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lovelybucky1 · 1 year

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Ego (rockstar!anakin x reader)

warnings: band!au, AFAB!reader, spitting, light choking, praise, degradation, (mentioned) exhibitionism, (mentioned) public sex, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, m!receiving oral sex, rough sex, smoking, consumption of alcohol, anakin is kind of an asshole in his, but he loves you

masterlist

The concert was explosive. Your ears still ring from the deafening bass from the speakers next to the stage and your nose is filled with the scent of smoke and sulfur from the fireworks that lit off during the last song.

You push through the flow of the bustling crowd leaving the venue, as you make your way up to the stage. You climb over the barrier and skip up the stairs. You slip behind the curtain and walk through the backstage area to the back exit.

The roadies are wheeling the band’s equipment to the bus and are packing it up to be transported to the next city overnight. You cut in front of the train of carts and equipment and run towards the bus, your stiletto heels clicking on the wet pavement.

When you reach the door, you find it already open. You walk up the few stairs and find yourself standing in a cloud of cigarette smoke. The band is lounged on the leather couches, each with a bottle and a cigarette in either hand. Everyone cheers when they notice you; they all love you.

“There they are!” Kit exclaims.

Ahsoka, the newest addition to the band and the youngest of the group at 19, giggles loudly at something on her phone, obviously a little intoxicated.

You greet them all as you walk towards the couch towards your boyfriend. Anakin is lounging lazily on the couch, his feet kicked up on the arm of the couch, with a cigarette balanced between his fingers. He looks up at you as you walk by, eyes half-lidded and a little glazed. He smiles slowly as he takes in your outfit: tight pants, his band’s shirt cut and distressed into something very revealing, and high heels.

Anakin is wearing something of similar style: a sweat-stained dark gray t-shirt, black distressed skinny jeans, and large black boots that make him even taller. His piercings glitter in the low light, and his smudged eyeliner makes your knees weak.

“Hey, baby,” he grins, reaching his hand out to grab your waist.

“Hey, Ani,” you laugh as he guides you into his lap.

He puts his cigarette in his mouth to free his other hand to touch you. With a smirk, he pulls you up his body so you’re straddling his waist.

“The show was amazing tonight,” you say.

“God, it was,” he says, closing his eyes and grinning as he reminisces on the night.

There’s nothing Anakin loves more than attention. He’s the front man of the band, always has all eyes on him. Everyone in the crowd cheers for him, is there to see him, wants him. As much as Anakin loves to play his music, he loves the ego trip even more.

“Everyone loved you.”

“It was electric. I can still feel it,” Anakin said with a groan.

Being on stage turns all of Anakin’s emotions up to eleven, and he rides that high for a long while after the concert. Like now, he’s looking up at you with lust blown eyes and you can feel his cock growing harder underneath you.

“Don’t be a diva, Ani, they loved all of us,” Ahsoka chimes in.

“Please, if Kit’s ugly ass was our front man, that venue would be empty,” Anakin huffs. “Everyone wants what they can’t have, so they’ll buy songs and tickets and all the other stupid shit we come up with just so they can get a taste of what it’d be like to have me.”

“If your head gets any bigger, it’ll pop,” Aayla rolls her eyes.

“Well,” Anakin swings his legs around so his feet are back on the floor, keeping you in his lap. “In that case, I better make good use of my time before I get my brains all over the bus.”

Anakin places his hands under your thighs and stands up. You wrap your arms and legs around him and hold on tightly, your faces just inches apart.

“Ugh,” Ahsoka groans.

With a wide grin, Anakin walks you back to the bedroom at the back of the bus. It’s a large bed that Anakin has claimed since he put them on the map, much to the other’s annoyance. Anakin kicks open the door and takes one long stride before he’s dropping you down on your back atop the bed.

He shuts the door and makes quick work of shedding his sweaty t-shirt. His abs ripple when he puts his arms down and you find yourself staring at the tattoos that litter his abdomen, chest, and arms. You reach out to trace the stars mirrored on each of his hip bones, those being your favorite tattoos of his.

He looks down at you with exhaustion-heavy eyes, the liquor he undoubtedly had, not helping. Despite how tired he is, he needs to get the leftover adrenaline out of his system.

“You’re not even gonna let me kiss you first?” he asks you with a raised eyebrow.

“You taste like cigarettes.”

“That’s how I got you addicted to me in the first place,” he smirks as he reaches up to graze his thumb over your jaw.

“Trust me, that’s not what got me addicted.”

“No? Then what was?” he smiles as he waits for an answer. “My money? My fame? My dick?”

You roll your eyes. “Kiss me, you idiot.”

Anakin grins as he bends down to kiss you. He smashes your lips together in a rough, passionate kiss. He does taste like cigarettes, as well as alcohol and something that is so distinctly Anakin.

“I’m so fucking horny for you,” he breathes against your lips when the kiss finally breaks. Your eyebrows raise in surprise, not expecting such blunt words. “I was thinking about you the whole goddamn time.”

“What were you thinking about?” you ask curiously, your face still inches away from his, looking at his stained mouth from your lipstick.

“Bringing you up on stage and taking you in front of everybody,” he confesses as his hands travel from your neck down to your torso.

“I think that’d make the fangirls jealous.”

“Good. Let them be jealous. Let them see how good I can give it.”

Anakin stands up straight and you bring your hands up to work at Anakin’s pants; unzipping the fly and pushing his jeans and boxer briefs down far enough for his cock to spring free. It almost his you in the face as the pink tip bobs tantalizingly in front of you. You look up at him, silently asking for permission to put your mouth around it.

“It’s not gonna suck itself,” he smirks as he guides your head towards his length with a hand in your hair.

Once you get your mouth on his dick, he loosens his hold on you and allows you to go at your own pace. His voice is already a little hoarse from performing tonight, and the added gravel to his moans make your head spin as you listen below him.

“Fuck, they’d be so jealous. I’d take you up there and let you suck my dick in the middle of a song, just like this.”

Anakin tilts his head back in a groan as you flick your tongue around the tip.

Your mouth waters aroud his length, and after a few bobs of your head, drool is leaking from the corners of your mouth and down your chin. Anakin loves when you get messy like this, especially when your dark lipstick leaves prints at the base of his cock.

“Fuck, your mouth feels so good,” he groans.

Anakin threads his fingers through your hair and holds you tightly, not directing you, just making sure you feel it.

You take him all the way into your throat and look up at him with glassy eyes as you gag around him. Anakin loves the feeling of your throat contracting as you struggle not to gag; it feeds his ego knowing that his dick is too big even for someone so well trained.

Anakin feels like orgasm nearing, so he pulls you off by your hair so he does not finish too quickly.

You sit back on your knees and wipe your face with the back of your hand. You look sinful underneath him like this; lipstick smudged and eye makeup running from tears.

“Come up here, baby,” he says, taking your hand and tugging you to your feet. You put your arms around his neck and look up at him, feeling small in his arms. “I want you to give me some marks. I want something to show off tomorrow,” he grins.

You lean in to latch your lips onto his pec, sucking the smooth skin that covers the hard muscle into your mouth. You suck firmly, pinching thr skin between your teeth as you do. A satisfied hum rumbles through his chest when you pull away and he sees the dark red mark you left on his pale skin.

Before long, his chest, collarbone, neck, and abdomen are littered with similar sized hickeys. After each one you left, he reached down to press his fingers into the forming bruise, just to feel the dull pain.

“You’re so fuckin’ perfect,” Anakin says, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you close so your hips are pressed flush to his.

“Then why don’t you fuck me?”

“Is that how you ask for it?” he asks with a smirk.

“No, but I have a feeling you’ll give it to me either way.”

Anakin chuckles as he slides his hands up your sides, pushing your shirt up as he does. You raise your arms above your head and he pulls it off, revealing your lace bra underneath.

Anakin’s eyes darken even more as he takes in the sight of the delicate black lace over your perfect tits. It’s beautiful, and Anakin was to destroy it. He grabs each cup firmly in his large hands and pulls, ripping the pretty bra down the center.

“What the fuck?” you gasp. “That was expensive!”

“You bought it with my money, didn’t you?”

You glare at him. “Yes, but-”

“Then I should be able to do whatever I want with it.”

“You’re such an asshole,” you huff as your shrug off the scraps of your ruined bra.

His hands move to the front of your jeans, but you swat them away before he can ruin anymore of your clothes. While you take your pants off, he does the same.

Now, you’re both standing in the tour bus bedroom, completely bare to each other’s gazes.

“Turn around,” Anakin orders.

“Make me,” you challenge.

He gives you an unimpressed stare before he grabs your hips and spins you around. He pushes you so you lay face down on the bed, but you do not stay there. You prop yourself up on your elbows and just as you look back at him, his long fingers slide through your wet folds.

“Soaked for me, huh?” Anakin chuckles.

“Don’t tease me, Ani.”

Anakin eases two fingers into you, curling them along the way to find the spot inside you that makes you clench.

“Or what? We both know you can’t resist anything I do to you.”

You hate that he’s right, but whatever annoyance that was building inside of you quickly disappated as he began to move his fingers in and out of you.

Anakin didn’t spend long opening you up before he replaced his fingers with the tip of his cock.

He did tease you; he slapped your pussy with it before giving you just the slightest amout, enough to stretch but not enough to fill.

“It’s not enough,” you whine.

“Oh, I’m sorry, baby,” he says, not sounding apologetic in the slightest. “You want more?”

“Yes, please.”

Anakin grips your hips firmly, then slides all the way in. That’s how Anakin goes about everything: all or nothing. You cry out as you adjust to the intrusion, but he doesn’t give you much time befote he starts to rut into you.

“You’re so fuckin’ tight. Your pussy was made for me, wasn’t it?” he asks.

“Yes, yes, it’s yours,” you whimper.

With each stroke, the sound of his hips hitting your ass fill the room is sharp claps. You can feel the tip of his cock in your stomach after every thrust in, and it punches the air out of your lungs. Anakin fucks you hard and fast, his fingers digging into your hips which will surely bruise.

After a while of this position, Anakin wraps his forearm around your middle and pulls you up so you’re standing, trapped between him and the bed.

