’t require any thought, he could only feel. 

Your sighs were like a song to him, every sharp inhale and subtle whimper, he caught it all and it was the most beautiful music. He let his tongue swirl faster when he heard your breath hitch, gripped your thigh tighter when you let out that beautiful exhale. 

“So fucking good for me,” he mumbled into your inner thigh in between licks, fully pussy drunk and ready to stay here forever, “fucking perfect.”

After some selfish exploration, he settled on a steady rhythm against your clit, making your back arch and whines jump an octave. 

“Eddie, Eddie,” you groaned, feeling embarrassed how needy your voice already sounded, “can you use your fingers too, please.” Desperate. That’s how you felt, and you couldn't help but be self conscious for any more than a moment, as he immediately headed your request. 

Guitar fingers. You fucking knew it. You always found him attractive and charming, but immediately scolded yourself the moment you started speculating about those damn fingers. If he could learn Metallica solos in private, what else could he do?

Curling upwards in that magically delicious motion that had you already seeing stars, he glanced up at you upon entering and was met with the glorious sight of your mouth hanging open and eyes fluttering shut. 

You simply couldn’t be bothered by the rickety van floor beneath you, the sad lumpy pillow propped under your head, or the stagnant, vaguely cigarette scented air around you. Nope. No thoughts other than the tightening knot in your stomach and how those pretty brown eyes peered up through too-perfect lashes at you in between sinful strokes. 

“Making me feel so fucking good,” you hardly recognized your voice as your own, “please don’t stop, Eddie, please…��

And there it was, euphoric bliss found in the back of a pot dealing metalhead’s van. Your thighs quivered and your brain lost all capacity for thought. All you could feel was the sudden wash of pleasure, the pulsing between your legs, and the tongue and fingers fucking into you as if it was the last thing he ever did. 

Writhing, trying to keep your moans down despite his verbalized promise for them to be heard far and wide, you try to control the jerk of your hips and grip on his hair. You rode out your orgasm, far sooner than you would have liked. You wanted to revel in it. 

After months of relentless flirting and suppressing your attraction to him, you wish you could have held your orgasm off a while longer. You simply couldn't allow yourself to bask in the velvet of his tongue or the tickle of his bangs on your thighs. You needed it too badly to hold off. 

Coming down from your orgasm, a broken moan cracked from you and let him know to slow his roll. In between catching your breath you catch a view of him sucking your release off of his slick fingers, and almost throw yourself at him, beg him to jump your bones. But all you can do is let out a breathy laugh and find the strength to prop yourself up on your elbows to get a better look at him. 

“You come?” he asks, slight snark to his voice.

You muster up the energy to bop him upside the head and ruffle his hair along the way. “Fuck off,” you respond, still breathless, “you know I did.”

“I know,” he cocks his head, still admiring your form, your flushed face and rise and fall of every breath, “It’s polite to ask, though.”

“Ah yes, Eddie Munson, most polite man I know,” you flop back onto the mismatched pillows.

“Hey!” he pretends to sound offended but only manages to tug at your heartstrings, “I’ll have you know, that I am a delight.” 

“Can’t argue with that,” you reach down to feel your dripping folds before hunching forward to search for your underwear, which haven't traveled too far from his knees on the van floor.  

You wanted to return the favor, do more than return the favor, but something about his shift in demeanor and the way he angled his body away from yours slightly to adjust his hard cock in his pants and keep up the too-casual post-orgasm conversation had you thinking it was more than him being too polite to accept your advances. 

“Shit, what time is it,” he begins to shuffle towards the front of the van to check the time while you awkwardly gathered your clothes and redressed, fully assessing that whatever fooling around in the back of this van you were doing was officially over. 

“I, uh, have a few errands to run,” he sounded apologetic, not like he was making some excuse to get you out of his hair, “I can drop you off, or you can come along for the ride…”

There is was, your affirmation that he was just as desperate to hang onto this moment together as you were. 

“I actually have a shift starting pretty soon,” you regrettably admit, “and as much as I’d love to ditch it and be your passenger princess, the Saturday tips are usually the bulk of my rent money so…” 

He understood, he hated how much he understood. 

“What time do you get off?” He didn’t even try to hide how eager he was to see you again, again in ten minutes, again later tonight, again tomorrow, again as many times as you’d let him. 

“Get off? Pretty sure I did that like three minutes ago…” you joke and appreciate his huff of a laugh, “Um, I’m closing, so probably not until like two or three. Don’t worry though, I can give you my number and we can do this again when we’re both free.”

“I’m free later… at two,” his expression was dead serious, “or three, or four, or whenever.” He noticed your brows shoot up and words start to form in your mouth, before you could speak he cuts in, “If you won’t be too tired or anything. I can pick you up?”

“It’ll be pretty late Eds,” you were falling into the trap of his puppy dog eyes, “you don’t need to wait up for me like that, I promise we can see each other again, tomorrow even…”

“Tell me to fuck off if I’m being pushy,” he took your hand in his and mindlessly stroked circles into it with his thumb, “but I’m sort of a night owl, not big on the whole sleeping thing anyways, and I’d love to pick you up from work later.”

“Okay,” you agree, the soft earnestness of his voice snared you, and considered the magic he had just worked between your legs, who were you to say no. The glimmer in his eye and quirked smile at your response had you wishing you had said more than ‘okay,’ wondering what kind of look you would have gotten from a ‘yes, please,’ or ‘I’d love that.’

He drove you back to his trailer, not letting go of your hand during the ride, not even to turn up the music at his favorite parts. He offers to follow you back to your place, insisting that waiting for you to shower and change into work clothes and then drop you off at the Hideout was “on the way” to these supposed errands he had to run. 

You roll your eyes but start to accept that this is the kind of guy Eddie is, insincerity undetectable when he makes these offers. You invite him in, but he opts to wait outside with a cigarette, pacing a bit and then forcing his legs and mind to still by waiting in the drivers seat. 

“Hey hot stuff,” he wolf whistles as you exit your apartment, dressed in your usual black shirt and jeans for work, apron balled up in your bag to put on once you arrive. 

He’s sweet, and sincere. As much as you liked the jab banter between the two of you at the bar, you think you might prefer his sarcastic jokes mixed with sweet compliments and longing gazes more. Not that you weren’t getting that from him at the bar before, there were plenty of longing gazes there too, but now the shared glances are heavy with the knowledge of what his tongue feels like on your cunt. 

A sloppy, exaggerated kiss on the cheek and a ‘go get ‘em tiger’ sends you off into the bar, where your hands will be pouring cheap liquor for the next several hours but your mind will be solely occupied with what your post-work date with Eddie entails. 

The drink special of the night was a mix of anxious anticipation and lustful yearning, shaken too aggressively and served with sunsteady hands. Luckily the Saturday rush kept you mostly focused on vodka sodas and Guinness pours, wiping down sticky surfaces and making change for impatient customers. 

You had assistance behind the bar, and that also meant assistance closing up, finally allowing yourself to start peeking through the window to see if Eddie held up on his promise. Of course he had. He’d been waiting in the lot, scoring a few sales from exiting patrons who knew him previous deals, since long before the bar closed. 

You wipe your sweaty palms onto your apron and ball it up into your bag before bounding across the parking lot towards Eddie, who always seems to have this effortless charisma buzzing around him, a cigarette dangled from his pretty lower lip and posture just slouched enough to still be sexy. Maybe you were biased at this point. 

He pulls you in by your waist, angling his chin up to blow the smoke up into the sky rather in your direction. 

“How was work?” Your cheeks were already starting to grow hot at the feeling of his pinky finger landing on the strip of skin between your shirt and jeans, “Miss me?”

“Bartending’s a lot easier when I don’t have your nosy ass pestering me for free drinks,” you cock your head at him, silently asking for a drag of his cigarette, which he immediately understands and complies, “wasn’t too bad though, happy it’s over,” you exhale. 

“If you’e hungry there’s some fries and a milkshake by the passenger’s seat,” he let you slip from his grasp to spin around towards the van door.

“For me?” you peek through the window, realizing he didn’t just mean extras from his dinner earlier, he had gone out of his way to pick you up a post-work snack.

“Unless you aren’t hungry,” he moves to hop in the drivers side, “In which case you can practice tossing fries into my open mouth while I drive.”

You let a few fries fly across the car seat in his general direction, feeding him the occasional one directly, but inhaling most of them shortly after you peeled out of the parking lot. 

“D’you want me to bring you home, or…” you knew where he was headed with this, a nervous edge to his voice. 

“We can hang out back at your trailer if that’s okay,” you say mid-fry, “as long as I can take a quick shower I don’t mind chilling there.”

He grins like a giddy schoolgirl and grips the steering wheel just a touch tighter, and drives just a bit faster back to the trailer park. As anxious as you felt during your shift, you can’t be bothered to overthink with Eddie leaning towards you with his tongue lolling out of his mouth, making googly eyes at the shake you were downing as his way of asking you for a sip. 

He put the van into park before the wheels had even come to a complete stop, hustling around the front to make sure he was the one to open your door. He had spent some of the time you were away straightening up his trailer for the first time in a good long while. Empty beer cans were cleared and he even changed the bed sheets. It still wasn’t the Ritz or anything, but at least he can say he tried.

He tried to busy himself with locking the door behind you after entering, not wanting to see if your eyes drifted over to the mess of records and smoking pariphenelia that cluttered the coffee table, or the chance that the mixture of heavy metal and nerdy posters strewn about would draw a judgmental reaction. 

When he let his gaze drift back to you, you weren’t looking at any of that. You were looking right back at him, already leaning up on your toes and asking, “Can I kiss you again?” 

A mumbled “of course” had you wrapping your arms around his neck and melting into his touch, finding his lips already on yours before you could go in for the kill. 

The kiss started off French-fry-and-strawberry-shake flavored, smiling into his lips as the anticipation of seeing him again after only a few short hours slips away. 

“Thank’s for spending so much time with me today,” you whisper in between sticky sweet kisses, “and for the fries and-“

He took your cheeks in his hands and smushed your lips into his mid-sentence, pulling back to see the puckered fish face he held between his hands. 

“You’re welcome,” his big button eyes bore straight through you, as if he saw all of you and more, “but you don’t have to thank me, I like being with you, and I ended up eating most of the fries anyways,” he trails off, cheeks rosy and lips slick from your claim on them.

“You wanted to shower?” He cuts himself off, and feels stupid for it. He knew he could keep kissing you and kissing you and kissing you, and the only thing holding him back was his anxious brain and big mouth. 

“Oh, yeah,” you were a little surprised that he remembered, and chose to bring it up now, “if you don’t mind. I always feel a little sticky after work, you know, with the Hideout’s C health rating and all.”

With a smile that nearly knocked the air out of you, he took a deep bow like some silly court jester and motioned down the trailer’s only hallway. You took your lead and followed his outstretched arm, figuring there were only so may doors that could possibly lead to a bathroom. 

“Oh, shit, wait,” you hear him scramble behind you, shuffling past into the door you assume to he his bedroom, emerging milliseconds later with a crumpled towel in his balled up hand, “you’re gonna want this.”

“Thank you,” you’re slow with your movements, wondering how he was acting so squirrelly, like a middle school boy around the girl he wanted to take to the dance, even though he had you fully spread out begging for him in the back of his van only hours earlier, “is the shower big enough for two?”

You meant it equally suggestive and genuine, knowing full well that not all showers are built for partner bathing. However, the fear stricken look that washed across his face for a millisecond before scrunching up and setting to neutral had you thinking you had just asked if there was a built in hot tub or something like that. His mouth hung open and for a moment that conversation you weren’t supposed to hear replayed in your mind, maybe you had to take this slower than he was willing to let on. 

“Just looking for someone to massage my scalp, that’s all,” you try to jokingly play it off, keeping your invitation open but concealing it with a joke to double back on just in case.

“Yeah, it’s- uhhh,” Eddie, who was always quick with a comeback was suddenly lost for words, “It’s the size of a normal shower, yeah.” It’s not like he could lie, all you had to do was turn around and size it up for yourself. 

You take the towel from his white knuckled grip and pivoted towards the door that was close to having burn holes from where his laser focused eyes were shot. You give him a wink over your shoulder, figuring that was enough of an invitation and vague enough of an excuse for him to leave depending on what he wanted. You hated this line you were towing, knowing more than you should- yet still feeling so in the dark. 

He was right, it was a normal sized shower. A bathtub with a sliding door and a detachable shower head with only one working setting. There was a rack with three-in-one and a bar of dove soap, which should have annoyed you but made you giggle instead. You let a quarter sized drop of the generic body wash slash shampoo slash conditioner lather into your hands when you heard the bathroom door creek open, purposefully left unlocked. 

“Hey, is it okay I’m in here?” He sounded so genuine in his concern, unknowing you were on the verge of begging him to get in the shower with you. 

“Yeah,” you borderline shout over the running water, “here to help massage my scalp?” You let your tone stay light and joking despite being deadly serious. 

“Wow I didn’t realize your hands were really that delicate and incapable,” he tried to match your energy, but an anxious edge remained present. 

“I mean,” you searched for your words, “I’ve seen you play Metallica, I know those fingers could surely get this pine scented crap deep into my roots.” You let the suggestive comment linger, nervous after a beat of silence passed. 

“If you really need my help,” you heard him shuffling around , “who am I to turn a damsel in distress away?”

You felt your cheeks get rosy and shoulders wiggle with excitement as you caught the shower door jerk open. Your face was towards the shower head, and you only turned a quarter of the way around before Eddie stepped in behind you and those guitar-string-calloused-hands gripped your shoulders and twisted you back towards your view of the water stream. 

“I’m gonna make you a deal,” his voice was coated with as much charisma as he could muster, his worries only poking through enough for you to notice, “I’ll give you the full treatment, but you can’t turn around.”

You were willing to play along with about any game he suggested. If he asked you to bend over backwards you’d extend your spine as far as it could go. 

You stood with your front as straight towards the shower head as you could, only feeling his presence behind you and his gentle hands lay on your shoulders to assure you wouldn’t turn around. 

“Just let me take care of you,” he edged closer, letting you feel his naked body enter your space, his face craning over your shoulder to gauge your reaction, “Just stay like this and let me feel you.”

It was less of a question and more of a plea, the only thing more pathetic sounding was the whimper that slipped out of you when you felt his body press against your back, warm and hesitant to press all the way into you, but close enough for you to feel his skin. 

“Okay,” you let your head lull back onto the space between his collar bone and shoulder, keeping your eyes closed, not that you could see anything from this angle anyways, “I’ll stay just like this, promise.”

“I just-“ you could hear his walls come up, suddenly trying to find the words to explain himself to you, “I’m not-“

“Eddie,” you whisper, eyes fluttering open to glance up at him as much as you could, “it’s okay. I’ll stay just like this, I’m just happy to be here with you.”

You gently found his hands resting at your hips and guided them up to your soapy scalp, “We both know the real reason I called you in here anyways,” you joked, and angled your head straight forward so he could run the pads of his fingers all through your 3-in-1 coated hair.

He let out a light chuckle at your joke, nearly feeling it catch in his throat as all the passed time of insecurity and locking his feelings away welled up and shattered with the intimacy of washing your hair. What did he do to deserve having you like this? For you to understand and want him to stay anyways? 

As much as his emotions clouded his vision and stunted his breathing, the rush of blood in between his legs broke his internal monologue. As overwhelmed as his mind was, his body couldn’t be convinced to focus on anything other than the sudsy girl pressed up against him, letting out little noises of satisfaction as he let his fingers absentmindedly massage away. 

“This’s nice,” you lean back into him a bit, “it’s like masturbating, you know? Always feels better when someone else does it for you.” You didn’t feel too guilty about the sexually charged comment, considering the fat rod that was pushing into your lower back. 

He let out a short chuckle, but his breathing was rapidly turning heavy as the air clouded with steam and your wet body rubbed against him, fully arching into his erection as if you wanted to get a better feel. 

“Can I wash the rest of you?” his request is polite, but his voice is lust filled and bordering on begging. 

You hum in agreement and lift your arms to let him slip his hands around you, one crossing your chest and the other reaching around to get more gel, “It technically is shampoo and body wash, and I was promised the full treatment here.” 

As much as you wanted to keep joking with him, finding silly things to comment on to break the tension, your resolve was quickly going down the drain as his big hands lathered you up. 

“You’re so beautiful,” his voice is just audible over the rushing of the shower water, “I’ve always thought so, but now I fucking know it.” 

His warm breath against your ear manages to cut through the heat of the steam, making you shiver despite it all. “Eddie,” you whine, his hands running up and down your torso, spending more time on your chest than the rest, but surely showering you in as much attention as his hands could reach.

Knowing that tone from earlier, already committing to knowing your body as intimately as you’ll allow him to, he immediately gives in and touches you exactly where you want him most. 

Most of the bubbles had dissipated, and he held you close to him, with one hand splayed across the center of your chest and the other dipping down to run two fingers through your now parting legs. 

He could feel the slick of your folds, standing out from the water cascading down your body, so warm and wet in a different way. 

“Fucking hell,” he groans out, letting his hips roll forwards slightly to find some friction against your backside, sliding his fingers from your hole up to your clit a few experimental times before letting his middle and ring fingers dip into you. 

When he had gone to town on you earlier in his van, which somehow felt like a million light years ago, you had taken a keen interest to the way his metal rings brushed up against your inner thighs and lower lips when he slipped his digits into you. As much as you had reveled in that new sensation, he had taken all his jewelry off along with the rest of his clothes and reservations before joining you in the shower. And now you could grind down onto his hand until he was completely buried to the hilt of his knuckles, no demon heads or upside down crosses in your way.

You wanted to wiggle and writhe around, feeling a bit week in the knees and desperate to buck your hips down against his pumping fingers. He pressed your chest tighter against him, lips pressed up against your ear, “I thought you promised to be good and stay still for me.”

He could feel your pussy clench at that, letting out a satisfied chuckle and  plunging his fingers right back into your cunt, letting the meat of his palm massage your clit in perfect time. 

“S’ this what you wanted,” his voice had the full bodied confidence of a man who didn’t just ask you to not turnaround to see him without a shirt on, “for me to be all sweet and wash your hair, then make you cum on my fingers like the dirty girl I know you are?” 

The smallest fraction of you wanted to be a brat and joke back at his silly use of shower innuendo, but your mind was almost entirely committed to the feeling of his hands on you and his dick rutting Into the meat of your ass.

“Eddie,” you could barely squeak his name out, “Eddie, can I touch you too, please? Please?” While his voice had been pleading before, you were literally begging to get your hands on him. 

“Like this,” you manage to open your eyes, head still resting against his shoulder and your hand snaking back to where his cock pressed into you, not fully grabbing it but motioning towards it with your hand. 

He snatches your wrist up with the hand not occupied with your tightening pussy, and for a second you fear that you had crossed a boundary. 

As much as you were willing to comply with not looking, you were bursting at the seams to touch him, make him feel good, show him how much you wanted to be right here with him and nowhere else. 

Before your mind could race any further, come to a screeching halt and apologize, he guides your hand up underneath your chin and demands “Spit.”

Your short circuiting brain dashes from his fingers, remaining crooked inside of you, his request, and the tone of voice he used to ask. You were fucked. Drool leaks from your lips before you even have the chance to process his words other than the immediate feeling of oh fuck yes. 

He brings your spit coated hand back to reach around, allowing you to wiggle it in between your wet bodies and find his eager cock already arching into your touch. 

He only faltered for a moment, the consistent dizzying pace of his fingers inside you stuttered the moment he felt your slick palm take an experimental stroke. The moan he let out was involuntary, along with a breathy “Oh, shit.”

Obviously you couldn’t size him up visually, but the weight of him in your palm was enough to have your mouth watering and thighs squeezing his wrist a bit tighter. Uncut? Maybe? With a pretty patch of curls to match his mop top? 

“Just like that, please,” you whine out into the steamy air, the two of you finding a joint rhythm between your hands and subtly rolling hips. 

