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munson-blurbs · 1 year

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Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

Summary: With no friends and the looming threat of losing custody of his son, Eddie's the lowest he's ever been. But you know what they say: “Rock bottom just means there’s nowhere to go except up."

Warnings: angst, visits from CPS, Reader's grandma has Alzheimer's

WC: 6k

Chapter 5/20

Scruffy!Eddie edit credit to @eddiemunsons-missingnipple Divider credit to @saradika

The phone rings as Eddie wrestles Harris into his jacket. He still hasn’t figured out how to break the news about his classroom change; at this rate, he’ll be dropping him off at school before he works up the nerve. Is there any good way to tell your kid that he no longer gets to spend his days with his favorite teacher?

“Keep that on,” Eddie instructs Harris, pointing to the navy blue sweatshirt. “I’ll zip it for you in a sec.” He jogs over to the phone, answering with an irritated, “Hello?”

“Ed?” Wayne’s voice drifts from the receiver. “It’s Wayne.”

Eddie nods before remembering that Wayne can’t see him. “Y-Yeah, hey,” he says, tone softening at his uncle’s familiarity. There’s a dull ache in his chest when he thinks of how he willingly shut him out over the last month. “How’ve you been?”

“Good. Can’t complain.” Wayne clears his throat. “I’d love to see you and Harris. Whenever you get the chance.” Eddie can hear his concern, the unasked questions that dissolve on his tongue: Are you okay? Is Harris? Do I need to file that custody agreement?

He glances over at his son, who, despite Eddie’s promise, is unsuccessfully trying to thread the zipper with its teeth. He motions him over, cradling the phone to his ear and stretching the cord while he kneels to fasten the jacket. “We were actually about to head to the park if you wanted to meet us there,” he says. “This kid’s got way too much energy to keep him cooped up in the apartment. We’ll both lose our minds.”

Wayne lets out a kind chuckle. “Sounds like a Munson.” Eddie can hear the tinny jangle of his keys. “The park over on Porter Drive?”

“Yup.”

“Dad, let’s go!” Harris whines, twisting the doorknob back and forth to emphasize his impatience.

“We’ll be there in ten,” Eddie tells Wayne, catching a glimpse of the neon orange cast peeking out from under Harris’s jacket. It’s now adorned with his classmates’ names. Your signature seems to beckon Eddie, taunt him, even, and he tries to convince himself that it’s because it’s the only one that doesn’t resemble chicken scratch. “Oh, Harris broke his wrist, but he’s fine. I’ll explain everything when I see you.”

“Hoo boy,” Wayne breathes. “Definitely a Munson.”

Harris spends the short drive to the park bouncing in his carseat. “Is Grampa Wayne gonna play with me?” he asks, rocking back and forth excitedly.

“Mhm,” Eddie nods, keeping his eyes trained on the road. He nervously thrums his fingers along his jean-clad thighs. What if Wayne still didn’t think he was a responsible parent? What if he took one look at Harris’s injury and raced home to call his lawyer? “But I gotta talk with him first, okay? You can play by yourself for a little while.”

Harris hums his agreement, eagerly unbuckling as soon as Eddie parks the car. He starts to run towards the field, and all Eddie can picture is him tripping and hurting himself again.

“Harris, don’t–” he starts, but he then remembers those magic words: “Walking feet, bud. Don’t want you breaking that other wrist.” He grabs the soccer ball from the trunk and kicks it in Harris’s direction.

Wayne pulls up in his truck a few moments later, almost as exuberant as his grandson. “Har-Bear!” he calls out, opening his arms wide for a hug. Harris picks up his pace, slowing down when he remembers his dad’s instructions.

“I’m using my walking feet!” he chirps proudly, and though they’re fast walking feet, Eddie beams at him.

Wayne squeezes Harris so tightly that Eddie worries he’ll inadvertently cut off his oxygen supply. When the boy starts squirming, Wayne laughs and puts him down.

“Go ahead and play,” Eddie tells his son. “Grampa Wayne and I are gonna catch up real quick.”

There’s an uncomfortable silence as the two men sit on the bench, waiting for the other to say something first. Finally, Wayne breaks through the tension.

“Missed you two,” he murmurs, not looking at Eddie. “‘S too quiet around my place without that little rugrat.”

“We missed you, too,” Eddie admits, chewing on his thumbnail. “Harris won’t stop asking for Grampa Wayne.”

Wayne preens slightly at this, shifting in his seat. “This is the longest we’ve gone without talking since…”

“I know,” Eddie cuts him off, not wanting to revisit the part of his past that Wayne’s referencing. “I, uh, started working at Rock Records,” he tells him, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “It sucks, but it’s a job.”

He feels Wayne clap him on the shoulder, pulling him closer to him for a brief side hug. “I’m proud of you, Ed.” He purses his lips before asking, “and no more of the…”

Eddie shakes his head. “Nope, I’m done with that. Returned the rest of what I had to Rick; told him I was out.” His gaze drops back to the ground, and he stares intently at the blades of grass as though they might disappear if he blinks. “But that might not matter anymore anyway, so…”

“The hell you talking about?” Wayne pinches his eyebrows together, adjusting his position to face his nephew.

Sighing, Eddie tells him about what happened at the hospital last week. Wayne’s eyes widen when he hears that they filed a report with CPS. “That’s some bullshit,” he mumbles, scratching at his gray beard. “Kids get hurt all the time. Can’t keep ‘em in a bubble.” He shakes his head incredulously. “They’re not gonna take him from you, okay? They’re gonna see how you provide for him, how great you are with him, and they’re gonna be sorry they wasted their time.”

“I’m not great with him,” Eddie mutters, standing up in a feeble attempt to exert some of his nervous energy. “I’m ruining his life.” He pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “He had this teacher, and he adored her. Calls her ‘Ms. Sweetheart.’ And I was just…just a total asshole to her. I accused her of telling people about the CPS thing and said some really fucked up shit about her sick grandma and…fuck, Wayne. She had Harris transferred to another class just so she doesn’t have to deal with me. And now I have to say, ‘Hey, you know that teacher you fuckin’ loved? Well, she’s not your teacher any more, and it’s all my fault.’”

Wayne absorbs the information, contemplating what he says next. “So fix it,” he shrugs.

“It’s not that simple,” Eddie argues, plopping back down onto the bench in defeat. The wood digs into his lower back uncomfortably, so he stands up again.

“It’s not?” Wayne questions, digging a pack of Newports out of his jacket pocket and offering one to him. “Because it sounds to me like you owe this ‘Ms. Sweetheart’ an apology.”

Eddie takes a cigarette, toying with it before tucking it between his lips. It takes a few flicks of his old Bic lighter to get a spark, and he lets the nicotine calm his nerves before speaking again. “I don’t think she’ll forgive me.”

“Never said she would,” Wayne counters, plucking the Bic from Eddie’s hands and bringing the flame to light his own cigarette. “Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t apologize.”

Inhaling sharply, Eddie watches his son kick the ball around before letting out a slow, controlled exhale. “My boss asked if I could teach guitar lessons once or twice a week,” he says, using his empty hand to toy with the frayed holes in his jeans. “If…if you wanna, could you watch Harris? I can pay you.”

“Don’t insult me, boy,” Wayne scoffs, but a playful smile dances on his lips. “You’re not gonna pay me to watch my own grandson. Just let me know the day and time, and I’ll have a pot of mac and cheese ready to go.”

The pent-up tension dissipates from his body at Wayne’s easy agreement. An unspoken I love you floats between them, and he could cry from the sudden surge of relief.

“Daddy! Grampa!” Harris calls out from across the park. “Let’s play!”

Wayne stands up with a grunt, rolling his shoulders back to loosen them up. “You heard the man,” he jokes. “Up and at ‘em.”

It’s your first day off of work since the start of the school year, yet all you can think about are your students. Well, one particular student and his god-awful father. Eddie’s comment replays in your mind, cutting through you like the chilly mid-October air. The sting still hasn’t faded, despite it being three days since he’d said it.

You say goodbye to your grandma and Elise, her home health aid, grabbing your car keys and closing the door behind you. This morning was already overwhelming; Grandma had woken up at 5 AM, ready to start her day. The sound of her TV blasting at the highest possible volume jolted you from your sleep, and you’d spent the following twenty minutes trying to persuade her to go back to bed. Unsuccessfully, you might add.

You wince when you see your reflection in the rearview mirror. Your eyes are puffy and bloodshot, with pouches developing beneath them that only emphasize your exhaustion. You practice smiling a few times before starting the car, peeling out of the parking lot to meet Jess, Viv, and Jeff for lunch.

The pleasant aroma of burgers cooking on a grill wafts past your nose as you push open the doors to the restaurant. It isn’t too crowded when you arrive; you assume that the usual lunchtime rush is quelled by the Columbus Day holiday. Your new friends are already waiting at the table, waving you over excitedly.

“Hey,” you call out, forcing pleasantries into your otherwise flat tone. You slide into the seat next to Jess and across from Jeff. “How’s everyone been?”

“Better, now that I’m out of the first trimester,” Viv says with a small laugh. “Now that I have my appetite back, I’m definitely getting the grilled cheese.” She glances at the menu again, adding, “and a side of fries.”

Jess nods. “I think I’ll do the same.” She turns to you and her cheerful expression shifts to one of concern. “You okay?”

“Y-Yeah, just tired.” Your lackluster reply is unconvincing, but she doesn’t challenge it in front of Jeff and her sister. “Chasing after kids all day is wearing me out.”

“Oh, that’s right!” Viv exclaims, taking a sip of her water. “You’re a preschool teacher. The one with Eddie’s kid in your class!”

“Mhm,” you manage; the mere mention of Eddie’s name turns your throat into sandpaper. “Well, not any more, I guess.” Your throwaway comment is met with inquisitive stares, so you give the group a rundown of last week’s events, watching their eyes grow wide.

“He’s such a fucking douche,” Jess grumbles, resting her hand over yours. It feels like forever since you’ve experienced the simplicity of a kind gesture, and you have to swallow the emotion that comes with it.

“Seriously,” Viv agrees, looking over at Jeff. “Why were you even friends with him?”

Jeff lets out a terse chuckle and shakes his head. “Believe it or not, he actually used to be a good guy. The best, in my opinion.” Disappointment flashes across his face as he continues. “Something changed when he went to Chicago. He was always on-guard, had his walls up, but it used to be more of an ‘if you mess with me, I’ll mess with you’ attitude. But when he came back home, he was…different.”

“Different how?” Curiosity gets the best of you, and the question slips off of your tongue before you can stop it.

“It was like he was determined to hurt people before they could hurt him. No matter what I did, he never fully believed that I was on his side. I was constantly trying to prove that I wasn’t out to fuck him over.”

Viv drapes an arm over her fiancé’s shoulder. “How long did he live in Chicago, again?”

“Long enough to knock someone up,” Jeff muses, mind wandering for a moment before he brings himself back to the conversation. “About four years, I think? He left to chase his dreams of being a rockstar. Then one day, he shows back up in Hawkins with an infant, trying to act like nothing had changed.” He snorts at the very idea of it. “But it obviously did–I mean, besides the fact that he had a whole child, the rest of us had grown up, too. College, work, all that stuff.

“When he suggested getting Corroded Coffin back together, we figured, why not? It seemed like a decent way to chill out, blow off some steam at the end of the day.”

“Let me guess,” you chime in, cocking your head knowingly. “Eddie had other ideas.”

Jeff nods. “He still wanted to do the rockstar thing. And he’d always get angry at us because we didn’t. Not professionally, anyway. Kept mocking us for having 9-to-5 jobs, like it was the worst thing in the world.” He pauses, screwing up his face in contemplation. “Which, come to think of it, was weird. Because back in high school, he told me that it really messed with him, not having that stability growing up. Y’know, before Wayne took him in.”

