#get ready to see me ride that joke into the ground

[fipindustries]

no thanks, you are probably a chaser or something

#just so you guys know #this is my gf #get ready to see me ride that joke into the ground

[rafeandonlyrafe]

fake fight

words: 800

warnings: 18+ only, smut, dry humping

“come on baby, you were the one who was so sure that you could beat me in a fight.” rafe says, whipping his shirt off. you know it’s going to give him an advantage, always getting distracted by his bare chest.

it was mostly a joke. you know you’d never actually beat rafe in a fight, but you’re stubborn and continued to say that you could, that while rafe was obviously stronger, you were quicker and had better reflexes. you should have known it was a mistake and rafe would actually call you out on your bluff.

“fine.” you shrug, taking your necklace off, with a diamond ‘R’ on it, gifted to you by none other than the man you know you’re about to lose to. he’s cleared the living room, pushed all of the furniture back so you have plenty of space to spar.

“alright. i’ll go gentle on you.”

you drop the fake overconfidence. you really don’t want rafe to go hard on you, not that he would anyways. you know in your ‘fight’ that rafe would never actually be rough with you.

you give a nod, signaling that you are ready. you move quickly, knowing that you’re going to get maybe one chance to get rafe before you’re on the ground.

you manage to strike out at his shoulder before he can pull back, but then his arms are around your waist, lowering you to the floor, a hand coming up to the back of your head to cushion the fall. rafe drops on top of you, using his body weight to keep you down. he grabs your wrists, holding them on either side of your head.

“i expected it to be quick, but not that quick. tap out.” rafe laughs, right in your face. your brow scrunches, too proud to give up just because you’re pinned. you test if you can get your arms free, but it’s no use. he just pushes them harder into the carpet until you stop. you wiggle your hips instead, seeing if you can get free that way, but all that you manage to do is rub against rafe’s hips.

rafe lets out a half moan half grunt, and you’re suddenly aware of how your wiggling is affecting rafe. your eyes widen as rafe smirks, hips suddenly pushing forward, thrusting his clothed cock over your covered cunt.

you shouldn’t encourage him, but you can’t help it. you wrap your hips around his legs, feigning like you're trying to flip him over, but all it does is make you grind against rafe.

he rubs right back, directly over your clit now that your legs are spread wide for him. you hold back a moan, trying again to flip so you’re on top.

it feels so dirty, both getting off during the (albeit fake) fight. you know you’d look insane to anyone who walked in, rafe shamelessly rubbing his cock against you while you’re pinned to the floor.

“give up.” rafe says. “give up and i’ll fuck you.”

“no.” no matter how bad you want it, you're too headstrong to agree. 

“fine.” rafe resists the urge to kiss you, moving his hips away and then back in as he practically fucks you, if only the clothes weren’t in the way.

you squeeze your eyes shut, testing the hold on your wrists, but rafe still has an iron grip on them.

“good try, princess. only way you’re getting out is if you tap out.” rafe says. you shake your head no, so rafe just shrugs, bucking his hips. he won’t last long. it’ll be embarrassing, cumming in his shorts, but you just look so small and helpless underneath him, trapped, unable to get away even if you wanted to (which you definitely don’t at this point).

you’re not unaffected by this either. rafe grinds against your clit, and you know you’re close as well.

“fuck.” rafe grunts out, completely losing his cool demeanor when you start to wiggle against him again, bucking your hips to join his thrusts.

rafe cries out as he spills in his shorts, cum spurting into the fabric just as you also reach the edge, clit pulsing as you moan, rafe grinding against you as you both ride out your orgasms.

rafe takes a deep breath and then sinks into you, body going slack. it’s your chance. you’re exhausted from the struggle and the orgasm, but you manage to flip over so rafe is on the bottom, and you’re sitting right in his lap.

rafe smiles, proud that you got the jump on him. he could easily flip you back over, but he’s tired and just wants to actually fuck you, so he slaps his hand against the ground twice, tapping out. “i win!” you squeal, bending down to kiss rafe. “i told you i would win.”

“you were right, honey.” rafe laughs. “let me help you celebrate.”

#reupload! #rafe fic #rafe fanfic #rafe fanfiction #rafe x reader #rafe smut #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron drabble #rafe cameron one shot #rafe cameron smut #obx smut #outer banks smut

[fxrmuladaydreams]

sitting on oscar’s face and everytime his nose bumps your clit you let out even louder moans, and he’s just laying there with a smirk on his face (i just love his nose)

!! oscar weekend requests are now closed !!

warnings: !! CONTAINS SMUT, MINORS DNI !! face sitting

note: anon you are so right

You look down at him between your legs and sigh. He can tell you’re hesitant. He gives you a soft smile and a small nod.

“It’s okay, this is gonna be fun.”

You laughed when he first suggested this, you sitting on his face. You thought he was joking. Sure, he told you that he loved burying his face between your legs and lapping at your center, but you couldn’t picture yourself actually sitting on his face.

“C’mon darling, it’ll be so good.” He pleads.

“You can’t be serious Os, what if I hurt you?”

“Then I’ll go doing the thing I love most.”

You shake your head, turning away from him. His hand reaches out for your arm, pulling you back into him.

“We don’t have to do it if you don’t want to. But if you ever do want to, know I will gladly let you sit on my face.” He finishes his sentence with a gentle kiss to your lips.

It takes a little while for the topic to come up again. It’s after a race weekend, he’s come home and slumped against you on the couch. His lips leave kisses on any exposed skin he can find, eventually looking for more and sliding down to kneel on the ground and spread your legs open for him.

“Os.” You stop him.

He looks up at you. “You don’t want to?” He asks, ready to sit back on the couch and pull you into his arms again.

“No, I just… I was thinking, maybe we could try it…” You say, your voice trailing off at the end.

“Try what?”

“You know, it…”

He gives you a blank look shaking his head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about darling…”

“I want to sit on your face!” You let the words come out.

A wide grin spreads over his face. “Yeah?” He smirks.

“Don’t get cocky.” You give him a soft kick. “You know what? No, I’ve changed my mind.” You lean back and cross your legs.

“No, no, no! Please darling, please.” He lays his head on your knee, giving you his best puppy dog eyes. “Please sit on my face.”

You smile, giving into him. “Alright.” You stand up, and hold a hand out for him to take. “But we’re doing this in the bedroom.”

He trails behind you as you walk to your back to your bedroom. From there on it’s the usual standard foreplay between the two of you, kisses and lovebites and wandering hands, up until he’s laying back with you hovering over his face.

“If you’re genuinely scared about suffocating me or something, don’t be. You know I have the strength to push you off of me.” He turns his head to kiss your leg. “Are you going to make me beg darling?”

“Shut up.”

“I know one way you could shut me up.” He winks at you.

You roll your eyes. “Okay, here we go.” You slowly lower yourself down, careful not to put your full body weight on him.

Oscar nearly rolls his eyes at you himself, wrapping his arms around your thighs and pulling you down flush against his face.

You let out a surprised squeal when you feel his tongue already delving into you. You tangle a hand in his hair and rest the other on the wall in front of you in an attempt to keep your balance.

You moan above him, trying to keep your hips still.

“Ride my face.” He tells you, his words muffled.

You give a few experimental rolls of your hips, gasping when you feel his nose brush against your clit. You look down to see him looking up at you, his eyes crinkled in the way they do when he’s smirking at you.

You continue to ride his face, tugging at the deep brown hair tangled around your fingers, until you feel yourself fall apart.

He gently helps you move off of his face, so that you’re sitting on his abdomen. He gives you a wicked smile, the bottom of his face covered in your slick, and his eyes a darker shade of brown than normal.

“Don’t worry, I won’t say I told you so.”

#oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri smut #formula one x reader #oscar weekend

[yuqiyu]

Guitar Lessons (Eddie Munson x F!Reader)

♡ part 2

Summary: During one of your hangouts at Eddie's trailer, he offers to give you some guitar lessons.

Word Count: 6.6k

Tags: NSFW, sexual content, cunnilingus, face riding, making out, eating out, fluff, friends to lovers (kinda), slight angst, dramatic reader, no use of y/n

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

“How long have you played?” you ask as you graze your fingers over the body of the guitar. It’s smooth and cold, the design fitting right in with Eddie’s aesthetic.

He’s looking at you cutely, leaning back on his forearms against the bed. There’s a sparkle in his doe eyes as he shifts a bit.

“So I see you’ve met the lady of the house,” he says, a slight lilt to his voice. “Go on, take her down.” 

As you carefully step over a messy pile of cassette tapes beside another pile of clothes, Eddie makes a grabbing motion and mumbles a That’s right, come to papa. You stifle a laugh, releasing a snort in the process. He shoots a look at you, fully defensive. 

Once the guitar (or the love of his life, as he’d say) is in his hands, it fits perfectly like a puzzle piece on his body. His neck is slightly craned over it. You think he’s looking at the strings, but as you move closer, his eyes are closed.

He starts plucking out a couple chords, a sweet melody completely contradicting the visuals you are being fed. You begin to close your eyes as well, allowing the music to flow through the both of you. It sounds beautiful despite not being hooked up to an amp.

It has been only a couple of months since you first met Eddie in the hallway between classes. You recall a head full of messy curls hanging over what you thought were interesting choices in an outfit. Girls were avoiding him left and right as he picked up the remnants of his stuff off the ground after a couple jocks had so kindly knocked them out of his hands. 

When you had picked up a notebook that had fallen behind him, a few loose papers with unfamiliar charts and symbols fell out. You plucked them up for a closer study.

“Just getting ready for the Satanic rituals this Thursday,” he mused. You looked up in surprise. 

He was a very pretty man, his hair framing his slim face surprisingly well. His large eyes bore into you, and you swore you could get lost in the dark abyss behind them.

“What?” 

“Sorry, bad joke.” He looked at you sheepishly, then to the notebook in your hands.

“Right, sorry.” Even after you quickly handed it back to him, he continued staring at you, amused. 

“Are you new?” 

You shuffled your feet, feeling even more awkward than you already were. 

“Yeah.” And the rest was history.

You open your eyes when the music stops. Eddie is staring at you with a crooked grin, inches away from your face.

“Jeez, you’re so creepy,” you laugh as you push him off. Ever the drama queen he is, he falls backward onto the bed limply, the guitar following suit. His hands are clutched over his heart as his face fakes a wounded expression. 

“I just gave you the best serenade you will ever hear in your life, and this is how you repay me?” He all but shrieks at you as you continue slapping at his arm.

“ Ever? That’s such a loaded statement, Eddie. You haven’t even answered my question.”

He jumps back up, then pauses for a beat. “I don’t know, my whole life I guess,” he shrugs. 

You stare back at the guitar, still being held snugly in his arms. There was no way to stop the idea of you being there instead, but you shake yourself out of it.

“That’s pretty cool, though. I don’t know how to play any instruments.” You copy his pose from earlier, supporting yourself up by your forearms. He twists his neck towards you, that beautiful damn smile beaming a hundred miles per hour your way. 

“Really,” he questions, dragging out the word playfully. “How about I, the greatest guitarist ever, teach you some new things.” 

“Again, such a loaded statement, but okay. Hit me.” 

The next hour or so is not exactly what you were expecting. He has an old acoustic guitar hiding somewhere in his closet (which he searches for with difficulty, under more piles of items) and has you test the waters on it. With the pleasant surprise of Eddie literally wrapping your back with his arms, moving your fingers to the right formations, you are basically floating on cloud nine. 

He is a demonstrations type of guy, not an I-will-show-you-first-then-you-play kind of way, but in an I-will-wrap-my-gorgeous-hands-around-yours kind of way. This shouldn’t have shocked you, ever since he cupped his hands over yours just to help you roll some dice when you hesitated during a campaign, at least. You often took sneaky glances at his fingers after that day, how could you help it? The day he finds out about your secret hand fetish will be the day you change your identity, because not only would it feed his already inflated ego, he would never let you live it down. He already has so much ammo against you, and you dread that only one more will put you six feet under. 

Eddie was exceedingly patient with you in teaching the strings and the chords, even though you had trouble memorizing where to place your fingers. You wish you could say the same about previous teachers, who were truly wicked demons compared to him. 

You let yourself falter and lean backwards, just enough for Eddie to notice. He suddenly peels your fingers off the instrument and gives little kisses to them. 

You yank your hand back in surprise and squeak out, “Eddie!”

His stupid antics always make it hard for you not to fall for him. It sometimes feels like he does it on purpose, like he means to fuel your feelings even more. 

“Just thought they needed some healing kissies ,” he replies, his pitch increasing at the end to mock you. 

“Kissies are only for couples,” you snapped, unable to process anything but the imprint of his soft lips on your hands. You hope you don’t look as dazed as you feel right now. 

He simply ignores you and strokes the neck of the guitar, still wrapped comfortably around you. “You’re a natural at this, y’know? Maybe you should get some real lessons.” 

“Yeah, right. It sure doesn’t feel like it.” You give your hands a good shake, loosening all the muscles as you sighed in relief. Dark, red lines were etched deep into your fingertips. Looking at them only made the pain feel even more real. 

He grabs them again, gripping them tightly. “Hey—hey, careful! These hands have unknown potential! You could be a god with these.”

“‘Thought you said you were the best out there,” you smile, nudging him in the ribs. He feigns offense.

“I am, but if there’s gonna be someone better out there, I’d rather it be you!” 

You can only roll your eyes at him as he drops his chin on your shoulder. He must be bored out of his mind right now, so you push for a new topic.

“Why are you being so touchy today,” you tease, turning to look at his face. It is much easier now to admire his features now that he is sitting so close to you. His eyes are glazed over.  “Wait a minute—were you high this whole time?” 

He gives you a guilty look.

You aren’t sure if you should be impressed that he was able to teach you so well under the influence, or if you should be disappointed. His affections to you often occurred under one and only one circumstance, and that was when he was ridiculously high. He must’ve smoked more than usual. The thought hits you like a crushing weight, smashing through your heart and sinking down to your stomach in just under five seconds. You want to throw your head into your palms and cringe at how hopeful you were, even though you’re already used to the reality of this godforsaken friendship. But then the sinking feeling falls even deeper into your pit when you realized something might’ve happened to make him reach for his stash like this. 

“Did something happen today?” You don’t mean to probe, but even stoner Eddie has his limits for most of the time. Sometimes the overcompensation is a little too obvious, even for your obliviousness. 

His head is still lolling on your shoulder, though this time there’s a faraway look in his eyes. There’s a silence that hangs thick for what felt like forever, until you feel his chin shift, trying to find a more comfortable spot to sulk in.

“Don’t tell me it’s girl troubles,” you huff out. The thought of it already has the heat rising to your cheeks. It’s one thing to have an unrequited crush, but to see said crush pining for another person was simply soul-crushing. 

He must notice your expression, because he looks at you amusingly. “Why? Would you be jealous?” 

When you shoot him a deadly look, he only giggles and reassures you. You’ve heard this speech about a million times already: you’re his best girl-friend and no one can ever beat you. To be honest, it’s hard to be beat when you’re his only girl-friend, but hey, it’s still a win. If he has to constantly remind you, though, maybe you’re being too obvious. You remind yourself to tone it down around him.

Eddie suddenly jumps off the bed with renewed vigor and swipes the guitar from your arms before laying it carefully somewhere in the closet, then plops back down beside you. His face is serious, the playful energy lasting only for a few seconds.

You ease yourself down slowly, lying on your side as you soak in the sight before you. His arms are tucked under his head, ankles crossed at the edge of the bed. 

“I only ask because I—”

“ Because you care. I know.” 

You give him a minute. There are only the sounds of your breaths mingling with each other, and if you relaxed enough, you swear you’d be able to hear his heartbeat. You’d usually miss the peace you had prior to meeting Eddie, but now, when there is no sound of his annoying voice or music or anything , it makes you nervous. Because a vulnerable Eddie is a sad Eddie. There was no easy way to learn this. 

“I heard you went on a date with Harrington,” he starts. His hands fly in the air as he continues. You can’t help but stare at the glint his rings give off in the different angles. “Went to the mall and everything.”

It’s your turn to look amused. When he catches it, he presses a finger to your lips, which only causes you to snicker. “How could you ignore me for some jock. Is that why you didn’t pick up my calls that day?” He has such an intense expression, backed up by the furrowing of his brows now hiding under his bangs. He seems so distressed, although you can’t help but smile at him in silence. 

“Is that all you have to say to me?” He’s practically begging for response at this point. 

“First of all, Munson,” you emphasize as he winces at the demotion of his name. It was easy to tell when you don’t feel like humoring him. Ever since the beginning, it had always been Eddie . When you had tried calling him anything else, it just didn’t feel right in those moments. And it still doesn’t. “It wasn’t a date. It was a double date!” 

His jaw drops as he rubs a hand over his face, having expected you to at least try to comfort him, like you usually would. It was shameful, honestly, the way you would scramble to mend his sorrow every single time. You pause for a second, letting the moment really sink in before continuing again. This is payback , you thought. “It was Nancy, Steve, Robin, and me. It wasn’t really a date, Eddie. I don’t know why you’d even care.” 

There’s a slight quiver in your voice when you articulate the last line, but you hope he doesn’t notice. However, it seems like that’s the only thing he noticed.

“I don’t know what you’re thinking, missy, but I care a whole lot when my only friend in the whole wide world goes missing when I need her most.” The glazed look in his eyes hasn’t faded, but the seriousness is still there. You almost wish you aren’t still having this conversation because it only breaks your heart further the more he opens his goddamn mouth about friendship this, friendship that. But your love and concern for him overshadows it all, and you want to smack yourself over the head for that. 

You take a deep breath, inhaling all the different scents of Eddie (if that was even humanly possible) and ponder your thoughts. You like to do it because It keeps him on his toes, you remember, as if he’s always hanging onto your every word, inching closer and closer to the edge of the cliff. 

You allow your eyes to wander across his walls, taking in the various band posters, and then back onto the guitar. It’s so easy to get sidetracked in the confines of anything related to him, but the more you learn about him, the more you realize he’s just a huge dork who plays fantasy games and the guitar in his free time. He does a great job at keeping the air of mystery around him, though, and you wonder if people actually realized who he truly was, maybe they’d bully him a tiny bit less. That is, if they weren’t so scared of being sacrificed by him. He shakes you out of your conscious slumber with a couple snaps of his fingers in front of your face.

“Hey—are you even listening to me?” 

His hand continues waving in your face for a few more seconds before you swat it away. You’re looking at him with as much sincerity as you could possibly muster. He’s doing the same, though you notice the way the corners of his mouth tug down, like how they usually do whenever you reject one of his hugs.

“Can I level with you?” you ask.

He looks at you strangely, eyebrows raise in question. There’s some clarity to his eyes now, and you feel yourself getting sucked in temporarily. His Adam’s apple bobs as he gulps thickly. He nods.

“I couldn’t give less of a shit about your love life and who you choose to date, so why should you? ” The words come out with more venom than you mean to, but you couldn’t—no, wouldn’t , take back what you said. Even though you’re lying, it feels good knowing that he at least doesn’t know you have a massive one-sided crush on him. It gives the illusion that you’re in control, and you’d like to keep it that way.

Eddie’s features soften. He looks so hurt, and you can’t bear to look at him for more than two seconds. The room is silent again, though it’s lacking the comfort that usually comes with it. You slowly sit up, and start grabbing your things. Before you leave, he pulls your wrist back. His eyes are pleading.

“It’s still early,” he begins. “If you want to stay longer.” You look sparingly at his face, mostly darting to his bedsheets or the walls. His grip tightens. 

“I—um, I’ve got some overdue homework I need to work on.” 

He knows you well enough to know that if there was one person he knew that always had their shit together and done on time, it was you. But he lets go, and your heart stumbles because if he had asked you one more time, you would’ve stayed. You guess some things are just not written in the stars, and tonight was one of those things.

He only purses his lips and exhales, “Alright.”

He doesn’t walk you out the door today.

The next time you see him ends up being the following night. He had called the morning of, asking if you wanted to come over for more “guitar lessons.” When you didn’t reply quickly enough for his liking, he simply said, “See you at eight. Sharp, okay, sweetheart?”

Your heart twinges, so you agree. 

Eight sneaks up on you before you know it. The night air engulfs you as you rap your knuckles against the Munsons’ trailer door. It rattles violently, so you stop, fearing that one more would completely knock it off the hinges. You hear a familiar voice ring out, welcoming you in.

When you’re inside, you spot Eddie running around chaotically in the small kitchen. Various snacks are being crushed by his arms clutching them close to his chest, and he nearly slams into a table (not without cursing) while tossing them over onto the couch. 

He finally sits down among the mess, accidentally on a bag of chips, and it crunches. He makes a butt-shaped hole with the snacks next to himself, then affectionately pats the area and looks at you. 

You scooch around and pop open a bag of gummy bears. “We’re starting the movie early today, huh?” 

“You gotta return it tomorrow. We can’t have any more distractions now, can we?” He fiddles with the remote, pressing buttons here and there. There’s only static on the TV. He groans and gives it a good few smacks. 

“Wow,” you drawl. “Eddie Munson himself, actually remembering due dates, and not even his responsibility? That’s new.” He turns around to retaliate, but is hit by a gummy bear straight to the face. “Bullseye,” you laugh.

He only sighs and walks towards the kitchen. His hand squeezes your thigh on the way and, with an exasperated voice, says, “Be good ‘til I get back.” 

The movie ends without another hitch, and it’s not long after that both of you are back in his bedroom.

“So,” he says as he claps his hands together dramatically. “It’s time for lessons by Mr. Munson himself.” He picks up the acoustic guitar and seats himself down next to you on the bed. “Wanna show me what you’ve learned so far?”

“To be honest, not much. Sorry to disappoint, Mr. Munson,” you shrug, taking over and strumming out a few test chords. He wets his lips absentmindedly.

“Well, you seem to remember the C chord, at least,” he nods. “But—” He cups your fingers and shifts them downward. “You’re a bit too high there, sweetheart.”

The touch burns through your skin and sets your mind, body, and heart aflame. It takes you a second to answer. A second too long, is what Eddie thinks. 

“Okay…what about my G?” you ask quietly, not trusting yourself to breathe.

“Your G what? G-string or G chord?” 

You blink.

He winks.

And your body is at war. The rope inside you tugs between choosing violence or letting yourself melt in his arms. It’s close to betraying you, until you choose fight-or-flight’s third sibling: freeze. 

Eddie cackles as he shakes you awake. You feel your consciousness slam back into your body with full force. Your mind is going insane. What did he mean? Does he want to do something? Does he want me ? You’re about to open your mouth, to say Yes! Yes, Eddie, I want you!

“Bad joke. Sorry.”

You wish the moon would become unlatched from whatever science-y, physics-y thing that’s keeping it in orbit and hurl towards Earth and just crush you to death right then and there. How does one recover from this?

Except you do. He spends the next thirty minutes teaching you an easy song that includes the whopping four chords you’ve learned. It goes as smoothly as you hope, until the heat radiating off of Eddie and wafting onto your back is making you uncomfortably sticky. 

When you had left the house earlier, you wore tank top with a denim jacket to cover your arms. It wasn’t your best look, but you weren’t trying to impress anyone (more of a self-persuasion, but who’s really checking?). The decision feels like a huge mistake now, because you are definitely not comfortable enough at the moment to let him see your skin like that.

Each touch, each movement, and each breath of Eddie’s fanning over your neck so deliciously gives you more and more confidence as the night moves on. He’s pressing all the right buttons, as if knowingly, and your barrier begins to crack. 

You carry on with full composure, as you always have . He gives you a simple task: play at least halfway into the song perfectly. When you do, he leans in, lips slightly brushing your earlobe, and whispers, “Good girl.”

Your face begins to heat up at a rapid rate. Your body, on the other hand, isn’t sure whether it should tense up or relax. Eddie notices and places his hands on your shoulders, giving you quick squeezes sympathetically. It only makes it worse.

Not sure how you did it, but you were able to get the guitar safely on the bed before jumping off of it entirely. 