“Your pussy feels so fucking good, so warm and tight for me,” every other word slurred into the curve of your neck. 

“You’re gonna make me cum,” you try and match his increasing speed with your hand, “Eddie, please don’t stop, I’m-“

“Shhhh,” he was getting lost in it too, “I’ve got you.”

Your legs turn to jelly, but he keeps you steadily upright with his support on your chest, focusing entirely on you despite the welling orgasm of his own rapidly approaching. 

It’s the crack in your voice that pushes him forward, the high pitched breathy moans crumbling and releasing the noises of pleasure from deep within your chest. His name  mixed in with ahhhs and uhhhs as if his name is the only word you know in this moment. 

“That’s right,” a sense of confidence welled in him as your limp body twitched against his and your cunt squeezed his relentless fingers, “cum all over my hand, doing so good for me.”

Despite your orgasm wracking your brain and body succumbing completely to whatever Eddie was willing to give you, the thought of collapsing into the shower floor never crossed your mind. He held you so close and steady against his chest, it crosses your mind that you may not be putting any weight onto your feet at all by this point. 

Rather than catch your breath as you come down from your quaking orgasm, you slip deeper into the throws of pleasure, biting your lip and craning your neck backwards so he can see the fucked out expression on your face. A few more steady, enthusiastic pumps mixed with a desperate kiss, wet and at an awkward angle, breathless and needy, perfect and dizzying, sends Eddie over the edge with you.

The deep rumble of his chest against your back as he groans into your open mouth, encourages you to keep your pace as he gently fucks himself into your hand. He’s spilling into your hand and halting his wiggling fingers buried inside you, letting the momentum that the two of you had built up come to a pulsing end. 

The two of you stay tangled in each other for a moment, hands sticky and brows dewy with sweat despite the running water, which had long lost its heat and now settled at a less than comfortable lukewarm. Neither one of you wanted to move. Eddie would have stayed there until his legs cramped and the shower turned ice cold. 

His eyes were screwed shut, head tilted back, still holding you close until you wiggled from his iron grip to bring your cum covered fingers up to your lips to suck two of them clean. 

“Jesus Christ,” he was thankful that he had opened eyes in enough time to witness that, “You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me, you know that?”

You let out a mischievous giggle with his cum coated fingers still in your mouth, glancing over your shoulder to catch the look on his face. Equal parts hungry to pick you up and fuck you against the shower wall right now, and melting down to nothing and slipping away down the drain, unable to even start comprehending what had just transpired between you two. 

You let your fingers go with a pop and turn back around, “Don’t act like you weren’t going to do the same,” you let the chilling water hit your face, focusing on anything other than turning around and lunging at him, wrapping your body around his and letting your skin melt into his. 

He gives into temptation and lets his pruny fingers meet his tongue. He knew what you tasted like from your escapade in his van eaierler, but he’d seize any change he got to take in as much of you as he could. 

“That was,” he started, unsure how to sum how he felt, good, great, perfect, none of those words felt correct, “fuck, yeah- that,”

“Me too,” you press your back into his again, “Thank you Eddie.”

Before he can stumble over his words any more, you ask if he’s okay for you to shut the water off, and you ask if he’d be willing to spare some sleep clothes for you to borrow. You curiously stay in the shower while he takes your excuse for him to leave unseen. 

After toweling off and slipping into the old t-shirt and boxers he left folded up on the counter for you, you found him already dressed and in bed, set criss cross and packing a bong. 

“Post-shower-orgasm smoke, cuddle, then sleep?”

“I’d love nothing more,” you get cozy among the pillows and let the swirling smoke and easy conversation lull you into a comforting half sleep. 

An easy energy settled between the two of you, a silent understanding that you weren’t going to ask him questions, and a building comfort that made him almost ready to show you. 

You slept tucked into his side, and didn’t even mind his snoring or tossing in the night. Every time he rolled over, your sleeping form just found a new way to mold into him. It was the best he had slept in months. 

A steady stream of sunlight blazing directly through the blinds and into your eyes pulled you from your slumber, gorging your groggy eyes to open and crunched up limbs to search for room to stretch. The involuntary fluttering of your eyes and long extension of your libs was far beyond your control. 

“Oh!” You whisper out to yourself once your brain manages to catch up with your waking body, realizing the somewhat compromising position the night had thrown you into, your leg hiked up and clinging to Eddie’s waist, with both your arms scrunching up his t-shirt and leaving a strip of stomach exposed. 

A negligible, unnoticeable few inches between where his sweatpants hung low on his hips and where your gripping arms had balled up his hole-ridden t-shirt stood before your gaze. 

You didn’t mean to stare, and the moment you caught yourself doing so, you quickly and quietly removed your tangled limbs from his and repositioned yourself so that he was half spooning you, eyes facing far away from his unintentionally exposed scar tissue. 

You knew it was probably going to be worse than you were expecting. You hadn’t dedicated much thought to what it could be, or what maybe had happened. You just knew it made him feel like he wasn’t worth your time, and you needed to make him feel seen and safe enough to know that that couldn’t be true. 

Everyone has insecurities, sure. There are surely parts of yourself you weren’t eager to share with the world, let alone someone you’re romantically interested in. You had moved past being astonished that someone who wore gaudy costume jewelry and sang boisterous music for a bar of twelve patrons with the energy of someone who had sold out Madison Square Garden would ever shrink into their shell the way you had seen Eddie. Now, laying in his bed and knowing that whatever it was, the scars were more than what was on his skin.

“Mfffmmm,” he groans and shifts behind you, wiggling beneath the sheets and snaking his arms to wrap around your waist and pull you close into him, “This is nice.”

His morning voice was scratchy and barely above a whisper. 

“I think you just like that my butt is all pressed up on you,” you joke, dodging admiring that you’d rather be here than anywhere in the world in this moment. 

“Yeah, I’m not complaining,” he digs his nose into the side of your neck, “But you smell nice too, ’s nice to wake up to.”

“That 3-in-1’s really doing it for ya?”

“No, you do smell like that a little, but more just like yourself. Girl smell.”

“I’ll get started on that perfume line right away. Girl Smell. Might be a million dollar business venture.”

“I just woke up,” the sleep in his voice melted away and his hands running up and down your sides were more deliberate, “Don’t make fun of me. Plus I’ve got a pretty girl in my bed making me all nervous.”

“Anyone with magic fingers like you has nothing to be worried about,” you keep the conversation playful but allow the unspoken truth, that he truly has nothing to worry about with you, be spoken.

“You just like ‘em cuz I washed your hair so well,” he plays with a strand, letting his finger pads dig into your scalp and scratch away, massaging a bit harder after you let out a satisfied groan.

“You must have lots of practice,” you reach an arm back blindly and half smack the side of his shoulder before finding his messy bedhead, staying resolutely facing the poster-covered wall. 

“You’ve got really pretty hair for a boy,” you let your finger wrap around a curl. 

“For a boy?! Excuse me, I have pretty hair period.”

“Yeah, suppose that’s true” you giggle at his joking defensiveness, “It’s incredible that it’s this nice considering you use the same thing to condition your hair as you do to wash your balls.”

“If you show me what kind of shower products you like I’ll replace the three in one,” he nuzzles his face into the hand playing with your hair, “but maybe the three in one is what’s keeping it so luscious.”

“I wanna wash your hair next time,” you say absentmindedly, meaning it wholeheartedly, with little anxiety after that you had implied a next time. 

“Yeah maybe next time,” his voice trailed off, still soft and flirty but edging on a tone that let you know this conversation was just about over. 

“Eddie,” it came out as hardly more than a whisper. You wait for him to respond but the gravity of the silence between you quickly became unbearable and you needed to break whatever tension this was. 

“I meant it yesterday when I said I wanted to go on more dates with you. You know that right?”

“Mhmm” he mumbles into your shoulder, still holding you against him.

“We have a lot of fun at the bar and stuff,” you search to find your words, “But I want you to know that I don’t just like you cuz you make me laugh and have magic guitar fingers. I like pretty much everything about you so far, and I want to know you more if you’ll let me.”

Your voice wavers, and your message is perhaps more vague than you would have liked, but the deep exhale he lets out conveys that he hears you loud and clear. 

“I know I’ve been…” he starts, “It’s just that I…”

“It’s okay Eddie,” you flip around, rolling so that your chests are pressed together and noses are almost touching, “I don’t want to push it. You can tell me when you’re ready, I just want you to know that I like you a whole lot and I don’t think there’s much that could change that right now.”

His eyelashes flutter shut, forehead touching yours, “Thank you.” 

“Unless you have a huge chest tattoo of something wildly offensive, or like a tramp stamp that says ‘I heart Ronald Regan.” He appreciates your natural ability to make him laugh even in situations like this. 

“Nah,” he pulls back and gives you a serious look, “Fuck Ronald Regan.” 

The two of you burst into a fit of giggles, rolling deeper into the sheets and settling into a comfortable cuddle again, with your head on his chest, face angled up to his and legs all tangled up.

Coming down from the beginnings of the conversation that had been lingering above both of your heads, you place a few reassuring kisses up his jaw and find your way up to his parted lips. 

“Mmmm,” he hums into the deepening kiss to signal you to stop, “I probably have mega morning breath,” he huffs into a cupped hand which makes you laugh and flop your head back into his chest.

“It’s okay, if you do then I do too and didn’t notice,” you peek back up at him, “But if you want to brush teeth and get your day started I won’t stop you.”

“No, no,” he grabs your cheeks and pulls you back up for a smushed kiss, “I wanna stay here all day with you, if you’ll let me. Our second date, we can order a pizza and watch movies here, won’t even have to put pants on.”

“That sounds really nice, I don’t have work today so I’m all yours.”

“All mine,” his grin reaches the apples of his cheeks, “I will go brush my teeth though, cuz I think this second date involves a lot of kissing.”

“Got a spare I could use?” you shuffle out of bed before situating yourself  on the edge of the bed, “Or do you brush with three in one too?”

“Oh my god,” he chuckles, “you with the three in one. After today I promise there will be three separate shower products stocked and ready for your use.”

He manages to find a spare toothbrush in the closet and keeps you wrapped in his arms while both of you take turns spitting into the sink. Looking at the two of you, eyes still crusty from sleep, in the scratched up bathroom mirror, a weird sense of domesticity washes over the two of you. 

Eddie realizes that less than 48 hours ago he was too nervous to make a move to kiss you, and now he was already thinking about making room for your toiletries in his bathroom. 

As comforting and easy it was to do normal everyday things with you at his side, he couldn’t help but notice your nipples poking through his oversized t-shirt you slept in and the way your toothpaste full mouth was framed by your perfect, spit slicked lips. 

“You got a spit kink or something?” You half joke, pressing your ass into the growing rod you could feel nudging against your side.

“Sue me,” he spits and wipes the corners of his mouth, pulling you by the waist into a minty kiss. “Bed? All day?”

“Mhmm,” you agree and lean in to kiss him again, standing on your toes and letting out a shriek of surprise when he scoops you up bridal style and travels the short distance to his bedroom. 

“Eddie!” You yelp out as he gently tosses you back into the pile of sheets. 

“I know I’m no Hulk Hogan, but moving guitar amps is pretty good strength and conditioning.”

“Shut up, you never help your friends carry the equipment.” You think of all the times you watched his poor bandmates lug their equipment after a show while he seamlessly flirted with you. 

“Not when you’re around, you’ve got me there.”

As promised the two of you laze around all morning, bowls of cereal in bed and a bowl of weed to accompany it, switching between fits of giggles and tangled in the sheets while a B horror movie plays on the little TV set propped up near the end of Eddie’s bed. 

He tells you about how he used to live with his Uncle in a trailer down the street until he saved up enough to start renting his own, the three attempts to finish high school and the relief when the local mechanic shop hired him despite his reputation around town as a satan worshiper. He talks a bit about his friends, some who’ve stayed in town and others who’ve long moved away. 

You listen attently, taking in every spared detail. In return he asks you about where you’re from, why the hell you had moved to a bumfuck town in Indiana to be a bartender. He assures you that you wouldn’t have liked him if you had known each other in high school and you laugh and tell him you were far from popular yourself. 

After inhaling a large pizza and running out of VHS tapes you demand a “post pizza bloated cuddle” to which he happily obliges.

“Wish we could do this every day,” he pulls you into him.

“Then we’d need a much bigger movie selection, and maybe body doubles to go do our jobs,” you don’t disagree, although lazy and uneventful the day felt perfect. 

“Don’t wanna go to work tomorrow,” he whines, holding you a little tighter.

“Me either, but we can’t be in this lazy cuddle bubble forever,” his hands came up to massage and scratch your scalp, which he now knew you loved, “but next time we’re both free maybe we can have that third date.”

“If I remember correctly, date three is when I finally get to kiss you,” he jokingly smooches behind your ear and down your neck. 

“Only if you behave,” you reply sarcastically, “you’ve been such a gentleman lately, but you’ve been pushing it mister.” 

“I’ve never been accused of being a gentleman before,” his voice trails off as he buries his nose into your neck, “Will you let me be a gentleman now, make you feel good?” His tone was suddenly dripping with lust, sending a rush of arousal through your already so-relaxed body. 

“Mhmm,” you agree and let your body mold back into his a bit more, pressing yourself against him and letting his hands start to wander.

You arch your neck around from your spooning position and search for his lips, your kiss starting out gentle but not staying that way for very long. 

“You’re just somethin’ else,” he breathes out in between heated kisses, his eyes big and round, earnest, making your heart swell.

“Can I make you feel good too?” you roll your hips into his erection, your breath catching in your throat when you feel it pulsing under his boxers and pressing into the space between your legs. 

You flip around to straddle him, not hiding your intention to grind yourself down onto his covered cock, moans from both of you interrupting the hungry exchange of tongues and lips.

A shaky breath grabs your attention and he finds the air to exhale out, “Can I fuck you?”

You bring your hands to his cheeks to pull him into a deep kiss, continuing to rock your hips against him, giving him words as well you mumble a “Fuck yes, please, please Eddie.”

He finds the hem of your shirt and slips it over your shoulders, the momentary break in kissing makes you whine. He immediately makes it up to you by paying delightful attention to your exposed chest, leaving sloppy wet kisses on every inch of skin he had access to, “fuck”s and “so perfect” breaking them up. 

You instinctively reach down in between the two of you to take his hard cock into your hand, still pressing your core against it, but taking the rest into your hand to stroke him over his boxers, the choked out moan that escapes him is the prettiest sound you’ve ever heard.

You’re losing yourself in the feeling of his weight in your palm, sitting up to see his gorgeous fucked out expression, pinched eyebrows and flushed cheeks.

He swore he’d died and gone to heaven, despite all his sins, with you above him, lip tucked in between your grinning teeth as you rubbed up on him. Fuck, there was no going back after this.

You lean down to resume making out for a moment, missing the feeling of his nose pressed into the side of yours and his too-perfect eyelashes brushing the tops of your cheeks. 

“We can, um-“ you catch your breath, hips stuttering as you find your words, “I can turn around. Or we can make a blindfold or something.” 

His heart swelled at the thought that amidst fucking yourself against his lap you still had the courtesy to think of his comfort, his obvious insecurity, the elephant in the room that he was so desperately trying to shoo away. 

“I want you,” his voice strangely steady, “and I’ll let you have me, no stipulations.” 

You nod with a “Please.”

“Only because, I plan on fucking you every chance I get,” his tone makes you clench your thighs, “So we might as well rip this bandaid off now, because if you’re going to be my girlfriend I don’t want you worrying that I’m hiding something from you.”

He flips you over so you’re now laying beneath him, eyes still glassy with lust and mind swirling with the words he’s just let out.

“I’m gonna take off my shirt now, and I don’t want you to pretend like everything is fine, or that you don’t notice anything, because that’ll be a thousand times worse, okay? I know it’s bad. It doesn’t hurt or anything, but I know it’s not easy to look at.”

With that he pull this black t-shirt off by the back neck collar, and bares his soul to you. You can tell he’s examining your face for a reaction, very carefully managing your facial expressions for his benefit. 

He was right, it wasn’t easy to look at. Only because it made you wonder what horrible thing had happened to leave half of his torso, hip, thigh, and what you could only assume traveled onto his back as well, left entirely torn away and scarred. 

“And-“ he cut off your wandering eyes with his words, “Don’t ask what happened. I’ll tell you eventually I just- We can’t have that discussion if we’re about to have sex.” 

You nodded with understanding, you knew better than to ask. 

You think that your snooping and seed of knowledge helped hide some of your shock, his comment about missing a nipple dampening your realization that he was telling the truth, the scar tissue running so deep that his entire pec was covered in a jagged pink , slightly mishapen scar tissue, and leaving his opposite nipple to stand alone on his chest. 

The one thing that did leave you in a bit of shock was half of a tattoo on his hip that abruptly ended where the scar tissue started. Some sort of zombie head, the black ink lines all coming to a halt when’re his skin had been injured.

You let a tentative hand come up, fearing he’ll flinch away, but he doesn’t. You touch his chest, feeling the textural difference as you let your palm run across his chest and down to his hip. 

“You know, I still think you’re super hot, right?” You try to assure him, but he only lets out a dry chuckle. 

“I mean it,” you sit up a bit, pulling your hand from its exploration of his skin and bringing it to your own chest, using three fingers to cover your left nipple, “you’d still like me, right?” 

The softness in his face almost made you jump up to wrap him into a hug, you wanted him to know that everything was okay and he was safe with you, whatever happened was in the past and he didn’t have to worry. Although the moment was emotionally charged, neither of you could ignore the fact that you were both ravenously horny for each other. 

“I’m sorry you felt like you had to hide this from me,” you pull his face down to yours, “but I’m glad you showed me, because I’m so fucking ready for you to ruin me.”

He lurches forward and lets his body weight collapse down onto you, your legs widening to wrap around his hips, arm and legs locking him against you. 

Feeling his bare chest pressed against yours, lips on your neck and hips rutting into your spread legs, has your head spinning. 

“Please Eddie,” you whine, “let me feel you.”

Without missing a beat he shoves the waistband of his boxers down just enough to reach his thighs, hard dick springing free in the little space in between you, and he snatches your wrist and shoves it in between your bodies without unlatching his lips from your collar bone. 

“Oh fuck,” you couldn’t see what you were grasping, just like in the shower, but you didn’t dare push him off of you to catch a glimpse. He was all over you, hands tangled in your hair, groans and whimpers hardly making their way out in between the wet sloppy kisses he spread across your neck and chest. 

He slips a hand down your body, gracing your ribcage with his fingertips, a stark contrast to how they suddenly part your lips and rub the pool of slick from your hole up to your clit. 

“So wet, this for me?” He quirks and eyebrow and sinks a digit into you, causing your mouth to open and hips to wiggle up to ask for more.

“Yes ’s for you,” you breathe out, wanting to give him some pushback, wipe the smug look off his face, but not finding an ounce of courage to do so. You just let your head lull back and eyelids flutter shut as he curls his fingers perfectly inside you. “All for you.”

You use your free hand to push your underwear as far down your hips as this position will allow, not wanting to shift your focus from the feeling of him on your lips, his pulsing cock in your hand. 

“Need you,” you gasp out, partially at the feeling of his knuckle deep fingers buried inside of you, and equally the fucked out look on his face looming over yours, eyes blown wide and mouth parted on the verge of begging for more, “Eddie, need you to fuck me, please.”

He sits up and removes his fingers from you, earning a wince and a whine. He helps crunch your legs up to remove your panties, leaving your legs raised and crossed over one of his shoulders. He takes a moment to kiss your ankle and tenderly run his hands down the length of your leg. He took the moment to take off his own boxers, leaving you both bare in front of each other for the first time. 

“You’ve got a pretty cock,” you complement him earnestly, it was pretty. He gave you a halfhearted scoff and an eyeball in return. “No Eds, I mean it. It’s big too, good thing you got me ready with your fingers. That and I’ve been soaking wet for you for like 48 hours now, so it shouldn’t be a problem,” you giggle. His shy smile tells you he’s willing to take the compliment. 