There’s so much more you want to know, but the waiter striding over to the table to take orders brings the conversation to a natural conclusion. What you’ve gathered so far is that Eddie Munson is a many-layered man, each one more puzzling than the last. Despite your festering hurt and anger, you can’t help but hope that he untethers himself from his complicated past. If not for his sake, then for Harris’s.

“Daddy, what’s a new cents?”

Eddie’s taking the left turn onto the main road when he hears his son speaking from the back seat. “What’s new since when?” he asks, craning his head to check for oncoming traffic.

“Noooo,” Harris whines, letting out an exasperated sigh. Eddie has no clue where his new attitude came from, and he can’t say that he’s a fan. “A new cents.”

“That’s not a thing, buddy,” Eddie answers, starting to twist the radio knob.

“Yes, it is!” Harris insists, clearly growing frustrated. “Ms. Marion told Ms. Paula that I’m a ‘new cents.’”

It suddenly clicks for Eddie, and he grips the steering wheel tighter and hopes Harris doesn’t notice the edge in his voice. “You mean a nuisance?”

“That’s what I said!” Harris groans. “What does it mean?”

Eddie pushes past the question to ask one of his own. “What exactly did Ms. Marion say?” Maybe there was a misunderstanding, he reasons with himself.

But Harris’s answer only confirms his initial suspicion. “She looked at Ms. Paula and said, ‘this one’s a ‘new cents.’ An’ then she pointed to me.”

“Why the hell would she say that?” Eddie’s speaking to himself, but his son replies, still too young to grasp the concept of rhetorical questions.

“‘Cause of my shoes being untied. An’ she doesn’t like when I ask her to tie them.”

Eddie cringes. He’d meant to teach Harris how to tie his sneakers, but the lessons had to be put on hold when the kid had broken his wrist. Pausing before posing his next question, Eddie carefully selects his words. “Did…Did Ms. Sweetheart ever do that? Get mad about your shoes or call you a nuisance?”

“Nope,” Harris shakes his head. “An’ Mr. Will didn’t either.” And considering that his laces had always been tied in neat bows when Eddie arrived to pick him up, he can only assume that the two of you did this without a second thought. Jesus, why even bother to be a preschool teacher if you’re gonna bitch about tying shoes?

“So, what is it?” Harris snaps him from his thoughts.

“Huh?” Eddie’s right foot presses on the brake as he approaches a stop sign. “Oh. Um, I don’t know. Sorry, Har.” It’s the second time in as many days that he’s lied to him in order to spare his feelings. Yesterday, he’d waited until they were already in the school to tell Harris that he was picked for a super special project where he’d act as a secret agent in another class. He didn’t know whether to be proud or ashamed that he’d spent all night thinking of that excuse.

“‘S’okay,” Harris shrugs, raising and dropping his legs so they bounce off the bottom of his carseat. His ankles are exposed, and Eddie realizes that he must’ve grown. Again. Which means that he needs to scrape together some money and buy him new clothes. Again. “How much more days until I get to go back to Ms. Sweetheart’s class?”

“Not sure.” Lie number three. He flicks on the radio, the sounds of Ozzy effectively distracting Harris for the remainder of the car ride.

If only it was that easy to fool himself.

A harsh knock on your classroom door and the formality of your first and last name draws your attention from the mountain of paperwork on your desk. Will left thirty minutes ago with the rest of the TAs, so you’ve been sitting alone, humming a song you’d listened to on the car ride to work.

“Yes, that’s me,” you tell the tall man standing in the doorway. His intimidating stature and sullen disposition juxtapose the orange and yellow hues of autumn-themed artwork lining the walls. “Can I help you?”

He flashes a name tag as he steps into the classroom. “My name is Andrew Smith. I’m here on behalf of Child Protective Services to speak to you regarding one of your students…” he checks his notes, “Harris Munson.”

“Oh, um,” you stumble over your words, “he’s–he’s not my student any more. Not since Tuesday of this week.”

“Right,” the social worker nods slowly, patience already running thin, “but I briefly spoke with his new teacher, and she said that she didn’t have enough information to answer the questions, and directed me to your classroom.” When you don’t respond, he gives the legal rundown about the process and your obligations as a mandated reporter. “Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Then let’s proceed with this, shall we?” He clicks his pen, eyes boring a hole into you as he speaks. “How well would you say you know Harris’s father, Edward Munson?”

More intimately than you know, you bitterly think. “Fairly well. He dropped Harris off and picked him up every day.”

Mr. Smith scribbles that down. “Was Edward Munson punctual? Did he drop off and pick up Harris on time?”

“Yes,” you confirm, and your mind flickers back to the very first day of school. “There was only one time he was late for pick-up, but it’s common for that to happen once in a while with any parent.”

“Right, okay. And how would you describe Harris’s disposition around his father?”

“He adores him. He’s a generally happy kid, but he lights up around his dad. Or even when he’s just talking about him.” One lunchtime conversation in particular centered around how his dad could play anything on the guitar, even “Old MacDonald.” Harris had been bursting with excitement to report that Eddie made the funniest animal sounds, and you’d be lying if you’d said your interest wasn’t piqued. “I’ve never seen Harris act nervous or scared around him.”

Pen flies across the paper, and you swear he’s writing more than you’d even said. “Besides the broken wrist, did you ever notice any injuries or abnormal bruising anywhere on Harris’s body?”

You shake your head before realizing he’s waiting for a verbal response. “Nope, never. Just the usual bruises that come with being a kid.”

Mr. Smith cocks his eyebrow, pressing his lips together. “And where were those bruises located?”

Shit. Did you say too much? Why can’t you just shut up when you’re nervous? “Knees and calves?” You point to the spots on your own body, as though the social worker needs visual aides, while silently berating your own stupidity.

“And based on your interactions with him, how would you describe Edward Munson as a father?” It’s a loaded question, and its magnitude is a weight on your chest.

“Caring, attentive, very loving,” you answer honestly. “Responsible. Harris always showed up with lunch and a snack, bathed, clean clothes, whatever supplies he needed. I never worried that Harris was unsafe or in an unhealthy environment.” You force yourself to meet Mr. Smith’s gaze when you say the next part. “We, um, actually were at the hospital at the same time. My grandma got hurt, and we bumped into them when being discharged.”

This grabs his attention. “And did Mr. Munson appear to be impaired or otherwise behaving out of sorts?” The way he looks at you could easily be mistaken for a glare. “Under the influence of any substances, perhaps?”

“Not at all.” You keep your tone firm and even.

He shoves the paperwork at you, pointing to where your signature is required. “Thank you for your time,” he says flatly, leaving the room before you have time to reply. It seems nearly impossible to go back to the task you were working on before the interruption, but you try to push away the intrusive thoughts about everything that could possibly go wrong.

An hour later, the heavy-handed knock raps on the door to the Munson’s apartment. Eddie knows the drill; unfortunately, this isn’t his first run-in with Child Protective Services. He’s double, triple, quadruple-checked that every electrical outlet is covered, the matches and lighters are far from Harris’s reach, and there’s no remaining product from his recently-abandoned dealing days. The visit is technically unannounced, but since he’s not getting many visitors these days, there are limited options of who could be at his door.

“Edward Munson?” The social worker asks, giving him the same opening spiel he gave you. “I’ll just need to take a look around your home and make sure it’s a suitable living environment for your son.”

“Of course.” Eddie hopes he sounds more confident than he feels, but he can sense the waver in his voice. “Yeah, come on in.” He opens the door a bit wider and lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, drawing unwanted attention from the social worker.

“Something the matter, Mr. Munson?”

“N-No,” Eddie insists, shaking his head. If he confesses to being nervous, this Smith guy could mistake it as an admission of guilt, and that’s the last thing he wants. “Just, um, long day?”

Smith recognizes the response with nothing more than a disbelieving glance as he makes his way through the apartment. Eddie watches silently, pushing down his anxiety with a thick swallow. His mind races when the social worker rummages through the refrigerator. Are there fruits and vegetables in there? Did I throw out that container of leftover spaghetti that overstayed its welcome? His stomach sinks when Smith marks something down in his notes but doesn’t have time to ruminate over it before Harris pokes his head out from the bedroom.

“Daddy? You gonna come back an’ play Hot Wheels with me?” His big brown eyes instantly melt Eddie’s heart, and all he wants to do is scream at the man, See? See how much my kid loves me? See how happy he is? Now, why don’t you go deal with the parents who actually deserve to lose custody and leave me to play with him.

Before Eddie can stop him, Harris traipses out and sees Smith rifling through the pantry. “Who’re you?” he asks.

“Har-Bear, this is Mr. Smith. He’s, uh, one of my friends.” Eddie scrunches his face and shakes his head defeatedly at the blatant lie, but Harris doesn’t notice.

Mr. Smith gives a short wave, neither kind nor impolite. Just one slight movement to acknowledge the boy’s presence. He’s determined to get back to his job, but Harris has other plans.

“I like your glasses.” He points to the wire-rimmed frames on the man’s face. “My Grampa Wayne is s’posed to wear glasses, but he doesn’t. Daddy says it’s ‘cause he’s a mule.”

“Stubborn as a mule, Har,” Eddie gently corrects him, a blush creeping into his cheeks. “I’ll be in in a minute, okay?”

But Harris ignores his request, forging towards his dad’s friend. He lifts his arm and flashes an innocent smile. “Look at my cast! It’s from when I jumped on my bed and breaked my arm.”

“Harris!” Eddie hisses, trying to keep his cool. “Can you go play? In the room?” Pleading with him is like negotiating with a terrorist, and he knows his efforts are futile.

“Actually, I do need to take a look at Harris’s bedroom,” the social worker muses, tapping his pen against his lower lip. Eddie has to stifle a scoff at the charade that this just occurred to Smith. Like he didn’t have this mapped out, another bullet point on the list of uninformed judgments he needed to make.

“We, um, we share a room,” Eddie mumbles, as though there would be another possible reason as to why there’s a twin bed nestled into the same space as Harris’s race car bed. “I used to sleep on the couch, it’s just easier to be close to him when he has nightmares an’ stuff.” His heart races when Smith jots this down. “N-Not that he has nightmares a lot. I don’t let him watch scary movies or anything. Just normal kid stuff.”

The man nods, visibly irritated by his rambling. He clamps his mouth shut to inhibit the flow of unnecessary explanations that freely pass through his lips without a second thought.

Harris motions Smith over, using his uninjured hand to grab the stranger’s and leading him into the room. “That’s my bed,” he announces. It sounds like he’s giving a tour, and Eddie almost laughs at the absurdity of the situation. “And that’s where I falled,” Harris points to the unassuming patch of carpet alongside it.

“Ouch,” Smith mutters, and Eddie swears he can see a semblance of a smile. Leave it to Harris to thaw the most hardened of hearts. “I bet that hurt.”

“Yeah, but there was no blood,” Harris says nonchalantly. “An’ I didn’t need a shot. Just this cast. All my friends signed it. Even Ms. Sweetheart!”

“Ms. Sweetheart?” Smith repeats.

“She’s my teacher. Well, she was my teacher. Now I’m a super secret spy in Ms. Marion’s class, but don’t tell anyone!”

Eddie scoops up a couple of toy cars off of the floor and hands them to Harris, determined to end the conversation before anything else can be revealed. Can you get your kid taken away for being an asshole to his teacher? He doesn’t want to find out. “Here ya go, bud. Why don’t you get the racetrack set up, and I’ll play with you as soon as Mr. Smith leaves.”

“Actually,” Smith says, “I’m about finished. Mr. Munson,” he says, his natural stoicness settling back in as he turns back to Eddie, “after completing this investigation and conducting our interviews, I’ve determined that Harris may remain in your custody. I’ll just need you to sign a few forms and I’ll be on my way.”

Eddie’s relief is palpable. He sweeps Harris into a hug, clutching him to his chest and wordlessly swears to never put him back down. “Th-thank you,” he mumbles, acutely aware of the tears leaking from his eyes. “Wait–what interviews? No one interviewed me.”