“Wow,” he exhales and simpers. “I just wanted to see if you had a praise kink or so—”

He’s cut short by your glossy eyes and trembling lips. His mouth opens, but nothing comes out, so he waves his hands uselessly. 

“What, so I’m just a joke to you?” Your voice betrays you, as much as you attempt to conceal your vulnerability. It sports a matching look on your face. This is it , you think. You lasted only a couple of months after making your first friend at this stupid school, and thinking about it makes you feel ashamed. Somehow, this feels worse than a real break-up. 

“I’m—Hey, look at me, please. I’m so sorry.” He’s scrambling to fix his mistake, hands all over you, and eyes frantically searching you for a hint of forgiveness, even if he knows it’s futile. 

“Eddie, I need to go. It’s fi—”

“No!” he cries, causing you to flinch. His grip softens on your shoulders, but is still unwaveringly attached. “It’s not fine.”

Even through the thick material of your jacket, the knowledge that he’s still touching you has you squirming painfully. “God, please , stop touching me.” 

Now, Eddie’s heart is breaking into a million pieces, and you know it well. Since the first day you met him, you could tell what his love language was. From the way he’d ruffle your hair affectionately after a campaign win, or how he’d pull you into a bone-smashing hug whenever you brought his favorite snack to school, to simply the way his eyes would twinkle right before giving you a first bump every time you parted ways. In a sense, this was a real break-up to him. 

His arm slowly slides off of you, with a pained look on his face. He then stares at you expectantly. When you make a move to the side, he reaches out towards you, though not close enough to touch.

“Please don’t go yet. Just—” He closes his eyes and groans against his palms, and you’re sober enough to know it’s not directed at you. If you hadn't felt so terrible, you’d laugh at the way he was repenting. You stare slack-faced at him, and while it’s not the reaction he was hoping for, he takes it as a second chance. “I don’t know why I said that.” 

“Like how you don’t know why you said, ‘g-string’ or why you just messed with me all night?” you nearly shouted. It takes a lot of energy to force the sass through your pain, but it shows enough to cause Eddie to shrink within himself. You can’t even feel bad anymore. Maybe this was an overreaction on your part. He’s always been like this, so what is different now? In a way, there is still a part of you that actually does feel bad, but only because you let yourself waste away in your feelings without ever bringing it up to him. There is no way for him to really know how you feel about him without communicating it. Even then, normal friendships aren’t like this. Friends don’t whisper dirty things into each other’s ears. Friends don’t playfully flirt with real sexual tension. So it’s not fair that you have to endure this while he’s the only one having fun. 

Eddie, on the other hand, wants to stuff his mouth with his fist. He wants to pull his hair out, he wants to scream into his pillow, but most of all, he wants to hold you and apologize over and over until he’s completely lost his voice. For you, he would grovel as much as you want him to, and to him, that would be nothing if it meant you’d take him back.

His voice cracks when he manages to find the courage to speak again. “I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable with my behavior.” He looks at you intently, eyes roaming your face, searching— begging . 

You look away, and it scares him. He’s never seen you cry like this, and it’s even worse since he’s the reason why. His arms twitch, and he realizes that that was the last time he’ll ever be that close to you again. 

After a million years (according to Eddie), you sigh, “That’s not the issue.” There’s a fierceness to you now, surprising the both of you. You jab a finger at his chest viciously. “My issue with you is that you keep taking my feelings lightly.” His brows furrow, and it only pisses you off even more. 

“I like you, you asshole!” There was no point of return. All of that was out the window the moment he crossed a line. Instead of feeling scared or sad, like you thought you would, you were instead enraged with an addicting fury. “And you .” You make a point to jab him especially hard for emphasis. “You have the nerve to mess with me all night long—not to mention even whining about how I should spend every waking moment with you when I already do…and you know what the kicker in all of this was? I did wish I was at the mall with you! I did wish I was on a date with you!”

His forehead is creasing, eyes wide, and mouth pursing. When it finally opens, he breathes out an Oh. And he suddenly he knows how to make things right.

In your complete, utter mess of a breakdown, you don’t realize that you had balled your hands tightly into a fist until you let go, and the searing pain from your nails digging into your palms lets up. 

Maybe you were okay with destroying this friendship before, you try to convince yourself, but the regret starts pooling into your belly along with nausea. You’re too ashamed to look at him, yet you also don’t have the courage to move from your spot. So once again, the room is just filled with the sounds of labored breathing and bated breath, both standing in a face-off.

And then you will your legs to move, to run far, far away. But Eddie catches you first, and his face is sloppily smashed against yours as he pulls your lips into his own. Certainly, this is bold, the boldest thing he’s ever done, he’d argue. Still, he’s unable to withdraw because once he has you—your scent, your soft skin, and your gasps keeps him wanting more and more. 

It only ends when both of you come up for air, foreheads still glued together as you laugh mirthlessly. “This whole time?” you murmured. 

You can feel the smug grin on his lips as he attacks the junction of your neck. You melt against him. “Yeah.” He continues down to your shoulder after pulling your jacket off, his mouth never leaving you. “So, was I right?”

“Hmm?” You couldn’t trust yourself to speak anymore. Somehow, Eddie has gotten you back to his bed, and you feel his necklace glide across your chest coldly, sending little shivers along your spine. 

“‘Bout you having a praise kink,” he mumbles. He’s taking his time on a particular spot near your collarbone, making sure to really mark you well. 

You’re too embarrassed to reply, so you hope he moves on from it. He doesn’t—worse, he stops. He’s holding himself up with his arms, caging you in, and looks at you mischievously. “Sweetheart, I asked you a question. Don’t go shy on me now. ” 

You reach up to press a kiss against him, but he easily flicks you back down like a fly. His brow arches, though he’s still grinning arrogantly. 

“Fine, yes, yes, yes, I do.” 

“That’s my girl.” 

You moan into him when he’s back on your mouth, tongues slow dancing. You still feel hot, but it’s different this time around. It’s more freeing—like you’ve let something go, and now you’re finally able to enjoy it. 

Eddie is a much better kisser than you imagined. You’ve thought about how he’d taste and how it’d go, oh absolutely, but this is real . You memorize the way his tongue darts around as if mapping out every part of you, mixed in with the faint smell of cigarettes and pure testosterone. 

He’s gripping your chest as he makes his way down and massages it to Hell and back. You can’t help but love how primal you’ve got him, which only turns you on even more.

“I’ve wanted to do many…many… many, ” he accents each word with a wet kiss down your arms. “...unholy things to you since I laid my eyes on you.” 

You strip off your top and bra, tossing them to the side with urgency. He only chuckles at your brazenness before giving both of your breasts a firm squeeze. You push him onto the bed and straddle him. “C’mon, Eddie, your turn.” He looks at you incredulously, then his stare turns dark after a blink of an eye. His hands run up and down the sides of your waist, leaving little goosebumps in their wake. 

“My, my, who knew you were so forward? All of that innocence…just an act.” He reaches out and captures your chin, firmly holding on as he angles your face around. The cold air drifts against your chest, causing your nipples to perk up. You release a shaky breath and close your eyes, suddenly feeling timid. “No, no, open them for me, sweetheart.” 

When you do, you feel him twitch under you, provoking you to ground back down on him. Your eyes are half-lidded, hips rolling. A guttural groan expels from his throat, and he grips you to a standstill. 

“Get—ugh, take it off already!” you whine, clawing at his t-shirt. 

He’s looking at you with so much lust, yet it’s filled with tenderness; his hands rubbing circles into your own only reaffirming that. After a moment of silence (in which Eddie is aggressively admiring your beauty), he licks his lips and speaks.

“I want you to know that if we continue, this won’t be the last time. There will never— ever be ‘going back to being friends’ or ‘acting normal.’ Because to be frank with you, princess, I can’t do that.” His eyes take in your silhouette, wandering slowly and deeply, because he’s so afraid. So afraid that this will be the last time you let him see you again. He wants to memorize as much of you as possible in case it gets taken away. He takes a deep breath. “So, if we do this. I want more of you—not just the sex, but I want to take you out. And… I won’t do this if you don’t want that. I don’t want this to be a one-and-done deal. Got it?”

You’re unsure whether it’s the adrenaline running through your veins or the sexual tension you feel for him snapping, but you run your hands under his shirt and over his bare chest. For whatever reason, his thoughtfulness turns you on even more than you thought you could be. You ache for his touch, and the desire builds into a searing pain. He wants to stop you, but he can’t; you’re too mesmerizing. 

“Eddie,” you moan out. He whimpers under your touch, and he bucks up into you. The muscles in his hand flex against your hip, fighting against his vices. Who knew having a pretty girl on top of him would have him become such a mess?

“Sweetheart,” he breathes out. “You’re not helping me here. I need you to tell me you—” He flips you under him, knee wedged conveniently between your legs, pushing barely enough against your core. He’s frustrated in more ways than one. His eyes implore of you, with the addition of his voice being much deeper. He lets you rub against his thigh for a moment before pulling back. He pins your hands above your head and hovers closely over you just enough for you to hear his harsh whisper. “Now, now, you’re not being very good, are you? Tell me you understand.”

“I understand,” you beg.

“Understand what?”

“Fuck, Eddie, I want you to be mine. My boyfriend, my heart, my soul, and—” You slide your fingers down his body. “Your cock .”

“Shit,” he grins cheekily. “Why didn’t you say so earlier?” He moves to unbutton your jeans as his tongue sticks out in concentration. You don’t understand how he could still be so cute during an activity as sinful as this. Once the garment is off your legs, you return the favor, nearly ripping his shirt off his back. 

He quickly pulls you back onto his lap. You continue running your hands down his chest as one of his fingers hook into the hem of your underwear, rubbing the skin of your hips with the pads of his fingers. His other hand swipes teasingly down your cunt through the fabric, causing the thick wet line to fully soak your panties immediately upon contact. You rut against him, despising the barrier that is his jeans. You need to feel him now . 

“Patience, sweetheart,” he says hoarsely, right before pulling your underwear off completely. “There’s something I wanna try first.” He pulls your hips up to his face roughly, and your hands land on the wall above him for support. You giggle.

“Sounds like you’re the one who needs to put on the reigns.” Your heat is right above his mouth; you can feel his hot breath fluttering across, making you drip even more. His soft lips target your core, making sure to run his tongue over your clit from time to time. In the meantime, his hands continue roaming your body, starting from the bend in your knees to your quite indulgent thighs, all the way up to your chest. As you’re stuck in his maze of pleasure, he catches you off guard and pulls on your nipple. You yelp in surprise and arousal, the electricity of it aiding you in the roll of your hips against his face. He smiles against you, easily lapping up any juices that come out. 

It causes you to release your most lewd sound of the night so far, and this man is soaking it all up. He loves that he’s the one to make you feel this way and no one else.

“Bet Harrington couldn’t make you moan like that for him.” 

You roll your eyes. “Shut up, I wouldn’t have even let him.”

“Careful with those eyes, I don’t want them rolling to the back of your head unless you’re bouncing on my cock.” He continues suckling at your clit and your eyes squeeze shut, enjoying the sensation. You’ve played with yourself before, but it was never like this. You could only get so far with just your fingers rubbing idly as your mind sneaks off somewhere else. Just the way his tongue moves around you so languidly has you close to your climax already. 

He abruptly palms both your ass cheeks and pushes you deeper down into his face, to the point where you’re terrified you’re going to smother him—but he keeps it there, firm and steady, and darts his tongue in deep .

Now, you’ve seen this man’s tongue countless times before. Whenever pure concentration is necessary, that one time he provoked Jason Carver in the cafeteria, and the many periods of time when he merely wanted to make funny faces at you to cheer you up, like a child. Have you thought about what they’d feel in your mouth and inside of you? Naturally. But what you failed to understand was the sheer strength and length of each thrust. When you look down at him, you expect to see multiple appendages because there is no way he could work on so much of you all at once. Oh, it is so much better than you thought.

The thin sheen of sweat on his skin has his bangs sticking to his forehead. The rest of his hair falls nicely around him, like a halo under your thighs. The tip of his nose is bumping wonderfully against your button, bringing you closer and closer to your release. He’s looking straight at you, cheeks slightly hollowed out from the sucking motion. He squeezes your ass and gives a single slap. Your arms fall from the wall and land on the sheets next to him. Unable to hold back any longer, you start tweaking at your nipples. The sight has Eddie groaning into you, sending heavy vibrations straight to your folds.

“ Fuck , Eddie.” You want to scream, but you’re afraid that the neighbors might hear. You stifle a few more moans to the depths of your soul, until you feel your climax inching towards you. He answers incoherently into your pussy, but you know what he wants. His hands grip you tighter, helping you grind against his face. With one more hard suck around your nub, your orgasm comes crashing down on you. Your center pulses with each high, and you swear you’re seeing stars. You topple over, body limp beside Eddie as he licks his lips. His face is drenched with your cum. 

“Was it that good, princess? I didn’t even get to finger you yet.” He waves his fingers humorously in front of your face. He’s leaning on one arm, admiring the work he’s made of you. Your chest is still heaving from the intensity, and you fan yourself.

“God, yes, it was so—I don’t even—have you done this before?” 

“Oh, but of course,” he replies without missing a beat. You looked at him in surprise, then at the mess he made out of you. “What, do I seem like a virgin?” Your eyes are half-lidded, and you feel the embrace of sleep coming over you, but you’re able to muster out a yes and a few chortles for good measure.

Eddie had gotten up in the meantime and wiped his face with a towel, then used another to wipe you down. You croak out a “ Thanks” as he places a kiss on your forehead. He’s about to pull his covers over you, but you grab his hand with a frightful ferocity, alarming the poor man before you. He looks at you in question. 

You fight the sleep in your eyes, and yank on his belt loop. He falls over you, quickly catching himself with an arm next to your head. He chuckles. “What is it, sweetheart? Haven’t had enough?” 

You palm him over the jeans, and he hisses, but keeps steady. It was the most overwhelming orgasm you had ever experienced in your life, and as a result, your body’s energy levels are depleted. You feel guilty, wanting to return the favor, especially since he still has a hard-on, but it was getting more difficult each second that passes by. He notices and moves to the side of the bed.

“Maybe next time,” he says.

“Next time,” you whisper.

And the world fades to black.

#stranger things smut #stranger things #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #smut #eddie munson

[tlou-reid]

you found me ✰ spencer reid

warnings ✰ gunshot, violence, mentions of maeve, hospitals, mentions of death, mentions of religion and god, angst let me know if i missed any please

summary ✰ spencer is the one to reach you after being shot by an unsub

notes ✰ inspired by you found me by the fray. please send requests here. & this is not edited

spencer wasn't sure what dropped first: him or his gun. he could still hear hotch yelling after him, instructing him to not to go in. first not to go in the black suburban you always made jokes about. then, not to go in the yard of your home spencer had been begging you to move out of. then, not to go in the door of the house that he'd held open for you so many times. now, he could hear hotch's voice telling him not to go in the room, but he sounded like he was underwater. when spencer opened the door he could see morgan holding the unsub to the ground while he got him in cuffs, but, as soon as his knees hit the floor next to your body, everything in his peripherals went blurry.

he knew he should be doing the medical things he learned years ago, back during his training, but he couldn't. he was frozen, unable to do anything but stare at the gunshot wound beneath your left rib. his eyes started to well up with tears as his hands reached out, applying pressure, as if he could stop the bleeding himself.

as soon as his shaky hands landed on your body, all he could think of was maeve. how could he do this again? another person he loved, bleeding to death, all because of him. he felt so selfish. for everything. for moving on from maeve. for falling in love with you. for putting you in this position. for thinking of another woman while you bled out under his hands.

"reid, move," hotch's voice cut through his thoughts. spencer wasn't sure how long he'd been kneeling over you, but it was long enough for medical first responders to get there, get inside, and be ready to take over the job he was failing to do. still, he couldn't bring himself to move from his position. hotch had to pull spencer away, letting the medical team move in and get to work.

despite the tears welling up in his eyes, spencer hadn't starting crying. until now. he was sitting in the floor, with hotch behind him with an arm still wrapped around him when the first sob wracked his body. his whole body jerked as he wailed. hotch didn't know what to do, so he just wrapped his arms around spencer, holding the crying boy to his chest as if spencer was his own son. spencer's bloodied hands reached up to hold hotch's forearms, looking for something to ground himself.

the rest of the day was blurry. time seemed to be moving with super speed, but also not moving at all. spencer felt like a bystander in his own life as he watched them load you into the ambulance. he couldn't move his legs when they asked who was riding with you, so it was prentiss who climbed in, giving him a sad look as they closed the doors.

he rode in that stupid suburban, and neither him nor hotch uttered a word. the ride was completely silent. it wasn't the comforting silence like when you and spencer would sit on the couch, each holding your own book and just enjoying being around each other. this silence was scary. he could feel his heart beat in his temples, his stomach was churning and he couldn't stop tapping his foot. hotch didn't complain about his fidgeting the whole ride to the hospital.

they met prentiss in the waiting room, where she explained that you were in surgery now. there was no update on your state, and the rest of the team was waiting on a phone call from one of you guys to explain what was going on. morgan had called to inform prentiss that the unsub was in custody, and his other victim had passed. spencer didn't say anything in reply. instead, he moved to sit in the chair farthest away from where hotch and prentiss were standing, not wanting to listen to the details of the case.

this case was not one that should have even been on the BAU's radar. the local police knew who the unsub was, they caught him on camera after his first attack. there was no need for a profile, and definitely no need for the BAU to be spending their time on something as simple as a manhunt. until you called. you thought someone had been following you on your walk around the neighborhood, and it was proven that you were right. there was no solid reason why you were the next victim. there was relatively no similarity between you and the other victim, you just happened to be in the wrong place. when his larger frame pressed himself into the door, there was no stopping him. he shot at you, knocking you down, and eventually unconscious, while he looked for anything valuable in the house. spencer didn't know what he was trying to take, and he didn't really care either. all he cared about was you getting better.

one hour turned into two, and then two turned into three. he had somehow convinced prentiss and hotch to leave. he just wanted to be alone, and after a long phone call with garcia, he was. he had started to pace and his thoughts started to wander. he wanted someone, something to blame. sure, this unsub was the one who shot you, but what about the police? the ones who didn't try hard enough to find this guy before he was in your house? what about your neighbors? who weren't keeping an eye on you while you walked, even though you did numerous favors for them? what about him? a law enforcement officer that you were in love with but who wasn't there to protect you?

and lastly, what about God? being a man of science usually kept him from turning to a higher being. but a desperate man will take any chance he can get, and the best word to describe spencer right now was desperate. desperate for you to be okay. desperate for you to make it out of surgery. desperate to be next to you. desperate for someone to blame. so how could God do this? how could he allow something to happen to you? how could he punish spencer after all the good he had been trying to be doing for this world?

his thoughts went wild for what felt like years, but was only a few more hours, before the doctor was coming to get him. "dr. reid?" her voice came into the empty waiting room. his head snapped right to her. "she is out of surgery, she'll be waking up soon. you might want to be in the room when she does."

spencer stomach dropped the way he did earlier. he picked up the sweater vest and tie he had discarded on a waiting room chair and hurried to follow the doctor. when he reached the room, he was shocked at how peaceful you looked. despite all of the noises from the machines, the hospital room was the calmest place he had been in in the last 24 hours. spencer made himself comfortable while he waited for your eyes to flutter open.

and when they did, his eyes were on yours. he couldn't help the smile that spread across your face. it took a few minutes for you to adjust to the room. the noises, the bright lights, the lack of understanding where you were. the last thing you remembered was hitting the ground after having a gun pointed at you. after a few minutes, you turned to face him, "you found me." you smiled, despite the dryness in your throat as you spoke.

"just a little late." spencer shrugged, trying to downplay the guilt that was burrowed in his stomach. he reached forward, rubbing a few fingers along your cheek. "what happened?" you asked, wanting the whole story. spencer explained, leaving out a few parts. you didn't need to know how he couldn't bring himself to help you, or how he cried in hotch's arms, or how many times he had to wash his hands in the hospital's bathroom sink to get your blood off of him.

"that's kinda crazy," you couldn't help but laugh. spencer was mildly uncomfortable at your reaction. "so, when do i get to go home?"

"you don't," spencer begun, "you're moving out, like i have been asking you to." he could see the confusion written across your face. "you're moving in with me, that way i know you'll be safe." he smiled at you, excited at the idea. he had been wanting this for a while. "now get some rest," he said with a gentle tone, "i'll find us something to eat." despite the fact that he hadn't eaten in almost a day, he waited for you to be asleep to leave the room.

#spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem!readr #spencer reid x reader #spencer imagine #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds blurb #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds

[trashmouth-richie]

eddie x fem! reader

master list

summary: Christmas time is here, eddie + you dance around the fact you’re both in love, corroded coffin performs.

w/c: 15k

warnings: NO MINORS —18+ only- mentions of Chad and his awfulness, thoughts of sex

a/n: s/o to my lovely coven for helping me tweak parts of this story, beta reading + letting me insert them through out the story @jo-harrington @blueywrites @newlips @pastel-pillows @loveshotzz @carolmunson @mopeymopeymouse @br0ck-eddie @courtingchaos @fracturedarkness @word-wytch @hellfirehottie420 @chestylarouxx @big-ope-vibes 💋 @agentmarvel @hxllfired ♥️♥️

“Don’t peek!”

“I’m not!”

“I mean it, you’ll ruin it if you peek!”

Large hands cover your already shut tight eyes as you walk forward blindly through the crunch of ice and heavy snow. The soles of your chunky boots leave behind inch deep footprints in the parking lot of Boom’s Auto shop.

“Eddie! oh fu— your hands are freezing!”

A deep husky chuckle hums in your ear, skating across the air and landing warmly on your cheek. A flushed heat accompanying the welcomed tickle of his laugh.

“Just a little further,” Eddie says with a laugh, still walking behind you, big hands blind folding your eyes. Maybe you should have mentioned that you don’t like surprises. The last surprise you had trusted was from your parents. And that resulted in them moving across the country to be closer to Kevin, cutting you out and leaving you behind.

Practically stamping your foot and stopping altogether you let out his name in a small whine.

“So impatient, Tooty,” he whispered like a ghost into your ear, sending a flock of goosebumps down your neck. His calloused hands itched at your soft skin. Your eyelashes tickling his palms. “I promise it’s worth the wait, just a little bit further.”

Sighing with hmmpfed pout, you trudge on, squishing snow beneath your feet.

“Okay, are you ready?” Eddie gleams, hinted delight in his voice like a child showing his parents his cubby at school.

“No,” you tease, eyes still closed, “I think I’ll just turn around and go home.”

Eddie breathes out a groan and tickles his cold fingers into your neck, giggling as you squeal, “see you brought your infamous attitude, sweetheart.”

Gasping for breath from the cold and trying to get away from Eddie’s frigid digits you quip, “ah, you know me, I don’t leave home without it.”

“Brat,” Eddie jokes, moving your shoulders into the perfect position he sees fit. “Alright b—Tooty, open your eyes.”

The sun shines blinding against the frosted white ground, stinging your eyes as you open them from the darkness of your eyelids and Eddie’s sheltered hands. Nestled in the back corner of the parking lot next to a pile of snow sits your car, sitting on 4 brand new tires.

Stunned beyond believe, heart full and ready to burst you are at a loss for words.

“Uh—, sorry it took so long, I fixed it up a little bit more than what was initially wrong with it, replaced the tires—they were pretty bad, fixed the headlights, completely flus— ”

Eddie’s mechanical explanation of what was wrong with your car and how he fixed it goes dead with a grunt and a gasp as you throw yourself into his arms, forgetting his healing ribs you fully wrap your legs around his waist. Ignoring the way the snow on your boots is soaking through his shirt making his back wet, his leather jacket riding up from your sudden jump into his arms. He is completely consumed in this moment. He doesn’t care. The whole world is in his hands, and he doesn’t want the warmth of your body to escape him. Soul on fire and the barricade around his heart completely down, grass growing where they lay now, he is enamored by you. The smell of your hair, how tight you are squeezing him around the back of his neck. Your thighs clutching him. He’s a mess. Melting more than Frosty did on the warmest day of the year.