You let your legs fall from their perch on his shoulder and fall to either side of his hips, opening yourself up to him. He’s staring, mouth half agape. It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before, but to have you laid out like this before him, fully ready to give yourself over to him and wanting him wholly in return, how couldn’t he stare. 

You let your hand stroke up his cock, bringing his attention back to where the two of you nearly met. You angle him closer to you, you’re slowly pumping fist brushing against your own center. He snaps out of his trance and nudges your hand away, using his own grip to tap his thick cock against your opening. 

Tap, tap tap. His head meets your slick folds, hips jerking slightly with every tap.

“Don’t tease me Eds,” you push your hips forward and are only met with him rubbing his dick into the outside of your pussy, “want you inside, need it so bad.”

He want’s to be a bother and continue his teasing, watching your writhe and squirm, but he can’t find it in him to deny you, so he presses the tip in and gauges your face for a reaction, only finding babbling bliss and pleas for more. 

He’s sinking into you at an agonizing pace, craning down from his kneeling position above you to frame your head with bent arms and his lips on yours as you moan into each other’s mouths, him filling you more and more. 

Your hands are in his hair, keeping your foreheads anchored together, breathing in tandem. He finally sinks all the way down and you can feel it in your lungs. You wrap your ankles around his back and squeeze him into you tighter, not wanting him to move just yet, wanting to just feel how deep he filled you up for the first time. 

He lets out a shaky exhale and squeezes his eyes shut, “You were fuckin’ made for me,” he punctuates this with a subtle roll forward of his hips, lips falling into yours as if they had nowhere else to go. 

You let your legs fall back, unclasping his hips, and move your hands from his wild hair down to his thighs, pushing him to start fucking you. 

“Feel’s so fucking good,” you whisper into his mouth, your hands hardly assisting him anymore as he pumps in and out of your slick cunt, almost knocking the air out of you each time. 

He grabs your chin with the hand that’s not propping himself up, “look at me,” his pace doesn’t falter and your mind nearly turns to mush, “you’re mine now, yeah?”

“Yes Eddie,” it comes out as a broken sob, your eyes barely able to focus on him with how close he was, “all yours, only yours.” Your mind had barely made the decision to say the words before they had escaped your lips, a dumbfounded truth serum setting over you in your cock drunk state. 

You knew it to be true though, there was no going back after this, and you were willing to give yourself over fully, and accept anything he would give you. 

“Ahh, fuck” you let out after a particularly harsh thrust, fists now dripping the sheets beneath you. 

“So fucking good for me,” his hands now found purchase on your hips, setting a rhythm between you that only a musician could. 

Through glassy eyes you admire him. Curly bangs stuck to his forehead, frantically thrusting torso making his tattoos look like stop motion cartoons, and through it all the scars are hardly noticeable. If anything, they’re just another part of him, the person between your legs that you found incredibly sexy, insecurities and all. 

His perfect hands slid from your hips to your shoulders, now using the weight of your torso as leverage to fuck into you harder. His eyes bore into yours, searching for eye contact and finding your reassuring gaze that told him this was everything you wanted and more. 

“Yes, yes, oh fuck,” you babble out. His little grunts and whimpers send volts of electricity to your core and fog your mind with lust and desire.

He moves a hand down to meet your center, palm splaying across your abdomen and keeping you pinned to the bed, thumb methodically catching your clit with each thrust. He didn’t have to ask if it felt good, the rolling back of your eyes and mouth so wide he could see your molars were enough of an indication that he was headed in the right direction.

“Mhmmmm,” you could hardly form words, but smiled up through your fucked out gaze at him, wide beam and lust fulled eyes telling him that he couldn’t possibly be making you feel any better than you do right now. 

He leans back a bit, balancing himself on his thighs keeping his pace, thumb on your clit and eyes locked into yours. Through a groan he brings his unoccupied hand up to his face, biting down on the knuckle of his pointer finger, trying not to blow his load at the feeling of you squeezing around him. 

Of course, this only made him look hotter to you, and thus you flexed around his cock even tighter. 

Unexpectedly, he pulls out of you completely and before you can muster up the breath to complain, he’s dipped his lapping tongue against you. He fully buries himself into your cunt, cutting off the rhythm, of his cock with the somehow perfectly timed pulsing of his hungry tongue. 

You can’t help but cry out, arch your hips, and send a hand flying to his hair to ground yourself. Through frantic panting and wet slurping sounds you think you can make out a “just had to taste you.”

Completely breathless, you can hardly conjure a response before he’s plunging into you again, fucking into you deeply and capturing your parted lips into a passionate kiss.

Something takes over you, and you’re suddenly wrapping your legs around his hips and using some found momentum to flip the two of your over. Suddenly, you’re on top of him, his curls splayed around his pretty face and body laid flat beneath you. 

Before you had a moment to question yourself, you anchor your hands onto his shoulders and try your best to pick up the pace he had set earlier. Hips rolling and wet slapping sounds coming from between you. 

“Jesus- fuck,” he stuttered in his movements, unsure if he wanted his hands on your face or your tits or your hips or… they landed on your ass and he wouldn’t argue with his first instincts. 

“Eddie, I’ve wanted you like this for so long,” your words were breathy and mixed with lustful gasps, “always wanted to have you like this.”

“We could have done this a long time ago, huh?” He tries not to think about all the time wasted, and instead fantasies about all the making up for lost time you’ll do in the near future. 

“You were always giving me those eyes while you played with your band,” you looked angelic to him, face hovering above him, framed only be the poor overhead lighting and flickering VHS menu of the last film you’d finished, “I always wanted you, just wasn’t sure you wanted me like this too.”

Your statement was simple enough, but he knew what you meant. You wanted him more than a fuck, and that’s what he had been worried about all along. Now, to have you sunk down on his cock like this, telling him that you had been scared in the same way as he had, only made him roll his hops up into you and pull your cheeks down for a sloppy kiss to seal the deal. You were finally on the same page. 

Switching from a bounce of your hips, you lean back slowly and shift to more of a roll, keeping his cock buried deep inside of you while you gyrate your hips. Your arm extends back in between his spread legs to keep you stable, your torso finding its own rhythm in the midst of pleasure and fucking yourself onto his cock. 

“So fucking perfect,” he gasps out, hardly able to take in the sight of your body writhing and rolling above him. He manages to find bait of sense in his brain and brings his hand back to your lower stomach, thumb flicking over your clit with every thrust of your hips. 

“Oh,eddieohmygosh,” it came out as one breathy syllable, “pleasedon’tstopthat.”

He gently fucks himself up into you, matching your movements and not throwing you off of the sinful rhythm you’ve set, just managing too punctuate each bounce with the raise of his hips into yours and the increased pressure of his thumb on your clit. 

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he loves the way each breathy word out of your lips is matched with the beautiful bounce of your tits, “Eddie, you’re gonna-“

He doesn’t change a thing, the pressure on your clit, the arch of his hips, he would sooner die than rob you of pleasure or ruin this moment. Every moment he get’s to look at you, he thinks it’s the most beautiful you’ve ever looked, but he knows for sure that this one takes the cake. 

“Ahhh, I’m-“ you don’t  have to finish your statement for him to know you’re cumming on his cock, the pulsing squeeze of your walls and intense concentration from him not to bust on the spot, and rather to focus on the parting of your lips and the twitching of your hips on his. 

“That’s it,” he keeps his thumb on your clit, but lets up on the pressure as soon as he feels you jerk against him, “that’s my girl.”

You lurch down and wrangle him into a kiss, only wanting to feel his lips on yours as you come down from your orgasm. You’re still slowly rolling your hips against his, but focused more on the feeling of his cheeks under your palms and his lips on yours. 

“You okay?” He asks in between tongue tied kisses. 

“Yes, perfect, thank you,” you arch your back into him a bit, “ready for more.” 

Although you were fully prepared to bounce on his cock until he came, you were pleasantly surprised when his large hands surrounded your waist and hoisted you up off the bed. He wanted to try and keep his cock inside you, but accepted defeat as he managed to situate on the edge of the bed.

He shifted around you and situated himself in between your legs. You laid out, everything below the knees hanging off the edge of his hand-me-down mattress. He stood above you and lowered himself to land a few wet kisses on your breasts, his hard cock pressing into your needy center. 

He jerked you up by the underside of your knees, pressing your thighs into your chest and sinking down into your open pussy, causing a deep groan to emit from both of you.

Here he was, scars and all, standing above you and thrusting into you as if it was the last thing he would ever do, and he looked like an angel to you. 

More thoughtful than you may have initially given him credit for, his thumb finds your clit again and he politely, yet breathlessly asks, “Can you come again for me, pretty girl?”

How could you say no to that. You dumbly nod and throw your head back against the sheets, your hands balled up at your sides as he thrusted into you, grunting and moaning your name. 

“So fucking good Eddie,” you manage to squeak out, “You make me feel so fucking good.”

“Ah fuck, yeah, yes,” his voice nearly jumped an octive, signaling his release. “Where should I-“ he began to ask.

“Inside,” it came out as two syllables in-between breaths, “It’s okay you can come-“

“Fuuuuuck,” a strangled moan and a collapse of his arms, along with the delicious pulse of his cock inside you signaled his release. 

Before you could eve catch your breath, regain consciousness of the situation, he was reeling back and replacing his softening cock with two fingers. He latched his lips to your clit and began to suck in time with his finger’s replication of his cock’s earlier movements. 

“Oh my god,” you were truly taken aback, his face buried in your cunt and setting you back on track to your building orgasm. 

It didn’t take more than a minute and a half of him slurping your mixed releases from your cunt and bullying your g-spot with those damn magic fingers to send you hurdling towards orgasm number two, shaking and crying out his name. 

It wasn’t until your legs were truly shaking and your hand was searching for his forehead to push him away from overstimulation that he finally let up and let up of your pussy with a wet pop and a smug look.

“You come?” He asks again, just as he had in the back of his van. 

You don’t have the energy to respond, only roll your eyes and flip him the bird as you flop back down onto his bedsheets. 

He managed to get you a warm rag and a cold glass of water, stroking your har and asking if you felt alright.

“Feel perfect Eddie,” you say after a long gulp, “you took such good care of me, you always do.”

He stroked your hair and positioned the two of you back comfortably beneath his sheets. “Thank you,” he starts, but you cut him off with a kiss. 

“No, thank you,” you kiss him again, “for trusting me.” The look in your eyes could nearly make him melt. “You’re really something special Eddie, I mean it.”

“Special enough for a fourth date?”

You smack his chest and bury your head into his neck. “I don’t think we have to count dates if I’m your girlfriend now…”

Those dimples you adore perk up on his cheeks, and he bear hugs you, scarred chest and all. 

“What time should I set the alarm for tomorrow?” He asks with a sorrow in his voice. 

“How about never,” you roll over to trample him with another kiss, smothering his body in yours, knowing you’d be luck enough to have many moments like this soon to come. 

A/N: I'm sorry I have long lost the tracking of a taglist (crying emoji) don't want to bother anyone who asked to be added the last time I wrote a pic ten thousand years ago, so I hope this reaches everyone it needs to <3

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #smut #Eddie munson imagine #Eddie munson #stranger things smut #Eddie munson fanfiction

[bejeweledblondie]

so excited about you having your requests open. I love your page!!

can I please request: Simon Ghost Riley x wife!reader?

Ghost and the rest of tf 141 are on a mission and end up getting detoured by who ever they are taking out (Russians, Hassan, etc). They need a safe house and quick! Well it just so happens simons place is right near by and simon takes them. the reader is home alone and just got out of the shower, she heard a bunch of men downstairs and gets freaked. In just her bathrobe, reader takes one of their safety guns and goes to defend herself against the “intruders” but really it’s just simon and gang

(sorry if this is long I got excited)

please and thanks

Hello! I’m so happy you’re enjoying my blog! I do apologize for the delay I was hospitalized for a lung infection (shit sucks dude I felt like a Victorian child dying of tuberculosis) but I’m all good now! So enjoy!

Simon “Ghost” Riley x F! Reader

Summary: After their mission becomes compromised Task Force 141 has to take up shelter in a safe house or the Riley Family home much to the surprise of Mrs. Simon Riley

Warnings: innuendos

“Come on I know a place.” Ghost grunted through his skull faced mask. The Lieutenant begrudgingly huffed & puffed leading the rest of his teammates through the forest that lead to the cottage where his family resided. After their location had been compromised Laswell ordered them to find a home in order to stay in where they’d go undetected. With them being only ten miles away from the cottage he called home with his wife, he knew it was the only option. Finally, after miles of hearing Gaz & Johnny complain about their feet aching they reached the wisteria ridden cottage.

He started to reach into his pocket & pulled out the key to his front door.

“Take your shoes off,” Ghost demanded. “We don’t want to track mud.” Photos of a very beautiful young woman in a wedding dress graced the walls of hallway leading into the living room. Simon could hear the water running in the upstairs bathroom indicating to him his beloved darling wife was showering.

“Simon, how do you know about this place?” Soap asked after he kicked his boots off. “I’m assuming you know the beautiful lassie in the photos.” Price chuckled to himself, knew about you. Simon had come to him to ask for advice on a lot of different things in regards to a marriage. His most recent was about children. It was just four months ago you had found out you were with child.

“Something like that.” Simon replied, & removed his mask. Gaz & Soap gave each other a glance knowing he must’ve felt very comfortable with his environment. A black & white cat rounded the corner out of the kitchen. He made a beeline for Simon & started to rub up against Simon’s legs. Bending down Simon grabbed the feline & started to pet him.

You had decided to run a shower, needing to wash away the grime of the day. Your current tired pregnant state made you incredibly drowsy. Resting your head against the cold tile you could’ve sworn you heard the door open. Chalking it up to pure exhaustion you ignored it. Then the all familiar sound of boots coming off by the front door made your head snap. You turned off the water, & dried yourself off. Wrapping yourself in your bathrobe & throwing on a pair of panties you grabbed the shot gun that laid next to the bed. If there was one thing Simon taught you was to defend yourself.

Slowly you started to make your way down the staircase shotgun pointed outwards. Once at the bottom you turned the corner into the hallway. Seeing the all familiar broad shoulders of your husband made you lower your shotgun.

“Si?” You asked clearly confused now cradling the shotgun in your arm. He turned around holding, Phantom your beloved tuxedo cat. “I thought you were supposed to be home in a few days.” You stated clearly confused.

“I’m sorry love, we needed somewhere to stay for a few days.” He replied. “Just until the heat dies down.” He gave you a kiss, much to the surprise of his teammates. “How the little one?” He asked placing one of his large hands on your lower abdomen.

“The usual,” You replied. “But overall we’re just fine.” Soap & Gaz stood there with their mouths wide open in shock.

“You have a kid?!” Soap asked.

“Back it up when did you get married?” Gaz asked. Price just stood there pinching the bridge of his nose at his teammates ruining the lovers moment. Simon holding his wife tightly now turned to face them.

“I got married three years ago, & we’re expecting our first child in five months.” Simon replied. “This is Mrs. Simon Riley, Y/N.”

“It’s so lovely to meet all of you.” You replied beaming. “Hi, John it’s nice to see you again.” You said waving at Price. Both Soap & Gaz looked at him shocked.

“What?!” John asked. “It wasn’t my responsibility to tell you.” Noticing your lack of clothing you excused yourself to change, & brought down old pajamas of Simon’s for the boys.

“The shower is open, & let me bake some cookies for you boys. You must be hungry.” You said. Simon took his usual spot on the couch & turned on Netflix. You loved taking care of Simon, he was the love of your life. The two of you depended on each other for everything. His job was a big stressor in his life & you wanted to make his home life as relaxing as you possibly could.

Soap, & Gaz were in seventh heaven in a world of hardened military men, the tender touch of a woman was exactly what they needed. Someone to just take care of them for a little bit to let them escape from the reality of their lives. Once the cookies were done you brought some plates out for them & then took your place right next to Simon on the couch. He pulled you in tightly, your head resting on his chest & his hand resting on your lower abdomen caressing the small bump. After a plate of cookies you both fell asleep on the couch. John himself was already knocked out in the little recliner that sat next to the couch his bucket hat covering his face. Gaz nudged Soap to look at their sleeping Lieutenant & his darling wife. It was so foreign to them to see him in such a soft state. They had seen him snap men’s necks the way you’d snap a Kit-Kat but here he was even in sleep being so gentle. Soon afterwards the two men also let sleep take over, letting the uncertainty of the situation become a problem for tomorrow.

#call of duty #cod imagines #cod masterlist #ghost call of duty #cod modern warfare #ghost x y/n #captain john price #simon riley x female reader #simon riley x y/n #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x you #ghost imagines #simon riley x reader #ghost simon riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley #ghost mw2

[scudslut]

Fiending for Daryl x F!reader at the point where they're super domestic and sexually comfortable with each other. Like making jokes like "I'll do that thing you like if you take Dog for a walk ;)" and just being super teasing and playful with each other

lazy mornings w/ daryl

daryl x f!reader

wc: 1k

warnings: teasing, slight allusions to sex, mdni

a/n: omfg i adored this idea. thinking about daryl finally super comfortable with you, able to relax and just be himself is just🥹 i hope this is close to what you wanted!! i kinda got carried away in my imagination with this one lol. alsooo, i have a few other requests i’m working on, i promise i’m not skipping anyone’s i just take forever to write:,)

daryl would absolutely love to tease you. he just loved to see that little spark flash in your eyes, reminding him that you want him and he has you.

he was incredibly shy initiating anything sexual during the first couple years of your relationship. and still to this day it’s not often that he’ll outright vocalize his lust, but rather use his actions and subtle, playful remarks that’ll have you ready to pounce on him the first moment you get. the little sanctuary you call home is his favorite place in the world, and it was only ever you who got to see this goofy, mischievous side of him.

and he found he couldn’t help himself, watching you around the house, so casual and domesticated.

you’d play quiet music often on the little record player he’d found, hair tied up in some messy knot, loose shorts and a small t-shirt the only things adorning your soft skin as you read, or cooked, or whatever hobby was interesting you at the time. it brought out intense feelings inside of him, ones he never imagined he’d ever feel and it almost made him giddy. so happy he could provide that safety for you to simply be, and ravenously hungry to devour you whole any chance he got.

it must’ve been sometime in early may he figured. the sun was bright in the sky no later than 6am the past few weeks. mornings still brisk but afternoons hot and nearing swim-worthy. you both rose late that day, having spent a little extra time in bed where the light flooded through the cabin windows, glowing across fluffy sheets and warm skin, simply too soothing to move from right away. he always woke before you and always had to drink you in for a while, admiring how the sun danced through the strands of your wild hair across the pillows. your chest rose so fluently and calmly it made his own tight. he’d ingrain that picture deep in his memory; your vibrant, lively body something he’d protect till his last dying breath.

you had a leg propped outside the blankets, tossed close to his body subconsciously and he brought his fingers to the soft skin of your exposed thigh, painting invisible shapes. it only took a few minutes before you started mumbling sleepily as he dragged them upwards, towards your inner thigh.

“mmm, good morning,” you breathed softly, eyes still shut but a lazy smile gracing your features.

“mornin' sunshine,” he drawled, leaning down to press light kisses over his artwork. “sleep alright?”

“mhm, you?”

he nodded against your skin. he always slept well next to you, especially now he had you all to himself; your little hole in the woods providing much-needed peace and solitude after all the years without. just you, dog, and acres of tall green trees.

speaking of which, he noticed the door creaking open behind him as he placed more nips and kisses, paws padding across the wooden floors at the sound of your voices finally awake.

his tongue dragged up, grazing over the hem of your panties. your hips shifted beneath him as you moaned softly. “can we make it an agreement that you always wake me up like this?” you gasped when his hands joined in, massaging your plush hips with strong hands.

he snorted at that, “i already always do.”