His large hand presses on your lower abdomen so he can feel each thrust of his cock inside you, and because he knows the added pressure will make it so much better for you. Anakin hooks his chin over your shoulder and presses his mouth to your ear so he can whisper.

“I fuckin’ own this pussy, got that? I own you.”

Your stomach flips at his vulgar words and you lean your head back on his shoulder and moan.

Anakin can’t help himself when he sees your mouth open wide for him. He reaches up and hooks his finger in your cheek to hold it open, then spits. Some of it lands on your cheeks and lips, but most of it lands on your tongue.

“Swallow that,” he says, his breath hot on your ear.

You do as he said, swallowing his spit obediently. It’s hot and dirty and everything you love, all at once. It’s overwhelming, overstimulating, and unless Anakin physically stops you, you’re going to cum soon.

“You’re so fuckin’ good for me. Bet you’d let me fuck you like this on stage, huh? Serve me while everyone is cheering for me like I’m God.”

Anakin’s voice is low and rough, obviously growing more desperate with each stroke. He pushes you forward and you brace yourself on the bed with your arms. He leans over your back and licks a hot strike over your sweaty neck before sinking his sharp teeth into the tender skin under your ear.

You cry out in a mix of pleasure and pain from Anakin’s teeth in your skin. You’re sure it will leave a crescent bruise behind, but you can’t bring yourself to mind right now.

“Let me cum inside you,” he says in your ear.

Finding your words to be lost, you nod, giving him permission to claim you. He makes a noise akin to a growl as his thrusts start to pick up in speed. They become more erratic as he nears closer to his orgasm, and yours slowly builds along with his.

He grabs your hips and thrusts deep inside you, then holds you flush to him as he pumps his load into you. The feeling of his hot cum flooding your insides makes your eyes roll back, and you lean to rest your head on his shoulder. He grabs your throat and presses his lips to your temple.

“Cum around my cock. I want to feel you.”

His other hand reaches down between your legs and begins to toy with your clit. The feeling of his fingers rubbing you in just the right way, his still-hard cock inside you, along with his cum leaking down your pussy work together to throw you over the edge.

You whimper as you begin to cum. Your knees feel weak as your lower stomach blooms with warmth and pleasure.

Anakin revels in the feeling of your walls convulsing around his sensitive dick. If he hadn’t already cum, your pussy would be milking him like this. Once you’ve finished riding out your high, Anakin pulls out of you and lays you down on the bed before joining next to you.

He turns you around so you're facing away from him and he spoons you, pulling your back to his sweaty chest.

“You’re so good for me, baby,” he whispers.

“Felt so good,” you reply quietly.

Anakin’s cum is still leaking from between your legs, but neither of you care right now. You’re both exhausted, wrung out from sex and the busy day before this.

“Hey,” Anakin says, breaking the silence in the room.

“Hey.”

“Tomorrow night after the show, I’m gonna marry you.”

“What?” you gasp, turning around in his arms.

“I want to make it official. Make sure that everyone knows I’m off the market. That you’re the only one who actually gets any real part of me.”

Anakin may have a reputation of being a diva, an egotistical superstar, which isn’t necessarily untrue, but like this, in private with you, he’s tender, loving, and real.

“So what do you say?” he asks, suddenly feeling vulnerable.

You smile wide and bring him in to kiss. “Yes, I’ll marry you,” you say against his lips.

He kisses you again, deeply, as he confesses all of his love for you with a physical act.

In the back of your mind, you wonder if you’ll get hate from Anakin’s fans for stealing their celebrity crush from them, but you shrug that thought off. On stage, he may belong to everyone, but here, he’s only yours.

#star wars #anakin #anakin skywalker #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker smut #anakin smut #anakin x y/n #anakin skywalker fic #star wars smut #star wars fanfiction #star wars fanfic #anakin skywalker fanfic #anakin fanfiction #anakin fanfic #hayden christensen

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blond-jerk-tourney · 5 months

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Strawberry Bracket: Round 2, Poll 5

Propaganda from submitters Under Cut

Dio Brando

A certified BITCH. You could use any adjective of that little list of yours on him and be correct

I know you said more jerks and not villains but like. He's like one of the og blonde assholes. He's just an absolute prick.

Kicked a dog for no fucking reason and then became an immortal vampire guy, killed his brother and then spent 200 years in a coffin in the depths of the ocean. Was eventually rescued. Didn’t change at all. Rest in peace Danny. Never forget never forgive

He's such a diva. He's terrible from episode one. He burns the protag's dog and tries to poison his father to get money. You think that's bad enough? It gets worse. He turns himself willingly into a vampire to be even more of a problem. From there, he lounges mysteriously in the dark and makes his minions attack one family over and over for GENERATIONS. He's literally the villain and the drama of every part. And even after he's defeated? His LEG BONE and a priest who was very gay for his blonde jerk self keep causing issues. Most mean girl ever. What an icon. He's also canonically bi

Char Aznable

He's extremely blonde and he's a total asshole. he has had a gay thing with 2 people and tried to kill both of them. he makes a new identity and its arguably more blonde and more of an asshole. look up Quattro Bajeena

Snooty little motherfucker supreme. "I have never betrayed anyone in my life" says man who spent his whole career lying to people. He's in love with his rival and he won't admit it. He's my silly rabbit. He is the "I came here to laugh at you" guy

#strawberry bracket #strawberry bracket round 2 #polls #tournament polls #dio brando #jojo's bizarre adventure #jjba #char aznable #quattro bajeena #mobile suit gundam #gundam #blond jerk tournament

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totromanticfool · 11 months

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It's you and me this summer

Hcs for the nxx boys going on holiday with you (order: Luk - Marius - Vyn - Artem) maybe a bit ooc? (its been a while) Enjoy!

Luke

If you travel by plane, he will offer his shoulder for you to sleep on. He will wake you for snack time though!

If you travel by car, you will switch with driving, and he will have a full playlist with music to keep you both in vacation spirits.

Cannonballs in the pool every single time, then shakes out his hair like a really cute dog. (a golden retriever prob)

Probably burns easily, you will have to remind him about sunblock.

Makes you join karaoke with him out of the blue.

Will take you to little local places to eat, might get a food poisoning from it, but it will be worth it, to see his beautiful genuine smile.

Marius.

First class travel everywhere. Marius is used to it, so you should, too.

By car, he hires someone to drive, so you can both relax closely together in the back seat

Splashes you with water when you try to ease into the pool.

If you are both in a good mood, he will pick you up and throw you in the pool. Has you piggyback ride him in the pool as well, to keep you close.

Probably has staff around him (and you!) For all your needs. Miss wants a drink? It's there within a second. Some shade? Parasol building on the spot.

But the one thing Marius will do himself is apply your sunblock.

He might write something like ♡Marius on your back, so it will be visible agianst te rest of the colored skin.

Vyn

Traveling by plane? He picked out a few books you both can read, while you can choose the music.

By car? He drives. He wants you to relax as much as possible.

He's it the pool on a big floaty with a cup holder. Has a cocktail in it and maybe paid off a waiter to refill it every time he puts the empty glass in the air. (Fight me for this one! I see him as a diva on vacation, canon in chibi lounge 'member?)

Offers to help put on sunblock just to be able to touch your skin.

If there is a wine trip, you will take it. Vyn will have all the knowledge on it and tells you about it with that sparkle in his eyes.

Artem

Traveling by plane, first class. It is expensive but he wants you to relax to the fullest. Even he will close his eyes for a nap.

By car? He drives. He doesn't want you to worry and relax.

Does laps in the pool early in the morning.

Reminds you every few hours to apply sunblock. If you ask him to help, he will turn red, but do it, with a very serious face.

He will do his research before the trip. Knows all the food spots and cultural trips are already planned (only if you want to)

Will act like your personal butler. He will not relax until you are.

You will have to remind him to sit down and enjoy the view every once in a while. (You're his view, obviously)

If you ask him what he really wants to do, he will tell you he wants to visit that super romantic couples spot. (All the while sporting his signature red ears and cheeks)

This has been sitting in my drafts for a while, but i never had the feeling it was 'done' now i know i cant put more in it for now, it was time for me to post it.

until the next drabble!

Love, Hann ❤

#tears of themis #artem wing #marius von hagen #vyn richter #luke pearce #tears of themis fluff #tot artem #tot vyn #tot luke #tot marius #nxx boys #tears of themis hc

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hslllot · 1 year

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insieme in paradiso

“together in paradise”

rated m | 2.7k words

better late than never, right? this is a short piece for my dear friend’s @harry-on-broadway fic challenge (the prompts used are in bold)! It is basically an extended version of this concept I wrote back in 2021... We’ve had such great latam content lately that I feel like I should have adjusted the setting of this, but I hope you enjoy anyways! As always, please let me know what you think. xx shan

———

Was this heaven?

You were certain that you’d never felt more relaxed as you bathed in the Tuscan sunlight. Lounging beside your love, you let your eyes close, the book you were reading abandoned in the sand next to your chair ages ago. Every worry, every stressor, every bit of tension in your muscles that you carried with you drifted away in the winds of the ocean breeze.

This was the private getaway with Harry you’d been longing for. It seemed like forever since the two of you were able to spend an extended amount of time alone together.

“Mum just posted this photo. Look. Thea’s getting so big.” Your boyfriend interrupted your daze when he reached out from beside you to shove his phone in your face.

You opened your eyes slowly and lowered your sunglasses so you could take a proper look. Using your hand to shield the glare of the Italian sun, you saw on his screen an Instagram story his mother had posted of his cousin’s baby.

“She’s adorable, H.” You responded, adjusting your sunglasses back to cover your eyes. “We should give Ella a call later, maybe we can FaceTime.” All you heard in response was a short grunt as he laid back in his chair, eyes still fixed on his screen.

He was grumpy and you could tell.

One thing about your boyfriend of three years, which you found incredibly endearing, was that he loved his family more than anything. Unfortunately, when his family was gathered and he couldn’t be there, he’d tend to get a bit pouty. You’d find him glued to the group chat or Instagram to get updates on what they were up to. Sometimes you would catch him ‘liking’ or ‘reacting’ to their posts and stories (on his private account of course) in an attempt to make himself feel more included.