Welling tears spill from your eyes, you whisper shyly, “thank you,” Floored by your own emotions, you are speechless. Outside of the Wheeler’s, you haven’t had someone care for you on such a personal level before. Eddie made you feel safe, he gave you a sense of calm that filled you with hope, filled you with joy. Not being able to fathom how your life has changed so much since he moved in, the anxiety of everyday life washing away with his smile. His goofiness rinsing the doubt out of the air. The bruise around his eye is fading, color returning back to its original beautiful paled complexion. Emotions running high, you can’t convey with words how grateful you are, instead you pull your head from his shoulder and turn it slightly. Pressing delicate mauve painted lips to his cheek. It’s sweeter than sugar. A dainty quick kiss as sudden as the first drop of rain hitting your cheek in the summer.

Wiggling down his body with one last squeeze around him, he doesn’t register that you are sliding away from him on purpose until he releases his hands on the back of your legs. Thankful for his long hair more than ever today, his ears are tinged red much like his cheeks, one colored with a mauve set of lips he never wanted to wash away. Keeping you with him forever.

Looking into Eddie’s eyes you notice how big they are, a smirk is dancing across his lips. Not wanting to ruin the sentiment, but anxious all the same, you push his chest lightly, a coy smile on your lips, “hungry?”

Oh he was hungry. Starved for you. Your touch, your lips, your smile, the way the sunlight caught your hair. He’s never been so hungry for affection in his entire life, and you were feeding him crumbs. Couldn’t you see he was on his knees begging, pleading for more?

“Always,” he finally sputters out, desperately hoping you didn’t see the tiny hearts floating around his head like a cartoon character in love, “but you’re driving,” he says tossing you your key ring, “time to be my chauffeur, babe.”

It feels weird to be behind the wheel of a car again, considering you haven’t driven in months. The same yellowed tree scent hung from your rearview mirror, no longer full of aroma, fake blue and green Mardi Gras beads jingle together as you bump along the neglected roads of Hawkins. Polaroids of you and Nancy smile back at you from beneath the dash. Various materials of scrunchies litter the gear shift. Loose change fills one of the cup holders.

The sound of a window rolling down and the smell of burnt tobacco has you looking over at Eddie. He looks like he’s in a clown car. Bent bare knees from the holes in his jeans are cramped against the dash. His long arms lighting two cigarettes, a brown filtered end for himself, and a white one for you. He inhales deeply, pushing the smoke out of his lungs and looking out the window, arm bent lazily, palm up to hand you yours. Shamelessly flirting, you carefully place your mouth around the cigarette, your lips grazing his knuckles as you look up at him, with a wink you retreat from him, your lipstick leaving another mark on his skin. Burning into him, inking his skin better than any tattoo he had gotten so far. The bob of his throat is more than noticeable as he gulps deeply. He trails his eyes from your devilish lips to your innocent eyes. Wide enough that Bambi would cry at the sight of them.

Eddie shakes his head with a sigh, choking on smoke as you smile to yourself. You don’t notice the way he readjusts himself in the seat, desperately trying to cross his legs, a heat in his cheeks that he would blame on himself getting a cold if you were to ask.

He’s like a child at a fair, touching every single thing in his line of vision, jokingly grabbing the oh shit handle with every turn you take. Flicking his lighter, moving the visor up and down and to the side, pulling this way and that. Adjusting his seat all the way backwards and then all the way forward when you stop at a stop sign, hand still on the lever, a laugh stuck in his throat as he’s practically folded like an accordion in the front seat.

Blondie’s “Call Me” plays and Eddie grabs the hairbrush he found in the glovebox as a microphone. He’s moving his shoulders in a way that suggests he’s a seductive lounge singer, throwing his hair behind him, then in front of him. His eyes dipped in alluring sex appeal, throwing his head back and showing the expanse of his neck. He laughs a maniacs giggle and so do you. Relishing the time spent with him.

“Thought metalheads didn’t dig Blondie,” you question, inhaling the last of your cigarette and discarding it out of the window.

Eddie chuckles, “Surprisingly enough, one of the regulars at the Hideout plays it on repeat while we’re clearing the stage. Every. Single. Night. Speaking of which, uhh—,” he wasn’t sure how to ask you, not even sure if you wanted to go— but it was worth a shot and what would it hurt— worse thing that could happen would be you saying ‘no’, “ya got plans the day after Christmas?”

Thinking for a while you didn’t want to let it on that you in fact had zero plans. It’s not as if your parents came home to celebrate with a dinner or take you to a movie, fuck they never even bothered to call.

“Merry X -mom dad & kev”

Barely a greeting. Just slanted, chicken scratch handwriting inked onto a blank 99 cent Christmas card. The cheapest of pens was used to write the five words, noted by the scribble at the bottom of the card, when the ink went dry. The card itself was very basic, crimson red with a cartoon Christmas tree on the front. More than likely purchased at a gas station with a carton of Marlboros and a microwaved bean burrito. Cold fingers wrap around the envelope, cotton gloves smoothing over the handwriting as if it were a cherished love letter from your husband lost at sea.

Without fail, the one time a year you heard from them, left you more hollowed than the previous one. And as bummed as you were, when Eddie saw the card in the trash can when he tied up the garbage for the curb, he didn’t hesitate, didn’t pry, didn’t ask. Just tied up the trash and didn’t say anymore about it.

“Hmm.. well the salon is closed so I won’t be working, why what’s up?”

Eddie leans over and turns the knob of the radio down, insinuating how serious he was, “well the band is throwing a gig at the Hideout, kinda like a party for everyone who needs to blow off some steam after the holidays… and I thought maybe you’d wanna go? I haven’t seen you at a Corroded Coffin concert since the 80’s.”

He was right, you hadn’t seen them perform outside of your own garage since high school. Busting his balls a little, your lips curl in a sweet tease, “would I make the fifth or the sixth drunk there?”

Eddie rolls his eyes and makes a face, “I’ll have you know, we actually have to sell tickets now, but you? I'm making you pay double for that mean comment.”

“Oh kiss my ass,” you laugh as he shove him lightly, “I guess I can make an appearance.”

Eddie grins ear to ear, he can’t wait to see you in the crowd smiling up at him. Since he’s moved in, he’s dreamt of the day you finally went to see him play again.

“Well I guess I’ll see you there, maybe even buy you a drink, if you’re lucky.”

He thumbs through your cassettes oooing and awing over your beloved tapes, plucking Stevie Nick’s Bella Donna tape and flipping it over to read the song list on the back.

Head spinning you imagine how sexy Eddie would look on stage. Imagining the sweet aroma of sweat dripping from his hair on his bare chest has you practically drooling, thankful that Eddie is pre occupied with your cassettes, you squeeze your thighs tight.

Eddie begins to hum dumbly along as the end of REO Speedwagon sings about taking it on the run, the mixed tape you’d had since high school plays the next song, Tracy Chapman’s “Fast Car”. The beginning guitar melody rings into his ears, a song he hadn’t heard in years.

“You got a fast car, I want a ticket to anywhere. Maybe we make a deal. Maybe together we can get somewhere. Any place is better. Starting from zero, got nothing to lose. Maybe we’ll make something. Me, myself, I got nothing to prove.”

The lyrics hit your soul, Tracy’s gentle voice singing calmly to you, roped tight with Eddie’s deep serenade, must be what the gates of heaven sound like when they’re opening. Like the two people in the song, you were both tortured by your pasts, aching for something real something new. You ached for him. Did he for you?

Looking over at him, the cords of his neck stretched tight, prominent muscles jutting out around a chain necklace he never took off. It’s impossibly thick, veins lining it perfectly, the best candidate for a vampire’s snack. Stopping yourself from wondering what your teeth would feel like against his skin there, you tear your eyes away from him. Would your tongue tickle from the bitter taste of his cologne? Would the slight drag of your teeth beneath his jaw drive him wild, feral like how you’re feeling? Heat blooming along your cheeks and flooding your belly. You can practically feel the silk of his skin on your lips, daydreaming about the noises he would make if you were to flick the tip of your pink tongue along his adam’s apple. Sucking sweetly, softly… you spend the rest of the drive to Benny’s lost and dazed, desperate for any sort of relief. Body, and soul.

-

The aroma of bacon grease hung thick in the air when you walked into Benny’s. The sagging, water stained wall paper and faded formica table tops were a staple for the dingy diner. Anyone not from Hawkins, would turn up their nose and leave, fanning their face like a woman in church in the south in the 30’s at the sight of the disheveled diner that somehow kept passing inspections. Benny kept the kitchen area spotless, but could not be bothered with the decor and upkeep of the simple things such as wallpaper and art that dated back to borderline colonial times.

Eddie licked his lips as he eyed the sticky and tattered menu. His stomach was an endless pit, a never ending gaping hole the size of the Grand Canyon. Two baskets of fries, a patty melt, a stack of pancake and a piece of cheesecake, “it’s for later,” he said with a smile, only to devour it in two forkfuls once it arrived in its “to-go” box.

“Thank you, by the way,” you murmur around a mouthful of peach cobbler, voice growing small. “For my car, and well everything you do— oh shit, what do I owe you guys?”

Eddie swallows hard, throat coated with the velvety cheesecake, “Nothing,” he answers as if it were an insult you even asked.

“C’mon Eddie,” you say rolling your eyes, “what do I owe you?”

He enunciates the word again, making syllables where they are otherwise not needed. Moving his head left and right as he gets closer and closer, moving over the booth’s table like a snake, the ends of his curls dancing over the tabletop, a smug look pressed on his lips as he licks his fork.

Pulling your eyebrows in and folding your arms across your chest, you narrow your eyes at him.

“It’s not gonna work,” Eddie says, leaning over to take the last bite of your peach cobbler, savoring the warm peach and sugar infused treat on his tongue, “your pouting games won’t work on me, no matter how fucking cute you look.”

The scowl set on your face would have impressed Medusa, before his smile broke you. He was good at that, breaking you out of your shell and opening your eyes to show you that life didn’t always have to be taken so seriously. Your smile matches his and he reaches for the bill, sliding out of the booth. Twisting your body to stand from the under stuffed cushion Eddie is standing in front of you, leaning with one hand on the table, bill curled in his grasp, the other on the back of the booth. He looks like he’s going to say something but it’s lost on his tongue. Defeat and uncertainty cloud his eyes, not here, not now. He hangs his head, shaking his curls lightly. Shaking the nervousness from himself. He reached a ringed hand out to you, eyes dripping with want and cheeks pinked in the prettiest blush on his cream colored skin, along with the mauve lipstick he never wiped off, wearing your lips proudly, a prize greater than gold burned into his skin.

Words fail him, he notices how when you’re around just how much you steal the breath from his lungs. Almost as if he is prepubescent, full of acne and a buzzed head all over again. Scared of girls, a gangly freak who people made fun of. A lost sheep. It had been years since anyone has made him feel that way, usually women were throwing panties at him, bras, themselves at times. It wasn’t hard for him to fulfill his temporary needs. One faceless broad at a time. You? You were nothing like that. He respected you, trusted you, wanted you to feel safe with him. Wanted to take you out and show you off as his girl, his Tooty. Would you want that? Would you want to be his?

“Ready?” He asks, voice low and his lips dripping with a teasing smile.

Nodding, he pulls you up to him, your smooth fingers wrapped in his rough calloused hands. His face tilted downward to yours, yours up to him. And all of his questions are answered by the look in your eyes. They’re warm, dreamy, sucking him in like a magnet to your soul, frantically yearning to connect yours with his. And he’s ready to give it all to you.

-

Standing at the faint remnants of color of the checkout counter, a waitress locks eyes with you first. Smiling warmly and making chit chat. Eddie slides the check around you onto the smooth surface, her bubble gum persona fleeting immediately at the sight of him, her brown eyes staring heavily through her bangs at the stained lipstick on his cheek. Giving you and Eddie a quickened glance, she makes a beeline for the back, knocking the stack of rolled silverware over as the door slammed home behind her.

It doesn’t take an expert to put two and two together. She was either an ex girlfriend or simply an ex lover. Either way, at one point in time they meant something to each other— and you weren’t sure how much or how little that something was.

It hits you then just how inexperienced you are. Eddie has probably slept with 100s of women; being the lead singer of a small town band gave him that privilege of doing so. Of course he has, he practically , if not not so practically told you himself. Wheels spin in your mind and you’re embarrassed at the way your nose tingles trying to push down the small inkling of jealousy brewing in your belly. What the hell would he want to do with you if there were so many other women, better looking, and definitely sexier— ready to be his flavor for the night? Being with Eddie was a joke and you were the punch line— why would a guy like him settle down with someone as vanilla as you?

Suspicion creeping it’s ugly face in your mind and making room for all its baggage as a large hand meets your lower back guiding you gently towards the door. He’s talking but it falls deafly around you. Not wanting to know, but finding difficulty in keeping your mind from wandering, you stretch into the unknown of just how many women Eddie has slept with.

The number didn’t matter.

Shouldn’t matter.

But it begged the question looming in your mind for weeks: would you be enough for him? Walking in jaded silence back to the car, the crunch of snow beneath your feet, wind whipping your hair in your face, Eddie’s warm hand on your back, rubbing slow circles as he joins your silence. Desperately looking through the clouds of your mind trying to find where you went.

Eddie might be a lot of things. He may not be that great at math, knowing the ins and outs of fractions to make his sales when he was a dealer for Rick didn’t exactly qualify him as a mathematician, he struggled with making friends when he was younger, learning that being an obnoxious kid didn’t win any gold stars in the popularity department. But he was profoundly excellent at recognizing people’s emotions, any tiny slip, slow shift— he could sense it immediately. So when you shut down, leaving only nods to his never ending questions, he knew you were hurting.

Fumbling with your keys from your pocket they are plucked from your grasp by thick ringed fingers,”Eddie what the h—”

“Just—,” he pauses then, unsure of what to say, how to explain how he feels about you, the words are thick on his tongue but he knows he needs to explain something first, “wait,”

He runs a hand through his hair and points back at the door to Benny’s, “I— I’ve never given a shit about any girl I’ve been with.” The line is not at all how he wanted it to sound, what was meant to be sincere came out as cocky and like he was almost bragging.

“Oh—kay?” you answer even more confused than you were already feeling. “What the hell does that have to do with me?”

He huffs a breath and kicks around snow with the toe of his boot, “I’ve never w— fuck,” he takes a few steps backwards throwing his paled face to the now blackened charcoal sky, muttering to himself. This was not going well. He could feel you slipping from his fingers. What was meant to be a nice night was now being spoiled by his incoherent thoughts, mouth moving faster than his brain could think. He looks back at you, your eyebrows raised, weight shifted with your arms crossed. Whatever message he was trying to convey was spilling a capital ‘F’ of his blood all over the snow, crimson coloring the white ground.

Chewing his tongue, jaw tightening with aggressive anticipation that he’s just fucking everything up—he finally spits it out, his mind cooperating with his mouth and all in one heavy, heated breath he practically screams, “goddamnit, Tooty— I’ve never cared about someone like how I care about you.”

Stunned, you stand stone still, watching him with large eyes.

“You— you’re the— fuck.” He moves quick, wrapping his fingers around your cheeks tilting your head up to him, the breath stolen from your lungs as you watch his eager eyes swirl with browns and blacks, Dr. Pepper fountains of bliss. He hesitates, licking his lips. Looking from your lips to your eyes and back again. Deciding not to do what he so desperately craves. But it’s not the right time. Not here. Not now. Not before he asks. Not before you understand the multitude of his seriousness. Not before you make it known that you want it too. Taking a deep breath he finds the courage to press forward, voice strong and steady, no longer breaking, no longer unsure. Confident. “No other girl— no groupie, no ex girlfriend no past fling— no one means shit to me except you, okay?”

Heart exploding piñata candy allover your body, tootsie rolls flowing through your arteries, cotton candy dancing in your lungs, sugary mars bubblegum filled lollipops peak from your eyes as you fall hopelessly further in love with him. His fingers melt into your cheeks, burning and dissolving your candy coated insides into a liquid fire of a molten river filled with pinked sweet syrup. You want to swim in his chocolate eyes like August Gloop. Never full of him.

Would he taste sweet? Oh how your lips cried a sorrowful song not being able to lick the sweet words that drip from them.

Later that night your stomach flutters thinking of his lips on yours. That small kiss on his cheek meant more to both of you than could be imagined. Solidifying there in the parking lot of Boom’s Autoshop, just how much you meant to each other. A silent agreement. An understanding. The line was crossed. The only question now is: who would jump with both feet first?

-

The dusty overstuffed Christmas tree box slides across the kitchen linoleum with a drag as you shove all your weight into it from the basement steps.

“You’re a stubborn woman y’know that?” Eddie grumbles from the other side of the box, pulling it further into the kitchen, circling back and reaching his hand out to help you up the steps. “I told you I would get all of this up after I got off work.” His work coveralls coated with deep stains of motor oil and grease, snow melting slowly on his boots.

Huffing low and climbing the last step you explain, “yep, and I told you, mister,” a long nail poking him in the chest, “that I didn’t need any help.”

“Yeah yeah, just gonna do everything by yourself your whole life, never asking for help?” Eddie asks, matching your attitude, booping your nose with a dirty greased soaked finger, his toothy grin on full display, “always just a little shit aren’t ya?”

A heavy scoff leaves your mouth, fake shock from your lips as you place a hand to your chest, “me? Think you have me confused with someone else, Mr. Munson.”

Eddie’s face twists with gross turmoil at the name. “Christ, I haven’t been called that since high school in Higgins office,” he turns his nose up and scowls, “please sweetheart, consult a doctor you must be ill.”

Bantering back and forth for a few minutes Eddie agrees on taking a shower before starting to set up the tree. “.. and whatever other girly shit you have planned for us.” He says with a laugh as he shuts the bathroom door and turns the silver knob for the shower head.

It was Friday night and since Nancy had moved out starting her own Christmas traditions with Jonathan, you were left with her same traditions in the same house but with a new someone to make them special with.

Chili was simmering on the stove. Rich and spicy just the way Karen Wheeler had taught you to make it, the counter held her famous cinnamon roll recipe, rising gently on the counter. It was engraved in your mind after watching her make them every Sunday for years, and you had yet to make them for Eddie. The kitchen smelled savory yet sweet, the mixed concoction floating heavenly notes of hunger induced stomach pains to the bathroom as Eddie toweled off, pulling a pair of gray sweatpants low on his hips. His hair hung in wet lengthy ringlets, dripping down his back as he emerged into the dim lit kitchen, a hunger in his belly— but not holding a candle to the fiery burn of want in his stomach at the sight of you.

The flour dusted lightly on your cheek could be mistaken for pixie dust with how magical you looked to him, the sleeves of your baggy red velour knit sweater were bunched around your elbows, bringing a spoon to your plump lips as you made them into a small ‘O’ blowing gently on the contents of meat, tomatoes, peppers and kidney beans cradled in the the silver utensil close to your lips.

Eddie had never been jealous of silverware before but he would give his left nut and his guitar away to be that lucky heated spoon for just one minute. Slotting the metal into your mouth, you hum a sigh of satisfaction as you savor the delectable bite, chewing slowly and licking your lips, Eddie is gripping the counter tighter than an old woman gripping her life alert as she tumbles to the ground. Fuck, he’d break a hip— hell no, he’d break every bone in his body just to have you hum around him, any part of him, his earlobe, his fingers, his cock, he didn’t care. Reaching up and brushing his own cheek like a coy school girl, he still felt the way your lips touched his cheek— and that was weeks ago.

“Think Jonathan still does secret investigative pictures for Murray Bauman if you were looking to snap a few pictures you little perv.”

Head swiveling towards him at your last word, you can’t keep the act up anymore, your cheeks feel like they’re going to burst with how wide you’re smiling, your laugh echoes off his naked chest and hits the cabinets, pinballing around the room, striking him like lightning in a summer storm— bright first and the thunderous boom coming after.

Snorting at your own joke and the way his cheeks heat with shame—caught with his hand in the cookie jar, drool practically falling from his lips as his mouth hangs open. He has never looked better. Your boldness stays long enough to send him a wink, and your stomach flutters when he returns it, rubbing his cheeks to will away the blush implemented on his skin.

“Are we going to eat or are you just going to keep making fun of me?” Eddie presses, a light shade of pink still tinged on his cheeks, his smile bright and cheerful.

Walking closer to him you let your body take control, mind not thinking. Useless in your head as you move with sure steps closer to him. Not wanting to know the repercussions of your actions, yet something about him has made you so sure that what you’re feeling was real. That he felt it too, reassuring you with his body language, his words. He wants this and so do you. Time to dive in. But the ache of rejection, fear of making a mistake, afraid to let yourself be loved when you aren’t worthy of it. Has your stomach in knots. Stopping short of your hands on his chest, the confidence is gone, buried beneath the savory smells of the kitchen and the heated stares between you both.

Uncertainty soaring, you place your hands on your waist, head hung in a cloud of anxiety, “tree first, then we can eat.”

Silently moving through the motions, you unbox the tree monotonously. Eddie’s raging war against himself. Begging the question of what happened to make you turn the flirting dial off. The tree is up, and you’re busy fluffing the branches after a year of being squashed in a box and stuffed into a basement. Overthinking what you said to Eddie, you can’t move past how he makes you feel.

It’s not as if you have had a boyfriend other than Chad, or even had anyone other than him kiss you, touch you, and none of that was enjoyable. Being with him was crippling, suffocating in a way that you weren’t ever sure you’d ever be able to breathe normally again. Living in a state of constant fear for years, waiting for the day he would return. And when he did—Eddie was there to comfort you, hold you while the panic attack riddled your body, collapsing in on itself. Eddie was there to pick up your broken pieces and mend them together with his silliness, his arms wrapped around your body shielding you from demons he couldn’t see. Taking the blame for something that wasn’t his fault. He was impossibly charming, good-looking and even though he could be a pain in the ass— you couldn’t imagine your life without him.

“Fuck, ow ow, shit, Tooty! I’m not a genius or anything, but there is no way this is right!” A quick jolt back to reality has you turning your head sharply to see Eddie tangled in emerald green ropes of colorful christmas lights. Entwined in his hair, around his thick fingers, and arms. Christmas clashing with his tattoos he’s all furrowed brows and huffed breaths. You desperately try to stifle a smile but fail miserably. “It’s not funny! It hurts!”

“Eddie,” you choke out in between laughs, reaching up with delicate fingers, and a laugh buried in your chest you begin to untangle his messy curls from the strings of lights. Adjusting his curls this way and that his brows lax at your pretty face so close to his. There they are again, the lips that kept him up the last few nights. The lips that could be full of vinegary insults, and sweet sultry compliments. The silky skin of them call out to him in his dreams, purring his name.

Feeling the need to explain himself for earlier, “for the record, sweetheart, I was staring at the spoon, n—not at you.”

Smooth. Jesus Christ.

“The spoon huh?” Giggling at his lie, untangling his rings and fingers from the lights, releasing him from the holiday handcuffs, “really? and what was so interesting about it, hmm?”

Eddie grabs your hand as it slips from his hair, leaning close enough that his chest is brushing yours, “I have a grudge against it.”

Confused, you pull your eyebrows inward, “what?”

His lips are licked and he holds your hand palm to palm your fingers between his, hugging his rings in your small grasp. His other hand travels up to your chin, laying lightly against your delicate skin. Small strokes of his thumb outline your top lip, and you suck in a quickened breath. Your knees are weak, and you lean into his touch, pushing yourself closer, skimming your fingers along the charcoal outlines on his chest.

The satiny pillows of your lips against his rough calloused skin send him to heaven on angel’s wings. His eyes are trained on your mouth, thumb lining your Cupid’s bow. He circles downward, studying your lips like a map, following the path of Magellan to the corner of your mouth. Face studied hard he doesn’t see the way your eyes have closed, and barely registers the nails on your hand scratching his chest in delight. If your lips were a test, he’d pass with flying colors. Every line is memorized, the color is painted more beautifully than that asshole on tv painting sceneries of birds and rivers. He’s not even breathing, and you aren’t sure if you’re awake or asleep. His fingers act like melatonin lulling you to sleep with each sweep across your lips. Pulling your bottom lip down, a noise escapes his throat as he watches it pop back up against your teeth with a soft thump.