“mm, right,” you muttered quickly distracted as your hands found purchase on his soft brown locks. your morning brain never failed to amuse him. you’d mutter nonsense half asleep, sure to barely remember when you fully came too.

his fingers were just slipping under the waistband when dog whimpered quietly behind you both. a smirk cast over his face, already hearing your whines of dismay at what he was about to do.

“think somebody needs a mornin' walk,” he pulled away with a kiss to the little bow at the hem. a low groan followed in suit just as he expected and he chuckled slightly.

“D… just a few more minutes.”

but he was already dragging his body off the mattress, grabbing a random strewn shirt and pulling it over his head.

“such a tease, dixon,” he heard from the bed, turning to see you propped up with a phony pout. the corners of his eyes crinkled in a grin at your state, hair wild from sleep, and cheeks flushed pink.

“how bout this,” he bargained, leaning back down to peck your ankle and slowly up your calf. “we take him out quickly, and then i’ll bring ya right back here and let ya have yer way with me… sound fair?”

he watched as you feigned contemplation.

“come on, look at that face,” he pointed to dog, who sat patiently at the foot of the bed, tail wagging.

“never thought i’d get cockblocked by a dog, but, alas,” you sighed, trying your best to cover the grin on your face.

daryl bent over, shielding dog's ears. “hey! he can hear ya y’know,” and there was so more hiding your grin, giggles escaping your lips in fit.

he’d never seen you move so fast after that, speedily throwing on a top that barely covered your ass and rushing to the front door.

“come on doggy boy! your dad and i have a date, we gotta make this quick,” you mused loudly through the house, dog chasing after you.

he couldn’t help but shake his head in laughter, following after his family blissfully. this was definitely his favorite place in the world.

sorry i’m so cheesy byyee❤️

#daryl dixon #norman reedus #the walking dead #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl imagines #twd drabbles #daryl x reader #fem!reader #daryl smut #daryl dixon x reader #daryl twd #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl fanfiction #twd daryl #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixion imagine #daryl x female reader #daryl drabbles #daryl x y/n #daryl x you #norman reedus smut #twd smut #twd daryl dixon #twd #twd fanfiction

[rynbutt]

pierced. pt. 6 | spencer reid.

Spencer needed to stop getting in his own way of what he wanted.

you will find the other parts on my masterlist

cw: kissing, suggestive sentence in there somewhere, mentions of alcohol, angst if you squint, flufffff

a/n: aahhh!!!! (smut in the next part)

“She looked like you.”

You stopped stroking your hand through Spencer’s hair at his confession. He had been sitting with you on your couch for almost an hour, his head lying comfortably on the couch cushions as he faced you. You glanced up at him, your brows knitted together.

“Who did?” you whispered gently, twirling a piece of his hair between your fingers.

“One of the victims… in the case we worked,” he clarified, almost hesitating with his words like he was embarrassed to admit it. 

You frowned, “did it… frighten you?”

Spencer shrugged, “I think it made me realise how dangerous my life is. My job is my life and it made me think about all the things that have happened to me and my friends because of this job… Someone was killed in the apartment across from you, and Hotch lost his wife, Y/N. It just… freaks me out a bit.”

You listened to Spencer talk, running a hand through his hair as he admitted to the things that were bothering him. You understood why Spencer was worried, you would be too if you had a job like Spencer’s. He worked to find some of the most dangerous people in the world, you commended him for that. 

You took in a breath, “I would be worried too, Spence. And it must bug you even more than you can’t guarantee the safety of the people you love and care about.”

“It does,” Spencer sighed, his hand reaching out to hold yours.

“Are you trying to tell me something, Spencer?” You asked softly, “you don’t want to see me again?-”

“What? No!” Spencer quickly said, standing up from the couch quickly. “I mean… No, I want to see you again. I want to hold your hand whenever I want and-and go on dates, it’s just-” Spencer let out a soft groan as he rubbed his hands down his face.

“You want to keep me safe?” you asked, standing up to pull Spencer’s hands away from his face. Spencer looked at you, almost amazed at how you knew what he wanted to say.

“Yeah,” he replied, holding your hands gently. “I just wish it was simple.”

You sighed, “I know,” you leaned in to wrap your arms around him in a tight hug, “me too.”

“...I can still see you though, right?” He muttered against your hair.

You chuckled softly, pulling away to cup his face, “of course you can, Spence… We can take things slow, keep everything private… I just want you to be happy.”

Spencer beamed at your answer, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “I want you to be happy too.”

Your palms were sweaty as you stood outside Rossi’s house clutching a bottle of wine in one hand while Spencer gently held your other hand. You don’t know why you were nervous, you’d met everyone before. But to be fair, you were slightly tipsy the last time. You spent the afternoon getting ready, styling your hair and doing your makeup nice for the occasion. Spencer came over to pick you up and yes, you may have got distracted against the kitchen counter for a good 30 minutes, but you were finally here.

“Shit, I’m nervous,” you admitted. 

“What? Why are you nervous?” Spencer asked, lifting his hand to knock at the door before stopping himself to look at you.

“I don’t know! I was tipsy the last time I met everyone,” you whisper-shouted the last part, making Spencer chuckle softly. 

“Well,” he stepped down off the top step, standing in front of you, “you look really beautiful and you shouldn’t feel nervous… Garcia has been very excited to hang out with you again and Rossi and Morgan have been bugging me about bringing you along to one of these for a while now.”

You smiled softly, “really?” “Oh yeah,” Spencer replied, “So for the foreseeable future, you’re kind of obligated to come.”

“Oh really?” You raised a brow. “You plan on keeping me around for the foreseeable future?” you teased.

“I mean, I kind of like you,” he teased back, “and you have a nice rack-”

“Spencer!” you punched his shoulder as he giggled like a child. “So vulgar.”

“You like it,” Spencer grinned, putting a hand around your waist and leaning down to kiss you. You cupped his face gently, letting him pull your body tight against his.

“Oi,” Rossi grumbled. You and Spencer shot away from each other. “No kissing on my porch.”

“Sorry, sir,” You squeaked out, quickly scurrying inside as Spencer followed you like a puppy.

You felt her hug before you saw her, Penelope throwing her arms around you in a tight hug. You chuckled and hugged her back, “I haven’t seen you in forever! I keep telling Reid to bring you along to stuff but he always says you’re busy,” she frowned.

You knew half of that was true, your job was demanding and you had four huge projects you were working on and you were thinking about going back to school. The other half was that Spencer was nervous to over involve you in things, partly because he didn’t want to scare you off and because he wanted to keep your dating life fairly private. 

“Yeah, I have been busy, I’m sorry,” you winced.

“Oh, don’t be silly!” Penelope waved you off, “Come on, we’re sitting in here.” Penelope grabbed your hand and started dragging you to the kitchen. Spencer and Rossi followed behind you, Rossi berating Spencer for being late, which Spencer blamed on traffic (liar).

You were met with an outpouring of affectionate greetings as Penelope brought you into the kitchen, which smelled amazing. You placed the bottle of wine down on the counter which JJ and Emily immediately began inspecting.

“Hi, everyone,” you greeted shyly, feeling Spencer’s arm wrap around your waist.

“Hey, lovers,” Morgan grinned cheekily. 

“Oooh,” Rossi picked up the bottle of wine you bought, “good taste in reds, I see.”

“I used to be a bartender. I couldn’t afford to have bad recommendations,” you shrugged.

“Mmm, I like you,” Rossi’s eyes narrowed as he pointed at you. You grinned up at Spencer, letting him plant a soft kiss on your temple. 

Rossi continued to prepare dinner, blatantly refusing to let anyone help him even though he had about four things, all of which smelled amazing. You sat by Emily, JJ and Penelope, letting them ask you a myriad of questions about you and Spencer.

“How long have you two been together now?” Emily asked, leaning her chin on her fist on the counter.

“Uh, about two months,” you replied, thinking for a moment. “But we’re not like, together-together. Just dating.”

“...He hasn’t asked you to be his girlfriend?” JJ asked.

“No, not yet. I think he wants to take things slow,” you said with a smile. Emily, JJ and Penelope shared a knowing look with each other. “...What?”

“Nothing,” Emily shrugged.

“Oh, come on, don’t leave me hanging like that,” you pouted.

“He just talks about you a lot, sweetie,” Penelope grinned, “‘Y/N told me that already’, ‘Y/N makes my coffee better’, ‘No, I’m meeting with Y/N for lunch’, ‘I have plans, I’m hanging out with Y/N’, it’s all the time.”

“I’ve never seen him so happy,” JJ smiled, staring at you sideways. You glanced over your shoulder at Spencer, who was already looking at you. He lifted his hand, waving at you from across the room where he stood with Morgan, Hotch and Hotch’s son Jack.

“He makes me happy too,” you replied with a grin.

“Awww,” Penelope cooed, wrapping her arms around you, “take care of our boy wonder.”

“Dinner is ready,” Rossi sang. “And you are right, it smells divine.”

You sat next to Spencer at the dining table, feeling his warm hand rest on your knee under the table. You smiled to yourself, resting your hand over his. You enjoyed your meal with everyone, revelling in the compliments over your choice of wine. You watched as Jack showed Spencer his dinosaur figurines at the table, your heart fluttering at the sight of Spencer playing with Hotch’s son like he was a big kid himself. 

Once everyone finished dinner, you helped Rossi clean up the table, even after he insisted you sit down and drink some more wine. You ignored his protests and helped him clean up and he made a comment along the lines of, “it’s like arguing with Spencer.”

Spencer ended up helping too, encouraging Rossi to let you and Spencer do the dishes since he cooked all afternoon. Rossi threw his hands up in defeat, sitting back down in his chair and topping off his glass of wine. The two of you stood began cleaning the kitchen and Spencer seemed fussy, like there was something on his mind.

“What’s on your mind?” You asked as you rinsed the clean dishes, soap suds clinging to your forearms. Spencer stopped drying one of the wine glasses, turning to give you his full attention.

“How do you know I’ve got something on my mind?” He asked curiously. 

“I feel like I can read you pretty well, Spence,” you retorted.

“You’d be a good profiler,” Spencer said, bumping your shoulder.

“Yeah, no thanks,” you chuckled, hanging him another dish to be dried. 

A comfortable silence hung in the air before he spoke again, “...how would you feel if… If I asked you to be my girlfriend?”

You stopped what you were doing to look at him, “...You want me to be your girlfriend?”

“...Yeah, I do,” Spencer muttered softly, “only if you want to be my girlfriend, of course,” he quickly said.

Your heart was in your throat, trying to suppress the smile that wanted to break out across your face. “You mean that?”

“Yeah… I really like you, Y/N. And I know we said we wanted to move slowly but it’s driving me crazy not being able to call you my girlfriend, you know?” He admitted, putting the rag on the counter to grab your hands.

“I really like you too, Spencer.”

“So… will you be my girlfriend?” He asked, eyes narrowing with nervousness.

“I’d love to be your girlfriend, Spencer Reid,” you grinned. Spencer let out a breath of relief, unsure of where to put all the excitement building up in his chest. He had no idea how he landed someone like you. He suddenly planted a kiss on your lips, cupping your face in his warm hands.

“Thank you,” he whispered against your lips.

“Why are you thanking me?” you chuckled.

“For giving me your number,” he admitted, “I would have been too nervous to ask for it myself.”

“What can I say,” you shrugged, “you were just too cute to let go.”

Spencer smiled and planted another kiss to your lips, a deeper kiss that made your heart flutter and your toes curl. Your fists held his shirt, pulling him closer. He pushed you against the counter gently, his hand gripping the side of your neck to tilt your head back, deepening the kiss.

“Oi,” Rossi grumbled, louder than the first time he caught you two, “no kissing in my kitchen.”

a/n: Rossi is me

taglist: @crazycat-ladys-blog @cillsnostalgia @secretly-tumb1r @33-81 @elissanatok @outrunangelss @cultish-corner @666-gothic-bat-666 @evvy96 @littlemarvelstan8 @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @meg-black @dreamsarebig @anuncalledbridge @fioletowelowe @ladylincoln @spencerreidsgf420 @bollzinurmouth @scarlettssub @ipseitydelrey @donttrustlove @mcntsee @ruziazyn @valinherfantasyworld @khxna @maybe-not-this @shardsofmarxx @danadinosaur3 @justsarahbella @ah-blossom @lorelaireid @btskzfav @reidsdoll

#criminal minds #x reader #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #dr reid #cm spencer #derek morgan #jennifer jareau #david rossi #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #penelope garcia #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #criminal minds spencer

[risestarkiss]

Being Purple ○ Part Two

Rise Ramblings #315

Previous | Being Purple ○ Part One This post is a continuation, so I recommend reading Part One before reading this Part Two. ••••

We’ve talked about what Donatello was and his role in the family.

But, we never examined why. Why is Donnie so gung ho on physically providing for his family?

Well, to understand why he feels that way, we need to go back to the beginning. After Splinter and the turtles were mutated, Yoshi was obviously unable to access any of the funds or resources he held as Lou Jitsu due to, you know, him now being a giant rat. He had to start life a new from the bottom of society.

We don’t know what happened during their time on the streets, but we can make some inferences as to what happened next. Splinter eventually moved the boys down into the sewers and was able find a comfortable space for himself and his little family.

Here is where I’m going to try my best to piece together the order of events regarding Donatello’s earliest contributions. I’ll be using two episodes: the season one finale, “End Game,” and the Nick web exclusive mini-episode, “Turtle Tots.”

In Turtle Tots, the family has gathered in Splinter’s room. We can also see the den through Splinter’s doorway. This home is, indeed, the home that we are familiar with in the show. Thus, we now know that at this age the boys were already living in the sewers. We also know that the den has already been outfitted with a tv, electricity, and probably some kind of cable hookup.

Is it possible that Splints did this electrical work all on his own? “End Game” gives us a clue that can lead us to an answer.

Here he is, the boy of the hour. In this picture, given the perspective, young Donnie is much shorter than Splinter. Their heights here are actually comparable to their height difference in the “Turtle Tots” clip. Therefore, I believe it’s fair to conclude that Donatello is about the same height in both instances, and likewise, relatively the same age.  

Given that new piece of information, now we can speculate further.

When you look at the room that crying Dondon is in, he’s surrounded by wires, batteries, boxes, and what appears to be little bits of tech that he was working on, hence the booboo. There’s a small rotary plane of some sort, a tiny workbench, and other bits and pieces. So, we can deduce that Donnie is familiar with electrical work and is building things for himself, even at this young age.

Donatello is already cooking.

With that evidence, I believe it’s reasonable to surmise that Donatello had a hand in hooking the den up with a refurbished TV and in wiring the house with electricity, which is such a big job for such a little guy.  

If it had stopped there, I wouldn’t bring it up, but as we can plainly see…

It never stopped. His labors are endless. Everything from the turtles’ transportation, their living space, and their comforts at home was created, built, enhanced, and refurbished by Donatello. Consequently, he internalized the idea that his usefulness equated to the safety and security of his family. And that’s just how he lived his life.

He doesn’t know any different, and I’m sure at this point he wouldn’t want any different. This is his role. This is his place. Besides, his beneficence makes his brothers happy, and his father happy, and by extension it makes him happy.

Hence, his “gift giving” love language.

If Donnie is happy, then where’s the problem?

I’m sorry, but external validation as a primary source of happiness, or even worse, as a source of self-esteem, is dangerous…

But I digress…

From the outside looking in, it’s easy to assume that his genius is best utilized as a tool for the team’s benefit. But as a child, the weight of ensuring their entire family’s physical infrastructure is a large burden to bear…and it is almost the exact definition of Instrumental Parentification.

Parentification is a process in which a role reversal occurs where the child or adolescent is obligated to act as a parent would to their siblings or to their actual parent. Instrumental Parentification involves a child assuming the responsibilities of maintaining a household through physical means. In this case, Donatello literally maintains the household.

I’ve said all of that to say this.

Donatello has been subjected to Instrumental Parentification for almost his entire life. He doesn’t know life without providing for his family, but he’s happiest when his family is comfortable and safe.

So when we ask, why does Donatello make these sacrifices for his family, the answer is obvious. Love. And that answer reigns true in the past, present, and future…

Anyways, Donatello is such a complex and intriguing character, I could go on about him forever. But I think this as good a place as any to put a pin in my deep dive on this fiery little grape, because our next dive’s focus is on the true pinnacle of the Hamato clan…

○○○○

Previous | Being Big Red • Being Baby Blue • Being Purple ○ Part One

Next | Orange, Baby!

Finale | Being Hamato Yoshi

#All right Angelo you're up! #starkiss ramblings #research resources provided upon request #rise analysis #rottmnt analysis #character analysis #Donatello Ramblings #rise don #rise donnie #rise donatello #donatello hamato #rottmnt donatello #donatello #rottmnt #tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #tmnt2018 #tmnt 2k18 #tmnt 2018 #save rottmnt #unpause rottmnt #unpause rise of the tmnt #save rise of the tmnt #save rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles

[miloonepiece]

note: this has some angst and maybe slightly suggestive comment towards the end but, i’ve accidentally fallen down the Luffy brainrot because… he’s so me so enjoy some fluff !! requests are still open btw!!

Good Enough

Luffy x GN!Reader (Words: 731)

You had wandered the whole ship trying to find Luffy with no luck, you looked all the way up and his normal places but he was no where to be seen. You were worried, not only because he was your captain but because he was your partner. He never avoided you, he was always around you any moment of the day that he could be and here he was missing from the spot that held you.

You finally decided to go below deck, down to the bottom where most of the treasures were hidden. You scanned the area and when you thought you saw nothing you turned leave before you hear a sniffle, you turned back around and scanned the area one more time before you heard the sniffle again. You found which direction it was coming from and followed the sound, almost as if you were using echolocation. After a few checks behind some chests you finally found the source of the crying.

It was Luffy, he was crying?

Luffy was usually the happy type and never did he cry when normally on the ship unless something terrible happened. Yet here he was crying as if something horrible had happened, “Luffy?” You called out to him and watched as his head snapped to look at you then immediately be covers himself with his hands. “Luffy…” You said in a more worried and soft tone, moving around the chest he was hidden behind and knelt down in front of him. You stared at him for a moment before you reached up to his hands, grabbing them in yours and lowering them.

“Why are you crying?” You asked and watched as his eyes watered more, “Nothin..” He responded attempting to pull his hands back up to cover his face but you pushed back and Luffy knew to never fight against your touch. “Luffy, be honest with my honey.” You tell him and move closer to sit next to him, He stares at you as his brows dipped down in a saddened expression and his eyes scanned your face. “I… I heard Sanji and Nami talking about you.. then me… and how you seemed upset because I didn’t love you intimately enough..” The words spilled out of his mouth without a second of hesitation and your heart dropped.

Your head began to shake as an immediate response, “Oh Luffy…” You cooed bringing your hand up to cup his cheek to which he responded by leaning against your hand. “I’m not upset over that, if anything I’m worried about you.” You tell him and his eyes lock with yours finally after avoiding contact for so long. “I’m worried for your safety but that’s something that I’ll always worry about, even if I know you aren’t in any danger. Which I doubt will ever happen but… I don’t care if you are intimate with me or not. I love you for you.” You comforted him with your words and you could tell by the way his body relaxed more into your touch and the way the water in his eyes slowly dried up.

“I love how optimistic you are.” You tell him, you remove your other hand from his to cup his other cheek. “I love you.” You whispered, only for him to hear so he knew you meant it just for him and for no one else. “I love you more.” He responded in the same whispered tone but with a excitement present. You smiled as you watched your captain become himself again, not only that but Luffy was becoming Luffy again. You stared at him and admired the scar that decorated his upper cheek, the way his eyelashes looked on his eyes, and how his eyes looked at you with so many words that he never knew how to say. He stared back, admiring your features, eyes, eyebrows, nose, cheeks and finally your lips.

He wasted no time, pressing his lips excitedly against yours as he still held the smile on his face. You didn’t fight it, you happily kissed him back.

You loved Luffy for who he was not because he showered you in treasures or treated you in bed, but because he was there to be the light in the darkness and to hold you when it was cold. He was perfect.