Birthdays. Weddings. Babies. There was a long list of family events he often had to miss because of his job, and you knew it weighed heavily on his heart.

A small part of you was slightly annoyed that he wished he were somewhere else. But another part of you, perhaps the more compassionate part, understood that multiple truths could exist at once: 1) He was happy to be spending time with you, 2) he was grateful for his job that took him to beautiful countries and allowed him to live a lavish life, and 3) he missed his family dearly.

But sometimes you didn’t understand why he wouldn’t just go home and visit them whenever he felt like it. He certainly could afford it, and he had the power in all of his business relationships to take a vacation whenever he felt like it. Sometimes you wished he had more of a ‘diva’ type attitude when it came to certain things, like allowing himself to take breaks from work. However, another thing about your boyfriend was that he was a chronic overachiever and people pleaser with a tendency to overcommit to new projects. And you figured it wasn’t so bad to have a partner in life who was considerate of other peoples’ time and feelings.

Plus, you couldn’t complain much because his commitment to a new project was how you found yourself at the beautiful, private, Il Pellicano in Tuscany.

The two of you were finally spending some much needed quality time together. Coordinating your schedules had been an absolute nightmare and it was a miracle that you were able to take some time away from work to join him on this trip. He was technically here on business, preparing for the launch of his Gucci collection with Alessandro. But you had spent the majority of the trip together, watching him model his clothing, sitting side-by-side on the small private beach of your villa, and wrapped around one another in the bedroom.

At the moment though, Harry’s frustration, guilt, and longing to be with his family was threatening to penetrate the bubble of relaxation surrounding you. You could feel the restless energy emanating off of him. Without opening your eyes you heard the way he moved around in his chair and sighed under his breath as he scrolled through his phone and typed away messages in his family group chat. When you finally did open your eyes you found him on his stomach, his head at the other end of the chair near your feet, and his phone two inches from his face. And while this position afforded you a great view of his tanned back and taut muscles glistening in the Italian heat, clad only in a small pair of black swimming shorts, you could feel the tension radiating from him and you couldn’t ignore it any longer.

You reached across and placed your hand on the back of his calf, rubbing your thumb back and forth against his warm, sun-kissed skin, as if to soothe him.

“Hey baby?”

“Hmmm?” He responded mindlessly, not bothering to look up from his phone.

“Hey, look at me.” You urged, squeezing his calf to gain his attention.

“Sorry” he murmured, putting his phone down. He twisted in the lounge chair to face you, sitting up to give you his full attention. You reached for his hand and intertwined your fingers with his.

“I was thinking… I know we’re supposed to head back to London on Sunday, but what if we took a few days in Holmes Chapel?” He raised an eyebrow at you curiously, wordlessly asking where this had come from. You continued, “It’s been so long since we’ve seen Anne and I miss her… Plus, we’ve only seen Thea once since she’s been born. I think I can extend my vacation by a few days.”

He sat there for a moment silently, teasing at his bottom lip.

“I have a meeting with Lambert and Molly on Monday in London.” He winced, remembering his prior commitment.

“Surely you can do it over Zoom. Or just push it a couple days. You are the boss, aren’t you?”

Something flickered in his eyes and a slight smirk crept his lips at your mention of him being the boss.

His gears were turning and you knew him well enough to know the battle going on inside his brain. He probably didn’t love the idea of moving a meeting to go see his mum, but since it was technically your idea it was like a free pass. He could feel less guilty about it because he was doing it for you.

(Obviously you both knew this was entirely for him… But you needn’t say it)

You thought he might pass on the opportunity, and were startled when he removed his hand from yours and scrambled up from his lounge chair. He quickly moved onto your chair, straddling you with his entire body weight pinning you down. With his forearms rested on either side of your head, he placed quick kisses all over your face. Almost reflexively, you wrapped your hands around his biceps. His hot, sinewy arms flexed in your grip.

“Yeah,” is all he said before placing a long, slightly wet, kiss on your forehead. “I AM the boss. And I would like that very much. Thank you for suggesting it.” Unable to wipe the smile from his face, he placed one more tender kiss on your lips.

You reached for the sunglasses that sat atop his head and removed them, freeing space for you to run your fingers through his soft brown curls. “You’re welcome, H.” He lowered into your touch, eager for a cuddle. “But you have to get up. You’re squishing me.”

“Right, sorry.” He removed himself from on top of you and took a seat by your feet at the end of the chair. It was his turn to soothe you now, grazing his palm along your calf and up to your knee, which he gave a squeeze before dragging his hand back down.

“I think it’s time we get out of the sun, yeah?” The sly look on his face was all too familiar as his gaze trailed down your bikini-clad body. “You’re lookin’ a little sunburnt.”

“Am I?” You teased.

“I’ve got something I can rub on it back in our room.”

You rolled your eyes at him, feigning annoyance at his flirtation. Nonetheless, you knew where this was headed.

Gathering your belongings hastily, you were both eager to make your way back to the air conditioned room that held your luxurious king bed. You trailed behind Harry, climbing the stone steps up to the private entrance of your villa hand in hand.

Once inside your room, you dropped your tote bag and walked over to the balcony, sliding open the curtains and the door to let the sunshine and salt air filter through the room. Looking out at the scene below, you could see the private beach where you and Harry had spent your morning and admired the way the Tuscan sun illuminated the sapphire blue ocean ahead. You took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly as you felt Harry come to stand closely behind you.

“Thank you for bringing me here.” You said quietly. Harry wrapped his arms around you from behind, allowing you to rest your chin on his forearms. He nuzzled his face into your neck where he left a delicate touch of his lips.

“Thank you for being here with me.” He responded.

Any annoyance you previously felt toward your boyfriend’s proclivity for FOMO melted away when you realized how grateful you were to be here with him. In the chaos of his busy life, while he missed his family deeply, he chose to be here with you, together in paradise.

You turned yourself in his arms, your body flush against his, to find his soft, yet intense, gaze on your lips.

Harry held lightly onto your hips. Leaning in, his lips parted, and you could feel his warm breath against yours. You placed your hands on his chest, his skin burning under your fingers. With every shallow intake of breath he edged closer, until finally catching your top lip between his.

His hands trailed up your sides as your kiss became deeper, fuller. You felt like you might melt against him, heat racing down to every part of your body that was touching his. He roamed your curves and the expanse of your back, pressing you even closer to him, before finding the strings that held together your bikini. With two gentle tugs, the piece of fabric fell to the ground.

He broke away from your kiss only briefly to study the sight of you, topless, in front of him. “Bellissima,” he whispered, his voice deep and slow. You saw the muscles in his jaw tick as his gaze burned holes through you. It was your turn, this time, to grab onto him and press him closer against you, feeling his hardness.

It wasn’t long before Harry’s mouth started to move down your body. Your neck, your collarbone, your chest. His tongue dragged over your nipple before sucking it into his mouth and an intoxicating heat rippled through you.

“Bed, please” was all you could muster under your breath. Harry reluctantly pulled himself off you and started walking you back, stopping when the back of your legs hit the bed. He gently lowered you onto the bed and resumed his work dragging his mouth down your body, finishing off with a chaste kiss to your hip bone.

He stood up straight at the edge of the bed, towering over you. Eager for him, you removed your bikini bottoms and tossed them to the floor.

“A bit impatient?” He chuckled, looking down hungrily at your naked body. You didn’t bother to respond, leaning back on your forearms, you kicked your leg out and toed at the tent in his black swimming shorts, encouraging him to take them off. “Tell me” he said sternly.

“I want them off.”

He pulled his shorts down and discarded them on the floor before climbing on to the bed. You admired the way he wrapped his hand around his cock and began slowly stroking himself, a small sense of relief evident on his face. He lowered himself over you and pressed his lips to yours. While your tongues met, the pads of his fingertips began to explore, trailing delicately down your stomach. Your body responded to his familiar touch, goosebumps racing over you and a fire simmering in your belly.

You were desperate for him, your body begging for him to touch you as his fingers made their way down to your heat. A heavy moan left your lips when he began running circles over your clit. At that moment, you were completely overwhelmed by him. The way his lips felt against yours, the taste of his tongue, the scent of his cologne, the soft pads of his fingers on your most sensitive spot.

“I want you,” you whined.

“You have me,” he answered teasingly, his mouth only a fraction of an inch away from yours. He dragged his finger down and dipped into your entrance. “Fuck - you’re so wet.”

“Please…”

At your begging he positioned himself between your legs, removed his fingers, and replaced them with a press of his hips against yours, the tip of his cock firm against your slit.

Your hands grappled to hold on to any part of him you could, eventually landing on his shoulders. Gripping tightly, your fingertips dug into his skin. You wrapped your ankles around his calves and felt the way his body fit perfectly against yours.

The first thrust inside you was slow. Every inch of your body pulled tight around him as he sank deeper. Your breath hitched as a wave of pleasure raced through you.

“Fuck,” Harry rasped as he rocked into you. The sound of his voice sent a tingle down your spine. “I love you so much,” he whispered into your skin, brushing a kiss across your jaw.

You said it back to him as the two of you moved against each other, getting lost in the feelings of love and undulating pleasure between you.

———

You and Harry spent the rest of the day immersed in one another in your private villa.

The last go around, you unraveled together with his face buried in your neck while you were clutched tight around him.

He pulled out and collapsed beside you, trying to catch his breath.

You turned on your side to look at him, flooded with warmth and giddiness as you acknowledged how handsome he was. You used the tip of your finger to trace the lines of his face. The sharp cut of his jaw, the slope of his nose, the full of his lips. As you were about to trace your thumb over his eyebrow he grabbed your hand, bringing it to his lips.

“Thank you again for suggesting we go to Holmes Chapel after this,” he said against your hand, still pressed to his lips.

“Of course,” You moved closer to him and he let go of your hand in order to wrap his arms around you. “You can go home whenever you want, you know.”

He placed a soft kiss on the top of your head. “I know. It’s easier to go when I know you’re coming with me.”

You hummed in understanding and pressed your lips against his chest.

“I should give Jeffrey a call and ask him to make the travel arrangements for us… And postpone my meetings.”