“The spoon is lucky,” Eddie admits through broken breath. His words flow through you like the smoothest water against a creek bed, rippling and bubbling in your veins pooling in your core and heating your body with lust.

“Eddie,” you hum, sending a vibration through his fingers to his now throbbing cock. The oven beeps and you jump in his hands. Forced back to earth from the ethereal spin of Eddie’s warm fingers massaging your skin. Pulling away from him is harder than erasing a permanent marker, getting year old puke stains out of a carpet, harder than overcoming the worst pain you’ve ever felt. Padding into the kitchen you straighten your sweater, lungs burning with aching want to be filled with Eddie’s essence.

Placing the cinnamon rolls into the center of the warmed oven, you turn to find him behind you, silver Christmas ornament bulbs hanging from his nipple rings. “Think Walt would hire me to dance on stage for Christmas?”

This was routine for you and Eddie, intense moments followed by giggling laughs. An endless circle on repeat. If you weren’t ready to jump he wasn’t going to push you. He’d wait for you, however long it would take for you to be ready to admit that he loved you and you loved him back.

-

The tree was up and lit, beautiful colors of red, blue, yellow and green shone brightly against the dark evergreen. Sitting at the table eating chili and cinnamon rolls, Eddie looks like a kid in a candy shop. Eyes blown wide and sparkling. “Y’know I’ve never done that before.”

“Put Christmas bulbs in your nipple rings?”

After the light fiasco Eddie hung the decorations with care and slotted two silver Christmas bulbs in his nipple rings, shaking his chest around, a twang in his voice, “my stage name is Elejandro but honey you can call me big E.”

“Well that either,” Eddie laughs, wiping a rogue dribble of chili away from his chin, “but no, I’ve never decorated a Christmas tree.”

Swallowing the mouthful of cinnamon roll you mull over his confession, “did I just take your Christmas virginity?”

“Guess so,” he grins, shoveling another spoonful of the hearty chili into his mouth using his cinnamon roll to soak up the tomatoey broth. “Aren’t you lucky?” It was your turn to battle away your thoughts as he licked the back of his spoon then his lips. Oh his wicked tongue would be more than delicious on more than a few places on your body.

“Who’s the perv now, Tooty?” Eddie gleamed, his smile turning upwards in a satanic smile. The heat from your cheeks would fill a cold room with warmth. A wink from his eyes has you both smiling again. Teetering towards uncharted waters but not quiet dipping toes into the waters of giving in, not yet.

-

After cleaning up supper and listening to Eddie thumb through the medicine cabinet for the Tums, you whipped up the sugar cookies and pulled them out of the oven.

They were cooling on a wire rack on the counter. Icing, sprinkles, Christmas themed m&ms and twizzler pull apart licorice were filling the brim of small styrofoam bowls. Hot chocolate was bubbling in mismatched ceramic mugs in the microwave. Awaiting their marshmallow floaties to join the rich chocolate bath.

“Cookies too?” Eddie asks, a shit eating grin on his face as he’s coming back inside from his after supper cigarette, the chill of the frozen air following him on his heels, “baby, you’re spoiling me.”

Baby.

The sentiment falling to the deep pit of your stomach making you clench your thighs tight, a skipped heart beat sending heat through your body. It’s definitely not the first time you’ve heard him say it but the way his eyes sparkle and are half lidded have you liquified into a soupy puddle of goo.

Pushing down the heat building in your body, inhaling deep through your nose, you try to keep it together. It’s getting more and more difficult. The feelings you have for Eddie have been steadily growing fonder since Halloween. That stupid Jesus costume had you thinking the unholiest thoughts for weeks. And now he’s sweeter than ever before. Looking like heaven’s fallen angel, Satan's favorite son. A cherub face with a demonic mind, the perfect disguise. There wasn’t a single square inch of him you hadn’t thought about in ways that would make holy water simmer on your skin. Fuck.

“—Tooty?” fingers snap in your face as you’re pulled from the fiery depths of pure joyful sinful lust filled hell. Eddie as the devil and you sitting at his right hand, his hands.

“Christ, you look possessed,”

Oh how you were.

“S-sorry,” you stammer out, a nervous laugh pushes from your lungs as he smiles at you.

Eddie and you were just two misfits, throwing together a Christmas like it was normal for you both. A normal that you could very easily get accustomed to.

-

“You what?!” Nancy shrieks in the booth next to yours as she rolls another perm rod into her mother’s hair. Her thin eyebrows are hidden beneath her straight bangs a look of disbelief planted on her face, “holy fuck, you’re serious?”

Explaining to Mrs. Nancy Byers and Karen Wheeler about your developing feelings for your roommate, left one of the related women stunned, the other with ecstatic delight.

Karen claps her hands, a fuschia smile on her lips, eyes bright and fighting back tears, “oh sweetie I am so happy for you.”

“Thanks,” you say shyly, fiddling with the combs on your counter, “and yes Nance, I am serious.”

Fingers moving rapidly she rolls the rest of Karen’s hair before saying anything else. “I’m happy for you, too ya know,” Nancy finally admits, “I saw the way he stared at you on Halloween.”

“Saw who stare?!” Robin chirps as the bell above the front door dings, announcing her Kramer-esque arrival, spinning chaos in a denim jacket. She slots her wirey frame in your chair, snowy boots plopped on your counter.

Nancy spins Karen around and motions for her to sit under the dryers. “Seeing Eddie stare at Tooty on Halloween,” she explains to Robin.

Robin nods and flicks through your brushes and hairsprays on the counter. “Oh for sure, he’s in love with her, it's so obvious.”

A bloom in your chest erupts as heat floods your cheeks. Robin’s confirmed words spread open your chest with adoration and love. It’s one thing to think someone might like you, hope they will reciprocate the same feelings, but it’s quite another thing to have multiple other people notice the feelings growing between you and someone you're crazy about.

Robin, Nancy and yourself gossip for the rest of your shift. Robin leaving with fire engine red hair, matching the blood pooling around your heart, beating for Eddie, aching for his touch, his smile, his stupid jokes. All of him. You were ready to take the dive.

-

“Oil change on this thing already?” Eddie laughs as Steve jumps out of the midnight black G-Wagon, tossing the keys in the air to himself.

Steve chuckles and threads his fingers through his hair, “yeah, new job has me traveling most of the time, and whenever I don’t want to fly— they provide me with this bad boy,” a sparkly gold plastic credit card is pulled from his wallet.

He goes into detail about how he has been taking Leighanne with him on his trips and just got back from seeing the Christmas tree lighting at Rockefeller Center in New York, how he’s sure he’s in love with her. “I’m happy for you, man.” Eddie says, “she seemed like she really was into you.”

Steve smiles, a cigarette between his teeth, “how’s the whole situation with Tooty? Make a move yet?”

Eddie lights his own cigarette, mulling over his answer. The short of it was, things were going … steady? They weren’t moving forward but not necessarily moving backwards either. He thought you felt the same way he yearned for you, but what if he made his move and you recoiled? He would die if he made you feel uncomfortable in any sort of way. You were his main goal, his end game, his one in a million, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he screwed it up.

His stomach in knots he feels like he could puke all over the patent leather of Steve’s shoes.

“I think it’s good?” Eddie blurts, confusion in his tone and a nervous hint of dread. “I care about her a lot— and I’ve told her that, I— ” he swallows hard, unsure of his next sentence but needing some advice, “I just don’t know how to show her that she means more to me than just a friend or a roommate or my friends’ sister.”

Steve looks at him confused, “dude,” he asks in all seriousness, “are you a virgin?”

The choked out bellering laugh Eddie emits from his body scares away the birds resting their feet on the telephone line. “Steve, what part of me being in a band and a cocky asshole screams virgin?”

“Well, you’re acting like one! ‘I don’t know what to do!’ Fuck man, stop being so scared and just tell her how you feel!”

Eddie's laugh turns sour, “I’ve never had to do this before, I haven’t been in a relationship in six years, and even then, I never once felt how I do about Tooty. So yeah I am scared because I don’t wanna fuck it up or have her think I’m just some creep like that fuckwad Chad.”

Steve shakes his head, and grabs Eddie by the shoulders, “you’re overthinking this, like a fuck load—she likes you, I know she does because whenever I talk to her she’s always telling me about something you did that day, but if you want some guidance— I’ll help you out.”

The greatest heads of hair in Hawkins, Indiana work for the next half hour, developing a plan for Eddie to make his move before he lost you.

-

Soft, pillowy blankets of pure white snow cover the cramped poverty stricken Forest Hills Trailer Park. Illuminating the impoverished community in a mask of Christmas spirit. White, and pristine. An illusionists dream, one so great that someone might have mistaken the rotting trailers and the broken down vehicles as heaps of snow instead of the decrepitness that would show truth when the masking snow melts and brings forth the ugly harshness of muddy roads and sinking foundations.

Spending Christmas Day with Eddie and meeting his uncle had brought a sweetness to your insides, eating away the sourness that the holidays delivered most years, a steady reminder that you were passed down like a pair of jeans. It had been Eddie’s idea to bring dinner over to his uncle's place and you were more than excited to get another peek at his world. Having talked to Wayne on the phone about what he would like you to make for food, his voice was gruff but serene, calling you ma’am and answering your questions between puffs of his cigarette.

“Darlin’,” Wayne answered after the second time of you asking if he was sure that it didn’t matter what you brought over; he didn’t want you to fuss over him, “we could have Surfer Boys pizza for all I care, but if you do make something— you make damn sure that nephew of mine is helping ya, alright? I ain’t raised no man to sit and watch work bein’ done, no matter what he thinks.”

Giggling with a hand to your mouth, Eddie rolls his eyes, cheeks burning crimson, “Christ Wayne,” he breathes, “pipe down or I’ll take your Christmas present back.”

A hacking cough rumbles from the other end of the phone as the two Munson men bicker back and forth.

Settling on garlic mashed potatoes, swedish meatballs, green bean casserole, dinner rolls, and the second pumpkin pie since Eddie ate the first one with a fork and a container of cool whip on the couch after work yesterday; you and Eddie stand at the door of the sky blue trailer the morning of Christmas Day, arms full with casserole dishes and desserts.

The door opens and the waft of a bachelor-esque aroma hits your nose. Stale cigarettes, and laundry soap combine is a surprisingly comforting smell as Wayne Munson meets you at the door. Icy blue eyes crinkled at the edges take a look at all the food balanced between four arms and immediately grabs the containers from you, cigarette planted between his fingers as he slides the food into his own arms. “Lord,” he huffs, “you been cookin’ all morning?”

Eddie holds the door open with his foot and ushers you in, hot on your heels to get away from the bitter cold. “Hell yeah she has been,” Eddie said proudly, showing you off like a 4H blue ribbon, “she wouldn’t even let me taste test it.”

Shying away from his compliments you place the mashed potatoes on the counter, turning around to get a full look at the tiny trailer.

Mugs of various assortments, sizes, colors and shapes decorate the wall above the door. A row of dusty long forgotten hats, balances over the window above the brown couch. A small tv is set in the corner of the living room, a table that has seen better days is wedged into a tight corner across from the cabinets in the kitchen, two matching chairs and a third aluminum folding chair propped against it, the seat hard cracking plastic, stuffing spilling out. The fridge is small but functional, a brass magnet with a clamp holds a hand written note of dates, some crossed out in red ink, others upcoming left alone, next to a calendar. The home is well loved and portrays everything you expected from a bachelor pad. Simple, tidy, cramped.

Imagining Eddie in high school living here, you wonder if the brown couch held more than just dust and well grooved ass prints. Memories of Eddie’s previous lovers? One night stands? The thoughts make you shiver with jealousy and disgust as you take lids off of containers and place aluminum foil from the meatball tray on the side of the counter. Eddie and Wayne are on your right talking about a leaky shower head, the cost of replacement parts and how much it would cost to get a new one.

“… agh,” Wayne argues, “it won’t take me long to take it all apart and figure it out, ain’t no need to go out and buy a new one.”

“Alright stubborn ass,” Eddie pokes, a toothy grin on his face, “just trying to make it easier on you.”

Wayne and him laugh, greeting each other with a hug. Eddie is a whole head taller than Wayne, their stark differences are completely night and day. Where Eddie is pale, Wayne’s skin is weathered and tan, the piercing blue eyes are ice against his tan complexion, meanwhile Eddie’s eyes are so dark they could be mistaken for black holes in the galaxy.

The Munson men pull away with slaps on the shoulders and jokes about frail bones and old age. When Eddie looks at you next Wayne’s eyes follow, his ruddy ringed hand gesture to you with a palm upwards, presenting you like a celebrity, “Wayne, this is Tooty, Tooty, this is my uncle Wayne.”

Smiling sweetly and stretching your hand forward for Wayne to shake you are enveloped with his warmth through his heavily calloused hands. “Pleasure to meet ya darlin’, Eddie ain’t ever brought a girl home for me to meet before.”

Never brought a girl home.

How could you be the first? Eddie dated Chrissy for an entire year, and you’re sure he’s had more than one girlfriend in the past. Including the waitress at Benny's. Why wouldn’t he have brought any of them to meet Wayne? Clearly his uncle means a lot to him, and you remember how Eddie was with Chrissy, how much he cared about her… why did she never come back to the Munson home?

Eddie interjects your thoughts, his cheeks pinked with embarrassment, “Wayne what the f—.”

“Ah hell, I forgot I bought some paper plates, let me go get ‘em from the truck.” Wayne tuts, walking quickly past you and Eddie, the cool rush of air fills the room and the snap of the screen door has Eddie shaking his head. Murmuring to himself about needing to keep his mouth shut as he busies himself with getting forks and knives from the wonky drawers.

-

Empty plates and full bellies coordinate into a sleepy haze between you all. Wayne’s contagious laugh fills the kitchen as Eddie groans when the small photo album is passed around the table. “Remember this one Ed? Damn you were madder’n a hornet that day when Mrs. Milford asked you to mow her yard.”

“Ya,” Eddie yelled, “that’s cause there is no yard she just made me pick up rocks, and most of it was dog shit from Rocko!”

Wayne’s bellering laugh brings tears to your eyes at Eddie’s misfortunes. A picture of a younger Eddie no older than ten years old, dirt and a scowl on his face, same big doe eyes and a bad haircut.

A smile finally breaks on his face seeing your smirk dance on your lips as you wipe the laughing tears from your eyes.

The three of you spend hours laughing, Eddie and Wayne clean up the table as you put food in Tupperware containers for Wayne, slotting them into the fridge and stacking them neatly.

The Christmas present Eddie had for Wayne was in the back of the van and was heavy. Wayne jumped in to help Eddie carry it in, tutting and making a fuss when you told him you could do it, “no ma’am, you sit down right there, I mean it!”

Once outside, the two Munson’s light up cigarettes, exhaling puffs of smoke into the chilled air, the crunch of snow beneath their boots.

“Sure was nice to meet your girlfriend Ed, I think she’s a keeper,”

Not missing a beat and rolling his eyes Eddie all but screams, “Wayne for fucks sake we are not dating, I told you this! Or did you turn senile since I moved out?”

“Well I just thought that if I’d tease ya enough about it you’d do somethin’ about it ‘stead of gawking at her all night like she’s gonna break.”

Eddie's ears burn, “I have a plan, it’s just not something I wanna ruin— I gotta do it right, she isn’t like anyone else— she— she means more to me than that.”

“I’m proud of ya son, finally grew up,” he claps a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, “you be good to her. Don’t know anyone of your other girly friends, or whatever you call ‘em, who'd dare step foot out in these parts.”

-

Eddie's gift to Wayne had been a bigger tv, one he could watch Gunsmoke on and be able to see it comfortably from the couch instead of squinting. Wayne smiled from ear to ear and kept on smiling when he stood at the door and waved goodbye to you both.

Cheeks sore from laughing, exhausted from the day you yawn behind a mittened palm. Watching the street lights bounce and sway as Eddie drives you both home.

“Can’t be tired already are you?” He asks, smoking a cigarette lazily, smoke billowing from his nostrils and around his curls.

You stretch your back, arching it against the cracked leather of his seats, a yawn slips from your mouth, “Just a little bit,” your voice is small and strained from the stretch, eyelids heavy.

He pleads with slight desperation in his tone, “don’t fall asleep on me yet,” his eyes are soft and tender, blinking slow and gazing into yours, “I still have to give you your present.”

“Present?”

Eddie and you hadn’t talked about getting each other presents even though you had one wrapped neatly in a small box in your bedroom at home.

His face lights up as your eyebrows pull into a quizzical ponder. “It’s nothing big,” Eddie shrugs nonchalantly even though his insides are fiery pools of gummy liquid, tangled knots of rope, “just something kinda silly.”

Heated cheeks and a delicate fluttering in your stomach keep you awake the rest of the way home, the fluttering increases anytime Eddie catches you looking at him, his lips pursed in a smirk.

Inside, you speak few words. Eddie tosses his keys on the table, a jingled clink as it skids and stops amongst the stack of mail. The creaking leather of his jacket is soft as it rubs with the flannel fabric of his shirt as his arms are pulled from it, tossing it on the back of the wooden chair. He sits to unlace his boots. The overhead light dances off of the silver of his chunky rings, highlighting his large veiny hands, working in a fluid movement of untying the laces from the eyelets. Those powerful hands. His talented fingers. Aching for them to be on your skin you are tantalized by them. Eyes never moving from the skin pulled taut on his knuckles, chapped and pink from the chilled air and the refusal to wear gloves.

Your own shoes are off, toes begging for warmth as you walk gingerly to your room and change into pajamas. What gift did Eddie have for you? Would he think your gift was weird? Pushing the negativity from your mind, you change into comfy pajamas.

Eddie was waiting in the living room with your gifts behind his back. His mind racing and heart thumping noisily in his chest. He had run this through his mind more times that he could count, obsessing over the fine minute details for days. He had calculated the perfect way to do this with the help of Steve. Tonight was the first part and tomorrow, after ‘A very Merry Corroded Christmas at the Hideout,’ he was going to ask you on a date, a real one. One that he borrowed fancy cologne from Harrington, cleaned his van out for, one that ended with him telling you how crazy he is about you, how he thinks you hung the moon, any and all cliches surmounting every horribly sad country song that Boom made them listen to at work, he’d sing them if you wanted that from him. He’s never felt more like a sap in all his life, but for you, he’d be everything and more. And if he was lucky— and you were ready—maybe he would steal a kiss.

His daydream is cut short when you shuffle from your room to the living room. Christmas tree lit behind him, makes him look fit to be an angel sitting atop the tree rather than standing in front of it, the same smirk he always wore skirting across his face.

The red flannel he’s wearing is rolled to his elbows, pushed up haphazardly. A silver chain hanging delicately around his neck and disappearing in the opening to his shirt. Heart nearly stopping at the sight of him, you walk the same way towards him that he’s standing, hands behind your back, fingers digging into the foiled Christmas wrapping.

“Okay,” Eddie says nervously licking his lips, “let’s countdown from 3 and we can exchange? Does that work?”

Nodding enthusiastically, your mind is screaming at you— your gift is too much, he’s gonna hate it, he’s gonna think it’s weird that you bought this for him. Stomach churning like butter, you hear Eddie’s low velvet voice counting down. At his voice dipping lower when he gets to one you slip the sweat slicked thin box from behind your back and lean hold it out in front of you.

Your chapstick smile is sweet and adoringly beautiful, Eddie nearly drops your present from behind his back at the sight, fingers clutching to the silky wrapped handles of the gift bag with Santa’s fat white ass climbing up into a chimney on the front. His arm swings forward and holds the bag by its handles on one thick finger, like a bomb ready to explode at any second.

Eyes wide and bright he places the gift bag in your hand and exchanges his present for yours. “Eddie you didn’t have to do this,” you gasp at the sight of the bag, “you already fixed my car and wouldn’t let me pay you.”

“Yeah well,” Eddie starts rubbing the back of his neck, “open it and we’ll decide if I should have or not.”

Placing the bag on the ground and taking the crinkly emerald green and sparkly gold tissue paper out one sheet at a time, Eddie’s eyes never leave your hands as you reach the bottom of the bag and they hesitate. His heart jumps to his throat, stomach falling out of his ass. It’s too much, you hate it. Of course you do, it was a stupid idea to begin with. Why the fuck did he ask Gareth for his help? His original idea would have been better than this, and now look! You’re about ready to rip his goddamn head off like a praying mantis or some shit. SON OF A B—

A shrill laugh erupts from your lungs as Eddie feels a tidal wave of relief wash over him. Tucked into the bag, folded as neatly as Eddie could, you pull out a black t-shirt, safety pins decorate the hem, a homemade ripped neckline. Corroded Coffin's sadistic logo is printed on the front and beneath it reads, ‘Eddie’s babysitter’ in bold white lettering. Fingers tracing the lettering you haven’t stopped laughing yet.

“I—I was deciding between ‘babysitter’ or ‘manager’ but went with th— I just figured you needed something to wear for tomorrow and I thought this would be c— do you hate it?”

“Hate it?!” you squeak between giggles, “Eddie this is the best gift I’ve ever received, I can’t wait to wear it.” You meant that, the thought that went into this, the personalization. The almost possession of being anything of Eddie’s made you weak in the knees.

“Thank fuck,” he breathes, finally able to take a breath and relax, “shit I have something else for you too, but uh.. close your eyes and turn around for me.”

His breath on your neck drives goosebumps and flutters all over your body. The cool feel of a necklace tightens on your neck as Eddie latches it closed, and goes slack once he’s finished. His hands trail down your back and land on your hips to turn you back around. His fingertips digging into your flesh ever so lightly.

The necklace is heavy, something weighing it down but you can’t be sure what it is, it’s not until you glance at his hands that you notice one of his rings is missing, the chunkiest of them all, the pig head is no longer on his middle finger, but around your neck instead.

His fingers skate along your neck as he adjusts it into place, tickling your collar bones with his finger tips, sending shivers across your skin, he keeps this up and you’ll be permanently goose pimpled for the rest of your life. You’d wear them proudly if it meant his hands never left you.

“There,” he announces in finality, his eyes dip to your lips, the necklace and back to your eyes, “aren’t you just the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Core throbbing and pooling with molten hot lava at his complimentary words, his velvet, panty dropper voice. Fuck, he is so pretty it hurts.

“Better open your present before your mouth gets you into trouble,” you whisper, blinking long and slow as you stare back into the depths of his eyes, lost in the muddy galaxy.

He grins, his fingers walk up your neck and cup your chin, bringing you ever so slightly towards him, enough that you can feel his breath on your own lips, his tobacco voice pulling you in and wrapping you tight in a nicotine high that they’d make quit ads for in the upcoming future, “oh princess, I’d pay to be in that kind of trouble.”

and you’re floating, in this moment there is no sound, just two souls shedding the last layer of self doubt, the last inkling of the unknown as your toes dip in the warm pools of the burnt caramels of Eddie’s eyes. His lips are slick and you want to get a taste, want to feel the chapped crack in his bottom lip nestled against your tongue, busting the crack open and savoring his blood in your mouth.

The fervoring tension has never been this strong and you wonder if you’ll be able to pull away or if you’ll push yourself up on your tippy toes and close the inch gap between you, sealing your feelings with a kiss. But it’s Eddie who pulls away, taking a ragged breath and hitting himself lightly in the head with your carefully wrapped present.

He could feel the flames from your lips, the sweet venom of your tongue was sirening out to him, but he wouldn’t, couldn’t do it. He has a plan in place and no matter how hard all puns intended it was for him to pull away from you, he had to. Wanting to follow his plan, making sure his i’s were dotted and his t’s were crossed he’d never studied harder for anything in his life. He’d pass this test for sure, having obsessed and studied the material for months, staying up late most nights to tune out the fine details. He’d get this right.