#multifandom #writing #fanfic #one piece #milometisfics #— milometis #— miloonmetisfics #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #one piece x reader #monkey d luffy x reader #monkey d luffy #monkey d. luffy #luffy x reader #one piece luffy #straw hat luffy #luffy #with: luffy #x reader #angst #angst with a happy ending

[moxfirefly]

Bayverse Donnie with F!Reader (she/her)

"You think I like being like this? Every time someone fucking touches you I want to rip their hands off!"

"I...I don't want to stop. Please don't ask me to stop."

Happy holidays 💙❤️💜🧡

Oh boy yes!!! This is a great one! Let’s get it, goes without sayin’.

Rated Explicit

He hated what his overworked brain could cook up some nights, the tension that settled in his muscles whenever that nagging little monster in his head told that ‘he didn’t deserve this’.

Because Donnie’s always been a little too in tune with what he is, what he looks like.

Compared to you? You who somehow found your way in under the safety fence around his heart. You who somehow wanted to be with him and settle.

It was settling, he knew that sooner rather than later you’d wake up from your fugue state and realize this isn’t a life worth living for with him. What could he provide? Not all the typical things a partner should, he couldn’t walk out and take somewhere, he couldn’t meet your friends, he can’t marry you…

He hates how everyone gets to touch you out in the open, out in your normal life away from the violence and the secrecy.

Donnie swallows a lump in his throat when he sees Casey pull you into a hug, the free affection he could supply not just down here but up above in your real world with your real life. It’s not even about Vern and how he grabs your hand after a high five and laughs. He hates to admit that he’s thought about every other set of normal hands that have touched you throughout your day, every perfect palm that could connect perfectly with yours, each of their five fingers running a path across your body.

God, he hates how much you’ve been touched by perfectly normal beings.

There’s that little monster again inside of him, calling him a freak, a monster, you’re ruining her life, Donnie, what makes you think she’s going to stay? Why would she want your imperfect, disgusting—

“Hey? Are you alright?” You ask him, arms draped around his neck from the back of the couch, a set of beautiful arms he’d want to be his noose any day.

“Y-yeah, just a little tired.” Lie, he was gonna stay up until the migraine took over or the exhausting did him in first.

“Then let’s sneak are way back to your room and lie down.” You kissed his cheek, nudging him by the shell to get up. Everyone was still mingling about so it was easy to slip away.

He entered his room that he shared many nights with you, it was hard to fathom it was only his now. Every little corner held something of yours and on nights you couldn’t stay over he found comfort in your lingering scent.

“You aren’t alright are you?” He caught your voice muffled from the shirt you were taking off, showing off skin he could pick out from a hundred yards away. How acquainted he was with each blemish, freckle, scar…

“Is there anything from your ex boyfriend that you preferred? …liked I mean, or that he has that I don’t?” This is a Pandora’s box and from the way your eyebrows shoot up he knows it’s a bad idea but Christ he’s floundering.

“Absolutely nothing, why are you bringing him up?” You tossed your shirt aside, kicking off your shoes next and progressively becoming more aware that Donnie was holding back a giant wave of something not good right now.

“I’m just trying to make sense of something… I know why you both broke up but you were with him, there was an appeal at some point.” He wants to look away, drop the conversation but his hands feel tense and his skin itchy.

“There was an appeal before I found out who the real him was, appeal went away pretty fast if you ask me, baby why are you—“

“What’s the appeal here?” He motioned to himself, to his form, his face, his everything. “Because I can’t see it for myself, I don’t know why you’re here…with me.” His voice felt lumpy, crackling like a detuned radio.

You stood stock still, shocked at his words.

“What’s bringing this on? I haven’t spoken to that asshole in years, Don. What appeal? He has none, I’m with you.” You took a step, he took one backwards.

“You’re going to want things I cannot give you even if I would sell my soul for them. I—I can’t give you kids, or a normal home, or marriage, for fuck sake look at me, where does this make sense??” He sat down aggressively on the bed, he needed to concentrate on something else than your worried face. With shakey hands he began to untie his boots.

He saw your feet first, through the thin film of tears, god he didn’t want to cry now.

Gently you took his glasses off and set them on the night table.

“What’s going on? Tell me the truth, why are you acting like this? Why are you bringing my ex up all of a sudden to fight—” The deep concern, the frown lines on your forehead, he had you so damn worried.

“You think I like being like this? Every time someone fucking touches you I want to rip their hands off!” He didn’t mean to blow up but this hand bubbles, seeped over the mug and now there was no stopping it.

“I’m never going to understand why you would rather waste your life away with a monst—“ he felt your hands shoot up and cover his mouth.

“You are not a monster, Donatello, and if you ever use that stupid word to describe yourself ever again, I’m throwing a wrench at your head.” You let your hand slip away, instead you cupped his face. “I’m with you because I love you, you were my friend first and now you’re the most important thing in my life, and none of this is going to stop my feelings.” You rubbed your thumbs affectionately around his cheeks. Donnie’s gaze fell, eyes still red from holding back tears. He pressed his face against your sternum, and once you felt those large armed enclose around you, you hugged him tight.

“I—I’m sorry, I—fuck,” He sighed against your skin, finding comfort in your flesh as he often did.

“It alright, just please don’t ever question how I feel, okay?” You kissed the top of his head, letting yourself be pushed closer to him, he needed this, needed the physical reassurance. “I love you, Donnie, I love you so much.” You carresed him, cheek against the top of his head. Donnie’s hands found the back pockets of your jeans, hooked his fingers in and began to shove them down.

He needed more, he needed you and you knew it.

“I…I don’t want to stop. Please don’t ask me to stop.” He kissed each words onto your stomach, bit the periods onto your flesh and he dragged your underwear down as well. Effortlessly he picked you up and placed you on the bed with another feverish kiss that sent your head spinning. He bit more of those pleads onto your neck, grinding himself between your legs with intent of having your scent on his clothes forever.

It was messy, desperate and filled with longing. You somehow pushed down his pants with the heels of your feet and told him, gently and with need that you wanted him inside of you.

And he could never say no to you, he could never deny you a single thing.

So when he slipped in to the heat that he belonged to, to the woman that could drive him to burn the world at a moments time, he could feel a little less self hatred.

Your moan, long and aching, always a task to adjust to his size but never an unwelcome burn, blessed his ears. He needed this, he needed you inking those words and sounds with each thrust.

Donnie watched transfixed, enamored with your flushed skin and hooded eyes. Watched as your hands reached for him when he sat back on his knees. He hooked an arm beneath you and held you against him as he thrusted upwards with every intent of fucking these awful thoughts out.

“Fucking—Love you,” Donnie’s lips pressed against your own, the intimacy of spilling his love against your own lips too much for him. You moaned against his mouth, moving in tune with him to chase the high. ‘I love you’ you mouthed as you felt your voice be replaced with another lustful moan. Donnie half smiled, drunk off of your scent and deep into how perfect you felt wrapped around his cock. He held you like that, arms secure around you as he fucked the first load into you just as you came with a tightening and broken wail.

When you felt your back against the blankets and felt him continue to thrust, pushing past the oversensitivity, you knew he needed more.

He needed so much more.

#tmnt bayverse #ask #phd-in-fuckery #emotional? prompts #tmnt donatello x reader #tmnt donnie x reader #donatello x reader #donnie x reader #Donatello #Donnie #tmnt Donatello #tmnt Donnie

[cursedhaglette]

Birdsong

“We didn’t have to - I mean,” you try to find the right words, the ones that would make him stay with you for the evening. “You don’t have to go.”

“I was trying to be polite, innocent little bird,” he raises an eyebrow in surprise, studying you again. You sit up, leaning back on your hands as you ignore the urge to correct your sleepshirt, well aware that one breast is nearly exposed from how it now hangs. “But look at you, such a pretty mess.”

“I want you,” you hear yourself say, shocked at the bold admission. You’ve been holding back the truth of how badly you want him, but with the way his body reacted to yours, maybe it isn’t as big a long shot as you’d been telling yourself… “I’ve wanted you for a long time. I want you to stay.”

----

The first time you let Astarion bite your neck, and you're surprised to find just how badly it makes you want him.

Rating: E Word Count: 2,600 Content: 18+, smut, afab reader, cunnilingus, oral sex, PiV, creampie, breeding kink if you look really hard, vampire bites,

[ao3 link]

You open your eyes, sensing something off even in your deep, dreamless sleep, and are greeted by teeth - a mouth open wide and ready to devour. 

“Shit,” is all he can say as he sits back on his heels, fidgeting nervously as you sit up and pull away - some latent instinct that you need to distance yourself for safety kicking in even though you know Astarion and what he needs. 

“I’m sorry, I - I only need a little blood,” he says, moving away from you and extending his hands in front of him. A gesture of peace, of safety. You don’t stand, but move to a kneeling position before him, well aware that your expression is likely one of fear and confusion. 

You’d agreed after his first feeding that you’d help when you could, signaling him after a long day if you were available for him that evening. His feedings are easy now, the process so quick and painless, you rarely wake up when his teeth meet your wrist in the dead of night. 

“I suppose I can help you with that,” you whisper, your voice still thick from sleep. “Um…how would you like me?”

“All over camp, love,” he smirks, and his smile only grows when he spies the quick blush that heats your cheeks at the words. 

“Ha ha,” is all you manage to say, and you roll your eyes playfully.

“Since you’re awake, I’ve been hoping to try at your neck one of these lovely nights together” his eyebrows knotting together as he moves to kneel next to you. “If that’s alright with you, my sweet, little bird.”

He’d been feeding from your wrist for the last tenday, working hard to master his control when feeding, especially since your blood is the best he gets compared to all the animals and goblins the wilderness provides. You’d limited him to that, trusting he’d keep his word if he fed from you while you slept, but he’d behaved himself - proven he could control his hunger. 

“I didn’t mean to wake you, darling, but I am happy to take from your wrist again. I simply wanted to avoid the risk of scarring from repeated feedings. We need to keep you pretty, don’t we?”

“Hmm,” you consider, pinching your lips together and trying not to look too bashful. The thought of his lips on your neck… “I suppose my neck is fine.”

You tried not to cringe as your voice came out in a soft squeak, laying back quickly to hide your embarrassment. 

“Are you quite sure you’re comfortable with this?”

“You promise not to kill me?” Again, you try to joke, but your voice falters and only sounds tired instead.

“Feel free to push me off if you start to feel faint, you know the drill, pet,” he says softly, positioning himself over you. He smells of familiar herbs, rosemary and bergamot, and something dark but sweet as well. The feeling of his body hovering above yours, while he scoops his hand under your head so tenderly, starts an ache in your core that is wholly new. You want him to rest fully against you, to run his hands through your hair, and the thoughts make you close your eyes in hesitation. 

Before you can second guess yourself and this choice, he bites down, and icy pain draws a gasp from your lips as you try to adjust to the sensation. It’s more unpleasant than your wrist, to be sure, but under this pain is a different sensation - brought on by the feeling of his tongue lapping at your neck, suckling at your lifeblood with combined tenderness and desperation. 

You don’t expect it to light a fire in your belly, your breath hitching as his body draws closer over yours. It’s only been a second, but it feels like your whole body rewrites what you know as normal as he drinks from you. 

A quiet moan escapes your lips at the feeling of him sinking onto you, a distinct hardness pressing into the gap between your thighs as he writhes against you. You’re more than familiar with how the sudden rush of energy and blood usually arouses all parts of him, but feeling it against you, against your heat, is entirely new. He whimpers in turn, his hips rolling into yours, and then you can hear his voice echoing through your mind. 

“Are you still alright, sweet bird?” He asks through your shared tadpole connection, and all you can do was whimper in delight at the pet name and the purr of his voice caressing your thoughts. 

The world feels fuzzy and warm as he drinks, like you indulged in too much wine before bed, and after what feels like not enough time at all, he pulls himself off. Or rather, he pulls away from your neck, but his body remains against yours, hard and panting. 

You meet his ruby eyes, both of your expressions hazy and wild. He rubs the mess of red away with the back of one hand, keeping himself above you while resting on the forearm of the other. Some part of you is sad to see the red go, to see that sight of you on him swept away. 

“Darling? Are you alright?” His question is little more than a whisper against your lips, he hovers so close. You could feel his cold hands softly twist in your hair, as if to bring your focus back to him, back to your body, as you reorient from the bloodloss.

“I’m fine,” but your eyes don’t leave his, even as they grow hazy with sleep and bloodloss, your body suddenly desperate for rest. But without thinking, you reach up - tangling your hands in his mess of silver hair - and tug him down into a kiss. 

It’s slow at first, surprise causing him to tense for just a moment, and then he opens for you. His mouth crashing upon yours, the hardness between his legs digging into you as you fumble for more of each other, tongues dancing. The sluggish hum in your bones that’s familiar after his feedings seems to heighten the sensations of pleasure that course through you, your hands quickly moving to his sides, his back, his neck.

Before you might beg for more, he pauses and pulls away, scanning your eyes as he does.

Astarion sits up, and your body goes cold as he does - despite the fire just outside and the blankets that you were tangled in. “I’m sorry - I didn’t expect, well, to enjoy that quite so thoroughly.” He gestured with one hand to his body as he moved to stand, and your eyes fell to the obvious erection in his pants. “You were absolutely delicious.”

There are no words for what you see, the want that you feel crest within you like a tidal wave at the sight of him - of how he wants you. And you’d never seen someone so hard before…Gods…you’re speechless at the sight. 

You pinch your lips into a fine line but can’t stop the smile that you know comes upon your face as you look back up to his, meeting his eyes as he winks. Your face is hot, your body feels hot - you feel unhinged by the overwhelming desire that aches for him.

“We didn’t have to - I mean,” you try to find the right words, the ones that would make him stay with you for the evening. “You don’t have to go.”

“I was trying to be polite, innocent little bird,” he raises an eyebrow in surprise, studying you again. You sit up, leaning back on your hands as you ignore the urge to correct your sleepshirt, well aware that one breast is nearly exposed from how it now hangs. “But look at you, such a pretty mess.”

“I want you,” you hear yourself say, shocked at the bold admission. You’ve been holding back the truth of how badly you want him, but with the way his body reacted to yours, maybe it isn’t as big a long shot as you’d been telling yourself… “I’ve wanted you for a long time. I want you to stay.”

“Oh you wicked little thing,” Astarion grins, “I noticed how you pant and writhe when I’m lost in your blood. But I had no idea how desperately you desired me.”

“Well, then stay. Stay and fuck me, Astarion.”

“I do love a woman who knows what she wants,” and with a swift, fluid motion, he tugs his shirt over his shoulders and his perfect chest is bared for you. You smile and lean back, tugging him against you as you do - propriety be damned. 

His mouth meets yours again in another chaotic, crashing kiss that tears a moan from you as his fingers go to the buttons of your sleepshirt. It falls from your shoulders and goosebumps dance up your arms at the contact of his cold skin on yours and the way your arousal grows more insistent with every swipe of his tongue against yours. 

He pulls back, scanning your face for just a moment, and you can’t help the mewling “Please” that escapes your lips, desperation evident in every word. You need more of him, and after waiting for weeks, you’re ready for him to give you everything. 

Astarion gives a wicked grin at the sound of your begging, but his mouth only moves low enough to take a single nipple in his mouth. He rolls his tongue around the hardened peak, before latching around it and sucking deeply. 

He shimmies your panties down with his next movement and holds up your hips, sliding his tongue up the length of your sex while one arm keeps your legs above him. You can’t help but groan at the delicious feeling of his mouth finally meeting your waiting, swollen bud, and quickly have to rest your legs on his shoulders to keep from bucking wildly at the intensity of the pleasure he offers you. 

And Gods, but he devours you, lewd noises filling your small excuse for a tent as his tongue laps at your soaking cunt. The pleasure behind your eyes burns white hot as he slips his tongue inside you, his nose against your clit moving in time with each shallow thrust. He groans with each pulsing clench of your body around him and your hands tangle in the blanket below you as you grasp for anything that might ground you in this moment.

Before you get too close to your peak, he briefly sets your hips down and moves to slip his cock out of his pants. He palms his length with one hand, hissing as he tightly pumps himself, and then slips the other back inside you. Astarion moves low, adjusting his body in a single smooth movement and then he’s before you once more, licking up until he pulls your pulsing, waiting clit into his mouth and sucking. Massaging your inner walls while he holds your pleasure between his lips and rolls his tongue until you’re bucking against his mouth. 

You go over the edge, dissolving into waves of pleasure with his name crashing from your lips in a keening moan and feel the way his mouth turns up into a smile as you clench around his fingers, but his mouth stays in place until your body stills around him. 

“You taste so sweet when you cum,” He moves up to kiss you and you sigh against his lips.

“Hells,” you breathe when he pulls away, trying to catch your breath as the hum of release dances through your body, but Astarion has no interest in letting you rest. 

“Now, let’s go for one more,” he starts, lining his cock up with your entrance and then sliding it against your slit, wetting his length with your arousal. He presses into you a moment later and you gasp at the sensation, at the way he stretches you to fit all of him, and his next words are enough to nearly shatter you again. 

“This time, I want you to come around my cock, my sweet, little bird.”

He doesn’t wait another moment before withdrawing then burying himself to the hilt, his moan echoing your gasp at how full you feel once he’s inside you. His rhythm is so desperate and  slow and deep that you’re quickly lost in every punishing hit of his body meeting yours. 

You can’t muffle your pleading moans as you beg for more of him, for the pleasure he offers and he shifts, putting one leg on his shoulder once more so he can take you even deeper. He’s bent over you and staring into your eyes as he ruts, smiling and purring as he watches you come closer and closer to breaking. 

“Yes, that’s…so good,” he groans, “...doing so good for me little bird.”

His nickname for you, in this context, feels like lightning dancing through your skin and igniting in that aching place where your bodies meet. He kisses you deeply, moans exchanged in the space where your tongues dance, and then he pulls away quickly, his voice gruff as he demands, “Turn over, sweet thing.”

You do as you're told, flipping onto your stomach, and before you might shift to be on hands and knees, you feel his strong hands kneading the muscle of your ass, his cock lining up with your entrance once more. Astarion angles your hips up for him and slides back inside with a delicious, deep groan

“Wanna feel you - uhnnn, Gods, bird - come around my cock,” he moans, his rhythm growing erratic as you both approach the peak for your pleasure together. “Be a good girl for me, be - please - fuck, you feel so good -”

With deep push inside you, his cock finds a spot that has your eyes rolling back and your body soaking him in your arousal, his praise continuing until you do as he asks again. He brings you closer and closer to the edge with every perfect stroke, his hips meeting your ass and balls hitting your clit with every punishing thrust.

Your climax crashes through you this time, pulsing and clenching and begging for more and more of him. You see white and stars as you pant and cry through 

“Fill me,” you beg, finding your voice as the aftershocks of your orgasm leave your cunt fluttering around him. He fucks into you with absolute abandon now, desperate for his own release. “Please Astarion, come for me. I want to feel you fill me, please, please -”

“Gods above - fuck - oh, oh, fuck - ” he groans and slows as he spends himself within you, continuing to roll his hips into you with every pulse of his cock emptying within you. 

When he stills with you, neither of you move for a moment as you catch your breath. The scent of sex fills the air and you’re sure you should be bothered by how loud you were, how your companions have undoubtedly heard you both, but you don’t care. 

His cold chest presses into your back and you’re surprised when he dots cold kisses across your shoulder blade and then turns your cheek toward him, pressing a kiss there as well with a soft hum. 

“You have a lovely singing voice, my pretty bird,” he croons into the curve of your neck, continuing to pepper your neck, back and shoulders with kisses. “I hope you don’t mind, but I think I’d like an encore.”

When he moves off your back again, raising your hips til you feel his tongue licking at the spend he’s left within you, you cry a moan of delicious agony, and start to sing for him again. 

#astarion #astarion x you #astarion x afab reader #astarion x reader #bg3 fanfiction #astarion x female reader #astarion x female tav #astarion smut #hagfics

[fengxun]

HEART SHAKER! – YONE X READER

Yone usually regrets saying yes to what Kayn or Ezreal rope him in, but this time around, he doesn’t regret it at all.