As if on cue, his phone’s ringtone chimed from his tote bag on the floor by the door. He was reluctant to let go of you, but you gave him a look of approval that had him scrambling out of the bed to retrieve it. You took the opportunity to admire his naked body, silently thanking the Italian sun and his morning cardio routine for the glorious sight of him.

You felt a warmth in your chest, though, at the smile that grew on his face when he looked down at his phone to see who was calling.

“Hey mum, yeah….guess what…I’m coming home.”

———

Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think.

#harryonbroadwayficchallenge #my writing #harry concepts #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction

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callmewrinkles3 · 1 year

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Deuxmoi, October 2018 - March 2023

October 2018

Spotted: This curly haired driver was trying to be discreet in Austin but failed miserably. It might have worked if he didn’t have a bright pink cowboy hat on. I hope the brunette who gave it to him knows the cowboy hat rule!

April 2019

Spotted: Could have sworn I saw Daniel Ricciardo at Coachella weekend two with a short brunette. When I looked again I wasn’t sure, but they were making out and happy.

August 2019

Spotted: The breakout Netflix driver on a family Disney trip. His “friend” according to the show had his nephew on her hip, and they all had matching mouse ears. He couldn’t stop putting an arm around her shoulder or having his hand at her back. Too cute.

Spotted: First time submission and it’s a Big One. In a dive bar in Vegas and Daniel Ricciardo walked in with his girlfriend/assistant/whatever she is but she’s cute. Took a booth at the back and they ordered beers and shots, flirting constantly. Once the dancing started they were on the floor and his hands were ALL OVER HER. Got a sneaky photo too.

April 2020

Spotted: Was at an Optus event before the now cancelled Australian Grand Prix (sadness) and Daniel Ricciardo was guest of honour. The brunette he’s always photographed with was there too, they are NOT just friends. His hand was around her waist and he was making sure her drink was always full. Plus I spotted her talking with some of the bigwigs from Optus, Daniel was watching her with heart eyes all the time.

August 2020

Name: Francophone

Email: [email protected]

Subject: Breaking the rules?

Message: Ever since this paddock playboy joined his latest team he’s had a pass available for his alleged best friend. Thanks to the pandemic rules it’s staff only, and she’s been upgraded to assistant. Seems like a way to get his fuckbuddy to work with him.

June 2021

Name: Mediterranean Marvel

Email: [email protected]

Subject: Unexpected attendee

Message: Walking past the marina in Monaco and spotted Charles LeClerc and Daniel Ricciardo on Charles’ yacht. Charles girlfriend was there, Ricciardo had his arm around a tattooed brunette in a skimpy bikini. Didn’t get a good look at her, but I don’t think it was the girl he’s seen with at races! New girlfriend?

December 2021

Name: Desert Diva

Email: [email protected]

Subject: Heartbreak

Message: In the lounge in Dubai and spotted Daniel Ricciardo saying goodbye to his girlfriend while they were both crying. His friends gave her hugs too, and everyone looked miserable. She managed to hold it together mostly until he left, but we were on the same plane and she was crying most of the flight. His insta looks like he’s back in Australia and quarantining, guess the wedding rumours aren’t true. She was so sweet to the staff, apologising for being a mess. That rumour that she’s a cheater is a lie, those two are too cute.

June 2022

Spotted: Walking around Perth Zoo for the weekend and who do I see but hometown hero Daniel Ricciardo. Didn’t take photos cause he was there with family, it looked like his girlfriend and his niece and nephew. I see why his girlfriend’s been MIA recently, she looked pretty ill. They were adorable though, his niece kept holding her hand and asking to be carried whenever we walked past them. Glad to see them together and happy, hopefully his performance improves.

October 2022

Spotted: I just saw Daniel Ricciardo and his girlfriend in the Target in Wooten, Austin. Bought groceries and sheets? No idea.

March 2023

Name: It’s fucking orange

Email: [email protected]

Subject: Disgustingly cute

Message: Daniel Ricciardo and Scotty James’ fiancées were both at Eras Tour night one in Vegas. Wearing costumes and singing/yelling along. The two of them had all the words to All Too Well, and I think Em was FaceTiming Daniel during Our Song.

#call it what you want fic #ciwyw media #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo oneshot #daniel ricciardo fanfic #daniel ricciardo fic #formula one imagine #formula one fanfic #formula one oneshot #f1 oneshot #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 oneshot

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pomegranateweb · 1 year

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stewy walks into the core group meeting with his cunty little turtleneck and his pointy blazer and lounges on the couch and says “who? me, frank?” slay diva

#stewy my best friend stewy #succession #succession spoilers #stewy hosseini

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lovesines · 8 days

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Unrequited Love (Shanghai Lounge Divas) | Yao Lee

#unrequited love #yao lee #shanghai lounge divas #姚莉 #得不到的愛情 #De Bu Dao De Ai Qing #music

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nailstreasures · 2 months

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"Discover What's In with Trending Nail Colors for March 2024!

In this engaging short video, we unveil the hottest nail colors that are dominating March 2024. From sophisticated neutrals to vibrant pops of color, we've curated a collection that promises to inspire your next manicure. Stay ahead of the trend curve and express your unique style with the must-have shades of the season. Watch now to elevate your nail game and stay on top of the latest trends!"

shop now and transform your manicure into a masterpiece

#nail colors for march 2024 #dashing diva nail strips #5th nail lounge #march nail colors #polish nail bar

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galexystern · 10 months

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i can see you (foolish one) - 18+

pairing; eddie munson/fem!reader

rating; E

warnings; smut (MDNI), fluff, angst, casual sex, no strings attached, jealousy, oral sex, cunnilingus, blowjob, p in v sex, fingering, porn with plot, porn with feelings, honestly more feelings than porn sorry

word count; 10.6k

desc; as the opener on corroded coffin's world tour, you and eddie start a casual relationship. but can you keep your feelings from getting in the way? songfic of taylor swift's "i can see you" and "foolish one"

a/n; loosely inspired by cinemamunson's "you give love a bad name" ♥ edited 10/16/23

read on ao3 / masterlist

It was a dream come true. Being the opener on a national tour that stopped in every major city over the course of a year was all you'd been wishing for since you were seven years old and picked up your first guitar. Everything about it was exciting: the bus, the fans, even the paparazzi that surrounded every door you came in and out of. To be fair, they weren't exactly waiting for you, but you were there too, so it was almost the same thing in your mind.

There was just one problem...and here it comes now.

"Alright, princess?" Rockstar, guitarist extraordinaire, and overall heartthrob Eddie Munson says as he passes you coming offstage. "Crowd ready for us?"

As mentioned, the lead singer and guitarist for the tour's headliner is the problem. It's not because he's rude, or crass, or insulting. He's never touched you inappropriately or said anything untoward. He treats everyone around him with respect and gets concerned about the smallest things that could be affecting his crew. He's generous, kind, and sweet.

That's the problem—he's the ultimate dreamboat. You're falling under his spell like all the other girls he comes into contact with. You'd really wanted to hate him, only because you'd had a crush on him before this tour even started, ever since you'd become a fan of Corroded Coffin, and you were hoping he'd have that typical rockstar bad attitude that would erase that crush from existence. Instead, he's the ideal man and your feelings have only grown.

You nod, feeling exhilarated yet again from another electric opening set. "Oh, they're ready."

"Bring it on." His smile dazzles you. "Great set by the way."

"Thanks," you breathe out, and he winks before he and the other members of Corroded Coffin walk onstage to deafening screams. Someone hands you a water bottle and you guzzle it down, trying to get your breath back from both the set and Eddie's wink.

Oh, there is one more issue: the flirting.

Even if he deserves all the hype and love he gets on a daily basis, you'd been sure that he wouldn't give you the time of day. Sure, his band had picked you to be their opener, which is a pretty great indicator they like you, but that could just be your music. It complements theirs and they'd wanted to make sure a female artist got the opportunity over another "stupid male diva," as they'd said in their initial meeting with you. But that didn't mean that the members would actually pay attention or talk to you in any way. You kind of thought they'd ignore you and your crush would slowly fade over time.

Instead, the band has made sure you've become their friend...and Eddie has been flirting on-and-off with you since the beginning.

That meeting you'd had with the band and your managers had revealed an initial spark between you two that has just been fanned into a raging fire by winks, smirks, cheesy pick-up lines, and dirty jokes. You can't help it; he makes it easy to talk with him, easy to return his flirting. In fact, you're never been more comfortable than when you're with him, in whatever capacity—lounging, eating, warming up. And you're with him more often than not, since the band seemingly love having you around and seek you out whenever they can. He even attends your sound checks and always makes sure to watch your opening set, despite surely having better things to do, or at least things his management would like him to be doing instead. But he ignores them, all so he can compliment you after every show.

Okay, he probably doesn't do it just to compliment you. But he is always there, because he's somehow the most amazing guy ever created.

All this runs through your head as you watch Corroded Coffin's set from backstage, hydrating and bouncing your head to the rhythm of their catchy songs. You'd always loved their stuff, and now you can hear them in person every night. Like you'd said—dream come true.

Eddie turns his head after finishing a verse and locks eyes with you. He gives you another wink and a brilliant smile before diving into the chorus with the rest of the band. You sigh dreamily.

Fuck.

;

"You think we're alone in the universe?"

You shake your head vehemently to Gareth's question as you chew the last dregs of your potato chips. Eddie raises an eyebrow at your response and you hold up a finger so you can swallow. They all wait patiently.

You're having a late, unhealthy dinner with Corroded Coffin as you speed towards the next scheduled city. You'd been forced to go right after the show due to the location's distance and earlier-than-usual sound check tomorrow. You're all lounging on the couches, having devoured In-N-Out and a whole bunch of vending machine snacks, which management had given you as consolation for the long trip. It's dark and quiet for the most part, the only light emerging when you pass street lamps. They shine across Eddie's face, across from you, highlighting his plump lips and intense eyes, and make the silver rings on his hands shine brightly.

"We can't be," you finally reply, crumpling your bag and tossing it into one of the empty takeout bags. When you make it, Jeff gives you a high-five. "In our entire universe? Nah, there's gotta be aliens out there."

Eddie smirks, and it makes butterflies go off in your stomach. But Grant is the one who speaks. "Then why haven't they communicated with us?"