Smith nods. “Yes, we spoke with Harris’s teacher. She only had great things to say about how well you take care of him.”

She did? He barely knows the woman; Harris has only been in her class for two full days, and she never indicated any partiality towards him. He makes a mental note to thank her tomorrow at drop-off. For now, all he wants to do is treasure every moment with his boy.

Eddie doesn’t want to let Harris out of his sight, but he begrudgingly takes him to school, not wanting to add a truancy charge to his growing list of misgivings.

Ms. Marion greets both Munsons with a muted stare, harsh enough to drain Harris of the excited energy that typically buzzes through his little body. “Are we going to listen today?” she quips.

“Yes,” Harris says.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Harris’s affect is robotic and monotone, and the uncharacteristic spiritlessness nearly distracts Eddie from thanking the older woman for her interview.

“The guy–um, the social worker–he told me that you said some nice things about me. About how I am with Harris,” he stammers. “So, uh, thank you.”

Ms. Marion crosses her arms over her faded pink sweater, pursing her overlined lips. Her forehead is marred with frown lines. “That wasn’t me, Mr. Munson. I directed him to speak to Harris’s previous teacher, since she spent more time with him.”

Ms. Sweetheart.

After everything he’d said and done, you’d still vouched for him. Spoken so highly of his parenting abilities that CPS allowed him to keep custody of his son. You could’ve easily ruined his life, but you didn’t.

What Eddie doesn’t understand is why.

Perhaps he doesn’t need to; at least, not immediately. Right now, he just needs to fix this. And he knows exactly where to start.

Friday marks one week since your blowout fight with Eddie. One week since he’d caught you pathetically crying in your car because of the venom he’d spewed. One week since you’d informed him that you’d had Harris transferred to another class.

Which is why you’re confused when the boy bounds up to your classroom door, shouting, “Ms. Sweetheart! Ms. Sweetheart!”

“Hey, Harris,” you greet him, unable to mask your confusion. “What are you doing here? You’re in Ms. Marion’s class now, remember?”

Harris nods, his curls bouncing with each movement. He drops his backpack to the floor with a thud and unfastens the zipper, tongue poking from between his lips as he digs through it to brandish a cassette. “This is for you.”

You take it from him, eyes widening as you take in Toni Braxton’s face staring back at you. “Harris…where did you get this?”

“My daddy put it there and said to give it to you. So I did,” he answers with a shrug. He looks up at you, innocuous and angelic as he adds, “I miss you. I wish you could be my teacher again.”

“Me, too,” you reply before thinking. Clearing your throat, you kneel down to meet him at his height. “Thank you for my gift. It was very sweet. Go ahead and head to class now, okay? I don’t want you to be late.”

“Mmkay!” he chirps, slinging his still-opened bag over his shoulder. “Bye, Ms. Sweetheart.”

Why would Eddie buy you a tape? Why this tape, the one you’d come in for when he’d said such malicious things to you? You can’t make sense of it, regardless of how many times you try to piece together the puzzle.

At dismissal, you find yourself waiting by the door, hoping to catch Eddie before he can dash out of the school. There’s no logic to his actions: he despised you enough to weaponize your grandma’s cognitive decline, and then he gives you a gift with no further explanation.

You distractedly hand parents the sign-out sheet, barely registering when Joshua Harrington’s dad asks you about any upcoming plans for a class Halloween party.

“Is there gonna be a list of things you need? Candy or cupcakes or something?”

“Oh, uh, I’m gonna send home information about that next week,” you stumble over your words as you try not to make it obvious that your mind is elsewhere.

“Great,” he says, stretching out the word as he tracks your gaze to the spot behind him. “Everything okay?”

“Yup.” You slap a smile on your face just as you spot the mane of frizzy curls you’d been searching for. “Um, excuse me for a second.” You call out to Will, letting him know you’ll be right back, before sprinting down the hallway.

“Ms. Sweetheart!” Harris’s eager face twists into a frown. “You gotta use your walking feet in school. Or you could get hurt.”

Eddie moves to correct him, but you just smile sweetly. “You’re right, Harris. Thanks for reminding me.”

You allow your gaze to travel upwards, eyes locking onto Eddie’s. You can’t quite read his expression; his brows are furrowed in confusion but the flush in his face indicates that he knows why you’re here.

“Harris gave me the tape. The Toni Braxton one.” Like he’d gifted you myriad cassettes that required this distinction. “You really didn’t have to do that.”

“Don’t mention it.” The right corner of his lips turns up into a half-smile. “Besides, I should probably be the one thanking you.”

“Me?” What is he talking about? As far as you know, you’re the bane of his existence.

“Yeah. For, uh, what you said to that social worker guy. Even after I treated you like a piece of…” he presses his palms to Harris’s ears and lowers his voice, “shit.”

That makes sense; he was relieved that you’d sang his praises when it had mattered most. This was an expression of gratitude; nothing more and nothing less.

“You’re a good parent, even if you’re mean to me,” you say nonchalantly. “I wasn’t going to make up lies and ruin your lives out of spite.”

The statement hangs in the air, gathering an awkward silence that has you and Eddie both grappling for ways to end the conversation.

He’s the one to interject. “Well, anyway, I hope you like the tape.”

“Mhm.” It’s all you allow yourself to utter in front of Harris. A thousand questions swarm your head, threatening to spill off your tongue, the first of which is simply: why? “I’ve gotta get back. But, um, enjoy your weekend.” You pivot on your heel before Eddie can wish you the same. With the necessary chaos of your life, you can’t invest any more time trying to unravel him.

“Daddy, when is Ms. Sweetheart gonna be my teacher again?”

Eddie knew it was inevitable that Harris would ask about going back to your class, but he thought he’d bought himself more time with the spy game he’d concocted. He can’t delay the truth any longer.

“I’m sorry, buddy. I don’t think you can switch back.” There’s a pang in his heart when his son drops his hand, digging his heels into the parking lot asphalt.

“Is it because you were mean to her?”

His question catches Eddie off-guard. “Wh-What?”

“In there,” Harris points towards the school, “she said you’re mean to her.” He squints when he looks up at his father, the midday sun shining in his eyes. “Why were you mean?”

Eddie exhales, puffing out his cheeks and rubbing the back of his neck. “Sometimes grownups accidentally hurt each others’ feelings.” Or purposely, in his case, but he omits the complexities from his explanation. He reaches out to once again take Harris’s hand, but the boy pulls back.

“Ms. Sweetheart says that when we hurt someone’s feelings, we gotta say sorry. Even if it’s on accident.”

“I did,” Eddie counters, raising his brows. “I gave her the tape.”

But Harris remains unconvinced. “That’s not saying sorry. You gotta actually say it. Or else it doesn’t count.”

“It doesn’t count, huh?” Eddie clicks his tongue and puts his hands on his hips. “All right, I’ll say it the next time I see her.”

“And then you can be friends?” The question is posed innocently, but it rattles Eddie. Friends? Did he even know how to be a decent friend any more? He’d fucked it all up with Gareth, Jeff, and Danny, and he’s known them for forever. “Daddy?” “Uh, maybe,” Eddie replies meekly; this time, Harris grabs his hand when he offers it. “We’ll just have to see.”

taglist 1/2:

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#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #tui

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maxillness · 2 months

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Tonight (I’m Fuckin’ You) || CS55 x Interviewer!reader

Warnings: 18+, jealous!Carlos, semi-public sex, bathroom sex, oral (M reviving), hair grabbing

Wordcount: 0.9k

“Thank you for the Interview, Carlos” She said after they were finished talking

“Of course, no problem” He sighed, occupied with her beauty

In his opinion, there was no other woman that could beat her beauty. There was no other woman that was more beautiful than her

But the others couldn’t see what he saw in her. They’d laugh every time they saw how flustered he would get after talking with her

“Are you coming to that party tonight?” Right. The party. She had happily forgotten the party

“I’m invited, but I don’t know. There’s gonna be a lot of people there that I don’t know” She explained to him

“Well, I’m gonna be there… And the rest of the drivers of course, so there’s gonna be some people you know” He would have begged her to go, wanting to see her all dressed up

“I’ll think about” She caressed his arms “I gotta go. See you around, Carlos” He blushed like crazy once she turned to walk away

And yet again, Charles and the rest of the team lightly chuckled as he walked into the motorhome, still blushing

“Oh, shut up”

She had decided to go to the party. She wouldn’t admit it to herself, but she knew she only did it to be with Carlos

She had told her friends she only wanted to go because she didn’t wanna sit alone and be bored all night, but even they knew she did it because he would be there

“Come on. He doesn’t even like me like that. He had a professional opinion towards me” She said as they chuckled

“I’m guessing your not watching your own interviews” One of them chuckled

“His eyes is saying ‘I’m gonna bend you over and fuck you all night’” The group laughed as they looked at their oblivious friend

“Whatever you say” But deep inside, she hoped it was true

“You made it” Carlos said as she walked over to the group of drivers sitting in the couch area, all with a drink in hand

“Didn’t have anything else to do, and I did my wanna be bored all night” She chuckled as she sat down in an empty place on the couch

As the night went on, she had an amount of drinks, resulting in her dancing close with several people in the middle of the room

Carlos just stared. Leaned back into the couch, gripping his glass so tight I might’ve broken

He was jealous. Too jealous. He tried holding back, and did a good job. But at one point, it became too much for him

He stood up, discarding his glass on the coffee table, and walked towards her. She grabbed her bicep roughly and dragged her away from the party

He dragged her into a bathroom as far away from the others as possible

“What the hell is your problem, Carlos?” She asked as he pushed her roughly up against the door

“How can you have the audacity to grind up against those people you don’t even know?” His eyes and facial expression said it all

“Are you jealous, Carlos?” She crossed her arms over her chest and had a cheeky smirk on her face

“What? Of course not” He said fast and confidently

“If you wanted me to suck you off, you can just say so” He didn’t resist when she had turned them around, so he was the one pressed up against the door

Neither did he resist when she went to her knees and started unbuckling his belt and zipped his zipper down

She pulled his pants and boxers down in one quick motion, making his cock hit his abdomen

She spit into the palm of her hand before she started stroking him slowly. He threw his head back into the door. His hand tangled into her hair as the other landed on her shoulder

Her tongue darted across his tip, making him moan loud. She worked her tongue around his tip, collecting all the pre-cum

“Fuck. Please, d-don’t tease” His moans were breathy and shuttered. She swirled her tongue a few times more before hollowing her cheeks with his cock

Her pace was slow, and he was trying so hard not to fuck her mouth. He wanted to, but it would make him seem needy

“F-fuck. You feel so good” He unintentionally bucked his hips into her mouth, hitting the back of her throat, making her gag

The vibrations made him feel good. It made him feel better than any woman ever made him feel

He did it again hitting the back of her throat over and over again, making his orgasm come closer and closer to his release. Quicker than he would like

“Fuck. I’m gonna come” His eyes were screwed shut as his hand gripped her hair tighter

His words were to only warning she got before he held her head all the way down and came deep down her throat

She popped off of him and swallowed before standing up “Please, let me fuck you” He whimpered kissing her lips softly

“Are you still jealous?” She asked looking up at him with raised eyebrows

“Yes. Very much so” He admitted, even though he had just been sucked off

“Then, no” She Said, kissing his cheek before unlocking the door and walking out, closing the door behind her, leaving a very flustered and needy Carlos behind

#smut #dom!reader #formula one #Carlos Sainz #Carlos Sainz smut #Carlos Sainz x reader #Carlos Sainz x reader smut #music monday #Spotify

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allzelemonz · 1 month

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Settle: Merle Dixon X Male Reader

Pronouns: he/him, Reader referred to as ‘man’ and ‘boy’ Physical Sex: AMAB Rating: E/Smut, language Warnings: Slurs (homophobic), Merle Dixon is his own warning, mention of Merle’s SS symbol, typical southern prejudice/homophobia, neck kissing, anal fingering, anal sex, cockwarming, hand job, cuddling, top Merle and bottom Reader Summary: After striking out with every woman in camp, Merle turns to you and ignores the gay aspect of sleeping with another man in favor of getting laid. A/N: Imagine my lack of surprise but utter disappointment in finding no male reader shit for Merle. Written out of spite. Enjoy.