Your eyes droop as he steps away from you tangled in his web of desire you can’t get unreleased from. His fingers slide along the taped edge of the wrapper and you’re certain you’re going to fold like a chair at the way the veins bulge in his hands. He’s looking at the gift you bought, a silence on his lips as you drool for the way he’s holding it. He’s stammering, suddenly an impediment in his vocal chords as his tongue twists thickly against his teeth.

“No way— No fucking way!” He’s screaming, pulling his hair and jumping around the room in a boyish giddiness.

“M-Metallica! Tooty!! No way, dude no way! These are fake right?!”

They weren’t.

Robin always had a craft for winning stupid shit and when the radio station out of Indianapolis announced they were giving away tickets to see Metallica in February to caller number 18, Robin just so happened to call the radio station requesting to do a shout out for Vicky and ended up winning the tickets. The night she came to you to color her hair, you exchanged the service for the tickets.

Before you can answer he grabs you up in his arms, spinning you around the room, holding you tighter than a safety belt on a rollercoaster. He spins and spins as you both laugh like kids.

“Merry Christmas Eddie,” you whisper in his ear when he stops spinning. He’s holding your waist, and you’re on the tips of your toes, his head buried into your neck.

“Why are you so good to me?” Eddie asks solemnly against your neck, his voice vibrating your skin in a heated pulse.

Not answering for a long time, you bathe in his musky scent, his hair tickling your face in silky curls. His strong arms holding you tight against him, your fingers playing with the opening of his flannel and the ends of his curls, your cheek right against his chest, moving with his breathing.

“Because I want to be,” you finally answer, pulling away and getting lost in his inky warm eyes, “you deserve it.”

He reels you back in, his chin atop your head. Minutes melt together and you aren’t sure how long you stand this way, hip bones fusing together as one with your hearts aligning, your eyes have been closed for a while and you feel cracked lips on your forehead, making you shiver as he whispers, softly into your hairline, “my angel.”

-

The next day is filled with chaos. The guys are in and out of the house at the ass crack of dawn bouncing speakers and other odds and ends you didn’t even know were in the house against each other into the back of Eddie’s van. Wearing Eddie’s necklace proudly close to your heart you make them all sit to eat breakfast burritos. They eat and leave with a flash, but not before Eddie comes back through the door. He grabs your hands, holding them softly in his calloused grip, “See you at the show?”

Smiling widely and trying to will the heat from your cheeks away, you answer, “wouldn’t be a proper babysitter if I wasn’t there to watch now would I?”

“Should have made you the janitor,” Eddie grins and as he sees you still wearing his ring around your neck, he tosses you a wink that could liquify smoke. His tall frame slinks out the door driving like a bat out of hell to go set up at the bar.

-

The jeans you’re wearing are so tight accentuating your ass to explicit levels, the worn docs you’ve had for years are perfectly broke in and comfy on your feet, the shirt Eddie made for you wrapped around your chest perfectly, the letters of bending the ‘C’ and the ‘N’ on either side.

Steve, Leighanne, Robin and Vicky pick you up around 6, Robin with her fire engine hair and fishnet stockings under holy jeans. Vicky in a plaid printed overalls and a beret. Steve and Leighanne are both wearing jet black, her in a sheer sleeved button up shirt and a long black skirt. Steve wore an old band shirt he borrowed from Eddie. Your nerves were frazzled but settled slightly when Leighanne and Robin cat called out the window as you paraded down the front steps.

The drive to the Hideout had you stifling a chunky vomit in your throat. Nervous beyond belief you couldn’t shake it. Eddie had asked you to come, made you your own shirt to wear just for tonight, he clearly wanted to see you, wanted to have you watch his band play. Breathing in and out in exaggerated breaths Steve parks the G Wagon and it’s time to go inside. Here goes nothing.

-

Eddie wasn’t kidding, the bar was busy and posters with the bands silhouette were sticking on every surface in the bar and outside of it. Outside the bar was a girl around your age, short in stature, her brown hair piled high on her head, brooding green eyes piercing your own as she smoked a cigarette, selling tickets.

Eyeing your shirt she rolls her eyes, “you must be Eddie’s special guests,” she spits, eyeing you up and down, a jealous pitch in her voice, “guest of honor my ass,” she mumbles to herself as she lets you in free of charge. The Hideout was exactly how you remembered it to be. Pungent smells of spilt liquor and cheap keg beer fill your nose, the smoky haze filling the bar is a welcomed reminder that this place was a legendary spot in Hawkins.

Eddie and the boys were on stage setting up amps and speakers. His long curls catch the light and showering the room with amber swirls of caramel and chocolate. He’s wearing a cut mid drift shirt that looks like it would fit a toddler, his tattoos and fine definitions of his hips and slight abs are on display. Every vein in his arms are protruding and river lined. He’s the single sexiest man on the planet and your body was running over with want.

“Let’s get a drink, yeah?” Steve motions to the sticky counter of the bar. A dark curly haired woman with enormous boobs and red lipstick wearing a t- shirt reading “daddy’s girl” is behind the bar. She’s familiar to you but only in passing, the more you think the more you recognize her as Max's older brother’s girlfriend. Her long red nails clack on the sticky counter as she waits impatiently for you to make a decision.

Steve orders for him and Leighanne and orders Robin a water with a straw, never living down her behavior on his birthday. Vicky and you both order beers that probably should have been cold but with the daggering stare the bartender drove into your skull you didn’t dare ask.

Pocketing the cash Steve slapped into the counter in her bra, she made her way over to the extremely intoxicated drunk girls there for a bachelorette party.

“You’re so fucking pretty, you’re like my bestfriend,” a girl with wavy brown hair and glasses slurs to her friend, her voice up an octave as they power slam fruity drinks that resemble melted skittles.

“I hope Greg realizes what you’re giving up to be with him,” the girl with pinked red hair shouts above the others her leopard print jumpsuit stretched tight across her heaving chest, fussing over her friend with cropped lavender hair’s appearance, holding her up like they’re re-enacting Weekend at Bernie’s.

The bride-to-be pouts and makes a face, “who said I’m giving up anything? This whole bar is free game and according to Jo’s guide for the night, we still have ‘make out with a mustache’ to cross off.”

Snickering as you pass them, Leighanne linked her arm through your left as you make your way to stage, sipping the lukewarm beer in the barely clean glass, its hop tickling your throat with each travel in your mouth. Corroded Coffin has gone backstage and are waiting to be announced. The bar is flooded with people young and old. Reliving their glory days one sparse balding mullet at a time.

“I had no idea Eddie was in a band,” Leighanne whispered loudly into your ear, “he was in such a bad mood when I met him I didn’t really get to know him.”

The memory of Steve’s birthday still stung but the moments after and the day after that were still singing sweetly in your soul. “He’s come around quite a bit,” you explain.

“Yeah,” she agrees, “Steve told me about the two guys he fought at work, said they were mouthing off about you and he just snapped.”

“Nothing that wasn’t deserved,” “I—uh—I took care of it.” He says in a final explanation.

The bruises on his face, the broken ribs, his cracked and bleeding mouth. That was for you? He fought two guys off because of you?

Mind spinning on its own axis you can’t grasp why he would do that for you. Why he would get himself severely hurt just because some douchebags said some shit about you. It wasn’t worth it. Your eyebrows pull inward and your heart aches even more for Eddie. He was hands down the sweetest man you’ve ever come across. Putting himself in harm’s way just to prove a point. He could have lost his job, could have gotten even more hurt than what he was. It was stupid, reckless and dangerous— but somehow you couldn’t think of anything other than your heart hammering into your chest.

A booming voice fills the speakers and coaxes your attention to the center stage. “Please welcome, all the way from Forest Hills Trailer Park, our own, Corroded Coffin!”

Eddie and the boys trot on stage, Gareth takes his seat behind his drum set, followed by Jeff picking up his bass guitar and Big D picking up his instrument, you notice him winking towards a girl beside you, the blush on her pale cheeks could be seen from another planet.

Eddie is the last out, strutting forward with his runt red warlock guitar slung around his neck and a bullet belt hanging on his slender waist. His smile radiates across his face as he approaches the mic. He looks through the crowd with twinkly eyes and when he catches your stare front and center he winks and bends down, voice low as he speaks only to you— as if no one else is in the room but the pair of you. “Prettiest girl in the world made it all the way from Cherry Lane to come and see me huh?”

“Well since you practically begged,” you quip, heat warming your cheeks as his smile spreads wider.

“Wait for me after?” Eddie asks, eyes dripping deeply into yours, cartoon hearts floating from each blink of his lashes.

His stare could heat a kettle it burned into your soul and cozied up with your heart, softening it to a beautiful graying ash. Nodding and smiling like a fool in love you can’t form words when he shoots you a wink and stands in a swift, fluid motion, grabbing the microphone and shouting, “Hawkins! Are you ready to get this party started?!” The lights beat down on the band as they begin their set for the night.

Thrashing on his guitar, Eddie starts the tinny opening to Metallica’s Wherever I May Roam, followed by Gareth beating into his drums. Having watched them play this song many times in the garage it never ceases to amaze you how deep Eddie’s voice can get in the beginning of the song, his liquid sultry tone curls around your skin and holds you tight. The cords in his neck are profound jutting out in delectable delight. A feast for the wicked. His fingers move deftly along the fretboard as he sings and plays. Hair already slicked with sweat and hanging in a curly wet curtain of onyx down his back and stuck to his face. He’s never looked better. Hardly recognizing anyone around you, you're completely enamored like a moth to a flame by his appearance, his sex appeal on fire, licking up your skin’s gasoline, orange hues in a smoldering fire.

The song finishes and Eddie yells into the mic, “I’m Eddie, and we are Corroded Coffin, if you don’t like metal or the 80’s…”

The crowd chants as Eddie holds the mic out to them, “THEN GET THE FUCK OUT!”

Screams, whoops and hollers are bouncing off every surface of the dingy blackened bar. The beginning bells of For Whom The Bell Tolls chime and the crowd goes wild. When Big D rifts the beginning of Love Bites, Eddie takes a giant swig of Jack Daniels and your tongue aches to lap up the drops coursing down his stomach and finding solace in the waistband of his jeans.

Does he need a chaser? If so, you know the perfect antidote. Hungry like a wolf for him you can feel the soaked panties between your legs, the friction of your jeans give little relief where it’s needed.

The band plays a few more songs, and you are surprised that Eddie’s voice never falters or cracks during the entire nine minutes of Freebird, he nails the guitar solo and his sweltering smooth voice hits your core with each belting ache of the sad song. Steve holds Leighanne from behind and they sway together through the lyrics, he’s whispering into her ear and she’s fighting back tears. Robin and Vicky are slow dancing in a drunken stupor of smoke, completely in their own world.

The drunken girls from the bachelorette party are each making out with men double their age, the bride is getting a piggyback ride from a balding man you recognize to be wait what? Wayne Munson, reliving his glory days and having the time of his life as her white veil is worn around his head, cigarette hung limply from his thin lips. It’s safe to say the entire bar is drunk and having one of the best nights. The bartender has a line of party go-ers to do body shots from her cleavage. It’s hot and humid in the bar but Corroded Coffin doesn’t take any breaks, they keep playing and you can tell exhaustion is evident in Eddie’s face as he sings his heart out.

Eddie’s voice booms as he grabs the mic with a maniacal laugh, he looks down at you and points to you with an outstretched palm, “this next one is for the biggest brat, pain in my ass, absolutely the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever known, we haven’t played this song in years, but I know it’s her favorite.”

Jeff starts thumbing on his bass guitar with Gareth hitting the drums, immediately you know the song. You can’t believe he remembered. It was months ago when you had mentioned it to him, asking shyly if they still played it. Eddie starts singing the first verse,

There’s a place just south of Witches Valley

Where they say the wind won’t blow

And they only speak in whispers of her name

There’s a lady they say that feeds the darkness

It eats right from her hand

With a crying shout, she’ll search you out

And freeze you where you stand

Lady Evil, evil

She’s a magical mystical woman

Lady evil, evil on my mind

She’s the queen of the night

Tears well in your eyes and you can’t help them from falling. Grabbing the necklace he had placed so delicately on you yesterday you rub the tarnished steel between your fingers. It’s not even a sappy song, but the fact he remembered from all those years ago when you were just a bratty sister to his best friend and he was an asshole teenager, made your heart soar. You were in love with him. More than just a little crush, more than just a one night fling, you wanted him as yours— yours and yours alone.

The bar is full of screaming fans, girls with their tops off, throwing their bras at the band, but Eddie’s eyes never leave yours. His soul reaches yours and tells you without words the same thing you are thinking.

The rest of the concert you stand in one spot still staring up at the beautiful man in front of you, utterly intoxicated on him. The valleys of his neck as it vibrates and stretches with his vocal chords, the veiny thick hands as they strum his guitar, his wet hair that would look so delicious wrapped around your fingers. You yearned for him, carnally desired to have those hands wrapped hotly around your skin, between your legs, on your neck. Fuck.

-

The gig ends and the boys slip backstage. “Fuck man! I haven’t seen that many people at one of your gigs ever, where the hell is Gareth?” Big D asks, squeezing a can of spray cheese into his mouth.

“Oh you know him,” Jeff chides, downing a warm beer, “he’s bumping’ uglies with his main, probably locked in the men’s bathroom again.”

They all chuckle and Eddie hurries to grab his stuff, anxious to meet you up front and buy you a drink, maybe take you out for midnight pancakes at Benny’s. Looking as beautiful as ever tonight he had a hard time keeping the gig going, all he wanted to do was jump off stage and kiss you so deeply your bones would sing from his fervor, and now that it was over, he moved into the final phase of his plan, making you his.

“Ash is waiting’ on me, you still riding with us Big D or is Em gettin’ lucky tonight?

Big D wipes his cheese filled lips, “ah I might give her the ol’ pickle tickle, hey man,” he says gesturing to Eddie, “a whole song dedicated to the most gorgeous girl huh?”

Eddie doesn’t miss a beat, “am I wrong? Tooty not pretty enough for you?”

Big D holds his hands up in surrender, “damn dude that’s not what I was getting at— I’m— we are happy for you. Don’t let her get away.”

Eddie smiled sheepishly, “that’s the plan my man,” he says slinging his worn duffel bag over his shoulder, “that’s the plan, gotta go.”

He makes his way down a narrow hallway back to the bar when he’s stopped by the twins. Arms crossed and looks of vengeance on their painted lips.

“Ladies,” Eddie greets, head down and making to pass them, but the stand stone still, blocking his way.

“Daddy,” Cece answers, “that wasn’t very nice the way you treated us the last time we played.” her lips pursed in a pretty pout, a tight faux leather mini skirt exentuating her curves.

Carol purrs as she walks towards him, her hip gripping leather pants and a denim vest adorned with band pins pushes her chest up and nearly to her eyeballs, soft Farrah curls surrounding her face and sway down her back. Her finger curled under his chin, “I think you owe us… a favor.”

“Ooh yes,” Cece agrees, “a big favor,” her hand wraps around the soft length outside his jeans. Lips pressing into his sweaty neck.

“I’m gonna pass,” Eddie says firmly, avoiding Carol’s needy fingers in his hair, “but Gareth might be up for another round, give him about a half hour or so.”

Carol grabs Eddie by his crotch and walks him back into the wall, pinning his shoulders with her arms, her lips tantalizingly close to his neck. “A song dedicated to that bitch roommate of yours?” she seethes, “how pathetic.”

Cece speaks now, her words laced with venom long slicked back pony tail cascading down her back, “bet she can’t fuck like us, word around town is her pussy was trashed by Chad Cunningham.”

Eddie instantly feels a fire in his belly; he's ready to tell them both off, ready to get to you and take you out for a meal. But when he looks up he sees you standing at the end of the hallway, eyes wide and a hand over your mouth. He calls your name but you ignore him, throwing a middle finger over your shoulder and swallowing the lump in your throat as turn on your heel and stomp away, down the hallway and through the loud chattering of drunks in the bar, passed the stage that you finally felt like you were getting somewhere with Eddie, and out the door.

The wind had picked up, blowing snow all around the parking lot. A white wall of opaque blindness, you don't have a jacket but you know the general way on how to get home. Crossing your arms across your chest you put your head down and began to trudge through the parking lot.

Not being able to fathom what you saw, you are pissed that you’re jealous. Pissed that your rockstar roommate, who was known for being a ladies man and a player, pulled one over on you. Made you think he loved you just for him to be sucking face with the twins who were at your house all those months ago. Tears sting and practically freeze to your lashes as you stomp further and further away from the hideout, heart frozen and rigid once again.

With the wind blowing hard you didn’t hear the door being flung open frantically or the loud music being sung by the drunks from the jukebox. Eddie barely catches a glimpse of your black shirt and barrels through the deepening snow to get to you. “Tooty!”

A warm hand wraps around your arm and pulls you around to face him, your eyes are like steel knives into his as he stares into them pleading with you to understand. “You gonna walk the whole way home?”

“What the fuck do you care?” you shout, trying to wiggle your arm away from him, “you must think I’m really fucking stupid huh?”

Eddie is perplexed, face twisted in confusion, “what the hell are y— Jesus Christ it’s freezing out here, let me take you home. We can argue and fight all you want without getting hypothermia.”

“No! I’m not going anywhere with you!” you cry, trying to shove him away but nearly falling in the snow. You didn’t want to be in his presence ever again. He hurt you, he made you feel like you were special, turns out you're just as common as a penny on the sidewalk, not even face up for luck.

“Tooty,” Eddie barks, voice angry, sharp and full of pain, “if I have to drag you by your goddamn hair into the van I will. I have no problem doing that. Let’s. Go.”

Shoulder checking him on your spin back through the parking lot, you stomp through the thick snow and climb into the passenger seat, shivering and pouting.

Eddie is close behind you, hands raw and red from the elements, trembling as he reaches for the knob to blast the heat. He doesn’t say anything as he pulls out of the parking lot, only looks your way to try and read your face, your peripherals catch him more than once— but you won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing your tears.

The ride home is full of slippery snow packed roads, at the stop sign before turning onto Cherry, Eddie looks your way, “are you mad at me?”

Are you mad at me? What a stupid fucking question.

“No Eddie I’m over the moon, jumping for joy, mother fucking delighted to see you with not one girl but two— groping you ready to feast on you like a snack.”

Eddie shakes his head, not wanting to argue but seeing no other way through it. “That’s all you saw huh? And where were my hands Tooty? Was I touching them?”

You think hard, unable to to process or give a shit what he was talking about. “I was too distracted to see what you were doing, sorry for leaving so soon and disrupting your rockstar ego in the act— I’m sure you’re into other people watching you fuck.”

Eddie lets out a taunting laugh that is anything but trying to be funny. He’s flabbergasted by how mean you’re being, 100% only seeing what you wanted to.

“You are seriously talking out of your ass right now, ya know that right?” Eddie sneers, pulling into the driveway, he’s hurt and like an animal, he’s lashing out, defending his pride, “Why do you even care if I am, which for the record— I’m not, with someone else? We aren’t dating, you’re not my girlfriend.”

The poisonous words sting worse than the first fight with him ever has. Not giving him a chance to explain, you throw open the door, not slamming it but leaving it wide open and stomp inside. Kicking off your boots you hear two doors slam and Eddie’s boots stomping behind you.

“Fuck!” Eddie shouts, “do you ever finish a conversa—”

“Fuck you! You wanna be some rockstar prick with his dick in anything that walks? Be my guest— but keep me out of it!” Turning to your bedroom, Eddie jumps over the couch to block your path, arms stretched across the door frame.

“We,” Eddie yells again, “are going to talk about this, stop running away from me!”

“No,” you chastise, “we aren’t!”

Eddie hears you but presses on, “why are you mad at me because you think you saw me kissing or touching those other girls?”

“Uhh,” you groan, defeated, “leave me alone.”

“Tell me,” he continues.

“No.” You announce crossing your arms.

“Tooty, Jesus Chr— tell me,” he’s losing his calm, agitated by your bratty attitude and refusal to talk to him.

Fidgeting and stamping your foot you don’t want to give in to him, can’t tell him why you’re so upset. How embarrassing to tell someone you’re jealous.

“Eddie— get the fuck out of my way.”

“Tell me why and I will, be a big girl, use your words,” his venomous teasing only fuels your fire.

“Jesus Christ you incessant fucking gnat! Get out of the way!”

Eddie presses forward, inching towards you, making you draw away from him, “are you jealous, Tooty?”

The word makes your cheeks heat, admission written all over your face as he keeps pressing into you further, your back is at the wall and his arms box you in, face inches from yours. “Did seeing me with someone else make you mad?”

Grumbling his name you try to push away from him but he is persistent. “Tell me I’m not crazy, baby.” His whispered tone seeps through your skin, flooding your panties even more, your heart screaming with each beat, mind inching you impossibly closer to him.

“Tell me you want this just as much as I do,” his hooded eyes, pour into yours, licked lips wet with spit.

Toes in the water, it’s surprisingly warm despite the frigid cold of the weather outside, but he’s been keeping you warm now for months.

Hands on his chest you finger the holes in the neck of his shirt. His cold wet hair tickling your hands as you yank him closer to you, practically bumping noses, “you’re not crazy, but I will be if you don’t kiss me.”

Hesitation long forgotten, the smooth silk of your lips are hugged tight against Eddie’s pinked and chapped ones. Floating higher to the galaxy he swore he would take you to, tank full of gas, dancing you around in his arms on Saturn’s rings, diving head first into Jupiter’s springs.

Blissfully euphoric is the language of your spilled lust infused love.

-

for readmore 🦋

#honey i’m home #eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson/reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson fanfiction

[daycourtofficial]

Falling in Love on the Fourth Floor - Part 8

Summary: Out of an act of desperation, you move in with a guy you kind of know who happens to have a really hot brother who lives next door.

Author’s note: this is ridiculous and incredibly self-indulgent but I don’t care I had so much fun writing this. This is the iconic karaoke chapter and I’m so excited 😌

(Masterlist)

Azriel drove the two of you through town, his motorcycle moving through traffic with ease. Your hold on him continues until he eventually pulls into a parking lot, stopping right in front of a small restaurant nestled beside an Insomnia Cookies store. You were quite impressed with how well you handled the ride - you had kept your gasps and nerves to a minimum.

Until you realized you had to get off the bike.

“Uhhh,” you say, looking at the ground as if the two or three feet away from the asphalt was a ravine.

He chuckles, sensing your hesitation.

“Hold onto my shoulders and just slide off.”

You breathe deeply, preparing yourself for the worst case scenario - either falling off the bike or death. You’re not entirely sure which is preferable.

You follow Azriel’s advice, your hands bracing your weight on his shoulders, sliding off with relative ease. You put your hands up in the air, jumping around at how proud you are of not dying. Azriel just chuckles, shaking his head as he mounts the bike, helping you pull off your helmet.

You two go in, and you look around to see only a one other couple at a table, eating what can only be described as the most delectable smelling sandwiches you’ve ever encountered. You spend a moment looking at the massive menu trying to figure out what sandwich you want. Azriel waits on you, and when you nod to him that you’re ready, he steps forward to the counter.

“Can I get a 12 inch triple meat and a 12 inch meatball sub, and whatever she’s having,” he says, motioning for you to tell him what you want.

You’re a bit surprised, and you desperately want to crack a joke about a 12 inch triple meat, but you bite your tongue, asking for a philly cheese steak instead.

Azriel pays, and you thank him as you two find a table.

“So… 12 inch triple meat, huh?”

Azriel snorts, “it’s Cassian’s go to.”

“What’s on it?”

“I’m pretty certain they just shove a bunch of different kinds of meat on bread, layer a bunch of cheese on top, and warm it up.”

“Hmmm,” you hum, “very on brand for him.”

The guy who took your order brings you your sandwiches in little baskets, one sandwich packed away in a bag.

Cassian’s triple meat, no doubt.

“How’d you like being my backpack?” Azriel asks, biting his sandwich, half of it coming out of the end.

“Excuse me?” You ask, taking a bite of your own, trying to keep the contents inside of the sandwich as you eat.