Jeff beats you to it. "Have you met us? Who would want to meet us?"

Everyone laughs. "Exactly," you say after a giggle. "We're not ready yet."

"When will we be ready?" Eddie muses, still staring at you. Speechless, you just shrug.

"We've yet to reach warp capabilities," Grant points out.

"And, without warp, we can't reach warp 10 and turn into giant lizards as the evolution of the human race," you add, and Eddie snorts unexpectedly. You smile at him and he shakes his head.

"Good reference," Jeff commends and you incline your head in acknowledgement.

"You sure you don't wanna join our D&D campaign, angel?" Eddie teases, bringing up a topic he's been nagging you about endlessly. You'd been refusing his offers to join their group for a while now. It's not that you wouldn't be into it—you'd never played before, but it didn't seem hard, and you do like fantasy—but more that it'd just be more Eddie, and you're not sure your emotions can handle even more time in his presence.

You shake your head no. "You know I'm a sci-fi girl at heart."

Eddie waves a hand. "Same thing."

"They are not!" You laugh. It's a familiar argument, and he grins at your response.

The bus slows and exits the highway, pausing your conversation. You all fall silent, looking out the windows at the city's lights as you approach your hotel for the night. Exhaustion finally sinks in and you yawn, looking forward to a nice, cool bed that you can curl up in. All alone, you add as you catch Eddie's gaze and he gives you those bedroom eyes that make your thighs clench together.

You come to a stop in front of a nice hotel, thankfully void of reporters and fans—probably too late for them—and step out into the breezy night air. You trudge into the lobby, dead on your feet, and wait for someone to check in and hand you door keys. Taking yours, you follow the boys into the elevator and ride up with them. Down the hallway you stop first, and they wave at you before continuing. You watch them stop at two doors, Jeff and Grant going into one and Gareth going into another. Eddie pauses at the threshold.

You can see him waiting down the hall from you, and as he looks back at you, you have a vision of him up against the wall with you, holding you up as he sucks marks into your neck and you hold him closer with your hands in his hair and your legs around his waist, his hands digging into your ass and his crotch thrusting against you. You flush at the fantasy and blink a few times to get rid of it. You fall back into the present to see Eddie smirking at you now. He cheekily salutes you before disappearing into his room.

You dart into your own and close the door quickly. Taking deep breaths, you try to calm your racing heart. You feel wet and hot and bothered. There's only two solutions: get off or take a shower. Briefly imagining touching yourself with Eddie just down the hall, moaning his name so he might be able to hear it, you eventually shake your head and head for the bathroom.

;

A few days later, in yet another city after yet another fantastic show, someone suggests going out to a bar. You're all down, and while it does take an hour or so for management to find and approve a venue protection-wise, it gives you time to get all dolled up. You dress up for your sets of course, but now you really go in with your makeup and hair, knowing you won't get all messed up and sweaty. You also choose a good outfit you'd never wear onstage, because you like to breathe and walk while performing. You know your heels might give you blisters but you think it'll be worth it.

And it is, when you step out of the elevator and Eddie sucks in a breath through his teeth as his eyes rove over your face and body. You will back a blush but can't stop your underwear from going damp when you see the desire written across his expression.

"Wow, you look great!" Jeff exclaims. The rest of the boys echo him, Eddie a little belatedly.

"Thank you," you giggle, curtseying a little bit.

Security then comes over and herds you all through the doors and into a black SUV. The boys let you go first, and Eddie stretches out his hand to help you up, which you take gratefully. You settle in the back and, you're surprised and nervous when Eddie follows and sits next to you. Jeff and Grant sit in the middle and Gareth up front with the driver. The car leaves the parking lot behind the first SUV, which holds at least four security personnel.

In the dark of the backseat, you try to keep your heart from bursting out of your chest. Eddie doesn't look at or talk to you, staring out the window instead. But his hand is perilously close to your thigh and inching closer. You keep glancing at it as it nears you, keeping your own hands balled in your lap.

Eventually his fingertip brushes your skin and you let out a quiet exhale. He turns to you then, and though you can barely see him, you can tell his eyes are half-lidded and hungry. His hand keeps going, and his palm slides up the side of your thigh to stop on top of it. He rests it there gently, letting you push him away, but you wouldn't dare. His touch is electrifying and sending shivers down your body. You're sure he can feel the goosebumps that flare across your thigh.

He clenches the fat of your thigh in his grip tightly and you jolt. But it's not from his hand; the car is stopping abruptly. You and Eddie both look out the window and see you're parked in front of a seedy bar somewhere downtown. Jeff and Grant are already climbing out.

When they pull the seat down, Eddie has his hand to himself again. You're positive there's a handprint left on your thigh from the burn his touch left inside you, but when you look down, it's perfectly clear. You take a deep breath and slide out of the car slowly, again taking Eddie's outstretched hand to help you down. Neither of you move once you're safely on the ground, gazing at each other with just the tiniest bit of space between you.

Then someone is slamming their door closed and Eddie is stepping away and your hand is being dropped. Eddie strolls into the establishment with Gareth, not looking back at you, and you stare at them leaving blankly. A security guard motions for you to go as well, and so you stalk after them. If that's how he wants to play it after that car ride, you're game.

You breeze in like nothing is wrong, keeping your face neutral. You walk straight up to the bar and order a tequila shot, throwing it back as soon as it's in front of you. When asked for payment, you tell them coolly that you're with the band and order a gin and tonic. They hop to it, already knowing Corroded Coffin is there, and you must be with them if you do too. Seconds later, you're given the drink and you thank them before spinning around and surveying the scene.

There's a bit of a dance floor, moderately filled. Rock is being played through speakers and people are grinding against each other; it's exactly what you wanted to see. You suck down the rest of your cocktail, feeling that pleasant buzz that comes with tipsiness, and then weave through the crowd. You search out a good spot and find one with the added bonus of a cute guy, dancing alone.

You strut up to him and let him take you in—his eyes go wide and he gulps—before asking, "Wanna dance?"

He nods immediately and you step closer to him, resting your arms around his neck and waiting for him to place his around your waist before starting to move. He matches your tempo well and you two sway together as the music plays. You hum along to the familiar melody—it's automatic.

A couple of songs pass, and your mystery partner asks, "Can I kiss you?"

You nod in response, so he dips forward and catches your lips with his. It's okay—not enough pressure, too much spit—but it's a good distraction, so you let it keep going. You make out for a few minutes, quality not really getting better but not worse, but then someone is tapping you on the shoulder. You break from the kiss and look over your shoulder to find Grant behind you. He has an apologetic expression.

"We're leaving," he shouts.

"We just got here!" You reply.

Grant just shrugs. "You have to come with us." At your raised eyebrow, he continues, "Security said so."

You roll your eyes and turn back to your make-out partner, telling him you have to go. He asks for your number but you shake your head. "I had fun!" You say to his bewildered face before whirling around and stomping out of the bar. The boys are already in the car, so you slide into the passenger seat.

As the SUV glides away from the curb, you look into the back and ask a silent question to Jeff, who's sitting behind you. He shrugs and points to the very back, where you spot Eddie, jaw clenched and seething, staring out the window moodily.

You turn back around with a huff and let your annoyance fester as you drive back to the hotel. Once you've arrived, you hop out and go inside before the boys can even get out, and the elevator doors close as they're walking across the lobby. Before they shut completely, you glimpse Eddie's face: dark, unhappy, and...a little jealous?

On the tenth floor, you walk quickly to your room, get in, and shut the door behind you. You listen as the boys pass by, and then as their own doors close, breathe out a sigh of relief.

But you relax too soon. A minute later, there's a knock on your door.

You start to open it slowly, but it swings ajar and Eddie storms in angrily. You look into the hallway but it's empty; Eddie is alone. You close the door, turning around and resting against it, and stare at him. He's pacing the floor with his hands balled into fists.

You think about being nice but the irritation of being forced to leave the bar early is still inside you, so instead you sneer, "Who died and made you the prince of darkness?"

At your voice, he whips his head to you and you're frozen in place by his heated stare. Then he stalks towards you until he's almost flush against you, and slams his hands on the door on either side of your head. You couldn't move if you wanted to, and you definitely don't.

"Think you're funny, angel?" He asks lowly, and your underwear grows embarrassingly wetter.

"I think I'm hilarious," you shoot back lightly.

He bares his teeth in a wicked grin. "Oh, so you know what you were doing?" He places a leg in between yours and presses it against your clothed cunt. It's a delicious pressure, but you don't give him the satisfaction of grinding against it.

"Yeah," you retort, "I was dancing."

"And kissing," he spits out.

"What's it to you?" You arch an eyebrow. When he doesn't reply, just keeps gazing at you with fiery eyes, you smirk. "Oh...was the great Eddie Munson jealous?" He scoffs, but you can see his Adam's apple move with his slow swallow. "You were!" You say triumphantly.

"So what if I was?" He taunts. "What would you do about it?"

Now you swallow. "I don't know."

"I do." He moves impossibly closer, his mouth just hairs away from yours.

"But we've kept everything professional," you breathe.

"Something changed," he replies simply, his tongue darting out to lick his lips and just barely brushing against yours. You meet his stare and find eyes filled with lust, desire, and yes, jealousy. He looks absolutely ravenous for you, and you're tired of pretending you don't feel the same.

So you smirk a little. "I like it." Then you surge up to kiss him.

He groans into your mouth, cupping your head in his hands to keep you from moving away. You clutch his waist tightly, making him dig his leg further against you. There's delicious friction against you and you thrust against his thigh to keep it going. He encourages it by grabbing your hips and helping you grind rhythmically. You slide your own hands up his toned arms, squeezing slightly, before wrapping them around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair.

His tongue forces your mouth open and dives inside, and you let him. It's only until you need precious oxygen that you break the kiss, and he immediately moves his lips down your neck, leaving wet, hot kisses in their wake.

"I saw us," you say deliriously. Eddie nips your skin with his teeth, and you understand it's a request for more, so you clarify, "I saw you up against the wall with me, like this."

He practically growls and sucks a deep mark, making you moan. When he leans back, he smiles wickedly. "I've been watching you for ages, sweetheart. You won't believe half the things I see inside my head."