After a third pill and a third strikeout, Merle is almost certain he’ll have to handle himself tonight. No woman in the whole damn camp wants any action, even with a touch of good ol’ Southern charm Merle attempted. Not a bite from anyone. So Merle stumbled through the cluster of tents, only half as high as he’d like to be and blue balls stiff between his legs. Just as he’s about to turn a corner towards his tent on the outskirts with his brother’s, he catches a pretty sight.

Not that Merle is gay. Of course not. But the man is asleep with his tent partly unzipped, shirt off and back arched like a damn whore. How could Merle not stare just a little. His eyes trail over your back, bare and just fuzzied by the drugs in his system that he may mistake things enough to ignore the dick between your legs.

So he kicks your foot, waking you up.

Your hand goes to your knife first, then you turn to see it’s not something dead behind you. “What, Merle?”

“Ya a queer?”

You squint at him, off put by the way he says it. “Why’re you asking?”

He shrugs. “Fella can’t be curious.”

“Not with that Nazi symbol on your bike you can’t.” You close your hand around your knife. “Go away.”

Merle chuckles, raising his hand in mock surrender. “Woah, woah, there… I was just askin’.”

You stare at him for a moment. “Fine. Yeah, I like men. I’m a queer. Are we done here?”

Merle bites at the inside of his cheek, trying to come up with the right words. “Ya let me fuck ya?”

“What?” You ask, sitting up to look at him properly.

Merle scoffs. “Ya heard me. Would ya?”

“Why would you-“

“Ladies ‘round here bein’ stingy.” Merle shrugs. “Hole’s a hole.”

“You’re joking.” You say in disbelief.

“Ain’t like I never fucked an ass before. It’s the same shit.”

You shake your head. “No, it’s really not.”

“Aw, come on, I’ll be quick.” Merle attempts a pout. “Ain’t no trouble.”

You sigh, shaking your head because you know it’s a dumb idea somewhere deep down. “Fine.”

Merle grins. “Atta boy.”

“Get on with it then.” You sigh, watching Merle step inside. “Zipper.”

Merle turns and zips the tent closed behind him, fumbling with it for longer than any regular person would. When he turns his hands go straight to his belt.

You watch his fingers move for a second. “You ever fucked another man before.”

Merle snorts. “Course not. I ain’t a queer.”

“It’s a little different, you know.”

“What?” Merle sneers. “I gotta play with yer pecker er somethin’?”

You shake your head. “Not necessarily. But you have to stick your fingers in for a while and stretch things out.”

“Yer just picky.”

“Maybe. Just do it, asshole, or I’m not gonna let you fuck anything.”

Merle pulls his belt free. “Fine. Pants off then, sweetheart.”

You huff, annoyed at Merle already, but it’s been far too long since you’ve had this chance. You pull your pants off, ignoring Merle’s eyes on your legs and turn around to lay on your stomach.

“Alright.” Merle grins, shuffling up behind you and nudging your legs apart. “What am I doin’ here, sweetheart?”

You turn your head back, half wanting to see the sight. “Put your fingers in your mouth.”

“Why?”

“Spit’s the only lube we have.” You mutter. “Just do it.”

Merle glares slightly, but does as he’s told and presses three fingers past his lips. He sucks on them, his other hand already going to your hip. It’s clear he’s never been the type to do this with any of the women he’s been with either. Without prompting, he drops the hand down and traces until he finds your rim.

“Ya ready for Merle’s magic fingers, boy?”

“Shut up.”

Merle chuckles, circling his finger around before slowly pushing inside. “Whew…” Merle exclaims. “Tight little thing, ain’t ya?”

You open your mouth to speak but Merle’s finger drags against your prostate and all you can manage is a groan as you bury your face down into your pillow.

He leans over you, his hand moving up to grip at the bare skin of your chest. “I find somethin’ good?”

You nod, mindlessly pushing back into him. “Fuck, Merle…”

He repeats the drag, his fingers moving quickly to fuck whatever sounds he can get out of you. You don’t expect much more, but he leans down and presses his lips to your neck. He trails sloppy kisses over your skin, his fingers fully thrusting into you at a quick pace.

“You want me?” Merle murmurs next to your ear. “Want Merle to fuck ya better than some fairy ever could, don’t ya?”

“Yeah…” You answer, spreading your legs as much as you can. “Why you’re here, isn’t it?”

Merle grins against your skin. “You just be a good boy. You’re good at that.”

He sits back up, removing his fingers and positioning himself properly behind you. His hands fix on your waist, pulling you back and propping you up on your widespread knees. You feel his tip press against you for just a second before he presses inside. There certainly isn’t enough lubrication or preparation, so the stretch of being entered hurts just enough to make a few whines form in your throat. Merle pushes all the same, stretching you open and filling you up with everything he has.

He groans as he bottoms out, running a hand over your spine. “You feel so damn good, sweetheart.” He squeezes your hip slightly. “Might turn me gay…”

Before you can think much about that, Merle begins to piston his hips at a quick pace. Both of his hands grip tightly at your hips and the force of his thrusts presses you forward into your pillow, only held up at the waist for Merle to fuck into you properly. You let him, relaxing into the hold and letting him use you because the slide of his dick hitting your prostate feels better than anything else. Merle pushes you down to lay flat, leaning over you and rocking into you as his head dips against your shoulder. The sleeping bag below you rubs at your dick with every thrust Merle gives you.

“Knew I liked you.” Merle mutters, half to himself. “Better than any damn woman… shit, sweetheart.”

Merle’s hips stutter and he groans as he releases, burying himself as deep as he can into you. You take heavy breaths as Merle relaxes on top of you, trying to ignore the squirming feeling of not having finished. Then Merle’s hand snakes under you, pumping furiously fast and gripping hard until you mutter his name and your vision blurs for a moment as you spurt cum onto your sleeping bag.

His hand slows to a massaging tempo and you can hear him inhaling strongly. “Ya gotta let me do that again sometime, boy.” He murmurs. “God, yer making me inta a queer.”

“Happy to help.” You mutter, still catching your breath.

Merle chuckles, letting both arms encircle you as he fully lets himself relax on top of you. “So ya liked my dick in ya?”

You bury your head into your pillow, avoiding his annoying question.

Merle chuckles. “Lemme sleep here?”

“Whatever.”

“Can I fuck ya in the mornin’?”

“If you want.”

He grins, settling his lips right next to your ear. “Ya gonna help keep little Merle warm all night too?”

You groan as he pushes against you, his soft dick still filling you and linking the both of you together. “Just sleep, jackass.”

He chuckles again. “Whatever you say, queer.”

#merle dixon #merle dixon x reader #merle dixon x male reader #twd #twd x reader #twd x male reader #the walking dead x male reader #the walking dead x reader #x reader #x male reader #fanfic

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fractangle · 3 months

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Behold, The Meme Jacket

This jacket arrangement position is called "LOOK AT MY ARMPITS."

Here's a close-up of the collar and lapels with the jacket laying normally:

The snaps on the lapels hold them open, but can also be snapped closed, which is nice on windy days.

Here's the front of the jacket as it's intended to be seen:

I was very particular about how I designed and arranged these: much like how the back only has color in the middle, I wanted to keep the bright colors to the center. The two brightly colored patches are meant to read like a two-panel comic, or some sort of call-response thing, whatever. The patches along the bottom are meant to read left to right, almost like a four-panel comic. (The Awesome Face patch is just there because it fit.)

What's not obvious from these pictures is that there are inside pockets, which connect to the zippered side pockets! I don't tend to actually use this feature very much, but it does make the pocket space hugely tall in there.

Another feature I don't tend to use very much is the zip-off sleeves. I think I've only ever taken the sleeves off once (plus a few times when sewing patches on, to make it easier to reach where I was working).

The googly eye buttons are holding up moderately well - I might need to replace one of the eyes by next year. If you're gonna do this yourself, you gotta put a metal keyring of the same size behind the googly eye! Wrap the keyring in a piece of fabric (I used the tubular bit from the bottom edge of a t-shirt), and sew it to the button band. Then, glue the googly eye onto the fabric with enough glue to also glue the fabric to the keyring. (I used superglue for this.)

All in all, it's been an incredibly fun project, and one that I get lots and lots of use out of! I'm sure I'll add to it at some point, but I'm calling its current state "done (v1.0)".

#meme jacket #diy #sewing #battle jacket #diy punk #originally the among us patch was going to be fully saturated colors: red killed green in front of blue #and i actually made that patch #but then i realized i wanted a much paler patch so i started redoing it (thankfully the among us characters were linocuts)#so i printed the scene again in white (the way i did the colors was to paint over the linoprint)#and once it dried i started painting the colors onto them. first light blue. then pink.#as i'm shaking the bottle of green paint i realize i've made a trans pride among us murder scene patch completely by accident #i'm okay with this. hell yeah

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anjaelle · 1 year

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Study Buddies

Pairing: College!Dave Lizewski x Black!Reader Summary: He's decidedly taken permanent residence in this dorm room, and you can't say it bothers you much. Warnings: Language, mentions of bruising/battering. Word Count: 2k a/n: The successor to Dumpster Diving. The same two losers in the same universe. Only because you guys asked so nicely.

(gif source)

--x--

"I feel like this is an abuse of my good graces."

You watched as Dave Lizewski climbed through your window for the third time that week and tripped over your extension cord, falling to the floor with a dull thud. He popped back up, readjusting his hoodie and his glasses.

"You really need to move that somewhere."

"Right," you nodded, nudging the power strip with your foot, "gotta make sure my flurry of suitors have clear access to my boudoir."

He cracked a smile at you, one he rarely expressed in public for other people, and you felt your heart thump against your ribs.

Absolutely fucking not.

You plopped onto your bed and crossed your legs, "Okay, Kick-Ass, what brings you to my window this time?"

You were prepared for another round of bruises and cuts from endless fights he seemed to get himself into. Sometimes he explained the injuries, other times he didn't. But he was just happy he had someone who could help him without asking too many questions.

This time he simply shoved his hands into his pockets and leaned back on his heels.

"I kinda...just wanted to see you today."

"Oh!"

There was a heavy pause and he scratched the back of his head.

"Yeaaaah."

You propped your chin on your fist, inquisitively, eying the way he seemed to fit so seamlessly into your living space. "You just saw me at study group this afternoon."

"C'mon you know it's not the same."

He was right. Sure, you had the tendency to sit next to each other in study group and bump knees. And you could feel his glances every five minutes. And sure, when he wasn't passing glances at you, you were passing glances at him wondering why he wasn't looking at you.

And, yes, you did know what it felt like to have him sleep on your chest while you stroked his soft curly hair. But that usually only happened after you got him sorted out. This was new.

You scooted over and patted the space next to you on the bed, which he happily plopped down on like he always did after leaning over to kiss you on the forehead.

"So you came all this way and climbed the side of a building for little old me? I still don't know why you don't use the front door."

“The security guard creeps me out. Besides, I’m not spider-man. I just used some guy’s ladder.”

“You stole someone’s ladder?”

“He wasn’t using it!”

“What if he’s on some roof trying to get down now?”

He stared at you. You stared back. His eyes widened.

"I'll be right back!" He jumped up and rushed out the door, shouting behind him, "Prop the front door open for me!"

He came back about ten minutes later, red-faced with a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead. His hair was messy like he'd been running, and his glasses were slightly askew.

"So..."he took a deep breath and wiped his hands on his sweater, "there was a guy on the roof. He was really pissed and, uh, I got freaked out and ran."

You noticed the grass stains on his clothes, which was clear evidence that he tripped and fell at least once on the way back. It was hard not to feel the swell of...something...deep in the pit of your stomach.