“My backpack. You were riding on my back, like a backpack.”

“Oh,” you push some hair behind your ear, “It uh wasn’t too bad, it was actually fun when I got used to it.”

“Yeah? Would you ride with me again?”

His eyes sparkle a bit at you, whether that was from the sunlight peaking through the window or if that was just Azriel, you’re not sure.

“Yeah, I think I would. When I was a kid I always wanted to ride a motorcycle,” you say, smiling. “How did you end up driving one?” You ask, not taking your eyes off of him

He hums, thinking about how to respond. “I always wanted to ride one, too. Then after the incident with my hands,” he holds up his gloved hands as if making a point, “after I relearned how to use my hands, all I could think about for years was riding. During my physical therapies, whenever it was getting hard or frustrating, I imagined myself older, being able to grip the handles, feel the wind on me.”

You just smile at him, unsure what to say, hoping your smile comes across as friendly as you tell him, “I just thought it looked cool.”

A smile breaks across his face, a beautiful laugh coming from him.

“It does look cool,” he replies, bunching up the paper from his sandwich once he finishes, throwing it into the basket.

“Rhys actually bought me the bike.”

Your eyes move from the paper to his face, and a somber look overtakes him.

“When we were kids he told me after those therapies that he’d buy me a bike once we were old enough.”

He shakes his head, the memories of all the times Rhys said those words to him coming in and out of his thoughts.

“I never expected him to follow through on it. But he did. He bought me the bike as a graduation gift.”

You were about to ask how an 18 year old could afford that, but Azriel beats you to it.

“Rhys’s dad is somewhat in the picture. If Rhys does things for him, mostly making appearances at family functions, he gets extra money.”

“His dad does pay our rent, and Rhys has a credit and debit card from his dad, but he also needed his dad to sign on for the bike.”

“Your brothers must really love you,” you say, reaching your hand out to cover his.

He looks up at you, hazel eyes peering into your own and he smiles, “yeah, yeah they do.”

-

You walk into the gym that Cassian and Azriel work at. It was quite large and it looked incredibly pristine. It’s full of people working out, seemingly everyone in town was spending their Saturday afternoon sweating the week off.

Azriel pulls out his phone, shooting a text to Cassian about his sandwich. The two of you chat idly about the gym, and Azriel tells you a bit about the guy who does the scheduling when you catch a glimpse of long hair in a half messy bun on the top of his head.

You see Cassian’s head come from a corner and he makes his way to you two, his grin getting bigger as he sees you next to his brother.

“How’d your date go last night?” He asks, not mentioning Az’s spare helmet in your hand or how if he blew out a breath you’d be touching his brother.

Azriel glares at Cassian over you, but you tell him, “uh, terribly, actually. He was a douche.”

Cassian grabs his lunch from Azriel, thanking him.

“That’s too bad.”

And yet, Cassian wouldn’t stop smiling at you. You go to ask him more, but he tells you, “I gotta go - I only have a few minutes to eat. Thanks,” he tells you, and before you realize what’s happening, he’s grabbing your head giving you a kiss on the forehead, doing the same to Azriel.

The two of you stand there confused as Cassian walks away, over his shoulder yelling, “do NOT forget about karaoke tonight!”

-

You stepped into your living room, to find Rhys, Mor, and Az lounging on your couches, not adhering to the bar’s theme. Rita’s did themed karaoke nights once a month and this month’s theme was cowboys.

Naturally you pulled out your Barbie costume from last Halloween, and are now looking at your non-costumed friends gobsmacked.

“Why is no one else dressed up?” You ask incredulously, as all three of them look towards you. Rhys and Mor start laughing, but Azriel lets his eyes graze up and down your body, his gaze making you wonder if you’re even wearing clothes right now.

Mor smiles at you, “we don’t follow the theme - Cassian does though.”

You huff, crossing your arms, “he made it seem like all of you dressed up!”

Rhys’s eyes dance with amusement as he tells you, “because he wanted you to dress up too.”

As if you summoned him, Cassian comes out wearing black leather pants, no shirt, a matching vest, and a cowboy hat. He looks at you, smiling wide. “You look great!” He tells you, clapping you on the shoulder as he walks past you. “Uber’s here.”

You don’t have time to turn around and change as your group is herded out the door and down the elevator. It hadn’t occurred to you to question how the five of you would fit into an uber until you got down to the curb, Mor bolting for the passenger seat as the guys get into the car.

“You can just sit on someone’s lap,” Mor tells you flippantly, before placing a finger on her nose telling you, “nose goes.”

Az, Rhys, and Cass get into the backseat, and Cass pats his lap for you, raising his eyebrows at you.

“Ew,” you tell him, clambering to get in on Az’s side. “I don’t trust you, Cass.”

You drape your legs over Rhys’s lap, your feet landing in Cassian’s hands as you get situated on Az’s lap. You shoot him a look, wanting to know if this is okay, but he’s talking to the uber driver.

You pull up your phone, typing a note into your notes app, showing it to him once he’s finished with whatever he was telling the driver.

Is this okay?

You show it to him as Cassian and Rhys are watching the end of a rugby game on Cassian’s phone on the other end of the backseat. Az reaches for your phone, his fingers gently brushing against yours as he grabs your phone. You watch him type, his fingers dancing across your keyboard, their scarred skin providing a texture you want to touch.

It’s more than fine.

He had replied, and you’re about to respond when he grabs your phone again, typing out:

Just like the way you look in that costume.

He hands you your phone back, smiling as a blush floods your cheeks. He puts his arms around your torso, holding you in place, and one of his hands gently holds onto your hips, securing you to him.

Sitting mostly in Azriel’s lap, you spend the car ride holding onto him, leaning your head into his neck for support while you talk to Cassian, who keeps threatening to tickle your feet. You tell him you get spazzy when tickled, which would give Rhys a free knee to the face.

“Please don’t, Cass. I’d like to keep my face intact for tonight.”

“Yeah because Feyre’s meeting us at Rita’s and he wants to look good,” Mor replies from the front seat, drawing out the last word.

Rhys rolls his eyes, but you do notice him unlock his phone to the messages between him and your friend, the last one asking her to let him know when she got there.

The five of you arrive to Rita’s, a bar located on the edge of campus, just close enough to be packed full of other students.

Mor leads the group in, with Rhys saying, “Feyre’s on her way.” The blonde leads your group to a large round booth in the corner, all of you piling in. Mor sits on your right as you maneuver your way in, Azriel right beside you.

Cassian sits on the edge, likely so he can get up and go sing without being too much of a hindrance. Rhys doesn’t sit down, heading to the bar to grab drinks for everyone instead.

And perhaps keep an eye on the door for a certain brunette.

The four of you sit in the booth, Cassian being uncharacteristically quiet as he waits for Rhysand to bring him his traditional shot before performing.

You nudge Az, getting him to turn his attention to his brother.

“You okay, Cass?”

Cassian shrugs him off, “I just want my shots. You know I prefer being a bit buzzed before going up there.”

You reach in front of Azriel, squeezing Cassian’s forearm, “you’re going to be great!”

Cassian softly smiles at you, his hand covering yours in a gentle squeeze, “thanks, sweetheart.”

Cassian did seem in better spirits, opting to pick up a conversation with Mor about the best shots to drink before karaoke.

You turn to Az, the two of you closer than necessary in the booth, but you can’t bring yourself to scoot away.

“So, Barbie huh?” He asks, his fingers touching the pink pleather fabric on your shoulder.

You’re confused for a moment, before realizing what he’s talking about. “Oh, yeah. Mor wanted us to go as different Barbies from the movie for Halloween - she was rollerskating Barbie, I was cowgirl Barbie, and Feyre was the pink gingham dress Barbie.”

He rests his arm on the booth behind you, and you stay as still as possible so you won’t scare him off as he asks, “no Kens?”

You laugh, “no Kens, unfortunately.”

His smile is on the verge of cracking his face in half as he says, “maybe this Halloween you’ll have some Kens.”

Before you can reply, Rhysand comes back with a tray of shots and Feyre behind him, wearing a very cute black mini dress.

“Traitor!” You shout at her, as she scooches in next to Mor.

“Rhys told me we didn’t actually dress up,” she defends, holding her hands up. Your eyes shoot to violet ones, their gaze full of mischief. Rhys smiles at you, and your jaw drops, “and you didn’t think to extend the same courtesy to me?”

Rhys’s grin grows feral, “I thought surely with all the texting you and Azriel have been doing, he would have told you.”

You turn, smacking him on the shoulder as he chuckles. “Okay, okay, I should have told you, but you were so excited about it, how could I rip that from you?”

You scoff, “I look like an idiot.”

“A cute idiot.”

Your blush doesn’t go unnoticed by everyone at the table, as Mor pokes her nose in. “I think it’s only fair if next time we come out Azzy and Rhys adhere to the theme.”

Your eyes light up, pointing to Mor, “oh oh oh, I like that idea!”

Rhys turns to cousin, “and why am I involved in this?”

“It only seems fair. You told Feyre that we don’t dress up, so you should have told her as well.”

Azriel butts in, “well Feyre could have told her too.”

Feyre motions her hand over her throat, trying to stop Azriel from speaking further.

“It’s decided then,” Mor says, “the three of you adhere to the theme for next month’s karaoke.”

You pick up your glass and clink it to Mor’s, solidifying the deal. Everyone else is groaning, slumping back in their seats, but this agreement causes Cassian to become invigorated. He’s buzzing with excitement, and at least three shots of vodka, as one of the bartenders walks up to the mic and says, “next up for karaoke - everyone’s favorite - Cassian!”

Cassian gets up, all of you wishing him luck as Mor places a sloppy kiss on his cheek. He prances up to the stage as the scattered applause dies out. The opening notes to Shania Twain’s “Man I Feel Like a Woman” come through the speakers. Cassian lifts his head to the mic to sing, “let’s go, girls”, then turns back around away from the mic. He begins swaying his hips in time with the beat, the leather pants he’s wearing making his ass and his legs look phenomenal. His vest rises a bit as he raises his arms, and you can see the bottom of the tattoo he had gotten during your drunk escapades.

“Are we sure Cassian’s not a stripper?” You ask the table, but Mor shushes you so she can watch the show.

You turn to Azriel, leaning in close to him to whisper, “Do you know how to whistle?”

Your whole body is warm as he leans close to your ear, whispering, “Yes, why?”

You miss the look Rhys gives the two of you, huddled together impossibly close in the large expansive booth.

“I want to whistle, but I don’t know how. Can you do it?”

He obliges your request, rolling his eyes as he wolf whistles at Cassian, who beams at the attention.

You giggle, whispering to Azriel, “his stage name should be 12 inch triple meat.”

You two giggle at the joke before turning your attention back to the stage. Cassian makes it through the first chorus, and he is not receiving his dues. No one is paying any attention to him, and you’re about to ask if there’s anything you guys can do, when Mor grabs your and Feyre’s arms, pulling you out to the little dance floor in front of the stage.

You guys start singing and dancing with him, hips swaying with the music. You guys are singing to each other, smiles plastered on your faces.

You’re lost in the moment when you feel Cassian’s warm hand wrap around your wrist dragging you up on the stage. He has his other hand on Mor, so you quickly grab Feyre’s wrist, all three of you assisting him with the vocals on the “oh, oh, oh”.

It was ridiculous - the four of you on this tiny stage, everyone at Rita’s not caring as you all danced and sang, the three of you providing backing vocals for Cassian.

Three of the most important people in your life singing to Shania Twain.

It was ridiculous. It was everything.

The song ends, and you can hear Rhys and Azriel clapping enthusiastically as the four of you head back to your table.

You slide back into Azriel’s side, his smile making everything inside of you burn for more of it. You spend the rest of the night drinking as Rhys and Cassian regale you all with stories of karaoke nights of the past, the unspoken words hanging between them, but not making their way into the discussion.

The past nights of singing were nowhere near as fun as tonight was.

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel #azriel fanfic #azriel fluff #acotar writing #azriel x y/n

[jungkookstatts]

Big fan of your work! Since requests are open I was wondering if you may do a jk smut “holy sh*t i think you got ME pregnant” riding and complete  eagerness for jk 🫣

[Summary]: Jungkook is a little too obsessed with the idea of making you his. About making you both his wife and the mother of his kids.

[Theme]: Non-Idol AU (or Idol AU, however, you see it), Established Relationship AU, Pre-Fiances(?) AU

[Rating]: 18+ literally just sex, oral (m receiving), doggy, spitting, choking, ass slapping, hair grabbing, creampie, cockwarming, impreg kink, dom jk, sub reader, literally just vile I'm sorry

[Word Count]: 2,016

[A/N]: This literally took me almost 4 months, I apologize deeply. I also wrote it and then reread your ask and realized I didn't really follow it too much ㅠㅠ I am sorry I hope you still like it. My mind just went "woo-woo sex!!"

Your boyfriend is a big brat. Sometimes, even a bigger brat than you.

This all started because he was being a big cunt driving you home from your date. He took you out to a fancy restaurant for your 3-year anniversary, but for some reason, he was being a complete prick all the way home. Something about how you looked at the waiter a certain way and he didn’t like it.

So now here you are, your silk dress thrown somewhere on his bedroom floor, and your panties ripped down the middle. He’s naked and rock-hard in front of you, looking down at you on display on his sheets.

“You think it’s funny, huh?” your boyfriend smirks, his tongue coming out to lick at his lip piercing.

“I mean, yeah, a little,” you laugh. He’s so pent up, so overworked over nothing. You literally want to marry this man — he has nothing to worry about. It’s funny, but you’re also extremely turned on. Jungkook mad and jealous, is a huge, dangerous combination you can’t help but bend at the knees over in the bedroom.

His eyebrows knit together angrily as he pushes your legs up, his cold fingers sliding up your folds.

“A-ah,” you gasp, wiping the laugh off your face. His long fingers play with you, sliding and circling your juices between your folds.

“Not so funny now, is it?” he chuckles. He inserts a finger into you, and you grab onto his wrist in a useless attempt to calm him down for a moment. But he takes your wrist on his own, pinning it against the bedsheets next to your head. “Am I a joke, hm?” he whispers against your neck. “You think it’s funny to look at other men when I take you out?”

“N-No, Kook,” you swear. “I only look at you.”

“Damn right you do,” he bites your neck harshly, causing you to arch your back into his chest. You know for a fact you’re going to be purple and blue tomorrow. “You’ve got a smart mouth, Y/n,” he smiles against your ear. “Let me fix it for you.”

“K-Kook,” you whine, knowing where this is going.

“Get up,” he demands. You feel your pussy tremble at the look in his eyes. He’s going to torture the shit out of you, and you couldn’t be more excited and scared at the same time.

Your boyfriend sits down at the edge of his bed, spreading his legs and pointing to the space on the ground in between them for you. You fall onto your knees, sliding your hands up his thighs until they’re inches from his swollen cock. He’s so hard — it almost looks painful. But he looks down at you with hooded eyes, smiling devilishly at the events to come.

“Suck it,” he demands. And you do.

With your small hands wrapped around his cock, you give him a test pump before licking a long stripe from base to tip. The sensation has his head falling back, and you feel yourself dripping onto the floor at the sight of his Adam's apple bobbing from pleasure. You put him into your mouth, your tongue flattening against his frenulum so deliciously, that he grabs your hair in his fist and pushes you down further. The action causes you to gag, not ready for the sudden change in pace. But you accept it graciously, adjusting to his length in your mouth as you move with the pace his hand on your hair sets for you.

It’s always hard to adjust to him. You hate to admit it, but your big-brat boyfriend has a big-brat cock. You don’t think in the three years you’ve dated him you’ve been able to call yourself “used” to his size. But he likes it rough. He warned you when you said you didn’t like rough sex all those years ago that he’d change your mind. And boy, has he. You’re an absolute slut for this man, and he gets a tiny ego boost every time you submit yourself to him like this.

“That’s it, baby,” he coaxes you.

You bob your head onto him, looking up at him with your full mouth, eyes watery and big. He almost cums at the sight, pushing you off for a moment to compose himself.

You come off with a pop, a messy line of spit connecting your mouth to his dick.

He grabs your jaw with his palm, his thumb jutting into your mouth. You take his thumb in your hand, enclosing it around your lips and sucking on it just as you sucked his dick.

“Open,” he demands again. You do, opening your mouth and pushing your tongue out. Your boyfriend leans forward, taking your chin in his fingertips, and spits into your mouth. You smile, giggling with a mouth full of his spit when he slightly sits back, looking at all of you. He was about to say something, but you lean into him, taking his dick into your mouth again and sucking him harder and faster.

“A-ah-Y/n,” he moans quietly, although his grip on your hair returns harshly. “Ffuckkk—hah.”

He nearly laughs at the pleasure; you’re so perfect for him it’s funny. You know every single one of his pleasures, and he knows you do when you begin to play with the skin between his balls and cock as you fuck him with your mouth. The sensation has him pulling you off his cock again for good, himself on the edge of release.

“Get on the bed,” he pants.

“How?” you ask, resting your hands on his thighs. He leans forward again, but this time his hand comes around your neck, choking you a little more harshly than you expected. Your eyes search for him, completely lust-filled and intense.

“How I like you best,” he whispers against your lips. You lean in to kiss him, but he pulls away, teasing you in the most evil way possible.

You pout, but get up on your feet and lay down front-first against the sheets. You feel him come up behind you, touching the back of your thighs softly, gliding his hands up your skin until they meet the round of your ass. You listen to him moan softly as he spreads them apart, taking a good look at your swollen, dripping cunt.

“God, you’re so wet,” he nearly whines. “You gonna let me knock you up, sweetheart?”

“Mmhm,” you whine. The anticipation of his cock inside of you is getting too intense, and you wiggle your ass at him in an attempt to get him to get a move on. But he only slaps your ass hard, surely leaving a handprint. You gasp sharply, toes curling at the surprise.

“Fuck, I want to put a baby in you so bad,” he slaps your ass again. “Wanna show everyone how swollen I’ve made you. That you’re carrying my baby because you’re my girl.”

“J-Jungkook,” you gasp as he lands a third harsh slap on your ass. You almost feel like you might cum — he’s always hinted at wanting kids with you, but hasn’t really brought it to the bedroom. It’s hot, to say the very least. That, and the combination of his big hand slapping your ass.

“No one would question you’re mine,” he grabs your hips, pulling them up into the air where he situates the tip of his dick against your cunt. “You’d be too busy having my babies to give anyone else a glance other than me.”

You open your mouth to say something, but he’s already pushing inside of you, stretching you so well like how he always does. You fold your arms in the space above your head, arching your back into him as he slowly bottoms out. This position always allows his cock to kiss your cervix so delicately, you squirm knowing he’s going to pump you so good once he’s finished.

“Fuck,” he spits, panting at the sheer feeling of your walls around him. “Y-You good?”

You just moan against his pillows, nodding your head as you push your hips back, slipping further into him than you were before. Jungkook grabs your hips tightly, pressing his fingertips harshly into your skin as he pulls out and slams back in with force. You moan loudly into the fabric, but Jungkook pays you no mind, pushing your head further into the sheets as he fucks you like a demon.

His hips slap against yours, and you find yourself coming undone within minutes of his torture on you. The man behind you only laughs, his thrusts becoming harder, trying to push past the absolute grip you have on his cock from your orgasm.

“God, you’re so tight,” he groans, head lulling back in disbelief. “You’re all mine,” he grabs your ass harshly before landing another slap onto it. “Say it, Y/n. Say you’re mine. Say you belong to me.”

“Koo,” you tremble, completely overstimulated from your orgasm.

“Dammit,” he grips your hair in his fist, forcing you to look up. His body looms over yours, his breath tickling your ear as he demands again, “Say it.”

“I’m yours, Koo,” you whine. “I’m all yours; only yours.”

He grunts in your ear at your words, dick slightly twitching inside of you. The way you say his name sounds so sweet. He never wants to hear his name from another pair of lips. It only sounds right when it’s coming from you. The thought of you being his forever, of the diamond ring sitting in the top drawer of his closet wardrobe, looms over him. God, he can’t wait. He’s so eager and so very impatient. He wants you, he wants you as his — as his wife and the mother of his children — so badly, he can almost taste it. He wants to be your husband already.

“Fuck, dammit,” he curses, head resting against the back of your shoulder. He still fucks into you, hips unrelenting and only quickening with the orgasm he denied of himself just a while ago while you were sucking him off looming over his head. “M’ gonna cum.”

“Cum for me, baby,” you permit him. Your voice sounds like honey in his ears, and you find yourself cumming for a second time when his thick, hot ropes spill into you. It’s so much — his sweet voice filling your ear as pleasure takes over his body, the way his cum pumps into you filling you with so much of him you feel so full and used.

“A-ah, Y/n,” he says softly, kissing your shoulder with wet, soft kisses. “Fuck, you’re so good to me.”

“I love you,” you respond as your knees give out on you. He simply falls on top of you, letting you lie down with his cock buried deep inside of you. He plugs you up, even though he’s softening slowly by the minute.

“I love you, too,” he smiles.

“I think you might have gotten me pregnant,” you slightly turn your head toward him. Your boyfriend comes up to you, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“I guess we’ll find out,” he smiles gently.

“You’re fine with that?” you ask him, a little surprised.

“Yeah,” he hides his face in the crook of your neck. “I want like…an entire army of children with you, so I’m completely fine with that idea.”

“I’m not having more than two kids,” you scoff.

He simply looks at you with his bunny eyes, feeling embarrassed by his eagerness.

“Maybe three, but that is pushing it,” you change your mind. Fuck, this man has you wrapped around his finger.

“Regardless, I’m gonna make you mine,” he says surely, turning you on his back.

“I am yours,” you confirm as you push the hair out of his face.

“Officially,” he corrects you.

You don’t even have to ask what he means by that when he stares at your ring finger gently before kissing you into the pillows, the hand on your waist slowly tracing circles on your lower stomach with his thumb.

----

[End. Do not copy. Original work of @jungkookstatts , 2023]

#jk #jeon #jeon jungkook #jeonjungkook #jungkook #jeongguk #jungkookxreader #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkookxy/n #jungkookfanfiction #jungkook fanfction #bts fanfiction #btsfanfic #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #btsimagine #jungkook oneshot #jungkook x female reader #jungkookxfemalereader #jungkook smut #jungkooksmut #btsfanfiction

[mukbangg]

Billy and an ex-outlaw reader who has a bit of ptsd? If you’re still in the market for prompts :)

Omg I have so many of yalls prompts writings in progress....trynna write between school and work. Nonnie, iiiii dk if this is written right might make part 2.

(Me writing during work: you write porn w the same hands you serve coffee ?)

Jesse and his boys were old acquaintances of yours.

Though you never did ride with them, you've crossed paths with their lot quite a few times. What started out as a rivalry had turned into more like friendly competition before you had earned their respect by saving their asses more times you can count.

But when your crimes had caught up to you, resulting in much bloodshed involving your family back at home well...you werent eager to get back in business.

Fact is, you've left your past behind and settled down a little way off a lone town, behind a beautiful spread of a meadow.

A cozy barn, small and snug.

Just like your momma had always wanted.

So when a familiar group of cowboys come trotting through the meadow....let's say you werent all that pleased.

"Jesse,"

You tip your hat at the blonde astride his horse.

"Boys,"

"Well, look who's alive,"

He laughed, swinging off his horse and sweeping you into a crushing hug. You softened with a sigh, patting him on the back.

When you'd decided to settle, he'd kicked up such a fuss, mad that you decided to leave in your prime.

You were like the gang's little sister, or maybe an annoying cousin that swings by every now and then.

"Here lemme introduce you to-"

"Billy,"

You were suddenly aware of the towering fella who had emerged abruptly from the group. Dark curls peeking out from his hat, broad shoulders and a rugged air to him, he was a handsome one. But what takes the cake was his piercing blue eyes, fixed unwaveringly on you.

It would be intimidating if not for how subtly they raked over your body.

"Eyes up here cowboy,"

You mutter to the man lowly, gripping his outstretched hand in a firm shake.