Looking up at him, dazed, you have enough presence of mind to reply, "Wait till you see half the things that haven't happened yet."

His eyes darken further and he moves his leg away from you. Before you can whine, he's placing his hands on your thighs and lifting you, making you hook your legs around his waist. Then he carries you to the bed, turning so he's the one against it, and sits. The action makes you drop against his crotch and he groans at the pressure against his hard cock. You kiss him again to keep him quiet, but it just riles him up, making you keep thrusting into him, soaking your panties further.

You two make out for a few minutes, just exploring each other hungrily, before you pry your lips from his. He tries to chase after them and you giggle, which makes him open his eyes. Your breath hitches at the lust you see swimming in them, knowing yours match.

You tap his hands to let you go, but he shakes his head. "Come on," you coo, "I promise it'll be worth it." He reluctantly releases his grip and you slide from his lap to kneel on the floor. Looking up at him, trying to project innocence, you smile benevolently.

"Fuck me," he groans at the sight.

You pout. "Later. Right now, I'm trying to suck you." You pinch his jeans and command, "Off."

He scrambles to comply, unbuttoning and pushing them down his legs, including his boxers. Your gaze is magnetized to the large, rock-hard cock that bounces free and slaps against his shirt. He realizes how unsexy that must look, because he then pulls his shirt over his head. His dick smears pre-cum across his revealed abs, firm and beautiful.

You hum approvingly and smooth your hands up his thighs. He watches you, enraptured, as you get closer and finally run your fingertips along his length. You smirk at his shiver, sitting up on your knees and leaning forward, using your hand to bring his cock to your mouth and kitten-licking the tip. He just about chokes, and so you go further, sticking out your tongue and swirling it around the head. You moan at the taste of his pre-cum and he breathes shakily.

Done with teasing and ready to get on with the show, you then place your whole mouth around his cock and take it deep. "Shit, angel," Eddie swears. You look up at him—his head is thrown back and his hands are fisted in the comforter. It's intoxicating, the feeling of being able to destroy him so thoroughly, and so you indulge.

You suck his cock to the best of your ability, which must be pretty damn good based on the sounds he lets out. At one point, you grab his hand and maneuver it to rest on your head. He gets the hint and clutches your hair tightly. The pull makes you moan, and he jerks at the vibration on his cock. You let him take control, crossing your hands behind your back, and he slowly, gently, fucks himself into your mouth. You focus on your breathing, letting drool drip down his dick and your jaw. He doesn't look away from you and you don't look away from him.

Eventually, he pulls you off completely and you swallow the accumulated spit. He sighs shakily, running a hand through his hair. You grin at him, face shiny, and he pleads, "Come here, baby." You stand and step between his legs. He marvels at you. "You're so beautiful."

You duck your head in flattered embarrassment, but he grabs your chin and forces you to look back at him again. "I mean it," he insists. "Prettiest girl I ever saw."

You must be flaming red by now, but you smile. "Thank you," you whisper, voice barely there.

Eddie grins. "Wanna get my mouth on you, angel. That okay?"

You nod eagerly and he chuckles. He backs you up so he can stand, switches your positions, and helps you lay on the bed, climbing over you. You giggle when his hair tickles your face.

His fingers go to your dress's hem and you help him lift it over your head. You reach behind you and unclip your bra, letting it fall from your body. Eddie tosses it behind him, stare stuck on your newly revealed breasts. "Perfect," he breathes, before leaning down and kissing you again. It's soft this time, and doesn't last that long before he's moving down your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, to your tits. When he takes a nipple in his mouth and suckles it gently, you gasp.

With that, the mood switches back to urgent, and he presses harder. One hand wraps around your neglected nipple as his teeth come out to play and bite teasingly at your skin. You arch your back against him, digging your hands into his hair to keep him torturing you so exquisitely, and he eagerly obeys. When he switches sides, his hands disappear in between your bodies and deftly pull down your underwear, leaving you as bare as him.

You whine when he moves away from your tits, and he shoots you a cheeky grin. He slides down your body, pressing kisses anywhere he can reach. When he arrives at your cunt, he spreads your legs and delights in how you've reacted to his ministrations over the night.

"Baby girl is just weeping for me, isn't she?" He teases, swiping a finger through your lips to collect some wetness and bring it to his mouth. You watch with hazy eyes as he wraps his lips around it and sucks it clean, moaning at the taste. "Knew you would be so sweet, honey," he says. "Like a peach." He dips his head down again and you gasp as he noses against you deeply, tongue darting out but never staying in one place for too long.

"Eddie," you whimper, "stop teasing."

He looks up at you, lower half of his face soaked. "But teasing you is so much fun," he replies with a grin. "And you teased me all night."

"Didn't mean to," you insist softly.

He pouts. "No?" You shake your head.

"In that case..." He grips your thighs and spreads them further. He looks at you with a sinful smile and then leans down and presses his tongue against your cunt, making you moan. He licks fervently, quickly finding your clit and sucking it harshly. Your hips buck from the bed and his hands go to them to hold you down. He doesn't let you move as he torments you in the best way, truly at his mercy now. One hand moves from your waist and strokes between your lips, a warning before he pushes it inside slowly.

It feels amazing but not enough, so you beg, "More, please." He listens and adds another finger, thrusting them quicker and quicker, curling them to brush that spot inside you can never seem to reach by yourself. At the feeling, you keen, and feel him grin against you.

Your climax is almost upon you, pussy clenching around Eddie's fingers to let him know. He keeps going at his rapid pace, tongue lightning fast on your clit, and a minute later you're tensing as the waves crash over you. He continues his movements, letting it the pleasure hit over and over until you're twitching from overstimulation. Slowly, he comes to a stop and looks up at you.

"That was gorgeous, sweetheart," he says as he lazily brings his body up yours. "Gotta be inside you, though. Wanna see you do that again on my cock."

You nod, feeling his dick resting against your lower stomach. He leans over for his jeans, pulling out a condom and ripping it open with his teeth. He hisses as he slides it on, and rubs through your wetness to coat it.

"Ready, baby?" He asks sweetly.

"Yes," you sigh dreamily, and he lines up. Pushing inside gradually, letting you adjust to the feeling of his cock splitting you open so well, you moan in tandem when he bottoms out.

"Better than I imagined," Eddie groans. He pulls out and then thrusts back in, starting a quick pace, hitting that spongy place inside you that makes you mewl every time. He rests on his elbows above you and you wrap your legs around his waist so he can go even deeper. He catches your lips with his and swallows all your moans. The gentle kiss is a contrast to his hard thrusts, and you lose your mind just a little.

"Oh my god," you whine when he places his forehead against yours.

"Shouldn't you be praying to me?" Eddie teases, but you can hear how close he is to finishing in his voice, brings you closer to the edge too. Sensing this, he says, "Alright, baby. You gonna cum for me?"

You nod helplessly, words stuck in your throat.

"Good," he soothes. "Go ahead, honey. Wanna feel it."

You do as you're told and careen into the bliss of your second orgasm. You pulse around his cock and his hips stutter, pressing inside you as far as he can to feel how you squeeze around him as the waves keep going. "Such a good girl," he groans, and the extra tight clench his words produce make him cum too. You feel him spill inside you hotly, and you moan tiredly at the last burst of pleasure it gives you.

Eddie kisses you again, this one lazy and sloppy, soothing as he slips out of you. He stands, getting rid of the condom and padding to the bathroom to wet a washcloth. He brings it back and gently cleans you, the warm fabric making you shiver. "Here, darling," he says softly, and you slide under the covers he lifts for you to cuddle under. He tosses the washcloth away after cleaning himself and slips in next to you.

You hum happily as he brings you close, tucking your head under his chin and wrapping his arms around you. He drops a kiss on the crown of your head.

"Night, beautiful," he murmurs, and you snuggle against him, drifting off to sleep.

;

The next day, you're reading in your dressing room when there's a knock at the door. Expecting it to be your manager to escort you to your sound check, you're surprised to find Eddie on the other side instead. You stand aside so he can enter, and shut the door behind him. He turns to you, half-smiling.

"Hey," he says, kind of awkwardly. It's a bit endearing. "About last night..."

You swallow nervously and nod. You'd woken up this morning alone in bed, sunlight streaming through the open curtains. You'd tried not to feel disappointed, but as you relived the previous night in the shower, remembering how sweet and gentle and kind he'd been, you'd grown increasingly hopeful his leaving had nothing to do with keeping you a secret and everything to do with anything else. You hadn't seen him or the rest of the band all day, as they'd been at sound check and you hadn't wanted to ambush Eddie.

But now he's in front of you, and you're about to hear the verdict.

"Is it okay if we..." You raise your eyebrows optimistically. "...keep it on the down-low?"

Your heart falls into your stomach and you try not to let your face do the same. Words stuck in your throat, you just nod with what you hope is a confident smile. This isn't a surprise, you think, as he seems to sigh in relief and shoots you a grateful smile. This is not a big deal, you think, as he walks up and kisses you, molding his lips to yours. This is fine, you think, as he leans back to look at you.

"Wanna keep seeing you, though," he adds, and you hate how your heart jumps back up in hope.

"Me too," you croak out. He hesitates but eventually grins.

"Great! Glad we're on the same page."

"Same." You know the smile on your face is strained but you don't know how to fix it. Thankfully, you don't have to, because then there's another knock on the door. As your manager steps in, Eddie steps back quickly and perches on the table nonchalantly. You force your hand to stay by your side and not reach for him, make him come back.

"Sound check," your manager chirps, looking up from her phone.

You tear your eyes from Eddie and look at her. You give her a tight nod and she walks out, leaving the door open. Eddie follows her, brushing his fingertips against the back of your hand and whispering, "See you tonight?"

You look at him, into those chocolate eyes, and see nothing more than distant expectation. You nod, telling him what he wants to hear, and he smirks. With that, he strolls out, unbothered by how he'd just broken your heart.

No. He did not just break your heart. You're not in love with him. This was expected. Eddie Munson is an über-famous, absurdly well-known celebrity, and they all want no-strings-attached, casual relationships due to that fame. He doesn't want to have to worry about fans melting down, paparazzi asking questions, and what people will say in general. He doesn't want to have to deal with any reactions your relationship would garner, especially not during a world tour. He just wants to have some mind-blowing sex and let off steam.