"Another job well done, Kick-Ass. Always thinking of the common man." You playfully tugged at the zipper of his hoodie, zipping it up and down while he cleaned his dirty glasses off on the Watchmen shirt you got him.

Because that's what friends did. You bought stuff for each other. For fun.

He didn't think twice about stripping down to his underclothes to throw his things in the wash. His reasons were partially because his roommates were always too lazy to clear their machine out for him to use, partially because he really liked your detergent (he admitted that the smell reminded him of you), and partially because he knew you didn't like when he wore his "gross street clothes" in your room.

Which was absolutely fair.

After throwing his grass-stained, dirty clothes in the wash, he flopped onto your bed and stared at the fairy lights that decorated the ceiling. You sat cross-legged next to him, looking him over and subconsciously checking for new injuries. You'd learned first aid just to help him with his stitches...and the occasional bullet removal. You didn't learn the bullet removal in first aid class. You puked the first time. You could still see the messy stitching in his shoulder where he was shot.

The mixtape he made for you played lowly out of the speaker on your desk, and you heard him humming softly to himself in thought.

"I like your room." He suddenly said, tilting his head to fully address you.

You cracked a smile at him, "Yeah I can tell. You've been hanging out here every other day for the last 2 months. You might as well move in."

A light, airy laugh bubbled out of him in waves. It sounded almost like a giggle, which made you giggle too.

"Why are we laughing?" You asked bumping him with your knee.

Dave pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he thought deeply about what he wanted to say next. The fact that he lacked a poker face made him relatively easy to read--and he's said the same about you at least once.

He tapped your knee with his knuckle, "Nothing. I--just...nothing. I promise."

You sat in comfortable silence again as the music filled the room and the gentle golden lights cast shadows along the walls.

"Has anyone ever followed you here?" You asked.

"No."

It was a stern, short answer. Absolute. Definite. His eyes scanned you from head to toe before settling on your face. It was the most serious you'd ever seen him. When he propped himself on his elbow to rest his head on his hand, he clenched his jaw.

"I'd never let that happen. I would never come here first because I'd never put you in the position to be in danger."

"I know," you admitted, carefully, "I was just wondering--"

"I'd never let anything happen to you." He stated with a shrug.

You instinctively reached out and pushed his dark curls back and away from his eyes, "I thought I was the one keeping you safe. How did we get here?"

In one swift motion, he wrapped his arms around you to pull you on top of him like you weighed nothing. His strength always seemed to surprise you. You barely had time to let out a shocked squeak.

"You can't keep doing that."

His eyes widened, "Did that hurt? I'm sorry--"

"No," you swatted his chest, playfully, "I'm fine. I'm just never really prepared for it."

When he was sure he didn't severely traumatize you with his displays of affection, he resumed rubbing small, lazy circles into your lower back.

"Sorry for startling you."

"You're forgiven."

He leaned forward and kissed your nose.

Dave Lizewski was an enigma. Beneath the nervousness, the dorkiness, the shyness, and general earnestness was someone who surprisingly had a lot of game. You used to imagine that he practiced his lines in the mirror before he visited you. Then you realized...no. He's just very honest when he's comfortable.

You rested your head on his chest to listen to his strong, steady heartbeat that seemed to pick up speed. When you reached up to gently touch the healing scar on his collarbone where he was nearly stabbed, he shifted under you.

"What are you thinking?" He suddenly asked.

"I get scared for you sometimes."

He said nothing, but you felt his hand pause before continuing its trek down your back.

"You're still a human being, y'know," you added, "even when I pulled you out of the dumpster--"

"Which I still thank you for, by the way."

You snorted, "You're welcome. But even when I pulled you from the dumpster, you could've died from how high you fell. And then there's the stabbing, and the shooting, and you got hit by a crowbar once..."

He seemed to consider this. Then he said, "Someone has to do it. No one else on campus--in town--has stepped up to the plate yet."

"But why does it have to be you?"

"Why not me?"

"You can't answer my question with another question, you asshat."

He laughed at your outburst and lightly patted you on the butt.

"Compromise? I pinky swear to stop after graduation."

You didn't believe him. But when he held his pinky out to you, you wrapped yours around his and he pulled you in for a quick peck on the lips.

"Fine. But if you're still running around lower manhattan in a onesie at 26, I'm telling your dad."

You curled yourself back up against his chest while he curled one of your braids around his finger, absentmindedly.

"You don't have to worry about that, by the way." He said, dropping your hair, "I just really, really like the idea of you still being in my life four or five years from now."

"Why wouldn't I be?"

Dave nervously pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose again, "I dunno. I just...I think you're really cool and I know I can be weird sometimes. And I know you might not see me the way I see you but-"

You leaned forward to kiss him once and then twice. And as your curled your fingers into his hair, he seemed to melt into your touch with a soft groan. He pulled away just enough to rip his glasses off and toss them in the corner before pulling you in again. He wrapped a calloused hand around the back of your neck when you nipped at his lower lip. Your fingernails slipped under his undershirt to walk along the sensitive skin of his lower stomach, just above the waistband of his boxers, and he shuddered.

"Fuck," he hissed, kissing along your jaw and down your throat, "God, I love you."

Your eyes popped open. "What?"

"What?"

He trailed kisses back up to your lips like nothing happened, but you could feel his heart thudding in his chest.

"Did you... just say...you loved me?" You asked, between kisses. He pulled away and stared at you with panic in his wide blue eyes.

"Yes. No. Yes...shit did I ruin it? Do you want me to go?"

"No."

You felt a rush of an unexplained emotion flow through you as you pulled your hand out from under his shirt.

He traced the shape of your lower lip with this thumb before dropping his hand to your shoulder, "I--you don't have to say it back. It just slipped out."

You rolled off of him and crawled up the bed to rest your back against the wall. He hesitated, then slid into the space beside you.

"I lied," he mumbled, "I was gonna say it before, but you distracted me with your mouth. Again."

You sighed and reached over to hold his hand.

"How long?"

"Since last semester."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

You watched him thump his head against the wall, "Because I didn't want to ruin our friendship. But, y'know, we crossed that line the first time we smanged, I think."

"Please don't say smanged."

You could hear the grin in his voice without looking at him, "We smanged."

You flicked him on the shoulder and he laughed. Some of the nervous tension melted away as he squeezed your hand.

"Like I said," he continued, "you don't have to say it back. It's okay if you don't feel the same way."

You thought for a moment about how often you worried about him and how often he watched over you. He seemed to always be around, even when he wasn't physically there. Dave was undoubtedly your best friend. You turned to look at him only to find him already watching you with the most intense gaze you'd ever seen. Felt your cheeks heat up.

"I'm not sure if it's love yet." You said, carefully, "But...I think it could be."

#aaron taylor johnson x black!reader #aaron taylor johnson x reader #atj x reader #atj x black!reader #dave lizewski x reader #jaelle writes

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cyanide-sippy-cup · 8 months

Text

Baby punks!

Listen up. I got a few tips and stuff.

1: Thrift everything. I'm not even remotely kidding. You can go MILES with the shit available at thrift stores and only spend like 10 bucks. I go to Goodwill about once a week and I find more than I even really need.

If you wanna make patches but don't have anything to cut up, just buy like 3 pairs of jeans for like 3 dollars and you'll be set up for a while. Cloth, clothes, gadgets, wallets, jackets, even shoes. If you're worried that punk is "expensive", you're not looking in the right places.

2: Five Below. They have really solid fabric paints and stencils you can get. Also check out Joann's and Michael's. They got needles, embroidery floss, fabric paints, fabrics, etc. But be wary about those two, prices are up due to inflation.

3: YouTube tutorials are your friend!! If you're confused about how to do something, take to the web. You won't get all your answers, but you sure will find how to attach a zipper to your pants.

4: Dental floss. This is brought up every time in these discussions because it works. If you need to sew something onto your pants, jacket, whatever, use dental floss. You can snatch some up at CVS. It is very helpful.

5: Find a jacket with wide armpits. Especially if it's denim and especially if you plan on adding zip-off sleeves. ESPECIALLY if you have armpit hair. Just trust me on this.

6: Do you drink soda/beer/other canned beverages? Because if you do, save them. The cans, the tabs, all of it. It can be very useful. The cans, you can turn into spikes. The tabs can be helpful for zippers, chainmail, whatever you might use them for.

7: Believe in what you're saying. Don't just claim you stand for human rights, put it into action. Learn. Understand that some women, black people, and/or other minorities are gonna be hesitant to trust you and understand why. Know when it is your turn to participate in a conversation, and don't force your way into a community or conversation that isn't yours. You're going to be in a strange place where you've been pushed away from all the bigots in your life but can't go to other minority communities because they don't know whether or not you can be trusted. And don't try to make them know that you're "one of the good whites/men/etc". You're gonna need to find community and put weight behind your words. A friend or a relative says something just a little bit off? Don't laugh it off, make them know it was wrong (my go-to is to stare at them in silence the moment they say it and not budge until they repent the comment). Nobody's gonna trust you unless you mean what you say.

8: Don't listen to the gatekeepers. Anybody who tells you "oh well, that's not really punk, you're a poser!" Is missing the point and is hence the real poser.

9: Participate in the culture! Really! Go to playlists, find local bands. Go to a punk show. Make friends, participate in rallies/protests.

10: Be you! Seriously, be you. Whatever you think would look cool or would be comfy, do it. Literally, if you wanna turn a winter coat into a battle jacket, go for it. The key to punk is expression. Don't feel like you've gotta meet up to everyone else's standards. Punk fashion should be a tool to help you find yourself and what you're comfortable in, what you enjoy. If you're doing something to fit in, you're doing it wrong, and you're doing yourself a disservice.

#11: punch a Nazi #punk #punk fashion #punk tips #punk diy #goodwill #diy #rally #protest #dont tolerate intolerance #spiderpunk #crust punk #baby punk #new punk #battle jacket #punk patches #thrifting #down with capitalism

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20dollarlolita · 3 months

Note

Okay I gotta ask, why do you hate invisible zippers?

There are some dresses that I can't wear because I can get the zip up. This is due to hand weakness from a botched surgery, and due to the fact that I rely on a garment being at least a little bit shirred in order to fit my body measurements. For the majority of dresses that this applies to, I can't put them on if there's an invisible zipper, but can wear them just fine if the zipper is changed and no other modifications are made. Invisible zippers can make an EGL garment not inclusive to larger sizes and to certain disabilities.

Invisible zippers are weaker than traditional zippers. In order to hide up into the seam allowance, they have to have exposed teeth that curl. Because the curl is wider, the zip is more likely to have teeth shift and go out of alignment. When they're misaligned, the zipper is more likely to open up from the bottom. If this happens on a traditional nylon coil zipper, you are often able to actually re-seat the zipper, but that's not an option in an invisible zipper.

Invisible zippers are not invisible if you're using the shirring in the dress to make it fit. If there's strain on the garment, it's going to pull the seam apart and make the zipper very visible.

Invisible zipper slides don't have a hole in the end of the slide, meaning that people who use adaptive tools to help zip their garments have a lot fewer options for griping and pulling.

Invisible zippers are much more difficult to put in precisely. When you're putting in a traditional zipper, you can take your time to make sure that your seams match up when you baste your seam together, and the you don't need to worry about those pieces matching up later. Getting a waist seam to match up when you don't start by basting it together is much harder. Since invisible zippers are much more applicable to precision garments where you need to have zero topstitching, a misaligned waist seam is going to be much less forgiving.

Invisible zippers are, in lolita fashion, often pretty rarely a requirement. A lot of our fashion is pretty heavily inspired by vintage clothing, and a lapped zipper that's done well looks like a nice little vintage touch. If your fabric is printed, even if your dress has minimal or no topstitching, the pattern will hide the stitching pretty nicely. This is especially true if you didn't have enough fabric to match the pattern across the sides of the zip; it won't look like a smooth unbroken line anyway, so why install a more exclusionary, weaker, less precise, and still eventually visible zip there?