CONTENT.⠀Idol AU. Gender-neutral reader. Tooth-rotting fluff, first dates, hopeful ending because Yone deserves happiness. Requested by @fictionfordays. Hope you enjoy! ~1.3k words

CROSS-POSTED ON AO3 / @angelshub @bitchcraftinc

Yone thinks he’s too old to be putting up with whatever shenanigans Kayn and Ezreal keep pulling him into.

Between promotions, interviews, production, and taking care of the group, he’s dedicated the majority of his time to being responsible and ensuring everything is in tip-top shape. He’s not unfamiliar with having responsibility be the key pillar in his life. Since he was a child, he took it upon himself to be someone his younger brother could look up to. He did everything he could to help his parents, working himself to the bone to ensure his family’s comfort. Not much has changed even when he’s become an idol.

Despite his weariness on some days, he can’t deny that he’s grown fond of his fellow members. He’ll put up with Aphelios’ pranks, Kayn’s ‘forgetfulness’ in doing his chores, Ezreal’s little jokes, and whatever else his life in HEARTSTEEL brings him. He supposes it’s why he found himself saying yes to Ezreal’s idea of a blind date.

Indulging in a silly idea once is harmless, he thinks. Maybe if he just went along, it’ll sate Ezreal enough to leave him be for a while. As happy (well, not really) as he is to indulge in his friend’s antics, he’d also prefer it if Ezreal didn’t bring up the idea every other day. And even if this is just to keep his all-too-enthusiastic friend at bay, he’s also not one to do things halfheartedly. For the first time since his audition, Yone is somewhat nervous.

Meeting new people isn’t all too familiar. He always greets his seniors, juniors, staff, or anyone he may come across on the job. But this isn’t a job, it’s something meant to potentially spark romance in his life which is far from professional. He hasn’t even been on a regular date. He’s well aware of what it usually entails, but he’s never actively sought out this sort of thing. He hopes whoever his date will be won’t feel too disappointed if he doesn’t catch their interest. He knows they’re Ezreal’s friend, but that doesn’t quite narrow it down.

He fiddles with his face mask (for safety measures, really) as he waits for his date at the table. Thanks to Kayn, the street where the restaurant is located is completely silent save for its employees and the occasional unknowing passer-by. He’s not sure what Kayn did—in fact, he’s not even going to ask—but if it means not having to stress as much about paparazzi and overly eager fans, he’s not going to pass up the opportunity. 

“Gosh, sorry I’m late—Yone?”

Said man looks up from his drink with wide eyes, surprised to see that you’re standing right in front of him. Or, more accurately, one of Ezreal’s best friends, and the fact that both of you are surprised means that the guy’s got more talent for discretion than he let on.

“Did Ezreal put you up to this?” you ask with an amused lilt, taking a seat in front of him. He nods quietly. “Hm. So that’s why he’s been so suspicious lately. Seraphine just told me she wanted me to meet a friend, but well… I didn’t think it’d be you.”

“Are you disappointed?” Yone blurts out.

The corners of your lips curl into a small smile. “No, of course not. I’m pretty happy about it, actually. But what brings you here?”

He doesn’t know you that well, he realises. While you’re always there for the group dinners or parties, he’s never had a proper conversation with you aside from simple hellos here and there. He’s not too familiar with the warmth rising in his cheeks either, but if he has to guess, it definitely has something to do with the way you’re looking at him.

“Ah, well…” He’s not sure if he should say the truth. He’s aloof, yes, but he’s not insensitive. “Ezreal thought I should try something new.”

“Hey, that makes both of us! By the way, I have the same Poro keychain! They’re really cute, aren’t they?”

He feels relieved that you seem to be carrying the conversation just fine even if he doesn’t think he’s great at it. Usually, the extroverts of HEARTSTEEL are responsible for answering interview questions. Yone’s there for the more professional and practical side of things, like speaking to other producers or the company president. As you start to talk about your day, he listens to every word and finds himself getting lost in how much he likes being in your presence. You’re more animated than he is and you still ask about his day even when he doesn’t believe it’s as interesting as yours.

He really likes that about you, he concludes.

“I forgot to mention this, but isn’t this district usually full of people? Why’s it so quiet today?” Your curious expression practically has him melting at how adorable you look. He prides himself on keeping his composure, but your presence alone is making him doubt his ability to be calm.

Yone is never nervous. The only other time he’s felt that way was when he first stepped through the company doors as a trainee. But the longer he sits here with you, his heart races and it’s getting harder to focus when you’re undoubtedly quite a perfect match for him.

(Damn that kid and his ‘super senses.’)

He clears his throat. “Kayn’s responsible for it.”

Perfect . He zoned out thinking about you when you’re right in front of him and he completely forgot to answer your question. Lucky enough, you don’t seem to mind.

“I’m… not sure I want to know the details.”

“It’s fine. I didn’t ask, either.” He chuckles. “I think it’s better not to.”

Your laughter rings beautifully like every song he’s ever loved. Everything feels new, and his thoughts are running a mile a minute, but he thinks he wants to take this jump into spontaneity and adventure with you.

“It’s getting late… I should head back. Gotta be on set early tomorrow.”

“Could we do this again?”

Your features soften into a teasing smile. “You like me already, don’t you?”

“Well, yes—”

“Of course, we can do this again,” you say gently, “I like you too, Yone. You don’t have to be so nervous around me.”

You reach over the table to take his hand in yours and he damn near short circuits at how your hand fits in so perfectly with his. He can barely process the coy glint in your eyes from how flustered he feels.

“I’ll walk you back.”

“Oh, a gentleman!” you chirp, “Now I wish I’d spoken to you sooner.”

The walk to the train station is too short for his liking. He’d really like to spend the rest of the night with you, but you still have things to do and Yone can’t be away for too long lest something happens in the dorm. As if you could sense him sulking, you gently tug on his sleeve and urge him to look at you. Before he can ask, you’re already leaning up to press a chaste kiss on his cheek, an action that has his eyes widening and his heart racing once again.

“I’ll see you again, Yone.”

His face feels like it’s burning as he watches you skip and disappear into the crowd. How can a single person reduce him to such a state so effortlessly? Still, he can’t help but look forward to the next time he’ll get to spend time with you again. He thinks you’re going to be quite the presence in his life and he’s more than happy to let that happen. 

Yone usually regrets saying yes to what Kayn or Ezreal rope him in, but this time around, he doesn’t regret it at all. He couldn’t wait to see you again. Maybe without his friends meddling in this time, but he supposes he does have them to thank for leading him to you.

Plus, he still needs to get your number.

#yone x reader #heartsteel yone x reader #heartsteel x reader #league of legends x reader #all #bitchcraftinc #angelshubnetwork

[dark-and-kawaii]

𝓪 𝓯𝓾𝓷 𝓵𝓲𝓽𝓽𝓵𝓮 𝓲𝓭𝓮𝓪: Tav/Reader has a child and Halsin hopes it’s his and not Astarion’s.

𝓝𝓸𝓽𝓮𝓼: I’ve had this thought for a while now and decided I’d post it, I do apologize if it’s crappy due to not writing in a long while… HOWEVER, enjoy it the best that you can loves 💕

𝓟𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰: Astarion x Tav/Reader, Jealous Halsin??

The Swiping your hair out of your face, Halsin watches you sleep soundly. He can see the sleeping child nestled in your arms, a handsome boy, while Halsins lingering fingers on the top of her head, he smiles. Surely this has to be his child, you had bedded him a few too many times for it not to be his child… His smile drops at the thought of it not being his, his heart shattering all over again. It feels as if someone reached into his chest to tug at his heart…

Sliding his fingers down from your head to where the child sleeps soundly, Halsin pulls back the red velvet blanket that hides most of the child’s features. Ah, and to his dismay he sees pale skin and features that could only belong to Astarion.

“He is my child, and it always will be my child.”

Scrunching his face, Astarion stares at the much larger elf that’s standing all too close to what is his.

“You need to leave this room, druid. She does not belong to you, nor does the child. She belongs to me, and so does the boy.”

Astarion always had a knack for rubbing salt in the wound, why couldn’t he have just disappeared in the underdark like the rest of those spawn?

Clenching his fist next to you, Halsin unclassps his fist and strokes your face one last time before turning to Astarion, “She does not belong to anyone, you do not own her. Tav is free to do whatever she chooses, and I’m for certain she wouldn’t mind my presence.”

Astarion laughs while kicking himself off the wall which he was leaning on, striding up to the wood elf, “She may not mind, but I do.” Standing as tall as he could in front of Halsin, Astarion stands his ground, “I’ll admit it we all had some fun in the past, but that’s over so do not test my patience. I’ve done unthinkable things to ensure the safety of my child and her.” Halsin’s insight is as keen as ever, looking into the pale elf’s eyes he can see that Astarion is lying, he never truly enjoyed Halsins company… At least, not when it involved you.

Halsin scoffs, “To ensure their safety? Or to ensure yourself that no one takes them away from you? Are you that self-conscious?”

Astarion’s face twists with annoyance, “Excuse me?! What did you just say?!”

Halsin can only smirk at Astarion’s newfound expression, “Unlike you, I’ve actually been at her side protecting her. I’ve seen the horrors she’s gone through, and I’ve been there each time to defend her and aid her in battles. Not to use her as some kind of shield like you did.”

“You wretched-“ Reaching for the dagger that sits comfortably on his belt, Astarion grips the blade's hilt, ready to spill blood.

As Halsins eyes glow like the golden sun he’s prepared to change and defend himself while Astarions veins pop from his hands due to clenching his dagger's hilt. They are ready for what is to come next; however the infant cradled in your arms stops them before any blood could be spilled.

Your son’s wailing is what breaks the tension, his arms reaching into the air looking for someone to cling to. Both men cease their actions, Astarion the first to fix himself so he can go to his son.

Reaching for his child, he makes sure not to disturb you while lifting his pale son, holding him close to his chest. It doesn’t take clear eyes to see that Astarion is still weary of holding such a fragile creature, however it sinks into Halsin that he was wrong to come here and disturb the couple's happy life. He had grown fond of you and deep down was hoping you’d share his forest with him along with a child of his own. This right now though, isn’t like him, it’s time he heads back with the orphans and those in need.

“Astarion, forgive my actions, for I do not know what overcame me. It was wrong of me to come here.”

The high elf’s facial expressions cause creases in his perfect skin, “Forgiven. Now just go.”

Nodding, Halsin takes his leave but not before he’s able to witness the infant tug on Astarions curls as a distressed Astarion cries out.

- 𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓚𝓲𝔀𝓲

#astarion #bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion x female reader #astarion romance #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate #astarion bg3 #halsin #halsin x tav #bg3 astarion #halsin x reader #bg3 x reader #astarion baldurs gate #astarion brainrot #baldur's gate 3 #halsin bg3 #halsin baldur's gate 3 #dad astarion #baldurs gate x reader #gaming #baldurs gate tav #tav #tav x astarion #tav x halsin

[zwhoreo]

IM SO HAPPY TO HAVE FOUND AN X READER BLOG SPECIFICALLY FOR LUFFY hes my biggest comfort character and i never see a lot of ppl writing good content for him, so tysm ; v ; have u ever considered writing something about reader reacting to hancock’s fixation on luffy??? or like meeting her and how reader would react + how luffy would react in an au setting of having a girlfriend???!!! (•̀ᴗ•́)و ̑̑

you’re sooo sweet :’) I love writing for him sm I’m so glad I can be there for that <333

we’ll see how I did with this… hancock is a very important character to me and I haaate when luffy x readers villainize her. so I tried my best to be respectful in this fic and try something kinda different…

meeting boa hancock - luffy x f!reader

angsty fluff… mostly centered around you and hancock

summary: when you and luffy need to fight by hancock’s side in battle, you’re terrified of what might happen if she finds out you two are together. But, as you soon discover, you can find friendship in the most unlikely places.

words: 2.5k

________________________

Your wrist is sprained. It’s not your hand you use to wield your cutlass, thankfully, but the pain is hard on you, you’re ashamed at your inability to deal with pain, in comparison to your crewmates who sacrifice so much. You can’t climb sheer cliffs or take swords to the chest. Your body is weak, you fear, you don’t think you could handle taking on a crewmate’s pain, although you like to think you would try, because you’d risk your life for them. Right now you can barely handle a sprained wrist, made worse by the humiliation of a capture by the Black Dove Pirates, when your loving boyfriend had to battle to save you.

The Black Doves are led by, well, Black Dove, a horrific man with a mysterious zoan-type devil fruit giving him the abilities of a kraken, massive, lethal tentacles capable of sinking ships. Restraining himself from a passionate fight, Luffy’s top priority was getting you to safety, you and your sprained wrist, you had tried to fight, after all.

But now the Black Doves have declared war, leaving you and the crew terrified of an unmatched battle with the notorious pirates and their mythical captain. But Luffy had a friend to call, a powerful friend, someone he told you was someone you could count on, that you had nothing to worry about now.

Boa Hancock.

You knew of her, of course, and you were thankful for the surprising alliance, until you remembered what Luffy had said, when he said it far too casually, that Hancock wanted to marry him.

You’re overcome with anxiety at not only the imminent battle with the Black Doves, but at the thought that you were in danger from all sides, the wrath Hancock would bring down on you if she ever found out you and Luffy were together.

In the heat of battle Luffy has often held your hand and given you angry kisses when he can. It’s a comfort for him, it gives him strength and motivation, it reassures him that you’re safe in his arms. He calls you pet names and hugs you and always makes sure he knows where you are, making sure you’re ok. But he can’t this time. You plead and beg him not to even though he doesn’t seem to understand why, really. He’s disappointed, but you assure him that before and afterward you’d get a special night together to make up for the stolen closeness.

_______________________

The rest of the crew are set to battle the titanic kraken guarding the gates of Dove’s hellish mountain island domain. A sneak attack is your only option but they didn’t make this easy. It would be you and Hancock against the top men of the crew, and Luffy would battle Dove. You aren’t confident in your abilities, you wonder why you’re here alongside two of the most powerful people of the seas, but Luffy wants you close, maybe. And he thinks this fight will be no problem, even though you tell him you have a sprained wrist and you’ll just drag everyone down.

And as soon as she sees you, the instant your eyes meet, Hancock despises you. Her gaze is deadly and cold, and even though you try to put distance between you and Luffy your very existence triggers pangs of jealousy within the empress.

Luffy, although largely oblivious to why, can sense the tension and he hates it. He wants you all to be friends, be a team. When you and Hancock stand in silence, staring at each other on the rocky shore, he complains, “c’mon! Lessgo!” with anxiety in his voice. And he holds both of your hands and pulls you two along behind him, making you and Hancock both blush, Hancock is transported to another more comforting world in that moment but you are so wracked with nerves that every sense around you becomes overwhelming and far too much.

You look at Luffy with begging eyes when he squeezes your hand and not Hancock’s, although she doesn’t seem to notice.

The three of you run up the jagged black-stone path into a bombed-out looking castle, you gingerly survey the landscape as crew members lay drunk on whiskey, passed out and unbothered by lightning flickering overhead. You came at the perfect time.

Before running off to find Dove, Luffy is about to lean in for a kiss when you dodge and shoot him a look. Which immediately makes you sad, because Luffy looks upset when he turns his back and heads off into a brutal fight that awaits him. It’s your biggest fear that you’ll lose him, made worse by imagining your last interaction as one of sadness, but you feel Hancock’s malicious eyes on you and there’s nothing you can do.

You hear a shout, suddenly, echoing through the ruins. A crew member has heard you, an axe wielding menace with glassy white eyes. Hancock whips her head around and immediately tries to turn him to stone, but the man is blind, you both realize. It’s no use.

“I’ll take him, just go!” you shout at her, the first real words you’ve said. And Hancock glowers at you and focuses her attention elsewhere, because the crew has been alerted. And Dove has risen, you see, coming face-to-face with Luffy and towering above him at what seems like at least twelve feet. Black tentacles begin forming from his massive, muscular frame and an evil smirk spreads across his face.

Your heart leaps into your throat for Luffy’s safety but you have other things to worry about. The axe wielding monster swings at you and you manage to dodge, drawing your cutlass. It’s a harsh and desperate battle, your movements still clouded by worry which makes the throbbing in your wrist worse, but it’s when you lead the sightless beast to a precipice that you trick him and let him fall to his death on the rocks far below. You’ve slayed your first Black Dove pirate, but there’s many more and you need to dive head first into war.

You’re amazed by Hancock, really. At a snap of her hands half an army turns to stone. Her control of haki is like nothing you’ve seen before, her sharp, quick intelligence adjusting at a moment’s notice to other forms of attack. She does all of this in heels, in a graceful dress, beautiful raven hair flying in the wind as she fights with all her heart. You find yourself envying her, her jealousy over you nearly matched by your own.

But she still kicks crew members out of her way and towards you with no real regard for your safety. She still hates you, just for being a woman on Luffy’s crew. Even though you’d done nothing wrong.

Despite Luffy’s best efforts, he’s smashed into the sharp stone by a tentacle and struggles to stand again, groaning and coughing. Dove sees his crew in danger and wants to make quick work of the two women disturbing the peace on his island.

There is too much evil in his heart for Hancock to turn him to stone. And his tentacles are too fast for her, she’s cornered, now, on a cliff and Dove is going to knock her into the ocean. At the speed of light the inky tentacles come, taking advantage of Hancock’s momentary stillness in her sinking terror and desperation, and how she sees Luffy on the ground and screams in worry and is distracted for a precious instant. But before she’s sent falling to her death, she’s knocked from the side, slammed onto the ground and tumbling, held in your arms, down an incline and into the remnants of a turret. Dove can’t reach you from here, giving Luffy enough time to resume his fight.

You had grabbed Hancock and pushed her desperately to safety, you had saved her, and now you both lie there in the dark on the dirty stone floor, all bruises and ripped clothes.

Your head rests on her chest, neither of you have caught your breath enough to get up. And from here you can hear her heart pounding furiously in your ear, she’s scared and curled in on herself.

You roll off of her, slowly sitting up, looking over at her as she rests sprawled on the ground.

She feels your eyes on her and sits up, face contorted with warring emotions. Her lips are set in a firm scowl. She’s staring at you but you see past the malice and now she looks like a scared animal desperate to survive.

“Are you ok?” you say gently, reaching for her hand.

She yanks it away from yours and scoots back against the wall. “Yes! I’m fine…” she hisses defensively.

But she’s clutching her wrist. And she may have just hurriedly wiped tears out of her eyes.

Before you can say anything else, she leaps up and runs to a window, scanning the battlefield for Luffy. Her hands grip the cold brick. She’s shaking slightly.

“Are you worried about him?” you ask quietly, standing up and walking towards her slowly.

“Where is he?” Her voice is quiet now. Images of Luffy’s battered body flash in her mind and you can see the same sickness within her that you feel, a worry over someone you love so deeply. The jealousy and fear of her leaves your mind and is replaced by one thought alone.

Poor girl.

“He’s going to be ok, I promise.” You place a hand on her shoulder making her flinch, but she doesn’t pull away this time.

She doesn’t say anything. But she’s still scared.

So you say, “hey, princess, I’m scared too. But… all we can do is hope and keep ourselves safe now, right? We did what we could. We brought down an army for him.”

She pauses again, head down. Until she murmurs, “…Hancock.” Another pause. “You can call me Hancock.”

You smile. You sit again and she follows your lead. “You really love him, huh?”

“…Yes. Of course I do.” A tiny tear forms in her eye again, even though her voice is still hard and cold. “…Sometimes I don’t understand how anyone can’t be.”

So you think very carefully for a moment, before telling her, “I understand. He’s the kindest person I’ve ever met, he’s…”

“He’s perfect.”

“Yeah, that.”