"Replaced me so soon, jesse?"

You turn back to the blonde, raising a brow at him.

"Well doll, Billy heres quite the gunslinger, maybe even better than ya,"

You swat playfully at his chest, a round of laughter rising from the group. Jesse chuckles, before he shrugs, kicking at the ground. You know that look.

"So my boys and I need to lay low for awhile and well..."

He raised his brows at you, a sliver of a sheepish smile on his lips.

"Hell no, jesse, you know I'm out,"

You huffed, shaking your head firmly. Annoyance rises like a whip in your chest, you alway were quick to temper.

"You know that, after what happened...."

"Aw c'mon, just a couple o' weeks? We promise we wont bring you no trouble, we'll even help out-"

You held up a finger, trying hard to maintain your stern facade.

"I cant risk it, such a large group of men, oh I swear to god-"

"Using the lord's name in vain-"

Jesse attempted at a joke before swallowing his words when met with your burning scowl. His group stirs uneasily behind him.

"Just a week?"

Billy's voice rang out. He steps forward, blue eyes pleading as a warm smile crack over his lips. You sighed, ready to turn down his offer.

"Towns people talk, what if they see y-"

"We'll do chores, we'll earn our keep, surely you can use the rest, miss? It's a big place to take care of,"

Now that, was tempting. Your barns not huge but you're only one person, and the day passes quick when you busy about with the chores. And to add on, a group of men you trust does put your worries at ease.

Living away from town always had the threat of robberies and whatnot, especially for a lone girl like yourself. You've hidden pistols everywhere in the house, one slung around your hip, though you're never sure if you'd be able to pull the trigger on someone when it comes down to it...

What a joke, you used to be one of the most feared outlaw with an aim as true as the sky is blue.

Now you cant even stand the sound of your door slamming.

"Fine,"

You finally relented, clicking your tongue with a jerk of your head to allow the group to flood into your house.

They cheered and hollered, Jesse and slapping Billy on the back before heading in.

"G'job butterin' her up Billy boy!"

"Y'better believe I'll be working the lot of you to your bones!"

You huffed after him, before turning back to Billy.

"And you! I swear t'God if any of yall give me trouble I'm coming for you first!"

He leans close, tipping his hat at you with a smirk on his stupidly handsome face.

"Your wish is my command, pretty,"

Billy brushes past, leaving you all flustered and red in the cheeks , with a looming dread that you've got more than a few rowdy cowboys to worry about.

What did your momma used to say?

Butterflies in your damn stomach.

(Haiii I'm lowkey bad at story stuff might make a part 2...? If yall want? Gimme some ideas what you wanna see in part 2 if you want)

#billy the kid #billy the kid imagine #billy the kid smut #billy the kid x reader #william bonney #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coryo smut #coriolanus x reader #coryo snow #kid antrim #william h bonney x reader #william h bonney #the hunger games fanfiction #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbsoas #my writing #coryo x reader #coriolanus x you #snow #coriolanus smut #coryolanus snow #billy the kid 2022 #the hunger games

[moraxsthrone]

Keeeel I have brainrot ;w;

Just... Zhongli taking care of his little mate after fucking you so good/hard/much that you can't really move much, legs weak, body sore. Him massaging your muscles whispering sweet nothings and nuzzling you, carrying you to the bath and pampering you and you whine a little still sensitive 🥺💕

It's extra asdfchbklj bc you're an adventurer who fights monsters in the regular, go exploring and climbing and sure your body gets a little pushed to the limits once in a while but he, heeeee, Zhongli is the only one who manages to tire you out like this. Drooling and sweating and panting in pure blissful pleasure, legs twitching in the aftershocks of a few too many rounds crying out his name. And he's so proud of himself for being able to leave you like this, sweet and pliant in hazy pleasure (and proud of you too for being so good to him!) his inner dragon purrrs happily against your skin leaving soft kisses.

AFKSFCGVJBJNKL /w\ omggggggg

Just Zhongli fucking you stupid and then providing the sweetest most tender aftercare 😩🥴🥰💕💕💕

crys, my dear, thank you for leaving this precious gem in my ask box. 💛🧡🤎🖤 i saw it this morning and could NOT stop thinking about it all day and THE SECOND i logged off from work i made a MAD DASH to my pc and started typing FURIOUSLY. i needed this so bad! 😩😮‍💨

I AM HERE FOR THE ZHONGLI BRAINROT!!

be warned: nsfw. mdni. x f!reader. rough sex. hair pulling. please let me know if i missed anything, i have a meeting in 8 mins and i'm trying to get this out beforehand bc we've waited long enough.

but also: zhongli provides impeccable aftercare, breathe if you agree

wc: 500+

okay so let's get one thing out of the way: zhongli knows How To Fuck™️

the archon has you on your belly, your thighs pressed together as he straddles them and rides you like a lazy horse. his beautiful cock is coated with your creamy need; he loves to spread your asscheeks apart and watch your swollen hole stretch around his girthy cock. the striations of your slick spread the length of his shaft as his hips slap your ass so hard the wet, rhythmic smacks echo off your bedroom walls.

he’s got your hair wrapped around his glowing fist and you can hear the occasional grunt or deep, aggressive growl coming from behind you as he fucks you harder. you’re panting, crying, whimpering his name; from the corner of your watery eyes you see his arm that’s planted on the mattress next you, sinewy muscles flexing and rippling under his dark, gradient skin. he’s already fucked multiple orgasms out of you and now,

it’s his turn.

zhongli leans forward, hunching over you, his rock hard abs, sticky with sweat, pressing against your back. his pelvis is snapping on sheer instinct, faster now, forcing his engorged cock deeper into your womb where, with one final thrust of his hips, his seed floods your cervix in thick, white spurts. his orgasm is so powerful he can hardly contain his dracontine nature as he fills you with his musk, head thrown back as a guttural roar erupts from his throat.

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

your lover's postcoital disposition is in stark contrast to his mating style. your naked, sweaty bodies are pressed together, some of his thick seed dribbling out and coating your still-trembling thighs as he holds you close. with your head tucked neatly under his chin, you're soothed by the steady beat of his heart, grounded by the depth and subtlety of his voice against your ear as he quietly praises and reassures you.

"you are safe, my love," he says, lazily tracing his name on your back with warm fingers. "you did wonderfully, darling. you always do. you are the most precious thing to me. you are beautiful, intelligent, strong, and one of very few people who laugh at my jokes." your soft chuckle fills his heart with warm love because he knows you're okay and that you are with him.

when you're ready, you look up at him and he smooths your hair away from your lovely face so he can get a better look at you. his tired eyes are hooded, darker now that they're not glowing as fiercely.

"what can i do, love? can i get you some water, something to eat? would you like me to fetch the duvet off the floor and wrap you up in it?"

you smile and shake your head no, verbalizing just long enough to say, "just...need to stay close to you, zhong. please just hold me and talk to me?"

"of course, my love," he hums, "whatever you need." he lays his head down next to yours and murmurs sweet, loving everythings into your ear as he nuzzles your hair. you can feel the low timbre of his voice in every fiber of your being, comforting you, and you know that you are safe. you know that you are loved.

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

#kel.answers 💌 #precious.moots: crys 🦋 #yes dracontine #i learned a new word today #also happened to learn pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis #words r fun #zhongli #zhongli x f!reader #zhongli x reader #zhongli x y/n #zhongli x you #zhongli smut #morax #morax x f!reader #morax x reader #morax x y/n #morax x you #morax smut #genshin #genshin impact #genshin x f!reader #genshin x reader #genshin x y/n #genshin x you #genshin smut #genshin impact smut

[allzelemonz]

Annoying: John Marston X Male Reader

Fictober Prompt: Day 3, Hate Sex Pronouns: he/him, Reader referred to as ‘man’ Physical Sex: AMAB Rating: E/Smut Warnings: Hate sex, anal fingering, anal sex, prostate massage, dirty talk, teasing, mentions of John’s situation with Abigail and Jack, Reader is an asshole, pre-Blackwater, violence, punching Summary: You’ve been sent on a scouting excursion with John to find a good spot closer to Blackwater, John is annoying through the whole ride.

It has been two hours. Walking along a barren trail with your tired horse and listening to the endless and constant complaining of John Marston. The man is undoubtedly irritating, wholly annoying. But Dutch picked you for scouting, so you to try to tune out that stupid scratch in his voice and focus on looking for a new spot closer to Blackwater.

“I just don’t get what her deal is.” John continues.

You feel the distinct desire to bash your head against your saddle horn. Maybe that would end this insufferable ride. Why couldn’t Dutch have picked Javier or Charles or someone quiet? At least Micah talks about interesting things on occasion. Bill can crack a joke. None of them have this apparent need to vent whilst riding.

“She just doesn’t-”

“Marston.” You groan. “Shut up, for the love of life itself. Just be quiet for once.”

“Oh, are my problems annoying you?”

“Yes, jeez, just shut it.”

He huffs, looking away to pout like a child.

“No one wants to hear about you and Abigail, the whole camp already has to listen to you go on and on about how the kid isn’t yours. No one cares.”

“Fuck off.” He mutters.

“I wish I could.”

There is a blissful minute of silence before he opens his mouth again. “You think he’s mine?”

“Fuck, Marston.” You sigh. “I have no clue, just shut the hell up.”

“He ain’t.” He mumbles. “Can’t be.”

“You won’t have to worry about it if you keep talking, because I’ll shoot you.”

“Why’re you always so damn irritable?”

“Because you annoy me to no end, Marston.”

You pull on your reins to move towards a clearing that looks promising, only slightly visible from the narrow path between trees. Finally sliding off your horse, you stretch your legs a little and look over the spot.

“How do I annoy you exactly?”

You rub at your eyes, feeling the ache forming behind them from having to listen to his voice. “In every possible way you could ever imagine.”

“You’re an asshole, you know that?”

“I’m not the one bothering other people with my problems.”

“At least I find the time to bring money in instead of lounging around camp all damn day!”

That, now that, brings a twinge of much more than annoyance to buzz around in your head. Not only have you been bringing in consistent money since you joined, you just pulled a job with Mac and Davey that scored the camp funds upwards of eight-hundred dollars. So, naturally, you punch John in the face for suggesting otherwise.

“Shit.” He mutters, recoiling and tackling you to the ground.

You roll for a while, exchanging punches and losing your hats along the way until you find yourself atop John. You sit across his thin torso, your fist curled into his shirt as the other stands ready to lay another blow. But, John, he goes still, as if he’s afraid to move. For all the scrapping and talk, you know you’re not scary enough to make him freeze like this so you lower your raised fist and look over your shoulder. You half expect to see lawmen or O’Driscolls or something, but it’s just the forest and the horses grazing by the trees.

“What’s your problem, Marston?” You ask, shifting slightly on him.

Then you feel it, barely brushing against the back of your thigh as you move. John Marston is hard in his pants from being beaten up by a man that hates him. His face flushes and he claws at your arm, but you just push him down harder into the grass. Your mind races for a moment, thinking of the roads you could take. You hate the man quite a bit, but you’d be a fool to deny he’s attractive and something in the back of your mind is begging you to find out what that raspy voice sounds like when it’s full of want.

“We tell no one.” You mutter, giving John a threatening look.

John’s chest moves slow as he processes, then he nods quickly. You lean down and connect your lips, catching the taste of tobacco and the scruff of his stubble. John’s hands find your hips, urging you down to grind against you but you resist.

“You’re not in charge here, Marston.” You murmur against his lips. “You just lay still and let me use you, understand?”

His eyes dart around yours quickly as his face gets redder by the second. “Y-Yeah.”

You move down to unfasten his pants and as he kicks them off, you fish a tube of gun oil from your pocket. It has always been a suspicion of yours that John gets around more than he lets on, and it is all but confirmed by the way he stuffs his pants under his hips and spreads his legs.

“You some kind of whore on the side, Marston?” You ask, fixing yourself between his open legs. “That why you got on with Abigail, a shared profession?”

“Shut up.” He mutters.

He intends to say more but you cut him off easily by inserting your slicked fingers without warning. His back arches, pressing into the feeling as he chokes on a bit of air that turns into a whimper. You’re not going to give him the time to rest or adjust, he doesn’t deserve it after talking all day. So you crook your fingers, running them along until his hips jolt from the contact. Then you focus and focus hard, pressing into that nice sensitive spot inside of him until he can’t even speak to warn you. He releases across his stomach, his softening dick untouched.

His head lulls to the side as he catches his breath and you slip your fingers out. You move as fast as you can, not wanting to hear any of his protests about being sensitive. He’d whine about it, you know he would, so you grip his hips and press inside in the midst of his recovery. John chokes on air again, muttering as he covers his red face with his arm. Only one eye peaks out at you as you start your pace and you ignore it, focusing on the act rather than the who. If you don’t think about it being John, the image of your dick disappearing inside such a nice ass and the feeling of gripping such a slim waist make you groan to yourself. If it were any other man, you’d praise him for feeling so good.

John, however, does not have that control. “God, you’re… fuck you’re good.”

It’s the moan that gets you, raspy just like you imagined, and completely wanton. You double your effort because that sound was so good for something that came from John of all people. And, to your delight, it happens again. As you slam into him, your balls bouncing enough to truly earn the nickname, John begins to pant. Your eyes are drawn to his dick as he reaches for it and stops it from slapping against his stomach. His hand wraps around and pumps in time with you.

You lean down a bit, enough to speak over John’s lewd noises. “You better get yourself off before me, Marston. I’m not helping you otherwise.”

He groans, seemingly all too happy to be treated like nothing but something to fuck in the grass of the gang’s next camp spot. You watch his hand, your eyes flicking down to watch your own fucking on occasion. Both are such a sight. John cums again, spilling a little on his hand this time. The sound he makes, such a shaky and raspy guttural moan, hits the right things for you and sends you right over. You slow your thrusts, milking yourself before burying deep inside of him.

It takes a few minutes before your muscles respond and you can pull out to rest back on your knees. John still has a haze in his eyes, his arms splayed out as his chest heaves. You let yourself relish the sight, forgetting only for a moment that you hate him, then you pick up the tube of gun oil from the grass and pull on your pants. A one time thing, albeit a great one, with such an annoying man.

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #red dead redemption x reader #red dead redemption x male reader #x reader #x male reader #john marston #john marston x reader #john marston x male reader

[heartcereql]

lucky ones

 ✩ neteyam sully x fem!na’vi!reader

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒- on a nightly ride on his ikran with you, neteyam realises something.. ࿐࿔*:･ﾟCould it be, that you and me are the lucky ones? ࿐࿔*:･ﾟ

𝐂𝐖- just fluff, like one curse word and kissing

𝐀/𝐍- i love this one. sorry i’ve been inactive lovelys xxx

“are you sure this is a good idea?” you questioned the boy.

of course you had ridden an ikran before, tell paysyul, your ikran, about it. but what neteyam called ‘diving’, or jumping off the highest cliff you could find and freefall until you were mere inches away from the ground. that’s when the ikran would take off quickly.

neteyam nodded eagerly, motioning for you to seat behind him on his ikran. 

“so. if we don’t get caught, we could end up dead. and if my parents find out, we’re dead too” a grin adorned your face. 

“come on, stop overthinking!” he replied

hesitantly, you approached neteyam and his ikran.

swinging your leg over the ikran’s spine, you tried to accommodate yourself.

neteyam grabbed your arms and placed them around his torso, bringing you closer to him. you felt your face heat up at the sudden closeness. hidden to you, neteyam had a warm smile painted across his face.

“ready?” he spoke, barely a whisper.

“don’t make me regret this” you joked, hesitantly placing your head on his shoulder. your contact tingled his body in the best way possible.

as you were getting ready to take off, you heard branches snapping and muffled voices. your ears were perked up, and your head turned to the source. soon, two figures emerged, two familiar figures. your parents.

“shit”

“y/n?” your mother’s piercing voice shrieked. “what on ewya’s name do you think you’re doing?”

“let’s get out of here!” you hurried neteyam.

the boy quickly obeyed, gaining a few strides of impulse before jumping off the cliff. you felt your stomach drop as you went down. yelps and screams of pure fright left your lips as the distance from the ground kept reducing. neteyam placed a hand on your thigh. you were on fire. everything seemed to be going down, and, as terrified as you were, you found every element of the night ever so beautiful and pleasant.

“hold tight!” neteyam shouted, patting your leg.

you did as told, hugging him for dear life. you closed your eyes, the cold breeze hitting your cheeks. you felt neteyam tense, and, before you knew it, he was taking you higher and higher.

flying away from the cliff, you opened your eyes, only to meet the most breathtaking sight you had ever witnessed. pandora’s forest was beneath you, glistening nature reduced to sparkly spots from your point of view. and, watching over you, a sky full of stars.

the night sky was dark, yet plagued of stars, shining above you. a particular constellation display caught your attention.

it sure was a big deal to see the stars disposed like that. the constellation wasn’t in its usual position, but more like forming a line.

“there!” you told neteyam, pointing to the constellation. “every now and then, those stars align” you spoke, resting your head against the crook of his neck.

his eyes shot up to the stars you had pointed to. they were truly mesmerising. they reminded him of you.

“as the tale goes, a boy meets a girl, like it’s all designed” you recited, remembering the tale from your ancestors.

“lucky them” he whispered, guiding his ikran to a stable speed.

could it be that you and him were the lucky ones?, he thought to himself.

“well, we sure were lucky to scape my parents like that” you let out a breathy laugh.

your exhale turned his skin on fire. his breath would hitch whenever you’d lean further into him. he was afraid you’d notice and spooke away.

you, luckily unbeknownst to him, noticed his body language. picking up the clues he was unknowingly giving you, your mind started to drift away.

neteyam guided the two of you to the ledge of one of the hallelujah mountains. mounting off his ikran quickly to help you get off. he grabbed your hand, your body tingling at the contact.

once you were steady in the ground, you looked up at the stars once again. the darkness of the eclipse made the perfect setting.

“neteyam?” you finally looked at him. “irayo (thanks). for tonight, for everything. it was lovely” you offered him the purest of smiles.

you’d never looked more beautiful to his eyes than in that moment. and he just knew. he knew that it was you.

you gathered up all you courage and, standing on the top of your toes, pressed a quick peck to his cheek.

the interaction only lasted a shooting moment, yet it was able to light the enjoyable flame that appeared in your insides whenever you touched in the two of you.

heat rose up to both of your faces. neteyam smiled, not in a teasing way, but in a genuine one.

“no need to thank me” he spoke, quietly.

your eyes fluttered around the scene, cheeks too flushed to look at him. you tried to label what you were feeling right there. it felt like, felt like, you know, felt like falling in love for the first time.

neteyam’s feelings were quite identical to yours. an idea made its way to his mind. he knew it was reckless, but that was the last of his worries. while the beautiful skies of pandora, filled with stars, unraveled over him, he still couldn’t take his eyes off of you.

your eyes finally settled in his hands, which were ever so tenderly grazing yours. he tugged at your hands, pulling you closer. the sudden action made you look at him in his eyes.

one of his hands sneaked to rest softly against your waist. he took notice of the way the stars reflected in your eyes.

“you’re beautiful, y/n” he whispered.

and with that, he closed the gap between you, connecting your lips. you gave into the kiss, a relishing wave of heat washing over your body, as the stars twinkled above you.

#heartcereql #atwow x reader #avatar the way of water #neteyam x reader #avatar x reader #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam sully #neteyam sully fluff

[rip-us-xoxo]

Taken care of- Ron Weasley x Reader (REPOST)

Posted DECEMBER 30, 2020

Reposted APRIL 16, 2023

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Request- Hii! How about a 10 from the prompt list with ron?? it could be kinda of a cozy fluff smut or suggestive ~~

——————————————————————————

Warnings- SMUT (it’s cute ass lazy sex and then cute ass aftercare)

——————————————————————————

“Y/n! I’m home!” you heard Ron shout from the front door. “In here!” you called. You were sitting in the living room, wrapped in the blanket, just listening to the fire crackle. 

“Hello there, all wrapped up just for me?” Ron asked jokingly. “I’m literally just wrapped in blankets,” you giggled. 

“I know,” he chuckled while taking off his coat and throwing it on the arm chair. He then walked up to you and sat next to you in the loveseat. 

“Come here,” he pouted and made grabby hands toward you. You giggled and stood up from the couch, blanket still wrapped around you, and jumped on top of him. You honestly hoped that he would notice that you only had one of his t-shirts on, and by “only”, you mean only. 

“You look cute today,” he complimented as his hands found their way under your blanket to rub your sides. You whimpered slightly as his hands got lower, you were already wet just thinking about Ron all day but his actions had you dripping. 

“What is wet on my leg?” Ron questioned and looked down to see a wet patch right under you. “Am I that hot that I have you soaking through your panties?” Ron joked and brought his hand down to your bare pussy. 

“You naughty girl,” he chuckled and brought his hand to rub your clit. “Mm,” you moaned quietly, moving your arms to grab his shoulders, therefore having the blanket fall off to only cover your bare behind. 

“Your in my shirt too?” he questioned, “You really know how to get to me.”. You nodded quickly and let out another, louder, moan. 

“You want me to take you on the couch?” he teased, but you weren’t messing around, you needed him right now. “Yes please, Ron, I’ve been horny all day,” you begged and ground your hips down on his jeans. 

“Mm,” he moaned slightly, your movement making just enough friction on his bulge. He quickly moved you off of his lap, took off his belt, and unbuttoned his jeans before pushing them down along with his boxers. His hard erection was now on display.

“Come on,” he grunted while lifting you up and positioning you right above his cock. “You ready?” he asked and you quickly nodded. He smiled a bit and sat you down fully, the feeling of being filled up by him making you moan. 

He then gripped your hips and rocked them back and forth and lifted them up and down on his cock. You moaned and grabbed onto his hands, you both were definitely too tired to do anything crazy today so lazy sex was the best option to go with. 

“M’close,” you moaned quietly and rested your head in the crook of his neck. “Already? It’s only been a few seconds,” he chuckled. “I may or may not have tried to get myself off with a pillow earlier, but was unsuccessful because nothing is better than your cock,” you told him, desperately hoping that he wouldn’t stop your orgasm right before it came over you. 

“I see. You know, I would punish you, but I’m too tired for that and I just want to see my darling happy today, so I’ll be nice today and let you cum,” he said and kissed the side of your hair, now thrusting his hips up slightly into yours. 

“Oh my- oh my god, I’m gonna-” you were cut off when your orgasm came over you. “That’s it,” Ron praised and helped you ride out your high, therefore pushing him to his orgasm. 

“Bloody hell, you’re so tight,” he moaned and a few seconds later, he came over his orgasm and leaned backwards, the sight of him slightly sweaty and panting was hot as hell. 

After a few seconds of you both heavily breathing, he spoke, “Let’s go get you cleaned up,” he said and lifted you off of his cock, making you wince. 

He brought you to the bathroom and sat you on the toilet before quickly running a hot bath and helped you get your shirt off. After the bathtub filled up, he set you inside of it and started walking out of the bathroom. 

“Are you not joining me?” you whined, watching him walk away. “I can if you want,” he said while scratching the back of his neck sheepishly, but your grabby hands toward him and your puppy dog eyes gave him enough assurance that you really wanted him in there. He smiled and quickly stripped of all his clothes before hopping in the bathtub behind you. 

You breathed out and leaned back into his chest, the hot water soothing your aching lower half, “I feel bad, I feel like I did nothing,” you pouted and looked behind you and into his eyes. His eyes were filled with nothing but adoration, all he wanted to do was make you feel good. “Don’t worry about it, I just wanted to take care of you today,” he told you sincerely. 

“Well, thank you,” you said and brought your hand up to caress his cheek. “No need to thank me, you make me happy everyday, it’s the least I can do,” he said and grabbed your hand off his cheek, giving it a light squeeze before bringing it down to rest on your stomach. 

“I love you,” you said and suddenly yawned, randomly getting super tired. “I love you too, but let’s skip the sappiness and get you taken care of before you fall asleep,” Ron chuckled and reached for the shampoo. 