You try to focus on how great that sex was, and that he wants to keep having it with you. You try to take comfort in that. It doesn't work super well, but it's what you have to do. The only way out is through. You will have some good times sleeping with each other, and then when the tour ends, you will go your separate ways.

It's delicate, you reassure yourself as you leave the room, but I will do my best to seem bulletproof.

;

You're not. As the days and weeks pass, and you and Eddie continue hooking up with no strings, you come to realize that painfully intimately.

He sneaks in and out of your hotel rooms under the cover of darkness, never saying goodbye, never leaving you with anything other than nicely sore legs and taking with him any traces of happiness you'd gotten while with him. And it's a lot—you realize way too soon that you're falling for him. He always takes care of you so sweetly when you have sex, and he's such a gentleman when he's alone with you, and he doesn't stop using those damned pet names even in public (though it is limited to princess and sweetheart). He asks you questions like he cares about the answers and still compliments your sets and sound checks.

It's this weird combination of torture and bliss. When you're together, it's like all you can see is each other, but when you add another person to the mix, he turns distant and indifferent. When you all go out drinking, he doesn't pay attention to you at the bar but unleashes a jealous possessiveness in private that always makes you think he's falling for you too. But he's always gone in the morning, without fail, without a word.

It would be so much easier if the sex wasn't so good. When he puts his mouth on you, it's like you're electrified from the inside out. When he's inside you, it's like he fits perfectly. And when he inevitably comes back for more, it's like you're helpless, unable to refuse, wanting him just one more time.

You've said "one more time" to yourself so many times it's too many to count. You keep telling yourself you'll break it off, stop your heart from fracturing each time—you're afraid it's going to shatter one of these days. But when he knocks on your door, and you open it to see him looking at you with those bedroom eyes and delectable lips, you can't stop yourself from hauling him in and kissing him soundly. He's like a drug. Like you're addicted.

Sometimes you catch yourself looking at him in public and thinking about revealing the secret. You imagine just walking up and kissing him in front of everyone. What would you do if I went to touch you now? You whisper to yourself as you pass each other in the hotel hallway and he winks just for you. But then he kisses you in private and you think, you know I won't ever tell—not if I can keep you like this, for as long as I can have you.

Then the tour comes to an end, and you go your separate ways.

You find yourself waiting by the phone, seeing if he'll call and you hate yourself for it, but you can't stop. It's your constant companion, your closest confidante. But it doesn't ring and doesn't ring and doesn't ring.

Life goes on around you, even though you don't go with it. Reviews of the tour come in and they're generally positive. Corroded Coffin comes out with new music. Your agent tries reaching out to you about another record, but you can't make yourself pick up a pen.

The only thing that breaks through the monotony is an invitation to the MMAs, Major Music Awards. You're surprised to learn that you've been nominated for Best New Artist, and dismayed to learn that Corroded Coffin has been nominated for their latest album. You RSVP yes—but only so you can get out of this rut. It's messing up your life; it's driving you crazy. You know the band will be there and if you could just see Eddie in person, from a distance, maybe you can get past this and move on from him. You desperately need some closure.

So on the night, you let yourself dress up, let a makeup artist cover your face in proverbial warpaint, let a hairstylist pull your hair back into a severe updo. You let your agent get you a limo and arrange for you to arrive during primetime. And you steel your nerves.

;

The flashing lights blind you as you step out of the car. You hold up a hand and present what you hope is a collected smile, not one that's panicked and weird. You pay enough attention to the ground so you know where you're going but stop as directed to let the reporters take photos and shout questions.

One calls your name. "Are you still close with Corroded Coffin?"

You clench your jaw. "Of course! I'm still so grateful they chose me to be their opener on the last tour."

"How was it?"

You have a memory of Eddie smiling at you while eating you out. "Amazing! Life-changing!"

"How do you feel about being nominated tonight?"

"Oh my gosh, so blessed." Thank god, a question not about him. "I'm so honored to be in a category with so many other fantastic artists."

"Think you'll win?"

"Fingers crossed! But I'm just happy to be nominated, really."

"Thank you everyone!" Your agent says to the press and motions for you to walk with her. You follow, trying not to trip in your sky-high heels, as she leads you to your table. "Your award is first," she says as you pull out your chair to sit, "so it'll be done right away. You're free to leave whenever."

"What about Corroded Coffin?" You can't help asking. "Shouldn't I stay for that award?"

"It's a nice gesture, not strictly necessary. But you're welcome to stay, of course."

You nod thoughtfully. Maybe you'll get your closure and get out of there.

When your agent moves away, the empty space reveals the door. The door through which Corroded Coffin is walking. Jeff and Grant enter first, Gareth following, and then...Eddie bringing up the rear. All of them look nonplussed—they've been to plenty of these things before.

Eddie scans the room and his eyes fall on you. They widen a little bit but his mouth curves into a smile, and he waves a little. As your stomach goes into free-fall, you wave back. You hadn't meant it as an invitation, but he starts walking over to you, breaking from the rest of the band without even letting them know. He keeps his gaze on you as he weaves through the tables, and you try not to let your heart gallop away from you.

"Hey," he says when he reaches you. His voice is scratchy and familiar and music to your ears.

"Hi," you somehow manage in reply.

"How are you? How have you been?" He sounds eager to know.

"Um, okay." You hadn't thought about how you wouldn't have anything to say due to wallowing for the past few months. "You?"

"Good, good." He's nodding, still staring at you with those eyes you'd gotten lost in so many times.

"Well..." You break the eye contact to look him over. You can't help smirking at his aesthetic change for the night. "I see you, in your suit and your necktie," you tease.

He rolls his eyes but grins. "Yeah, we were forced to wear these monkey suits," he groans. "Can't wait to get it off."

A fantasy comes to your mind of doing that with him, helping him throw his jacket on the floor, as your lips are locked together. You shake your head to make it go away. "You look good." He does.

He preens. "Thanks. You look amazing." His eyes rove over you and you will your body not to flush.

"Thank you," you whisper, just like after he'd called you the prettiest girl he'd ever seen the first time you'd slept together.

"I gotta go, but it was nice to see you." He opens his arms for a hug. You think about saying no, going for a handshake instead, but your body moves of its own accord, stepping into him and holding him close. He tightens his grip around you and his hand brushes yours, placing a piece of paper in your palm. Before you can ask about it, he leans back, gives you a dazzling smile, and struts away.

You look down. It's folded into fours, very wrinkled and a little worn. You unfold it and read, in Eddie's writing, "Meet me tonight. Room 1012 at 9pm."

Your heart sprints away and you can't catch it. You sit down and take a deep breath. You can be strong, you can still do what you came here to do. You can get your closure.

Someone comes around with a tray of champagne flutes and you grab one gratefully. You drink half of it in one go, relaxing when the bubbles fizz some of your anxiety away, and set it down so you don't guzzle the other half right away. Thankfully, the lights dim and an overture starts. Your mind races as it goes on, trying not to think about seeing Eddie in private again after so long. The host comes onstage and you don't even hear the bad jokes they crack that get crickets from the audience. But then they introduce the first presenter—your award—and you're nervous for a completely different reason.

You force yourself to pay attention and listen to the person summarize the award and what it means. They list all the nominees and you paste a smile on your face when they mention you and the camera is for sure on you. Your heart is pounding and your stomach is flip-flopping and through it all there's a piece of your mind that is still on Eddie and what he's thinking about during this.

You don't realize at first when they announce you as the winner.

When the clapping starts up in earnest and you're jolted into blinking, you discover your name and live feed is on the big screen, and people are jostling you in congratulations. You stand and walk to the stage, trying to be graceful and not stilted. You work very hard on the steps so you don't trip. And then you're onstage, and the presenter and host are hugging you, and someone is handing you the award, and another is pushing you to the mic. You clutch the sculpture tightly in your sweaty hands so you don't drop and shatter it, and stare out at the audience.

You can't see a thing. The lights are so bright that you can only see darkness and shining flashes of glasses and jewelry. You don't know where Eddie is and you couldn't find him if you tried. Weirdly, it relaxes you, and you start talking from the heart.

"Wow! I can't really believe this." You laugh breathlessly. "Thank you so much to everyone who has helped me get here: my agent, my manager, my crew, my family, my friends, everyone I love. And I have to give special thanks to Corroded Coffin, who made my dreams come true by picking me as the opening act for their last tour, and I couldn't have done any of this without them and their faith in me." The audience claps. "I'd also like to say to everyone who doesn't really see the light at the end of the tunnel...it's coming. It might take a while and no one knows when it'll appear, but if you're moving forwards, you're moving towards it. And it's brighter than you could've ever imagined. Thank you!"

You step away from the mic and more applause follows you backstage. People come up and congratulate you in a whirlwind, and you don't know who anyone is. You just hold your award to your chest and smile so brightly it could blind.

Your agent rushes over and gives you an enormous hug. "Congratulations, babe! I knew you could do it."

You chuckle. "I didn't."

"Well, it's my job to know you could and always can." You smile at her gratefully. "You ready to meet the press?"

You nod. "What time is it?"

She checks her watch. "8:40."

You thank her and she leads you to the press room, which is filled with yells as you enter. You stand at the mic, still clutching your award, still grinning like a maniac. Everyone raises their hand and screams your name, and you pick a reporter at random.

They stand. "How do you feel about your win tonight?"

"I'm—I don't know," you answer, flustered, and the crowd titters kindly. "This is more than I could've asked for. I'm so honored."

You choose another person. "Do you feel like you should've won?"

"I can't say that, everyone in the category with me are so talented and deserved it as well. I kind of want to do the Mean Girls thing and break it into pieces for them." The press laughs with you.

Someone else: "Where did the end of your speech come from? About the tunnel?"

"I'm not really sure, to be honest," you admit. "I've just been feeling low lately, for reasons that are not entirely rational. But tonight and everything that's happened has really shown me that we all get a happy ending one way or another. We have the strength to get through anything. Everyone alive has made it through all their hard times—we have a 100% success rate. And it'll be okay, in the end."

The last: "What's next for you?"