And even though jealousy still blooms in her icy heart, Hancock feels herself soften. She doesn’t feel like sustaining her mirage anymore right now. The fear and the tears and the confusing comradery chipping away at her evil façade and now she’s just so, so tired all of a sudden. “[Name,] right?” she says under her breath.

“Yeah.”

“You really think he’ll be ok?”

“He always is.” And without Zoro or Nami there to reprimand you about trust, you take up the role instead, squeezing Hancock’s shoulder and saying, “have faith in him. Worrying’s not gonna help any of us right now.”

She nods, tightening her lips. And then, all of a sudden, she bursts into tears and hugs her knees to her chest, hair falling over her face.

“Hey, Hancock!” You slide closer to her. “Please don’t cry, he’s going to be safe…”

“No!” she hisses, gritting her teeth, “I… I don’t know where Salome is. I want Salome. Everything’s falling apart!”

“…Salome?”

“My snake!” she cries, sniffing and wiping her nose.

“Don’t worry about that either, ok? I’m sure she’s alright, it’s all gonna be over soon… just don’t cry…”

And now here’s something you weren’t prepared for, Hancock leans her head against your shoulder. Her sobbing quiets. She grows still. You smile, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“It’s gonna be ok,” you whisper again, “hey, can I see your wrist?”

And she places her hand in yours. You lift her pale, slender wrist and notice swelling just beneath the palm. You recognize this, you know it well.

You start to laugh, and her stare grows a little icy again. “What?” she snaps.

“You sprained your wrist. Here, look…” You raise yours next to hers. Your swelling parallels each other, you’re even more alike, now. You’re matching.

“We’re matching. I sprained mine too.”

She smiles. This is the first time you’ve made her smile. She even laughs a little, very lightly, her heart feels like it’s being squeezed, but by a warm hand, not by a cold claw.

You sit with her, and talk sometimes, until you hear Luffy calling your names. Hancock stands up and dashes out of the turret, running to find him, and he stands proudly although his body is weakened. Dove has fallen. You’re all ok. Hancock hugs Luffy and then hugs Salome, who is curled beside him. She looks happy, which makes you happy, too.

And then Luffy pulls you into a hug. You don’t care anymore, you just want to hug him, and Hancock got a hug so you get one too. You squeeze Luffy so tightly and you don’t want to let go, his warmth and scent soothing your body, his strong arms wrapped around you and his hands rubbing your back. You’re very nervous he’s going to try to kiss you but he doesn’t, like he promised, he knows he’ll have time for all of that later.

The kraken is gone and everyone is waiting for you at the bay. Hancock is tearful when she has to part with Luffy and, strangely, she is for you too.

“Come to me whenever you need! I’ll always be there for you!” she promises Luffy, her voice going up an octave when she talks to him. And then, before she leaves for her ship, she turns to you. “[Name…] I hope we’ll meet again.” Her smile is gentle, but very real.

“Me too!” You call out to her, following Luffy away, back to the Sunny, amazed at the events of the day, full of happiness and relief and still a slight stinging from your wrist but love can heal almost anything, at least a little bit.

And maybe deep in her heart, Hancock knows. The way you and Luffy look at each other, your soft voices, the way he walks close to you and how it seems like he’s always ready to lean in for a hug. It pulls at the back of her mind. A sting of pain. But she’s good at pushing these things away.

She’s just so happy that she made a friend today.

#luffy x reader #luffy #one piece #one piece x reader #one piece fanfiction #boa hancock #luffy x reader angst

[crystallinestars]

Kissing Headcanons Part 5 (Baizhu, Thoma, Albedo, Scaramouche)

Previous parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 6, 7

(Reader's gender is not mentioned)

Baizhu’s health prevents him from indulging in heated make outs with you. He wants to please you, but whenever the two of you get lost in the kiss until your breaths run short, Baizhu erupts into coughing fits. He doesn’t want to ruin the mood with his coughs, so he opts for short and sweet pecks instead. He smiles softly at you when he presses his lips to yours in a tender kiss, accompanied by Changsheng’s disgusted noises telling the two of you to get a room. Baizhu frequently chides her for her rude commentary, but in truth Changsheng is happy that Baizhu found someone as wonderful as you to call his lover. The Liyuan doctor could use more support in his life, and she’s happy that you give him some much-needed company.

Baizhu’s favorite places to kiss you are your forehead and wrist. He’s a doctor so he can’t help but press his lips against your forehead or wrist to discreetly check on your health. He takes note of your body temperature, pulse, and skin condition, feeling relieved when he finds them to be normal, or chiding you to get more sleep and eat healthier if he finds anything amiss. Baizhu knows you’ll just tell him to stop worrying if he asks to do a checkup on you unprompted, but he can’t, which is why he resorts to using affectionate actions to disguise his intentions. However, he genuinely does want to show you his love with kisses and affection. Doing minor health checkups on you is just another form of his love and care towards you. You’re very dear to him, which is why he wants to make sure you’re healthy, especially if he has the capacity to help you.

In terms of receiving kisses, Baizhu really enjoys it when you kiss his temples or cheeks. Just simple, short pecks are enough to make him feel loved and cherished by you. As a doctor, Baizhu is always taking care of patients and oftentimes stretches himself thin to cure their ailments, so having someone show care towards him in exchange is a pleasant surprise. It makes his heart swell with warmth whenever you kiss his face, a tender smile pulling at his lips as he enjoys receiving your care.

--------------------

Thoma’s kisses are very loving. He is affectionate by nature and expresses his love for those close to him on a regular basis, but he has an especially large amount of love to give you, his lover. He really enjoys kissing you anywhere on your face, but if he had to choose, he’d say your lips are his favorite place to kiss because he feels the most connected to you that way.

When kissing, Thoma likes to cradle your face in his warm palms, gently angling your head into the most comfortable position for whatever type of kiss the two of you are sharing. Thoma’s kisses are more on the chaste side, but they always fill you with so much warmth and comfort because without him even having to say it, you can feel how much love he feels for you through his kisses. The protective way his arms wrap around you, the tender and gentle manner in which he caresses your face, the loving smile and gaze he directs your way— they all say I’m here, you’re safe with me. And you truly do feel your worries and anxieties melt away each time Thoma kisses you. You can’t quite explain it, but the sensation of safety and support he gives you with his touch is enough to make you believe that everything truly will be alright.

Despite his innocent, golden retriever-like demeanor, Thoma absolutely can share more heated and passionate kisses with you, especially when he’s feeling frisky. During such times, the retainer likes to swipe his tongue against your lips before slipping it inside your mouth. He’s unexpectedly really good at French kissing, knowing all the right ways in intertwining your tongues together in the most pleasurable manner, only parting once you’re both short on breath, with a string of saliva joining your mouths together. Even so, Thoma still defaults to sweet and loving kisses because he wants to make you feel safe and loved in his presence. He aims to give you at least two such kisses per day—once in the morning and a second time before bed when his retainer duties at the Kamisato Estate are finished. Sharing kisses with you always brightens his mood and fills him with the energy and determination he needs to carry out his duties quickly so he can return to your side and see your beautiful smile again.

--------------------

Albedo has read enough books and seen enough couples to know that kissing between lovers is supposed to be an expression of romantic love that happens in the spur of the moment. After he gets into a relationship with you and dates you for a while, Albedo becomes curious to know what kissing feels like.  And who else would be better to test it out with than with his lover?

Though he knows that in theory kissing is supposed to happen when both parties are in the ‘mood’, Albedo takes a more… scientific approach. When the two of you face each other in preparation for said kiss, Albedo’s mind will focus on the little things rather than the big picture. He calculates the angles at which your heads are tilted, the elevation of your lips, the pressure with which the kiss happens, its duration, etc… It’s a proper kiss, but you can’t help but feel like something is lacking. As nice as Albedo’s lips feel, the kiss itself is stiff and bereft of romance. Albedo also feels like this kiss wasn’t as magical as what the romance novels he read described.

Seeing the disappointment on your face, Albedo realizes that he’s missing something. After some reflection, he concludes that the kiss wasn’t as enjoyable for both you and him because he was approaching it as he would an experiment. He simply wanted to give you the best first kiss and thought that getting every aspect of it perfect would please you, but he forgot the most important thing: affection. It’s not enough to simply do the motions, he needed to put his feelings into it too.

With a solution in mind, when Albedo kisses you a second time, the difference is palpable. Gone is the analytical overthinking, replaced by tender touches and warm smiles. Albedo lovingly traces your cheek with the back of his hand while kissing you, and tucks away a strand of your hair behind your ear, whispering a gentle phrase of adoration when he breaks the kiss. It’s a completely different experience that leaves your heart racing and your cheeks warm. Mirth flashes in Albedo’s eyes at seeing you look so awestruck by his different style of kiss, happy that he got it right this time. He teases you about it with an amused smile, pleased to see your cheeks flush in response. From then on, Albedo will abandon his analytical approach to romance and instead focus more on just enjoying the tender moments with you that feel just as enchanting as the romance stories made it out to be.

--------------------

Scaramouche may put up a snarky attitude and indifferent front, but despite his prickly demeanor, his kisses are surprisingly gentle. He may not be the most outwardly affectionate person, but he does genuinely care about you and your wellbeing and doesn’t want to accidentally hurt you by kissing you too aggressively. He’s lost a lot of people he cared about in his life, and he’s scared that if he treats you poorly or hurts you on accident, then you’ll leave him. As such, it takes him a long time to work up the courage to kiss you. You even thought that he wasn’t interested in such intimacy with how he avoided the subject for the longest time, but during a moment when you managed to get his walls to come down and expose his tender heart, Scaramouche is overcome with affection and takes the plunge. He caresses your cheek in his palm before leaning in to gently press his lips to yours, catching you by surprise in the most pleasant way.

His actions speak louder than his words, expressing his true feelings that he doesn’t have the courage to say aloud, but you can feel his love for you through his tender and gentle touch. When Scaramouche pulls away, he looks at you with a rarely seen vulnerability, studying your face with a certain level of seriousness, as if trying to gauge how you felt about the kiss. It meant a lot to him since he essentially fully let you into his heart, something he hasn’t done in hundreds of years because of how painful the other times were. But you are special enough to make him take that risk again. Don’t tease Scaramouche about how serious he looks after your first kiss, he’ll blush and say a snarky remark with a frown on his face, feeling embarrassed by your teasing and will avoid kissing you again for a long time afterwards.

From then on, Scaramouche will stick to giving you gentle and lengthy kisses, enjoying the contact of your lips against his. However, if you stay persistent and provoke him enough (or make him jealous), he will snap and kiss you more aggressively, mashing your lips together in a rough kiss that will leave your lips slightly swollen. He’ll feel a little bad for being so rough with you so expect some indirect aftercare later, but a part of him will secretly feel smug about it. In his opinion, your kiss-swollen lips will signal to others that you’re his, and it’s a very satisfying feeling indeed.  

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #baizhu x reader #thoma x reader #albedo x reader #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #These just keep getting longer and longer. I'll go back and redo part 1

[bruisedboys]

please write for tmr!thomas i beg of you

tmr!thomas x reader | established relationship, fluff and hurt/comfort, 1k words (set in the scorch trials!)

you, thomas and your friends find sanctuary from the scorch with the right arm. unfortunately, they don’t provide any sanctuary from nightmares.

“Are you awake?”

Thomas feels you shift under his arm. You’re curled into his side, arm slung over his chest and thigh pressed to his. He hums.

“Yeah, I’m awake,” he murmurs back. “What’s up?”

He feels your hand glide across his stomach and your fingers curl around his hip. It makes him shiver.

“Nothing,” you hum. “Just thinking.”

Thomas huffs. Typical you, keeping yourself awake for no good reason. “Stop thinking and go to sleep then, sweetheart. You need rest.”

You muffle a giggle in his shirt. It warms his chest all the way through. “You’re mean.”

“And you’re keeping me up,” Thomas says back, only half serious. “Go to sleep.”

Eventually you do as he says. These days Thomas always always has waits for you to fall asleep first before letting himself drift off. It makes him feel better about himself. He does everything in his power to make sure you’re safe and healthy and happy, but it’s hard when you’re on your own in a sick world, running from a government organisation that wants you for your blood.

The Scorch has been unforgiving, but you’ve braved through like you always do, never once complaining, always making sure the rest of the group are okay. Thomas thinks someone as lovely as you doesn’t deserve to live in a world like this. It’s half the reason he’s as determined as he is the find somewhere safe.

Well, you’ve found sanctuary for now, at least, with the Right Arm. You and Thomas are sharing a tent with the rest of the group — Minho, Newt, Frypan — none of whom seem to be willing to seperate from each other, despite the spare tents the Right Arm offers. It speaks volumes about where the real safety net is.

Eventually Thomas falls asleep too. He’s not sure how long he sleeps until he’s woken by you. You don’t mean to wake him, he thinks, but he’s a bad sleeper at the best of times, and he’s got a sixth sense for this kind of thing, anyway.

He blinks his eyes open sluggishly. It’s dark, but the campfire still flickers outside the tent, so he can just make out your figure. You’re sitting up straight, stiff as a board. Panic slices through his heart like a cold knife.

“Y/N?” He murmurs. He finds your thigh under the sleeping bag you’re sharing and braces his hand on it to help him sit up. “Baby, are you okay?”

Thomas’ eyes slowly adjust to the light until he realises, with a pang in his chest, that you’re crying. Thankfully, you don’t seem to be in any immediate danger. Everyone else is still fast asleep, and everything’s quiet outside the tent. Still, he doesn’t like the way your shoulders are shaking.

“Sorry,” you gasp. You’re holding your face in two clammy hands, fingers cruel where you scrub at your tears. “Didn’t mean to wake you. I just—“

“Bad dream?” Thomas asks gently. He can guess well enough. He’s had his fair share, and while he’s not an expert on the human mind or anything, he can see that you’re pretty shaken up.

You nod. Tears splash down your front. “Yeah,” you mumble. “Sorry.”

Thomas frowns at you as he brings his hand to your shoulder.

“Stop apologising,” he says, squeezing you gently. His drags his thumb across your collarbone, soothing. He doesnt want to think about what you’d’ve done if he hadn’t woken up. Would you have suffered all by yourself? The thought alone feels like a bullet to his heart. “It’s okay, babe, really. Can I give you a hug?”

You nod viciously. Thomas makes a pitying sound from deep in his chest and wraps you up in a hug, sliding his hand to the nape of your neck to encourage your head over his shoulder. You’re shaking like a leaf, your cheek damp and warm where it presses to his neck.

“You’re okay,” he murmurs to you. It’s all he can say, really. He can’t tell you it wasn’t real, because the chances that you had dreamed about something very real, and equally horrifying, are high. He strokes your hair, feeling a little useless but a lot sorry. “I’ve got you.”

Somebody stirs across the tent. Thomas watches over your shoulder as that somebody sits up.

“Thomas?” It’s Newt. His voice is raspy with sleep but he sounds concerned. “Is everything okay?”

Thomas feels something akin to a rush of gratitude for his empathetic friend. If anything was ever to happen to Thomas, he at least knows for certain Newt would take care of you.

“Yeah, Newt,” he says. “Everything’s fine. We’re good. Just a nightmare, I’ve got it.”

Newt hums and his lanky figure drops back to the tent floor. Meanwhile you’re sniffling over Thomas’ shoulder, your hands screwed into the back of his shirt.

Thomas can’t be sure if Newt’s still awake, but he doesn’t really care if his friend hears him or not. He’s past being embarrassed about how much he cares for you. Thomas draws back and takes your face in his hands.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks you.

“Not really,” you whisper back. Your anguished tone breaks Thomas’ heart clean in two.

“Okay. That’s alright,” Thomas tells you, as kind as he can when he’s up to his ears with worry. He swipes his thumbs over your cheeks, rubbing away your hot tears. He gives you a reassuring smile. “Do you want some water?”

You nod. Thomas reaches behind him to pull his metal flask from a meagre pile of supplies. He unscrews the lid and encourages the bottle into your hands.

“Here, babe,” he says softly. “It’ll help.”

He steadies your shaking hands with his own and helps you have a few gulps of water. When he returns the bottle to it’s place you’ve calmed significantly. Your cheeks are still damp and sticky but your tears have ebbed, at least.

Thomas smiles at you. He’s sure he looks sick with concern but he tries not to let it show, thumbing your cheek with as much tenderness as he can manage. “Let’s lie down, yeah? C’mon, sweetheart.”

He tugs you down with him. You slump onto his chest and push your hand under his shirt. You’re really warm, but it gives him goosebumps anyway.

“You’re safe with me,” he promises. It’s a promise he doesn’t plan on breaking, ever. He rubs your back. Big, rough sweeps that have you going lax in his arms almost instantaneously. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. I promise.”

-

thank you for reading! please consider reblogging if you enjoyed, and feel free to send more reqs for thomas!

#★ mal writes! #the maze runner #the maze runner x reader #the maze runner x you #the maze runner x y/n #the maze runner x fem!reader #the maze runner fanfiction #the maze runner fanfic #the maze runner imagine #tmr thomas #tmr thomas x reader #tmr thomas x you #tmr thomas x y/n #tmr thomas x fem!reader #tmr thomas imagine #tmr thomas fanfiction #tmr!thomas #tmr!thomas x reader #tmr!thomas x you #dylan o’brien #dylan o’brien x reader #dylan o’brien imagine #dylan o’brien x you #thomas x reader #tmr x reader #tmr x you #tmr x y/n #maze runner #tmr #maze runner x reader

[sickuma]

TULIPS (2) — a König fic.

❱ this 'might' be the last part but we'll see. Since I am working on a König fic on Wattpad :D also I cannot create c.ai bots at the moment since I have like, 4 hours of waiting time smh. this is unedited! errors might be seen please bear with me ! ➴ SYNOPSIS — After taking the hit for him, you wake up without memories of him, nor the incident. He tries desperately to retrieve your memories.

LATIBULE — (n.) a hiding place; a place of safety and comfort.

How did this happen,

How did our memories vanish before your very eyes?

Have I lost them forever?

Have I lost them with you?

Will you find it in you to fall in love with me the second time around?

“Do you remember these, hm? [name]?” He shows you the pictures, holding them out one by one. Each and every photograph you took together, he remembered dreading those but he would always be happy to see your smile each time he agreed,

“You would force me to take one specific picture, to show our future family! We have a lot by now we—we…” he paused, staring at you.

“We had a lot of memories.”

You looked back at him, feeling your headache ever so slightly crack you head while you looked and observed the pictures. Closely looking, trying to find a speck of remembrance, a sign that you remember. Instead you got nothing but the skull crushing headache.

The doctor had released you for a week now, after the dischargement you both had gone back to the base. You took time to get used to everything, since you have your complete memories except for when you’ve joined the KorTac factions,

In your mind, you still think you’re a trainee who volunteered for the military.

Memories after that are as visible as a blur. Not even a blur, they were just gone. It was a trauma response, the doctor says. You could still remember the look on König’s face as the doctor explains. He looked defeated, almost lost.

But ever since then, he hasn't given up.

He would visit your quarters, picking you up for meals at the mess hall, wishing you goodnight for whenever you’d sleep. He didn't miss a single night,

The soldiers had asked him why you were not sleeping in one room, they claimed you both fought really hard to be permitted to do that. König simply responded that you needed space as you are still trying to retrieve the memories he spoke of, you were grateful for that, he’s willing to distance himself,

Of course it pained him, without you beside him he cannot sleep properly.

But for your sake he pulled through, hugging the shirt you left in his quarters. Holding it close to his face every night, taking in your scent, missing the times when you’d be beside him at night, running your hand through his hair as he dozed off.

Right now you’re with him, outside of the base, away from the guns and military equipment. The captain had convinced you to try, to try to remember him. The captain made sure to let you know just how agonizing this is for König, telling you how much he cried and telling you that he’d never seen König act as such.

You felt terrible,

Because of your incapability to remember, he suffered. Yet when he faces you, he's always got this slight smile, always has a glint of adoration in those pretty green eyes of his.

You found yourself fond of it once again,

Again?

“This… I always force you to take these?”