“Gladly,” you sighed and leaned back, letting Ron take care of you for the rest of the night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

xoxo

#ron weasley #ron weasly imagine #ron wealsey x y/n #ron weasly x reader #harry potter characters x reader #harry potter fanfiction #ron weasley smut

[treasure-goblin]

Lu Elementary School AU

Bus Ride pt. 2 (ft. Sky and Wild)

Sky yawned and rubbed his eyes slowly as he trudged towards the buses for the ride home. Sun was at home, sick, so he got to leave early. If it had been a Wednesday, he might go study with Warriors and Legend, but it was only Tuesday, so no such luck.

His stuffed loftwing under his arm, Sky kicked a rock along the sidewalk, not looking forward to the bus ride home without Sun. It was always boring when she wasn't there. Even if he did try to nap the whole ride home, her chatter was always welcome.

The boy was brought out of his thoughts by the sound of sobbing, and what sounded like Mr. Hudson, the bus driver, speaking. Looking up from his rock, Sky winced when he saw little Wild bawling his eyes out, backpack thrown to the ground and clutching his stuffed wolf in a death grip.

“Is he, um, ok?” Sky whispered awkwardly as he approached the two, looking up at the other kids not so subtly watching from the bus windows. Mr. Hudson shook his head with a sigh.

“He won't calm down, pretty sure he misses his brother, but he won't tell me.” The man explained, shaking his head. “I need to get you kids home, but I'm not going to force him onto the bus, and I can't leave him here.”

Sky nodded in understanding, wincing as Wild continued to wail loudly, tears streaming down the younger kids' cheeks. This was a problem. Sky knew Twilight, so he knew the other boy was at soccer right now and couldn't just leave practice to go home with his brother. Thinking quickly, Sky took his little stuffed bird and poked Wild's cheek gently with its beak.

Wild's eyes popped open after a few ‘pecks’, and his wailing subsided to sniffling, although the tears still fell. The little 1st grader looked baffled at the plush bird pecking his face and turned to Sky in bewilderment. Sky took a deep breath and smiled.

“*squawk* Why are you crying, *squawk*” Sky asked in a silly voice, flapping his bird's wings a few times. Wild blinked and wiped his eyes, remaining silent but reaching out to poke the bird.

“Ah! Hey, *squawk*, how rude!” Sky joked, pecking Wild's cheeks again. The little boy giggled weakly, scrubbing his eyes again and holding up his wolf stuffie.

“Woof woof.” He said quietly, almost a whisper. Sky's smile softened, and he let Wild have his wolf ‘sniff’ his face. Mr. Hudson had backed away, apparently confident in Sky's ability to help Wild, so the boy decided to tackle the issue at hand.

“*squawk*, Mr. Wolf, do you want to get on the bus?” He asked kindly. Wild's smile fell, but he didn't start crying, at least. His little wolf shook its head slowly. Sky nodded.

“Aaaah, I see. Mr. Wolf, is the bus too scary, *squawk*?” Suprisingly, the wolf shook its head no again. So, Wild wasn't afraid of the bus itself. Sky knew the kid loved Mr. Hudson. He also had a favorite seat, which, from where he was standing, looked unoccupied, as it was the only row that didn't have faces pressed against the windows.

“Hmmmmm, Is it, maybe, because Mr. Wolf needs a friend to sit with?” He asked, lowering his loftwing to look Wild in the eyes. The boy hesitated again but nodded slowly.

That made more sense. It wasn't the bus that was scary. It was riding the bus alone.

“Wild, do you wanna sit with me on the bus?” Sky asked sweetly. “Sun is at home, so I'm all alone, and I don't want to be lonely on the ride home.”

Wild blinked and looked at the bus for a moment before nodding shyly and taking Sky's hand in his own small one. Sky smiled brightly and picked up the other boy's backpack, and the two got into the bus together, ready for the ride home.

Masterlist - Pt. 1

Divider by @/cafekitsune

#goblin writes #lu elementary au #sky elementary au #wild elementary au #wild lu #sky lu #lu modern au #lu au #modern au #linked universe modern au

[wordsbyrian]

Skater Girl - Alex Morgan x Reader

Summary: Childhood friends almost always drift apart but sometimes they find their ways back together. This fic is set in between the 2015 WWC and the 2016 Olympics.

A/N: I was watching a documentary on my favorite skateboarder Andrew Reynolds in which he talked about his battle with addiction and this is what came of it.

Trigger warning: Heavy discussion of drug and alcohol abuse, jokes about sobriety

For as long as you can remember Alex Morgan has been your best friend.

Just like any pair of childhood friends worth their salt, the two of you knew everything about one another.

At least you did from the ages of 3 to 14.

But like all great childhood friendships, you started to drift apart in high school. She had started playing club soccer and was quickly becoming the face of the varsity soccer team and you found that you had more fun hanging out with the skateboarders and stoners than waiting for her to be able to make time for you.

So while she was busy becoming an all-American and a top college prospect, you were rounding up amateur sponsorships for companies like Blind and Independent Trucks.

Then when she was running all over people at Cal, you were dropping out of the photography program at UCLA because you were going pro and collecting sponsors like a child on Halloween.

Overall, you hadn’t spoken to her in nearly 10 years, which is why you’re so shocked to see her standing over you as you lay at the bottom of one of the largest hills in LA, cracked helmet still on your head.

“Oh my god, are you ok,” she asks, bending over to try and look you in the eyes.

“Alex,” you say, still somewhat out of it. “What are you doing here?”

It takes her a moment, but as you sit up and take off your helmet, you can see the realization bloom in her eyes.

“Y/N/N,” she asks, getting a nod in response. “Are you ok, I saw you smash your head into the ground.”

As you go to answer you begin to hear the shouts of the crew you’re filming with as they finally make their way to the bottom of the hill.

“Trips, dude, we thought you just died,” Jay, one of your best friends, shouts as he gets close enough, “Who’s this?”

“This is Alex, my childhood best friend and world-champion soccer player,” you say, “Also, clearly not dead, the brain bucket saved me. Go get the car, I’m ready to call it a day, I’ve got road rash on my entire back.”

Watching for a moment as he runs back to the rest of your friends, you turn back to Alex still staring at you with wide eyes.

“I’m sorry you had to watch me slam like that, you used to hate that.”

“Just found out that I still do, that was one of the scariest things I’ve ever seen,” she says, helping you to your feet, “Your body flew through the air.”

Grimacing a little at the feeling of your shirt against the raw skin on your back, you pick your board up and say, “I’m fine I promise, nothing that a shower, Neosporin, and some sleep can’t fix.”

The two of you stare at each other silently for a few moments and you can feel all the things you felt for her growing up come flooding back.

Fortunately, the sound of Jay laying on the horn of your car breaks you free of the hold she’s always seemed to have on you.

“I, uh, I’ve gotta go,” you say, jerking a thumb over your shoulder.

As you start backing away she reaches out and grabs your wrist.

“Meet me at our spot tomorrow,” Alex says hopefully, “3 p.m?”

“I can do that.”

She smiles before letting you go and walking back to what you can only assume is her car.

Making your way to your ride, you aren’t surprised when the second you climb in you’re greeted by the cacophonous noise of all your friends asking you what just happened.

“Don’t worry about it.”

The next day finds you rolling up to the far back corner of your childhood park where you and Alex would go when you simultaneously needed escapes from your homes.

You hear Alex before you see her, her raspy voice ringing out, “You still bring that thing everywhere you, huh?”

“In all fairness, I get paid to bring it everywhere now,” you say, taking a seat next to her.

“You went pro? I remember that being all you talked about in middle school.”

“Sophomore year of college,” you say with a grin, “I signed like three pro sponsorships in a week and dropped out of UCLA, it was barely two months into the school year.”

“That’s awesome, I’m happy it worked out for you.”

“Forget me, Lex, you’ve got an Olympic gold and World Cup,” you practically shout at her, watching as a blush appears on her cheeks.

“It wasn’t just me, it was a team effort.”

“Whatever bro, I saw that goal you scored in Manchester against Canada and the one against Colombia at the World Cup.”

“Okay fine, some of it was me,” she laughs.

Then before you know it, the afternoon trails into the evening, and the two of you spend hours talking about everything that has happened since you graduated high school.

But the one thing you refuse to answer, no matter how much she asks, is how you’ve acquired the nickname Trips.

That is until Alex says something so shocking that you know you have to tell her the truth.

“You know we thought you were dead or in jail,” she says, voice becoming thick with emotion.

“What?”

“When you didn’t come back at Thanksgiving in 2008 and your parents refused to even be in the same room as anyone who mentioned you, we thought the worst,” she explains.

“Fuck,” you say, “Alex, you have to know that I never meant to put your family through that, I was just dealing with some things.”

“What could you possibly have been going through that you couldn’t call us? I was your best friend, we’d known each other our entire lives.”

“Alex, be serious, we haven’t been best friends since the summer before 9th grade and you know it.”

“Y/N/N,” she starts but you cut her off.

“It’s fine really, it happens, but I wasn’t going to just dump my problems on you after not being around. That would’ve made me a shitty person.”

“What problems were so big that you had to face them alone?”

“Addiction,” you say, turning to stare out at the park.

You can feel her staring at the side of your head in silence but you don’t give her a chance to say anything.

“I’m like 4 years clean now but I’ve been addicted to alcohol and other stuff since I was about 15. In high school, your dad once found me passed out in the driver’s seat of my car smelling like a distillery with puke down the front of my clothes,” you explain. “It got really bad after I went pro and I almost died before I got clean.” Taking a deep breath you continue, “That game against Canada at the Olympics was my second day in rehab, I was so sick with withdrawal symptoms but I remember watching the ball come off your head at the last minute.”

“Can you look at me please,” she says, voice shaking, “I need you to look at me.”

Turning your head, you’re somewhat surprised to see the sight of Alex Morgan with tears streaming down her face.

“I’m proud of you. I’m proud of you for getting clean, I’m happy you're alive and I’m sorry that you felt like you couldn’t come to me,” she says, tears flowing.

“Quit crying, you know I hate it when you cry,” you say, hoping that the reaction you used to have as a kid, would get her to smile like it used to.

It does and you get to watch as she smiles and wipes the tears from her face.

“Are you done now?”

“I’m done now,” she says with a laugh.

“Cool, your apology isn’t accepted by the way.”

“What? Why not?”

“Because you have nothing to be sorry for, bozo,” you say, “Both your parents and my parents tried to get me help while we were still in school and it didn’t work. So don’t try to apologize to me again, got it?”

“You’re still the nicest asshole I know,” she says, “who the fuck yells at a girl for crying?”

“An idiot whose nickname is based on her being a drug addict,” you guess.

That doesn’t get the laugh that you were hoping for but it’s enough to get you a small smile.

As the hours continue to pass, the conversation gets lighter as you reminisce about the crazy things you got up to as kids.

Eventually, you both have to leave but before you do Alex manages to secure a promise that you’ll attend her game in a couple of days with no new bumps, bruises, or scrapes.

So that’s exactly what you do.

That Saturday afternoon sees you walking down the steps in the stadium to your seat, which thanks to some magic pulled by Alex is so close that you feel like you’re on the field.

When you reach your seat you’re not completely surprised to see Alex’s parents and her sisters but they don’t seem surprised to see you.

“Y/N/N,” her mom asks in shock when she sees you coming down the row.

“Uh yeah,” you say, awkwardly scratching the back of your neck. “Hey Morgans.”

Before you have a moment to fully process what’s happening, you’re being pulled into a hug by Mr. Morgan and passed to each of the women in his family, but you end up back in his arms at the end.

“You have no idea how glad we are to see you,” he says.

“I think I might,” you reply. “Alex filled me in on what your worries were, they were pretty close up until a few years ago.”

That gets a few sad smiles out of the family which lets you know that Alex has filled them in on what you’ve been up to.

“That’s not funny, Y/N,” Mrs. Morgan says.

“It kind of is,” Jeni says, with Jeri nodding behind her.

“Jeri’s right,” you say, “Besides since I’m sober now, so you have to laugh at all my jokes about not being sober because I pulled myself together.”

“That’s not how it works, kid,” Mr. Morgan says.

“Welp it is now.”

It’s at that moment the teams begin walking out for the anthem and as though she could feel your eyes on her Alex immediately turns towards you, a grin appearing on her face as you lock eyes.

The first half of the game is fast and physical and you find yourself flinching every time Alex is taken down by a defender but just like when you were kids, she’s back on her feet before you can blink.

The half comes around and the US is up 2-0 but you still feel the need to get up and move around.

“Hey, I’m gonna get some tenders or something, does anyone want anything?”

“I’ll come with you,” Jeni says.

“Or you could tell me what you want,” you respond.

“I’m not making you buy me a beer.”

“I know that I’m not dressed like it right now but I can more than afford to buy you a 15-dollar beer,” you say before you understand why she’s protesting. “Fine, you can come with me but I’m still paying for it.”

When you get to the concession stand you ask her what kind of beer she wants but that isn’t what she’s focused on.

“When are you going to tell my sister that you’re in love with her?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Rolling her eyes, she speaks slower like you are some kind of dumbass, “When are you going to tell Alex you’ve been in love with her since forever?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, moving forward with the line.

“And I’m Elvis Presley,” Jeni sighs and runs a hand down her face.

From there the conversation switches to how you're doing with skateboarding and your sobriety, so you promise to show her some of the clips you’ve put together for your next video part.

That’s why it’s so surprising when the first thing out of her mouth when you get back to your seats is: “Mom, Dad, how long have Alex and Y/N been in love with each other?”

You’re even more surprised when neither of the elder Morgans looks up from their phones before answering: “Forever.”

“And how long have they both been acting like they're not?”

“Since at least the 7th grade, maybe earlier,” Jeri says.

“Can I just eat my tenders in peace,” you beg, not wanting them to notice the blush rapidly spreading from your cheeks to your ears.

Luckily, before anyone can respond the teams are trotting back out for the second half.

Unfortunately, the other team is much more physical in the second half, so you have to watch with bated breath as Alex gets taken down twice as much as she did in the first without any fouls being called.

Every time she hits the ground you wince a little bit harder, much to the amusement of both her sisters.

Then, there’s a corner in the 88th minute and you get to watch, in what feels like slow motion, as Alex gets her head to the ball and sends it into the back of the net.

“Fuck yeah, Alex,” you scream, leaping to your feet with the rest of the crowd.

You know she can’t hear you but the smile she sends in your direction makes it feel like she can.

Moments later, the match is over and after quickly shaking the hands of the opposing team and a short huddle, Alex is racing towards where you're sitting like she didn’t just play a full 90.

Much to your surprise, and her sisters’ enjoyment, she ignores the other Morgans completely to climb the barrier and pulls you into a hug.

“You came,” she whispers into your ear, trying to be heard over the nearby fans screaming her name.

“I did,” you respond. “You played amazing, that goal was magic.”

“Are you coming to dinner with us,” she asks, still not letting go.

“Yup, your parents have designated me as your chauffeur.”

She nods so you let her go, not at all shocked by the smile on her face as she greets her family.

It doesn’t last long though because one second Jeri is whispering in her ear and the next Alex is glaring back at her and dropping to the ground to join her teammates in greeting fans.

You and the Morgans stay for a bit watching her before making your way out of the stadium and to the parking lot. There you make promises to meet them at the restaurant, hauling Al along with you.

You don’t have to wait very long on your own in the lot, at least you don’t think you do but time does tend to get a bit weird when you’re practicing a new trick.

It's the sound of Alex’s voice yelling at you to do a kickflip that breaks your focus, (You do of course land a kickflip for her.)

“Not bad,” she says, reaching your car and throwing her stuff in the back before climbing in.

“I do aim to impress.”

The ride to the restaurant is calm, the only real noise being the sound of her playlist intermingling with the sound of LA traffic.

When you park and go to get out, you’re stopped by her relocking the doors.

You try to unlock them but she just locks them again, in a pattern that continues four times before you turn to look at her.

“Seriously Al?”

“I want to ask you something,” she says, “but you’ve spent the whole ride trying your hardest to ignore me.”

“I wasn’t ignoring.”

She cuts you off, “Yes you were. What did my sisters  say to you because I thought we were gonna try being friends again.”

“They didn’t say,” cut off again.

“Just tell me what they said.”

You take a moment to think about whether or not you should and the somewhat desperate look on her face leads you to tell her.

“They said that you’ve been in love with me since forever. Your parents did too but that’s not possible,” you tell her, “because I definitely would’ve noticed if you were. I mean I literally spent our entire childhoods trying to impress you so I think Jeni and Jeri were just messing with me like they used to because you’re way too awesome to have ever been in love..”

You're cut off again but this time by the feeling of Alex grabbing you by the back of the neck and pressing her lips to yours.

Before you can fully process what’s happening, she’s pulling away which is the opposite of what you want so you pull her back in so your lips meet again.

The second kiss is much longer than the first but before you can deepen it she pulls back.

“I am in love with you,” she says, slightly breathless, “and I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember.”

You smile so widely that to an outsider it might’ve looked painful, “That’s awesome but there’s no way you’ve loved me longer than I’ve loved you.”

“Whatever Y/N/N,” she kisses you again, a slight peck this time, “let’s head inside before my parents start freaking out.”

She unlocks the car doors and gets out, stopping briefly to make sure you’re following her.

And you are, just like you did when you were kids and just as you will be for the rest of your lives.

#uswnt #uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #womens soccer #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso x reader #alex morgan #alex morgan x reader #alex morgan imagine

[melanieph321]

Hello love i wanted to ask if you maybe would write something about ruben and a single mom? :)

Gotchu! ❤️

Ruben Dias x Reader - Most important

Enjoy!

You were stressad out because your ex husband was supposed to pick up your son an hour ago and take him to his football game today.

"Mommy, mommy when is daddy coming?"

You stopped pacing back and forth in the living room as your eight year old son entered. He stomped in with his cleats on and dressed in his team kit.

"Are you ready to go?" You asked.

"Yes, but where is daddy?"

He forgot, you thought. Because it wouldn't be the first time your ex husband did this to you and your son. Empty promises was about the only thing he brought to the table during your relationship.

"Let me just make one phone call baby and then I'll take you to the game."

"You'll take me?" Your son frowned. "Wasn't daddy supposed to take me this time?"

"I'm afraid daddy isn't coming this time."

You watched your son hold in his tears as he left the living room with his head to the ground. You hurried to make a phone call, keeping an eye on the watch as it held the time for when the train left.

"Hello, Ruben? It's me. "

You felt terrible about having to cancel your date tonight. But like you told Ruben when he first learned that you were a single mom, your son always comes first.

"It's no worries we'll just take the train to where the game is."

Ruben made an offer to drive you there instead.

"No Ruben it's okay. I wouldn't want to put you out."

A part of you also felt unsure about introducing him to your son. Although you really liked Ruben you two had only gone out for a couple of dates. Usually you wanted to know that a guy was in it for the long hall. You hadn't dated that much since your divorce so you had yet found someone like that. However there was something about Ruben that made him different from any other guy you've dated. Even your ex husband.

"Fine Ruben. We'll meet you downstairs in ten minutes."

You hung up the phone and made your way to your son's bedroom. You found him with his head hiding under the covers.

"Baby. We best get going if you wanna make it to the game in time. I've got mommy's friend picking us up, so no trains this time."

There was movments under the covers, soon your son's head popped up.

"Oh, Isaac." You sighed. His eyes were sprung red from crying.

"Mommy why doesn't dad want to come see me play?" He cried.

You shook your head. " It's not about you baby and don't ever think that again. Your daddy loves you, he's just a very busy man."

A man who loved his job more than his family, you and your friends used to joke.

You pulled Isaac in for a hug, allowing him to stop crying on his own. At some point your phone vibrated in your pocket.

"That's mommy's friend. We better get downstairs."

Introducing Isaac to Ruben was nerve wrecking, especially in Isaac current state. However Ruben was as polite as always, greeting Isaac by shaking his hand, despite Isaac's zero interest in doing so. He kept silent for most of the drive, causing you to throw anxious glances in the rareview mirror. Ruben noticed this and let his hand find yours, squeezing it for reassurance.

"Thank you." You smiled. "For the ride. You really saved us today."

"Anytime." Ruben nodded.

Arriving at the pitch you saw the parents of Isaac's teammates gather in the stands. The kids were already on their side of the pitch, having a light brief with their coach.

"Hurry Isaac." You said. "Ruben and I will take our seats in the stands."

You and Ruben got out of the car, Isaac however, remained in his seat.

"Isaac?" You pocket your head through the door to see him sitting back, eyebrows furrowed and cradling his bottle of water between his hands. "Isaac if you don't get out now you won't get to start the game."

Your son didn't move.

You looked to Ruben with concern. He knew about you situation with your ex husband but also how much your son adored him.

"I'll go talk to the coach." You said. "Perhaps tell him that Isaac isn't feeling well today."

Ruben nodded understandingly. "I'll stay here." He said.

You rushed over to the pitch. The kids that weren't playing were coming in to sit on the bench. Their coach was also headed this in, stopping to take his stand by the sidelines.

"Y/N?" He exclaimed, seeing you. "Did you get stuck in traffic? Is Isaac with you?"

"Yes coach, Isaac is here. He's just feeling a little unwell. I'm not sure his fit to play today."

"Well that's terrible. Isaac is one of our best players."

"I know, it just that..."

"Isaac there you are." Coach said, overlooking your shoulder.

You frowned but turned around to see Isaac sprinting your way with Ruben walking behind him.

"Sorry I'm late coach, can I still start the game?"

"Of course! You're our man son." Voach was quick to usher Isaac out on the pitch to take his place along his teammates. As Ruben approached you all you could do is take your place in the stands with the other parents.

The referee blew the whistle and the game went on.

You were a bit confused seeing Isaac play with such determination. Considering the fact that he was still in tears when you left the house and refused to get out of Ruben's car as you got here.

"Did you say somthing to Isaac to get him out of the car?" You asked Ruben. He must have said something, you thought.

But Ruben just shrugged his shoulders. "I just reminded him of what's important." He said.

"And what's important?" You frowned.

"The price."

"The price, what price?"

Ruben smiled. "I may or may not have promised your son all the McDonald's he can eat if he helped his team win this game."

"Ruben." You gasped. "You did not?"

"But I did." He laughed.

All the McDonald's he could eat is what Isaac got. You had bags full of it getting out of Ruben's car as he dropped you off at your apartment.

"Thank you again Ruben and for helping me out with Isaac." You were hesitant to kiss him in front of your son. Ruben however seemed to understand and settled with smiling at you instead.

"Can we reschedule to next week?" You asked. Hopefully Ruben still wanted to date you after having witness the slight chaos that was your life.

"Of course." He said, to you relief.

"Well then. Thank you for tonight and have a safe trip home."

"I will and thank you for letting me come see you play Isaac."

Isaac smiled with his cheeks full of cheeseburgers. "Bye Ruben, see you later." He waved.

Back home, Isaac had a shower whilst you put his clothes in the washing machine. Once he got ready for bed that night you couldn't help but to ask. "What exactly did Ruben say to you in the car?"

Like Ruben, he shrugged his shoulders. "He just reminded me of what's important?"

"The price?" You sighed.

"No." Isaac chuckled.

"No? What did he say was important then?"

"He said that I should always play for the people that cheer me on the most. Even on the rainy days."

"Oh."

"And that's you mom, isn't it?"

"Me?" You felt a slight jolt in your heart.

"Yes. You never let me miss a game even if it's raining or if we have to take the train to get to the pitch. You never let me miss a game even if you have to miss out on a date with your friend  because dad promised to take me this time but didn't."

"Oh Isaac." You cried."You know you always come first to me, always."

"I know" He nodded.

"Good." You kissed him godnight and stood. You flick the lights off on your way out.

"Hey mom?"

"Yes?" You stopped in the doorframe.

"Can Ruben come to my next game as well?"

You smiled. "Of course he can."

#fanfiction #man city #ruben dias x black reader #manchester city #ruben dias #love and desire #footballer x reader #football imagine #ruben dias imagine #football angst #football x reader