You think about it for a minute. "I'm gonna keep going. Maybe I'll write an album about what I went through, maybe I'll forget about it and write about the future. Maybe I'll quit music altogether and become a skydiving instructor." Everyone laughs. "No, I won't do that last one. I'm afraid of heights." You smile. "But the sky is the limit and I can do anything."

Your agent steps forward so you step back. She thanks everyone and escorts you back out of the press room and into the bustling hallway. "Can you take this?" You ask, turning to her and holding out the sculpture. She takes it hesitantly and you giggle. "I'll be right back. Promise."

She nods with a sigh and you escape down the hall and to the elevator bank. You fidget as you wait for it to arrive, and then you pace as it rises to the tenth floor. You're nervous but there's a newfound strength inside you from your win. You deserve to get what you want. And that means not being some man's stepping stone on his way to a trophy wife.

You knock on room 1012 and the door swings open to reveal Eddie. He steps back and sweeps his hand out for you to enter, so you do. Once he shuts the door, he walks up to you.

"Congrats on your award," he says.

"Thanks," you reply coolly.

He cocks his head, studying you. "What'd you mean at the end though?"

You stare at him. He seems genuine. "Nothing. It doesn't matter."

His eyebrows raise. "You sure?"

You play it out in your head: telling him everything you felt from the moment he kissed you, how it hurt when asked to keep it casual and hidden, how much like a lovesick fool you felt on the tour, how you sat by the phone and waited for him to call for an embarrassing amount of time, how you haven't been able to think about anything else but him and your time together since it started. That you fell for him, against your better judgement, despite your attempts not to. It would be so satisfying to see those words hit him, how his face would look when you told him a guy who never tried to hurt anyone hurt you badly without trying.

But that's not what you're here for. So you nod, with a fresh wave of confidence, and that's what makes you raise a hand and stop Eddie when he tries to step forward and kiss you.

"What's up?" He asks, confused.

"I'm not gonna do this anymore," you answer. It might be a whisper, but at least you've said it.

And at least he doesn't pretend to not know what you mean. "Why not?" It's not petulant, or annoyed, or upset, but straight.

"I deserve better." And your voice is a little stronger now. "I deserve not to be treated like a secret. I deserve someone who loves me back."

"Back?" Eddie echoes and you sigh inwardly.

"Slip of the tongue," you try to reason, but it's weak and he can see through it. He's always been able to see through you.

"Angel--"

"Not your angel anymore," you interrupt. "Or your sweetheart, or your princess. Not yours." You slowly turn and walk back to the door before looking back at him one last time. "I'm not sure I ever was."

Eddie opens his mouth but you can't bear to hear his reply. So you walk out of the room and down the hall, not stopping even when he calls your name desperately. He follows you but the elevator door closes on his face.

The elevator opens into the lobby and you rush out. You search for your agent, eventually finding her talking to a group of people. You wait impatiently for her to finish—you just wanna get your award and go home. Finally, she turns to you, but then the lights dim and she ushers you to your table and makes you sit with her. You try to protest but she shushes you as the host walks out. You sit in frustration as they crack more bad jokes and introduce the presenter.

"And so the Best New Album award." Fuck. "The nominees are..." As they list all the nominated artists, you try not to look when Corroded Coffin is announced and live video is projected on the big screen. But it's like your eyes are magnetized and you're jarred when you see that Eddie is looking at his lap blankly, not performing for the camera or jostling with his band members, completely unlike him.

The picture minimizes and the presenter opens their envelope. "And the winner is..." Everyone holds their breath, including you. "Corroded Coffin!"

The audience goes crazy, as does your agent and the band when their picture goes big again. Except for Eddie, who Gareth has to haul to his feet and push to the stage with them. He stumbles up the steps and stands in the back as Grant grabs the award and Jeff goes to the mic and starts thanking everyone in their orbit. You still stare at Eddie, who is blinking in the bright lights, looking lost. But when Jeff finishes and the presenter starts ushering them offstage, Eddie breaks from the pack and walks up to the mic.

"Um," he starts, voice echoing in the quieted room. "Hi. I'm not here to thank or praise anyone—Jeff already did all of that. I'm here to..." He takes a deep breath. "I'm here to talk to my angel."

You freeze.

He continues. "I could stand here and say I didn't mean it, and while it would be true, it wouldn't help. And I could say that I was a complete and utter asshole, which is also true, but has already been implied. Instead, what I am going to say this: you do deserve better.

"The truth is, I did want you to be mine. But I was scared, and I put up my walls, and I tried to protect myself. I didn't want to be hurt, and I hurt you in the process, and for that, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I treated you like a secret. I wish I could go back in time, to that night in room 1012 and stop myself from leaving, or to that next day and stop myself from asking what I did of you, or any day after that and make myself confess that I'm yours. I've been yours from the very beginning. I'm yours right now and probably always will be. I'm sorry I never told you and I'm sorry it took so long. But you deserve to know."

With that, he raises a hand and walks offstage. You stare at the space he'd been, trying to understand everything he'd said, but your agent is trying to gossip with you about it and it's making your skin crawl. So you stand and speed-walk away, towards backstage, no one even stoping you as you race after Corroded Coffin.

"Eddie!" You call out when you spot them, and he spins around. You don't slow down and slam into him, throwing your arms around him. He catches you, and after a few seconds of hesitation, holds you close.

"Oh, thank fuck," he breathes out.

You draw back and look at him. He has hope, anxiety, guilt, regret in his expression. "You love me?" You ask breathlessly.

He nods frantically. "I've loved you for so long, angel."

"But you were scared? Of me hurting you?"

He shakes his head just as furiously as he'd nodded. "Never of you. Of myself, of not being enough. I never deserved you, princess. That I know."

Now you shake your head. "You were everything I wanted. I just thought I couldn't have it."

"You have it. You've always had it." He swallows. "You've had all of me since we first met."

Finally, you smile. You feel over the moon, lighter than air, like you could float away if Eddie wasn't tethering you down to the ground. His face brightens in response, lit up from within, an incandescent glow. "I love you," you admit, and his ecstatic reaction makes your heart sing.

He kisses you, and it's just as perfect as it had always been, lips slotting against yours like they were made for each other. Like you were made for each other.

He parts and rests his forehead against yours. "I'm so sorry, baby. For it all."

"It's okay."

He shakes his head slightly. "Nah, I've got a lot to make up for."

"Well," you reply, leaning back, "if you say so."

He laughs, and it's the most perfect sound you've ever heard.

"I can't believe you remembered that room number," you murmur in amazement. "I didn't even realize."

"I remember it all, angel. That's how I know I have so much to grovel for." At his smirk, you giggle, and he breaks into a full smile.

"Can't wait to see how you make it better," you tease, sparkle in your eye. Eddie pulls you closer again.

"Me too," he admits, and you laugh with all the happiness in the world.

;

"How are y'all feeling tonight?" You shout, and the audience screams back at you in excitement. You laugh. "Good to hear! I'm feeling great!"

You're onstage, playing a show for your current international headlining tour. You've just sang the first two songs of the set, feeding off the crowd's high energy and bouncing around. There's a set of three guitars near the edge and your microphone is your favorite color and the lights are blinding in that way that makes you feel invincible. It doesn't hurt that the show, like most of the others on the tour, is sold out, and your fans are going crazy already.

"As you may know," you continue, "I went through some shit last year." There're a few boos that make you giggle. "It was a hard time, but I came out the other side. But you all know that. It was shown on live television!" Everyone screams again and you grin brightly. "That was wild, right? I was just as shocked as y'all."

"We love you!" Someone shrieks.

"I love you too!" You reply. "I couldn't have done any of this without all of y'all. And when a certain someone said they loved me at the MMAs, I couldn't have done it without him either. In fact, he inspired my latest album—the highs, the lows, the heartbreak, the happy ending. He and his band even collab'd with me on it, and volunteered to be featured on a couple of songs."

There's more screeching, like they know you're building to something.

"You all know who they are. Who isn't a fan of Corroded Coffin?" You laugh as the crowd agrees with you loudly. "I am, have been for a long time. They were very formative to my music and overall sound. Wouldn't it be amazing if they were here too?"

The crowd practically howls.

"This isn't a surprise anymore really, but I do love introducing it as one. So...oh my gosh!" You exclaim, staring offstage. "Who's this?"

Jeff, Grant, and Gareth all run out onstage and wave, and everyone goes wild. They each give you a quick hug before going to their instruments. You keep watching the wings, smile on your face, as finally, Eddie strolls out like the rockstar he is. He takes his time walking across, but he doesn't look at the crowd—he keeps his eyes on you only. You can't tear your gaze away.

When he eventually reaches you and grabs your hand, you turn to your audience. "Girls, gays, and theys, please welcome Corroded Coffin!" Their screams drown you out and you laugh, the delight of this moment never fading night after night.

Eddie squeezes your hand and you look at him. He leans in and kisses you. The crowd yells impossibly louder as he wraps his hands around your waist and dips you dramatically. You laugh in glee, breaking the kiss, and he stares at you with love.

Then he brings a mic to his mouth. "Y'all having a good time?" He's still looking at you as they answer him in screams. "Bet I'm having a better time, though. Only I get to kiss this goddess you all came to see."

You roll your eyes but you go all gooey inside. "Let's not make anyone jealous, baby. That's how this whole thing got started, you know."

"Mhm," he hums lowly. "And you look better every day since then."

"You big softie," you tease. Turning back to the crowd, you yell in fake-shock, "Did y'all know that rockstar and certified metalhead Eddie Munson is actually a huge cinnamon roll at heart?"

Eddie places a hand over your mouth. "Stop! You'll ruin my reputation!" He jokes. You lick his palm and he takes his hand away, giving you a grossed-out look. You smirk and blow him a kiss, which softens his expression.

"Y'all think we can get on with the show?" Grant asks, fondly exasperated.

"Hell yeah!" You answer.

Eddie pouts. "I guess."

You laugh and tug him close as Corroded Coffin explodes into the next song. Eddie leans over and says in your ear, "Ready, princess?'

You give him a fiery gaze. "Oh, I'm ready."

"Bring it on," he replies, and his wink sends you to the stars.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #mine

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