He grinned, nodding eagerly. “Mhm, every month, without fail.” he spoke so proudly of it, you almost felt a sense of pride spring upon your forgetful heart. You nod in response, looking at the pictures once again,

“König?”

He looked back up at you, “hm?”

“I’m sorry.”

His smile fell and he dropped the pictures carefully on the table, sitting closer to you but far enough to not cause any discomfort. “For what, liebling?”

“For this,” you mumbled, avoiding his eyes. “For forgetting.”

“Dont—dont ever feel sorry alright?” he spoke, not being able to control the urge to hold your hands. And so he did, placing his hand on yours soothingly. “It's not your fault, never has and never will. You did that for me, and I’m just—just so happy you're here, and proud of you. So so proud, schatz, that you managed to survive that. You did so well,  my love.” he rubbed the back of your hand using his thumb, looking up at you with nothing but genuine eyes. “I love those memories,” he paused, “but not as much as I love you.”

“So there is no need for sorrys, liebling, we can retrieve your memories but if I lost you that day, there would be any possible way to get you back.” He spoke quietly yet you could hear him very clearly, it is then you realise just how much he loves you. This man is willing to set aside the way you've just forgotten every memory with him, and is glad to still have you here. His only fear was losing you,

Suddenly the headache is gone, replaced by the dawning realisation. “We’ll make new ones okay? New memories, just as we did before.”

Just how could you forget his eyes?

“If you’ll just let me, I know I'm not more than a stranger to you right now but if you'd just let me in your heart again, I'll surely—”

Just how could you ever forget the blossoming emotion of being in his arms?

How could you ever forget that voice of his which lovingly calls for you,

How could you have forgotten the plans to grow— 

“Tulips.” He looked at you with wide eyes. “What did you just—”

“The tulips, König.”

Tears stained his eyes as he sat unable to form a word. He looked at you and only you, letting the emotion surge through his body, letting himself cry for you once again. “We promised to plant the tulips.” Together,

Right König? Our tulips, Just like we promised. In our small house with leaf,

Of course I’ll remember.

#cod #konig #konig imagine #konig fanfiction #konig modern warfare #konig x you #konig x y/n #konig x reader #konig angst #angst #modern warfare #modern warfare two #modern warfare 2 #modern warfare ii #modern warfare x you #konig mw2 #konig headcanons #konig call of duty #cod konig #könig x reader #hurt/comfort #angst with a happy ending #mw2 fanfic #mw2 x reader #cod x reader #mw2 headcanons #mw2 x you #amnesia #könig headcanons #cod mw2

[heliads]

Hi! Hope I’m not too late, could I request a Derek Hale x reader where she (already knowing ab the supernatural) gets tired of Derek constantly disappearing from her life whenever he does that Derek thing until finally she’s fed up with it being the one to disappear this time idk how to end it or go from there but I was thinking of an angsty hurt/comfort with a happy ending🥺! Hope it’s enough, thank you!!

'the one who leaves ' - derek hale

masterlist

The hardest part of both being a werewolf and knowing a werewolf is, and will always be, the horrors. The attacks that never cease, the blood always shed. The second hardest part is the strain of being with someone whose life is always in jeopardy purely because of who they are. Although it doesn’t feel nearly as important as the constant threat of hunters, or the latest monster to decide that Beacon Hills should be its new domain, sometimes you swear the second part hangs even more heavily about your heart than the first. Then again, maybe that’s just because of Derek Hale.

Derek is one of the most complicated players on the supernatural chess board. You met him what feels like a lifetime ago, when one of seemingly dozens of supernatural attacks had threatened the lives of Beacon Hills citizens. Derek had saved your life. A month later, you’d saved him from some hunters. The back-and-forth of life saving went on and on until the two of you decided you were better as friends than people a little too important to each other to be acquaintances, and then the boundaries were shifted again when you started dating.

Sometimes, though, on rough nights after long fights and darker ones when you haven’t seen Derek in weeks and he doesn’t seem all that inclined to answer your texts or voicemails, you start to think that entering into a relationship with you is one of Derek’s biggest regrets. It’s not that he doesn’t care for you; Derek has assured you many times over that his feelings for you are stronger even than his loyalties to his pack, his commitment to killing the hunters responsible for the Hale House fire, yet the problem remains.

Derek is all too familiar with the struggle of having a weakness. When his ancestral home burned down with most of his family trapped inside, he learned for the first time that sometimes a mortal blow capable of destroying his life doesn’t have to threaten him specifically. When he loves someone so much that he prioritizes their safety above his own, Derek creates a weakness that hunters and other supernaturals can exploit. He would never forgive himself if you were hurt as a tool to get to him, so Derek has been doing his best to limit the fallout of any supernatural fight onto you.

However, this only seems to drive the two of you apart. Yes, by not being seen in public as often anymore, Derek lowers the possibility that a hunter would try to kidnap you as a hostage, but it also means that you see him less and less frequently. When you do finally manage to meet up, after thoroughly checking to make sure you haven’t been tailed, and only after dark in one of your houses, you’re both exhausted, wrung dry of the same life and spirit that had brought the two of you together in the first place.

It’s not the same anymore. You hate to admit it, but it’s true. Loving Derek is no longer the beautiful victory it had always been. Instead, you feel as if you’ve lost the war. Derek isn’t yours anymore. If he was, you wouldn’t have to hide what the two of you share, you wouldn’t have to constantly stare at the long list of missed calls on your phone and wonder when he’ll ever pick up, if he even wants to anymore. Derek is doing a great job at keeping you safe, but somewhere along the line, the two of you got your priorities mixed up. Now you’re alone and he’s alive, and you don’t know that you’re any happier about it than you would have been if one of you were lost to the hunters.

At this point, why try? Why even bother with the pretense of maintaining the ruse? The two of you might as well not even be together at all. It doesn’t feel like you are, certainly, when you go so long in between visits. Even when the two of you are finally face to face, Derek is harried and brief, hardly staying longer than a few hours before rushing off again, never to be seen for another few months.

It wears away at you like a river at a stone. Your sharp edges, the ones that pierced through his shell so easily at the beginning of it all, have been smoothed to nothingness. Each of your attempts to break through to Derek and coax him into staying even a little longer are brushed off with simple excuses. It’s like you don’t even exist to him anymore.

Fine. Fine. If you’re not a person to him anymore, he will not be a person to you. You pack up your things and leave Beacon Hills early one morning, only telling Scott McCall and Deaton over at the vet so they can contact you if need be. You don’t say a word about your absence to Derek. Why bother? He’s not even in town, hasn’t been for months. When he comes back– if he attempts to come back at all– he can ask one of his friends and hear the same answer that he would from you right now. There’s no point in wasting either of your time any longer.

You’re still engaged in fighting the good fight against the supernatural. Deaton is a longtime friend of yours, and he’d been hearing rumors of a peculiarity a couple of states over. He couldn’t afford to leave Beacon Hills for an extended period of time, being so important to the town as one of its last defenders, so you offered to go instead. It would be good for you, you said. The trip. Being able to clear your head.

Odds are, Deaton had been able to see through that excuse as he has many of your others all throughout your life, but he had just nodded and said that he was grateful for your help. With that, you left town. You’ve been in Beacon Hills for your entire life, excluding brief excursions in the name of school or work or family trips. Never before have you left like this, not entirely sure if you would ever come back, uncertain that the person you love most of all would be there to want you to return.

At first, the trip feels like a terror. Then you roll down the windows and let the early morning light touch your face with soft, bright fingers; then the breeze cools your face, running over your skin in loose circles; then you start to breathe at last, for the first time in what feels like years. Then you remember that you are still a person worth saving, and maybe even if Derek Hale cannot do that, you can save yourself by leaving.

The miles pass by in moments. You’re long gone by the time anyone starts waking up. Scott knew that you were leaving and told the other teenagers in his pack so they wouldn’t freak out, but he still texts you anyway. Hope you find what you’re looking for.

So do I, you message him back at a red light. Stay safe.

Thanks, he responds, then no more.

You end up in the state of your choice by the middle of the afternoon, booking a room at a hotel so you can have a home base while properly surveying the area. You don’t have a supernatural’s knack for telling when something is wrong, but the hairs on the back of your neck prickle anyway, letting you know that the currents of the wind around this city have a magical edge, a certain element that sets them aside from a normal town. Good. You could use something fantastical and uncommon.

You don’t know when you expect to hear back from Derek. Never, maybe. You had assumed that he wouldn’t try to reach out to you until he got back, which might be anywhere from a few months from now to never. Once he returned to Beacon Hills, Derek could hear from Scott as to why you weren’t there anymore. You and Derek hardly spoke at all anymore, except out of an obligation to make sure you were still alive. He probably wouldn’t care at all.

Yet not a week has gone by before you start getting frantic texts from Derek.

Y/N. You in town?

Why is your house empty?

Scott tells me you left town. Why didn’t you tell me?

Y/N. Please text back. I’m getting worried.

Three missed calls.

Please pick up, sweetheart. I’ll drive over there myself if I have to. Just tell me you’re alive.

You stare at the notifications for a long time, reveling in how they build in intensity, then tap out a message of your own at last:  I’m alive and well.

Derek immediately responds. And you didn’t tell me you were going?

The bright glow of your phone dulls your senses. Nothing feels right, but nothing feels wrong anymore. Loving Derek used to make you feel invincible. Now, you’re just tired, and wishing this exchange would end.

Didn’t think I would have to. You’ve been away for months, and you never tell me when you’re going. Why should I?

Derek doesn’t like that at all. It’s different with me, sweetheart. You know that.

You don’t bother to grace that with a response. Setting your phone on ‘do not disturb,’ you shove the device back in your pocket. It’s good that Derek is unhappy with this turn of events, you decide. For once, he should be the one panicking when he wakes up alone, when he wants to be with the person he loves only for them to disappear without a trace. Why should it be you all the time?

You carry on with your task. As it turns out, the case at hand, the utter unraveling of the supernatural presence in this town, is due to an overactive ancient curse on the town. Deaton talks you through how to shut it down, and once the job is done, you return home, proud of yourself and your accomplishments.

You’re fully expecting Derek to have left town again by the time you got back. He’s been messaging you non stop, but you’ve been leaving most of those messages on ‘unread’ since they all say pretty much the same things:  why wouldn’t you tell me you were going, are you alright, come back ASAP. You message back occasionally to assure him that you’re still alive, but mainly, you think a bit of silence would do the both of you some good.

After arriving back at Beacon Hills, you stop by your house to drop off your belongings before visiting Deaton to debrief. He’s glad to hear of your success, but once both of you have ensured that the town was handled accordingly, he breaks protocol to talk about your personal life instead.

“I think you should talk to Derek Hale,” he says uneasily.

You frown at him. “What?”

Deaton glances around to make sure no customers can overhear you, then continues on. “He’s been a wreck ever since you left. He keeps stopping by the shop to demand information from me. He insisted for a long time that I give him the name of the town you were visiting so he could check on you himself, but I kept it from him because I thought you would need to focus.”

“That was the right call,” you assure him. It would, after all, have been more difficult to juggle both an errant curse and a supremely ticked off boyfriend.

Deaton chuckles good-naturedly. “That was what I had assumed. I would still recommend talking to him, though. These sorts of conflicts are best handled sooner rather than later.”

You nod your agreement, and, after talking a few minutes longer, head out towards Derek’s apartment complex. Although you’ve felt bitterly triumphant in the fact that Derek now knows what it’s like to miss somebody like you’ve been missing him, you fell in love with him for a reason, and that reason was that you liked being around him more than you did with anyone else. You still love him, even if the two of you have been on the fringe of an argument for a while now.

That’s what drives you to his building, what carries you up the interminably long elevator ride, what brings you to knock twice on his door and wait until a quiet voice from inside announces that the door is unlocked.

That’s the first sign that something is wrong. Derek never leaves the door unlocked. Some could call it an overwhelming concern for safety, or just plain paranoia, but Derek’s experienced enough tragedy in his life to go overboard in making sure that he keeps all potential avenues of risk firmly blocked off. The fact that the door is unlocked disquiets you more than you like to admit.

Slowly, carefully, you push the door open. Immediately, you’re struck by the gloomy atmosphere of the place. Derek pulled the curtains over the wide windows of his apartment, making the whole place darker and more lifeless than usual. The lights are off. You can assume that Derek can see thanks to his werewolf senses without needing the fluorescents, but for your human eyes, the whole place just seems as dark and grave as a crypt.

“Derek?” You call out hesitantly.

Silence. Then, a husky voice from the back. “Y/N? Is that you?”

You still can’t see him in the gloom, so you cross the apartment to open the blinds on the large windows, hoping to toss some light on the situation. You know the layout of the place from memory, so many visits here help to solidify your knowledge of each piece of furniture in the apartment. Still, you’re not expecting to see Derek crumpled in a chair on the corner, looking significantly the worse for wear.

You’re at his side in an instant. “Derek? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” he says listlessly. “Not like you knew a thing about that, though, disappearing like that.”

Your concern for him starts to fade away, replaced instead by a burning irritation. “So that’s what all of this is about? You’re so hurt that I was the one to leave that you’ve become comatose?”

Derek sits up a little, eyes flashing. “You vanished without a trace and didn’t tell me where you went. I thought you were dead, Y/N. I had to pry information out of Deaton so I even knew you were alive, and when I tried to contact you, you ignored my messages. What the hell was I supposed to think?”

You laugh, although it’s not a happy sound. “Finally, you understand. This is what I deal with every time you leave town, Derek. You never tell me where you’re going or what you’re doing. I sat here in Beacon Hills for months, wondering if you’ll ever come back. I was gone for half the time you usually are and yet it’s far too much for you to handle. How do you think I feel?”

Derek’s lips flatten. “I– I didn’t realize you took it like that. I was just trying to keep you safe. You know how the hunters watch me, and–”

You cut him off, feeling the anger coiling through your stomach. “I know that, Derek. I know that every supernatural in your life that isn’t a part of your pack wants you dead. I know that in your head, this is how you keep me safe, by constantly cutting me out of your life, but has it occurred to you that this isn’t what I want? You could have asked me if this was the way to handle it. If you had even talked to me at all, I would have told you that I don’t care about being safe. Not if it means we’re like this. Not if it means I don’t get to have you at all.”

Derek stands up slowly, until he’s hovering just a few breaths away from you. One of his hands reaches up to cradle your cheek. “I never wanted to hurt you,” he whispers. “I’ve lost so many people in my life. I can’t lose you, too.”

“I know,” you murmur back. “But if you keep going on like this, if you keep pushing me away, you’ll lose me anyway.”

He flinches. “I should have asked you,” he admits. “I can’t erase the past, Y/N, but I can apologize for the present. Will you forgive me?”

“Only if you stay with me,” you answer him.

A ghost of a smile plays upon his lips. “I’ve never had a problem with that. It hurts like hell, leaving you. Always.”

“Then don’t do it anymore,” you urge him. “Stay with me, Derek. Keep me safe by staying with me.”

“I will,” Derek promises.

People in love make a lot of promises. Some are kept, some are broken. Some are forgotten about entirely. Looking at Derek in this half-darkness, though, you have a feeling that this one will be cherished for quite a long time indeed.

teen wolf tag list: @mayfieldss, @rogueanschel, @lovesanimals0000, @rafecameronswhore, @bellabadacadabra, @watchreadfangirlrepeat, @23victoria

all tags list: @wordsarelife

#derek hale #derek hale imagines #derek hale x reader #derek hale oneshot #teen wolf #teen wolf imagines #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf oneshot #teen wolf derek #teen wolf derek imagines #teen wolf derek x reader #teen wolf derek oneshot

[thrasher-slashers]

Slashers with a Thicc S/O

Basically, a few slashers with a plus sized S/o- some basic relationship HCs sprinkled in- kinda requested by a friend?

Some body dysmorphia

Mainly fluff :)))

Pronouns=They/Them (G/N reader)

I am a plus sized person myself- but I’m still not the best writer! Bare with me if something’s don’t make sense!

Kinda OOC

Bo Sinclair

Holy shit-

Loves your thighs- wether squishy or muscle, loves them

Will pinch your fat, thinks it’s cute

* Lays his head on your legs, a lot…maybe play with his hair???

* He definitely won’t complain…

* If your self couscous about your size? This man will go ham on anyone that says a w o r d.

* He will hype you up to the best of his one tracked southern mind-

* Chubby chaser!!!

* You have stretch marks? Nice! He likes tiger stripes!

* Bo doesn’t say words much to show how he feels, but he try’s his damn best- “Darlin’ I’ll love you, no matter how you feel about yourself.”

* Lots…. I mean… lots of hickeys.

* Your both pretty warm natured,, so summer cuddles are usually a no go- rip.

Lester Sinclair

* Type of mf to squish your cheeks

* “Sorry honey, you just look so cute!”

* Another chubby chaser!

* Pick him up and cuddle him- we know this man is a stick, and couldn’t even pick up one of his brothers if he tried-

* Thigh appreciator, amen.

* Will glow in pride with you by his side!

* Will fight a hoe if they make any comment towards you what so ever-

* Hopes you’d do the same!

* “LOOK AT MY PARTNER!” Lookin ass

* Shows you off, knows he scored big!

* Lots of kisses, all over your body, won’t stop- seriously, you think you have marks on your forehead from him.

* Secretly wants you to crush his head between your thighs… don’t tell anyone.

Vincent Sinclair

* Yet again, like his brothers- a chubby chaser.

* Yes, he draws you a lot, obviously- he thinks your fucking stunning!

* Will ask for you to pose for him, if your comfortable with that of course. If your not good at staying still? Don’t worry! He has a camera!

* Squeezes you- a lot, but he’s gentle-

* Loves how warm you are! His hands are normally cold, he enjoys when you hold them :)

* Will cry if you call him beautiful-

* Literally a whore for your attention, pay attention to him- please- he’ll do anything!

* Likes to touch and feel you a lot, it isn’t inherently sexual? But if that’s what it turns into…

* Makes you little trinkets to carry :)

* Will blush r e d if you play with his hair in anyway

* “I will cherish you will all my heart, Love.”

* Please- please- call him a pretty boy- he will d i e.

Thomas Hewitt

* Enamored. Loves you a normal amount… totally.

* Thomas, as a chubby person himself- actually appreciates the chub more on you then himself!

* Caresses you a lot, just likes physical touch- just being near him makes him happy.

* Likes the way your stretch marks feel under his fingers- odd fixation- but still.

* Not the best at showing how he feels- he just holds you and hopes you get the message-

* Actually will pummel Hoyt if he ever makes any derogatory comment towards you.

* Doesn’t let you near the ‘visitors’ very much, he deems them as a threat to your safety.

* The family likes you, your cool 👍

* Give this man a massage, he’s very tense all the time… he will greatly appreciate it!

* Not a PDA person, but in private- he’s all over you.

* Likes to play with your hair, no matter the texture, it’s you, and he likes that.

* Doesn’t say much, but when he does, he means it. “I Love You.”

Bubba Sawyer

* You??? Love him??? It still surprises him everyday!

* Dotes and fusses over you a lot, very worried about you- for no real reason- he just wants you safe and happy.

* Your bigger like him!!! Now he won’t crush you! :D

* like Thomas, he likes to caress and touch you a lot, he will mumble incoherent things to you, in hopes you get what he’s trying to say.

* Squeals at you a lot, thinks your the most beautiful thing ever, won’t let his brothers even THINK of being mean to you.

* Has actually hit Drayton over the head for an out of pocket comment.

* Kiss him, anywhere, he’ll be so happy!

* Tried to make you a mask at one point- realized you probably won’t like another persons skin on your face- so he used fabric.

* Will cuddle with you no matter the weather- freezing? Holding his arms open. 100+ degrees? Shut up and cuddle, you can sweat it out.

* Likes to sleep with you on top of him, like a weighted blanket.

* Very hyperactive! Wants to do everything with you!

* Excited when you want to do anything with him! Wether it be something like cleaning the house or something like taking a shower together!

This layout sucks- I apologize lmao

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