There are garments where you really don't want topstitching at all. This dress that I made back in 2013 makes extensive use of shaped facings to avoid any topstitching at all. To stick a zipper in a traditional form would really break that look. But in lolita fashion, the times when this is actually necessary is a lot less than the number of times when it's used.

But if your garment has topstitching literally anywhere, you can justify putting the Objectively Superior Traditional Zipper in there.

So yeah, as long as I'm disabled and larger than a Japan size 6, I'm going to stand behind my statement that invisible zippers are evil.

#ask #lolita fashion #zipper

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wheels-of-despair · 4 months

Text

The First Countdown Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: Eddie and Evil Woman go to Reefer Rick's on New Year's Eve to say goodbye to 1985... and hello to a new favorite tradition. Contains: Reefer Rick, Drunk Eddie, a helping hand, a midnight kiss. (Don't worry, kids; Evil Woman's driving home.) Words: 1k

"You ready for this?"

You and Eddie have been invited to a New Year's Eve party at the one and only Reefer Rick's. You've dressed up, you've brought your own beer (and some leftover Christmas candy you and your mom made, because Rick is a sucker for home-made treats), and you're ready to say goodbye to 1985.

"Yup," you grin, sliding out of the van and gathering the goods. Eddie comes to your side to help you carry stuff. He takes the beer and slams the door, and you head toward the sound of Rick's party.

Every light in the house is on. Foghat blares through unseen speakers, and people are sitting on every available surface; crates, the porch railing, car hoods. You're not typically a fan of crowds, but with Eddie by your side, you can face anything.

You follow him through the front door and into the smoky domain.

"Eddie!" Rick spots him immediately and comes over with a huge grin on his face. "And Mrs. Eddie!"

You love when he calls you that, but Eddie rolls his eyes.

"Rick, are you ever gonna learn her name?"

Rick looks taken aback. "I know her name, man." He turns to you, greets you by name, and leans down to kiss the back of your hand like a gentleman. He stands with a grin. "I just like the way her face lights up when I call her Mrs. Eddie."

Your blush is so intense, you can feel it heat your whole body rather than just your face. Subject change! Stat!

"Uh, Merry Late Christmas, I brought you some candy that Mom and I made." You hand him the box, and he takes it like it's a treasure.

"I'm gonna go hide this with my private stash, I'm not sharing the good stuff. Thank you, darlin'. And tell your mama I said thanks, too."

"Will do, Rick."

He takes his candy and disappears into the crowd.

You spent most of the night sipping a drink and watching Eddie. He had a new audience to entertain, and he did not disappoint. He told stories, dramatically acting out the important bits, and had a whole herd of drunks rolling with laughter. You laughed with them and watched him perform with pride as the time flew by.

"Oh shit, it's 11:54!" somebody yells.

Eddie looks at his watch to confirm, chugs the last of his beer, and reaches for your hand. You take it and follow along without protest; this is his element. You're just along for the ride.

He leads you to the back yard, where half the guests are already gathered. He keeps walking until you're nearly down at the water, in a quiet spot by the woods, then turns to you with a goofy grin.

He tries to blow a strand of hair away from his face, but it just falls back into place when his lips stop blowing. You laugh and reach up to brush it away for him. He gets so goofy and adorable when he drinks. You hadn't realized he was this far gone while he was in the middle of his story-telling, but now that he's trying to stand still, you see it.

He pulls you close and points into the distance. "That's where they'll do the fireworks." He wobbles a little, and you slip your arms around his middle and hold him still. You let him lean on you and stare into the cold night and listen to the water of Lover's Lake lap against the shores of Reefer Rick's yard while you wait for the countdown to begin. It's a better night than you could've ever imagined.

"I gotta pee."

You start laughing. He laughs too, but you doubt it's for the same reason. You put your hands on his hips and gently turn him around to face the woods.

"Knock yourself out, babe."

He curses as he fumbles with his zipper, but he gets it open. You keep your hands on his sides to help brace him while his stream hits the dirt, glancing around with amusement to see if anyone's watching. They're not.

Eddie zips himself back up and turns around with a big dumb grin on his face.

"What would I do without you?"

"Fall in the lake while you're trying to pee in it."

"Probably," he grins.

"One minute!" somebody yells from the house, where a small crowd is gathered around the TV to watch the ball drop.

"We're gonna be together forever, right?" he asks.

"That's the plan, Munson," you smile, brushing his unruly hair out of his face again.

"Promise?" He sticks out his bottom lip and pouts. You reach up and push it back in. He licks your finger, and you pull it away with a laugh.

"You promise?" he asks again, with urgency this time.

"Yeah, baby, I promise."

"Ten!"

You glance toward the house.

"Nine!"

You step closer to the big dumb love of your life.

"Eight!"

"Ready?" you ask.

"Seven!"

Eddie nods.

"Six!"

He keeps nodding.

"Five!"

Still nodding.

"Four!"

You reach up and cup his face to hold his head still.

"THREE!"

He grins.

"TWO!"

You make your move at the same time, crashing into each other.

"ONE!!!"

The screams of "HAPPY NEW YEAR!" erupt around you, but your tongue is far too busy to join them. Eddie's a sloppy kisser when he's drunk, but right now, you don't even fucking care. You pull at each other, trying to get closer, even when it's physically impossible.

When you break for air, you rest your forehead against his for a second. The wolf whistles and cheap party blowers are dying out, and the booms and shrieks of fireworks fill the air. You look toward the water and see the colorful explosives streaking into the sky and reflecting in the dark pool below.

You and Eddie turn to watch the show. You slide your arms around his waist and lean your head against his shoulder as you watch the fireworks illuminating the sky.

They're nothing compared to what you feel for him.

"I've never kissed anybody at midnight before," Eddie confesses. You look up to find him watching you instead of the explosive spectacle.

"Well, I hope you liked it," you grin. "'Cause I'm the only person you're ever allowed to kiss again."

"Good," he says, coming in for another.

#writings of despair #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x evil woman #happy new year nerds!

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sat0sugu-angst · 1 year

Note

Sooo what do you think of bakugo eating you out but with the panties on???

Maybe y/n is trying on clothes and they have a cute set that bakugo’s never seen before and he tells them he wants a closer look…

If not that’s okay :)

a/n: I LOVE THIS tysm for the ask @dreamland03 !! this sent my brain into overdrive 😍

"I Only Need Ten Minutes"

cw: afab!reader, established relationship, oral (f.receiving), fingering, pet names (babe/y), thicc reader, Katsuki is a king at dirty talk bc I said so, reader is a whore for Katsuki bc so am i

characters aged up 22+

MDNI

---------------------------------------

"Babe! Come help me with this one!" You were jumping up and down trying to reach the zipper on the dress you were wearing, a short and fitted green number that matched the theme of the bachelorette party you were attending tonight (which of course was: to be as slutty as possible).

Katsuki had been in and out of the bedroom to check out your options for the night, but you were a bit annoyed that he seemed more distracted by dinner than he was by you.

He walked in, saying something about the chicken being overcooked, and raised a brow at seeing your not-so-graceful dance as you were still trying to get the zipper up yourself.

"You're never gonna get it. C'mere." He muttered, pulling you closer with a hand to your hip. You were utterly aware of the heat under his fingers as he held you, quickly getting the dress zipped up.

"Don't get food on my dress," you said, checking where he'd touched you for stains.

He grunted. "My hands are perfectly clean. Been having to wash them about five hundred times running back here to help you."

You shot him a sly look. "How else am I supposed to know what to wear if you won't tell me what I look best in?"

He rolled his eyes. "You just want me to compliment you. You know you look gorgeous in all of 'em."

You flashed a coy smile, twisting and twirling for him, showing off your best angles. "Well, what do you think about this one? It's definitely a contender, right?" He nodded, and you narrowed your eyes at him. "So you like this one better than the blue one, right?" Another nod. "Okay, well I have one more to try on. Will you just hang out here for a second? I'll probably need help getting this one zipped, too."

Luckily he didn't wait for you to struggle trying to get the damn zipper down before reaching out in a silent offer, and you quickly shimmied out of the dress before heading to the closet, where a sparkling champagne colored dress that had been a gift from Katsuki’s parents was on a hanger over the door.

You were almost too busy trying to grab the dress to notice the way Katsuki’s eyes hungrily ate you up, and you paused.

You were wearing a new set, a lacy pink bralette and matching panties, but you'd figured he'd seen you in it when you were trying on the last five dresses. Guess not.

You turned to look at him with a raised brow, hand on your hip. "This whole time I'm here prancin' around in these expensive dresses, and you can barely look at me for three seconds together, but this lil thing I got on sale and you're drooling over it."

His gaze snapped up to your face, and he grinned. "Don't know why you're surprised." You rolled your eyes, turning and grabbing the dress, about to shimmy it over your head when you felt his fingers settle on your hips. "What's the rush? S'not like you gotta be there right away."

You tried not to let him see you smirking, feigning annoyance. "I thought you were all concerned with dinner? Wouldn't want you to have to eat dry chicken because I was distracting you."

His breath ghosted over your neck. "Didn't seem to care about distracting me earlier. Everything's pretty much done, anyway." The way his lips whispered over your skin sent a chill up your spine. Even though it was no use, he could always see right through you, you wished your body wasn't so reactive to him. He knew which strings to pull, which buttons to push, to get you to do just as he wants.

He was sucking kisses into your neck, hands snaking around your middle and pulling you even tighter to him. You couldn't help the little groan that tumbled from your lips, leaning into him.

"You're gonna distract me, I gotta get ready." You said, lifting a hand to his cheek. His only response was a light graze of his teeth into your neck. "I'm serious, babe. I gotta be there by 9 to make the party bus."

"Plenty of time." He mumbled against your skin, his fingers dipping below the waistband of your panties.

"Katsuki..." You began, settling your fingers atop his, guiding his hands away so you could pull away and turn to face him. "Much as I'd love to continue, I still have a lot to do to get ready before I leave."

He pursed his lips, obviously disgruntled at being rejected. You couldn't be too surprised, you very rarely told him no. He lifted a hand, reaching up and pulling the hair away from you neck and littering more kisses along your jaw. "I only need ten minutes." His voice was low and gruff, reverberating through your core.

"The goal is to put clothes on, not take them off." You said, though you could feel your resolve dissolving when he pulled you closer with a hand to your hip, and you felt an increasingly growing bulge through his shorts press against you.

Anticipation rushed through to your toes at his low chuckle. "Don't even gotta take anything off. You'll see."

You wondered if he was just going to dry hump you against the door. The prospect excited you, and you couldn't help the soft moan when he started kissing down your neck toward your chest, even if you were trying to feign indifference. His fingertips ghost over the swell of your breasts over the deliciously thin fabric, a chip at your already wavering resolve.

His thumb ran over a nipple, already hard with so little attention, before lightly pinching it. You took your bottom lip in your mouth to stifle the yelp of shock the sensation pulled from you. Watching him as he kissed down your body made a heat pool between your legs.

Even his kisses were possessive, claiming you with nips around your ribs and on your hipbone. He couldn't hide the smirk on his mouth when you jumped with shock when he placed an open mouthed kiss where he knew you were ticklish. "Jerk," the word held zero weight, it was practically a sigh when you felt him trail his finger over your slit, and then you moaned when his thumb rolled over your bundle of nerves.

"Fuck," you leaned your head back against the door. "Fine. Ten minutes."

"Mmhm, s'what I thought." He said, low voice smug as he continued to tease you over your underwear. His other hand dropped from your hip, grabbing you by the knee and hoisting it onto his shoulder.

His thumb moved from your clit, and then he was moving your panties to the side. You looked down.

"Aren't you gonna take them off?" You asked with a quirk of your brow.

He shot you a mean grin. "Nah, told you I wouldn't have to. 'Sides, i wanna see you come with 'em on."

You couldn't help the blush crawling up your face at that, but were spared from a response, because he leaned in, tongue running up your slit and gathering your slick, spreading it around your clit before he sucked it.

As his mouth worked you up, his hands were playing with your hips and thighs, squeezing the flesh there harshly in time with licks that teased your hole.

The coil low in your belly got tighter, but you were craving more of him. "Katsuki," you whined, your hips bucking unexpectedly when his tongue pressed into you. Fuck, at this rate you weren't sure you'd even last ten minutes.

He pulled away, and you let out a noise of complaint at the loss of his mouth. "Yeah, baby?" His voice was sweet, but the gleam in his eye let you know he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

"Want more," You said anyway, pleadingly, canting your hips to coax him back where he'd been.

He smiled wickedly, diving back in, taking your clit back into his mouth. As he sucked, his finger prodded your hole. You clenched in anticipation, and he chuckled against you, the vibration rocking through your whole body.

As his finger slipped inside you, you couldn't help letting out a shaky moan, and your fingers ran through his hair, tugging lightly and prompting a particularly deep thrust of his finger.

"Fuck, Kats--" his name was cut off by your moan at the intrusion of another finger, and you saw his free hand sneak into his shorts, pumping his now fully hard cock. Even with just his fingers, he filled you expertly, twisting and curling to have you clenching your toes.

"Katsuki," you whined. "Fuck, I'm close." You couldn't even bring yourself to tame the way your hips were moving, practically fucking yourself on his tongue and fingers.

His thumb replaced his mouth on your clit as he pulled away to say, "that's it, baby, fucking come for me."

He wanted to go back and suck your clit until you were trembling above him, but when he looked up at you, he knew he wanted to see you fall apart for him. Your cheeks were flushed, mouth open slightly, doing nothing to curb the gasps and sighs tumbling from your mouth freely. Especially the way you were meeting each thrust of his fingers, and finally when your leg began to shake and he saw the orgasm wash over you.

You softly called out his name, crying out repeatedly as the waves of pleasure crashed over you. He continued thrusting his fingers into you, completely addicted to the way you clenched around him, wishing it were his cock you were milking so sweetly.

He slowed to a stop after a while, helping you down from your high. You pushed loose strands of hair from your face, looking down at Katsuki. He pulled his fingers from you, fixing your panties before looking up at you. There was something warm in his expression that made your chest swell, and you desperately wanted to kiss him.

You moved your leg from his shoulder, leaning down to kiss him deeply. His hands settled on your hips, rubbing circles into your skin. He pulled you down until you were straddling his lap, and you ran your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.

"Why're you leaving again?" He joked when you finally pulled away from each other, and you chuckled.

"I'll be back tonight." You said with a smile, even though you were currently trying to convince yourself that you in fact can't ditch your friend's bachelorette party to stay home and fuck your boyfriend. "Don't worry, I'll be all drunk and horny and we can continue where we left off. I'll be sure sure show you just how grateful I am to you." You rolled your hips against his lap.

You quickly checked the clock on your bedside table before looking back at him. "We have time to take care of you before I really gotta start getting ready." You offered, running your fingers down his shirt front and teasing the waistband of his shorts.

He smirked. "Came just seeing you lose your mind on my hand like that. 'And anyway," he began, pinching your hips between his fingers. "I wanna fucking ruin these panties tonight, an' I wanna make sure you can take it."

You bit your lip, a thrill of excitment rushing through you. He always knew just what to say to make you want to hole up in your bedroom and never leave.

"Bet I could last longer than you." You teased, leaning in for a kiss, nibbling on his lip as you pulled away.

He grinned. "You're on."

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Tysm for reading!!! I hope yall liked this lil one shot! ❤️/comments/rbs always appreciated 😊

taglist: @asmaechan @animexholic @justanothernpcartist @inumakicanrailme

masterlist

#bakugou katsuki #mha bakugou #bakugo smut #mha smut #katsuki bakugou #bakugo fluff #bnha smut #bnha bakugou #bnha fanfiction #my hero x reader #bakugo x y/n #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou #bakugo x chubby reader #bakugo x female reader

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somethinginthewayiam · 1 year

Text

Dress-up

pairing: Chibs Telford x plus-size reader

words: 2477

warnings: there is 18+ content throughout (minors DNI), use of alcohol, body insecurities and self-doubt

Summary: another party at the clubhouse but a brand new outfit with the help of Lyla. Hopefully you will get Chibs’ attention...

link to my masterlist and previous parts

a/n: this is the dress Y/N is wearing. The model is no indication for reader, it’s only about the dress.

It was your first time back at the clubhouse since your late night at the warehouse with Chibs. You had seen him at the warehouse a couple of times, always being flirty, chatting a bit, you’ve gotten quite friendly with him. A bit too friend-like for your taste, though.

You had asked Lyla for help to dress more clubhouse appropriate and to gain Chibs’ attention. It didn’t take her long to catch on to your little thing for him and you needed someone to finally talk to about that night. You had never done anything like it in your life.

“I like the two of you together, I could see this happening”, she said as she looked through the clothing rack at the warehouse. “There is nothing happening, Lyla. We just had sex, once”, you clarified, sitting in her make-up chair, applying some eyeliner.

“But you want it to happen again”, that wasn’t a question. “Of course, I do, it was fucking awesome. And not just because I was a bit drunk”, you said and got working on your other eye.

“Okay, I gotta ask. How big is he?”, Lyla asked you and turned around from the clothing rack. You looked at her through the mirror of the dressing table. “You’re not seriously gonna think that I’ll answer that?”, you asked and raised an eyebrow at her.

“You don’t have to say anything. I’ll just move my hands and you say stop”, she suggested and started by putting her hands together. She slowly moved her hands away from each other. You chuckled and got back to work on your eye make-up while she kept moving her hands away from each other. “Oh, my, Y/N. I’m glad you are still able to walk”, she joked and got back to finding you an outfit.

“I really appreciate the help, Lyla, but I don’t think you’ll find anything here that’ll fit me”, you said and put finishing touches on your lips with some red lipstick.

“No, I know there is something for you. We used it in a shoot once”, she said and kept looking through the clothes. You put the lipstick down and turned around. You were only wearing your black, lacy panties and a strapless bra which wasn’t doing much without the straps but you felt better wearing it, all hid under a silky robe.

“You want me to wear porn clothes?”, you asked in disbelief. “It’s just a dress used in a porn photoshoot, no need to freak out about it”, Lyla rolled her eyes at you. For working at a porn productions office and witnessing the making of porn pretty much every day, you could still be a little presumptuous about it. “Sorry”, you said sheepishly.

“Ha! Found it”, she said and pulled out a black faux-leather dress. “You would have to cover my whole body in Vaseline to get me in there”, you said as you saw the thing in Lyla’s hands. “I bet Chibs would like to help you with that”, she joked with a wink and handed you the dress.

“It got cotton lining, you’ll slip just in. And more importantly, slip out just as easily”, she said and wiggled her eyebrows at you.

Since it was only Lyla and you at the warehouse, you just untied your robe and let it slip off your shoulders. You opened the zipper on the back and stepped in. You pulled the dress up, struggling a bit at the hips and slipped your arms into the mini-sleeves. The skirt ended only halfway down your thighs and since it was a wavy, loosely fitted skirt, it revealed even more when you were walking.

It hugged your waist nicely and showed off your hourglass figure. Your shoulders were bare and the broad straps ran around your upper arms, working as little sleeves.

“Could you zip me up?”, you asked Lyla for help. You sucked your belly in as she pulled the zipper up in one pull. It was a bit tight around your boobs as was almost everything you had ever worn. You pushed them into place and smoothed out the fabric.

“Fuck, I’m good. You look amazing, Y/N”, Lyla called out when she looked you up and down. You turned around to the body length mirror and took a look at yourself.

You looked different, that’s for sure. And for a second you also thought that you looked kinda hot, but then your eyes wandered over every region you deemed problematic about your body and the good feeling washed away just as quickly.

“I feel like it’s Halloween and I’m playing dress-up”, you said and pulled at the skirt of your dress to make it longer. “Nonsense. Here, put these shoes on and let’s go”, she said and handed you some black wedges with straps across your insteps and ankles.

With a deep sigh, you complied and put the shoes on. You took a look in the mirror once more and fluffed up your long, wavy hair before Lyla led you out to her car to drive over to the clubhouse.

You were beyond nervous when you drove onto the lot. What Chibs would think of your outfit was the least of your worries right now as you were more terrified of how people would stare and make fun of you. At least, that’s what you were convinced would happen.

“Ready?”, Lyla asked when she had parked her car. “No”, you answered truthfully. “Alright, then let’s go”, she patted your thigh and got out of her car.

You took another deep breath and got out as well. You immediately pulled at your skirt again before you followed Lyla over to the clubhouse entrance. A few people were sitting outside on the benches, drinking, chatting and laughing together. You didn’t see any familiar faces but Lyla greeted a few people as you were walking by. Some turned their heads to see who had arrived but nobody said anything to you.

“We definitely have to get a few drinks into you to ease you up”, Lyla said when she saw the frozen smile on your face and the beads of anxious sweat on your forehead. She walked straight over to the bar where Chucky was handing out drinks. You took a look around the house and didn’t see any of the usual Sons hanging around.

“Chucky, where are Jax and the others?”, Lyla asked before you could. “They’re having a meeting in the chapel. They’re already in there for a while”, he answered.

“Hey, Chucky, I can take over if you want”, you suggested, but it was more like a request. Behind the bar was kind of a safe space for you. It was a surrounding you knew, it gave you a little bit of authority and for today, it was ideal to hide all the parts of your body your dress didn’t.

“You’re not supposed to work tonight, you’re supposed to have fun”, Lyla said as she sat down on one of the bar stools. “I’m having fun doing this. If Chucky will have me as his co-bartender tonight, of course”, you turned to him. “I accept that”, he nodded a bit eagerly and made you laugh.

“May I say, the delight of your appearance warms my heart”, he added out of nowhere. “That is very nice of you, Chucky, thank you”, you said and squeezed his arm. He blushed a little bit and looked away. “I’ll get new beer from the storage”, he said and rushed off to the room behind the bar. You continued filling the cooler and handing out your first beers and drinks of the night.

You noticed that a few of the liquor bottles were almost empty. You crouched down to look in the cabinets under the bar if you would find any new bottles before you had to ask Chucky to check the back.

From down there, you could hear how the doors of the chapel opened and the Sons came strutting out. The noise in the clubhouse immediately increased with chatter and the music even turned up.

You suddenly got up and scared Bobby, who was sitting right across from you. Nobody had seen you back there yet.

“Hey, boss”, you said and could see Bobby almost falling off his seat. “Good gracious, doll. Where do you come from?”, Bobby called out. You had to hold back a laugh as you pushed a fresh bottle of beer over to him as an apology. “I’m helping Chucky behind the bar. We’re a good team”, you said and put an arm around his shoulders. In your high heels, you were the same height as him. The other guys were all standing around the bar, waiting for their drinks.

“She’s hiding behind the bar instead of showing off her new outfit”, Lyla chimed in. “No, stop it, Lyla. I’m not hiding”, you waved it off. “Then come around that counter and show the guys what you’re working with today”, she said as she came around the counter and pushed you out from behind it.

You really didn’t want to do it, but you sucked it up, put on a big smile and walked out like you had an ounce of confidence in your body.

“So, what do you say, boys? Am I earning some tips tonight?”, you joked and paraded around in your high heels. “Look at that ba-ba-booty on that one”, Tig said and made grabbing motions at your ass. “You look hot”, Juice confirmed with a wide grin. “The tips will come flying in tonight”, Jax commented with a smile and grabbed a beer off the counter that Chucky had put there.

“Look, you even made Happy happy”, Tig pointed at Happy at the other end of the bar who looked at you with a normal smile. At least normal for other people. For Happy, that was a wide grin.

“Thanks, Happy. That smile means a lot to me”, you walked over and put your arm around his shoulders, squeezing into his side and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Oops, sorry”, you giggled as you saw the stains of red lipstick on his skin and wiped it off with your thumb. These guys made it easy to flirt and joke around.

“Alright, cut it out now, you’re already drinking for free. You can turn the charms off now”, you told them, feeling a little overwhelmed by their compliments. The tiny voice in the back of your head trying to convince you that they just wanted to be nice and that Lyla pretty much begged them to say those compliments.

“I can’t turn that off, I was born with it, baby”, Tig said with a smug tone as he came over to you, put his hands on your hips and pressed a light kiss to your cheek. You liked Tig but that made you feel kind of weird. “Alright, big guy, I got it”, you patted his chest and walked around him and back behind the bar.

From that point of view, you watched Chibs grabbing a bottle of beer from the counter as well, throwing you an indecisive look and walking over to the wall across the bar, getting into a conversation with two guys sitting there.

You got back to preparing drinks, trying not to feel discouraged that he seemingly had nothing to say about your appearance since you were doing this all for him. You put on your brightest smile and kept on chatting with Lyla and some people at the bar.

Chibs might have been across the room from you but he kept an eye on you the whole time.

A little while later, you noticed that his bottle was empty, so you poured him a Jameson and asked Chucky to take over the bar again.

“Here you go”, you said and put the drink in his hand. “Thanks, darlin’”, he said and took a sip. You had downed a shot of Whiskey before you came over here to work up some courage.

“Can I ask you for something?”, you began. With a nod of his chin, he told you to continue. “Can you tell me I look good and not as weird as I feel?”, you whined to Chibs and pulled a face.

You pulled at the hem of your skirt again, trying to magically make it longer than it was. “I still feel like I’m playing dress-up”, you huffed.

“Don’t you gals have each other for that?”, he asked back with a raised eyebrow and took a sip of his drink.

“Lyla said I look good but I think she just wants to be nice”, you waved it off and shrugged your shoulders. “And the comments from the guys are not enough?”, he asked further. “They were also nice, but I haven’t heard anything from you”, you explained and made a pause for him to hand out his compliment but he just looked at you. You rolled your eyes and sighed out loud.

“I’m also asking you ‘cause you’re honest, you don’t give a shite about being nice”, you added with a smirk as you imitated his accent.

Chibs cocked his head to the side, scanning your face as if he was contemplating if he would answer you or not.

Then he leaned down to your ear and said, “You look fuckin’ gorgeous, lass. And if I wasn’t such a gentleman, I’d take ya right fuckin’ there on the pool table.” He leaned back up and against the wall behind him.

His words made you swallow hard but it was exactly the kind of validation you were hoping to get from him tonight. You looked up at Chibs with big eyes, seemingly shocked by his comment.

“Since when are you a gentleman?”, you asked and a smirk appeared in the corner of your lips.

“Aye, ya right”, he answered. He slammed his glass on a surface near him and the next second, his lips were on yours.

Your hands gripped his kutte in an automatic reaction and pressed your body against his. One of his arms snaked around you and held you in place, making sure you’re not pulling away too soon.

You felt him pushing a leg between yours and your hips involuntarily started grinding into him, your mind seemingly completely blocking out that you were at a party at the clubhouse, surrounded by people.

He pushed you back with his body and for a moment you were worried that he would actually follow through on his comment, but then he turned you around by your shoulders and put an arm around them.

“Have you ever seen the rest of the clubhouse?”, he said in a voice louder than necessary, making sure that nobody came looking for him in the next 40 minutes or so.

next part Dress down

#sons of anarchy #soa #chibs telford #chibs telford x plus-size reader #chibs telford x reader

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foreverisntenough · 20 days

Text

- YOU’RE MINE -

Summary: While you daydreamed about his face an ocean apart, he had no idea what yours was about to do to him. With a twist of fate and the heat of summer, a new relationship would completely ransack his heart - Everyday heavy with the thought of one another, neither of you were going to let the unexpected love of your life go. You were going to be his, you were his, and you were going to stay his.

Warnings: This series will contain fluff, suggestion, smut (unprotected sex,) mentions of pregnancy, love bombing, occasionally sad, kind of angsty, alcohol consumption - not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: I hope you like it! There will definitely be more parts (don’t know how many just yet though.)

INDEX

Chapter 25 - ‘You’re Mine’

You laid outside in the sun as the time started to tick by and get closer to when you needed to pack up and head to the airport. The whole group was flying back together including the Birmingham boys so it would be a little bit more interesting of a flight home but you’d worry about Lauren’s love life later because right now you stared at a messy room you needed to somehow get back into your bags. You lazily threw your stuff back in your suitcase sitting on the floor of your room while Trent laid doing nothing on the bed just following your movements.

“Baby…” he cooed, laughing a little watching you move around struggling with your packing.

“Yeah huh?” You sang back trying to sit on your suitcase now for it to close.

“Need help?” He raised his eyebrow looking at you with a sly smile. He laughed a little more as you pulled at the zipper.

“Ermm… maybe, yeah, T.” You giggled back at him sheepishly, embarrassed trying to pull the zipper again and failing so you stood up and stared back at him with a little pout.

“Alright c’mon move, let me do it.” He giggled when you sat down on the silver rimowa pressing it closed. You ran your hands up Trent’s toned legs as he stood next to you leaned over to zip it. You hummed feeling his muscles underneath your hands. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, you’re very sexy, T.” You squeezed both your hands on his strong thighs igniting a fire in your stomach. God, he looked so good all the time and the shorts he was currently in were just doing something for you. You kissed his skin softly before he reached under your arms and pulled you up to stand.

“C’mere.” He grunted picking you up. “All set, pretty girl.” He winked, pulling your body into him. “Gotta get going soon. Gonna miss it here?” He cooed swaying back and forth with you in his arms humming.

“Thank you. Errmm I don’t know you know…” you thought a little bit more about your holiday. It started off so terribly (thank you Chase) but it ended so wonderful in the encasement of Trent’s scent as his hands caressed your stomach dreaming of getting started on your baby journey. “I think I’m happy to be going home. Want to be back in our little world. Miss the dogs” you giggled. “What about you, baby?”

“Don’t know, will miss you in those little bikinis.” He cheekily smiled at you, imagining you in a lot less clothing then you were currently in. You were in a little cropped baby tee and trousers. His fingers came to hook around the belt loops pulling at the material and you some.

“I can still wear those at home, T… we do have a pool. It’s summer.” You giggled stepping out of his embrace walking to the dresser to your tote bag filled with all your flight essentials again to double check for your passport. He followed you and pressed his chest against your back. His hands drifting down your sides and then in between you two to squeeze your ass cheeks.

“Yeah… well I expect to see that immediately. Alright?” You just hummed in response rolling your head back giving him more room to come and kiss your neck and that he did.

You jogged up the stairs off the tarmac to board the plane followed by Trent holding your bag kindly as you giggled with Lauren. After take off he sent you a wink queuing you to scurry over to him to cuddle and get more comfortable. Your lips were glued to him the second you sat down just loving kissing and sucking on his neck subtly in your own world. All the boys were exhausted from the late night, half were asleep but it seemed Marcel was up keeping an eye on Lauren’s moves. You clocked it but when Trent’s hands caressed your skin under your top you lost the ability to focus quickly.

“I love you, baby. Can’t wait to get you home.” Trent whispered in your ear as his hands started to slip lower and lower before playing with the waistband of your trousers. His fingers slid underneath it and started to get awfully close to your core. God, if you weren’t on the plane with his little brother and closest friends you would’ve let him keep going but you grabbed at his wrist giggling trying not to push your core down any further on his lap and change your own mind.

“Baby, baby, baby… can’t do that to me right now.” You said placing kisses on his neck still just now with a sly smile knowing he wanted you.

“Then you…” he said, pulling his body further away from you. Distancing your faces, so he could look you dead in the eye. “You cannot keep sucking on my neck like that. Driving me mad, beautiful. Not being very fair.” His face was serious. He moved quick to come and suck on your neck dramatically mocking what you were doing to him then pulling away. You couldn’t suppress your giggle very well at the wet feeling of his lips and inadvertently drew the attention of Lauren. She rolled her eyes and shook her head at you two before standing up and walking over to the seat that was facing you and Trent. She sat and pulled her legs up close to her body, settling in.

“Soooooo…” she cooed, eyes widening with smugness.

“What?” You giggled as Trent squeezed your waist tightly placing his head on your shoulder. He looked at Lauren with inquiry.

“No, no, nothing. Just was curious about a little rumour I’ve been hearing about.” She smirked, raising her eyebrows. Okay, so you definitely confided in Lauren plenty of times about how you were thinking about a baby with Trent but seemingly she and George had had their own conversation about the insights they had gotten from both of you separately and now compiled them to make one narrative. In turn, she was awfully excited to hear you were going home to ‘start’ according to him.

“A rumour huh?” Trent asked curiously as his hand instinctively rubbed over your exposed stomach.

“Yeah T… a rumour and I’m pretty sure you’re thinking about it right now.” Lauren said somehow even more smug watching his big hands move over your soft, currently empty and flat tummy. You shook your head with a smile at their little back and forth banter.

“Shhhh.” You shushed Lauren. “This is an us thing… not an everybody thing, besides you are in a much more interesting situation I’m curious to know about.” You giggled.

“More interesting than having a…” she started to talk but Trent cut her off.

“Lauren… we’ll let you know, alright?” He laughed dismissing the conversation. “Y/N’s right, what’s the play? If you sit with either of them on this flight… I mean, is that you choosing?” Trent pushed wanting to know if Lauren had made some sort of decision between Jude and Marcel.

“No! Not choosing. We’re all fine. They’re just different people. Provide different things” She laughed, dropping her head in her hands. Lauren was rarely embarrassed so you were surprised to see her flustered by this.

“Well let’s see what they think! Go find out Laur and we’ll watch. We can put a wager on it. Inflight entertainment.” You giggled looking over Lauren to see Jude on his phone, unaware you were about to use him in a game.

“Watch what? They aren’t going to do anything on the plane.” Lauren laughed again, Trent joining her both knowing that Jude and Marcel would most definitely not be opposed to doing something on the plane.

“Go sit with each of them and if they kiss you, make a move, whatever… which I know both of them will try then hmmm you owe me £100 and if they don’t like you think, I don’t know, you win something and ultimately then we know who's interested.” You shrugged squinting at her then peered around the plane to find where Marcel had gone.

“Fine.” She smiled deviously. “They won’t, so when I win… I get to be first to know, you two have to tell me first and you can name her Lauren.” She smiled big.

“I’ll give you the first bit, draw the line at the name.” You giggled. Watching Lauren get up from her seat as Trent pressed a kiss to your cheek. She walked over and sat on a couch pretending to mind her own business when she worked her normal charm throwing a soft smile at Marcel. It wasn’t long before he came over and sat next to Lauren. She slyly slouched in her seat a little more to lean her body onto his. You watched him lean over and whisper in her ear. She giggled and gently shut her eyes clearly enjoying whatever he had to say. Her hand sliding up his thigh.

“Yeah, this is between you two, I don’t want to watch this.” Trent said, grabbing his iPad to start playing a game. He felt nauseous watching Marcel put in work on any girl, let alone Lauren. You laughed and nodded, pressing a sensual kiss on his neck. He pulled away from you and gave you a stern look.

“Sorry!” You whispered shyly. “It’s a habit.” You joked looking back at Lauren who was whispering some sort of response in Marcel’s ear. You held your stare a little longer until she started to plant kisses on his skin working down his neck. You rolled your eyes. She couldn’t help herself. She lost the bet within the first round but it was a little funny. She clearly had some type of feelings for the boy. Marcel got up to go play a game with George and Lauren stood up to go to the bathroom a while later on. When she walked down the aisle it took little to no time at all for Jude to pull at her waist. She stumbled a little bit and ended up in his lap. His lips were on her bare shoulder almost immediately.

“When do you leave England?” He whispered as she squirmed trying to settle the horny monster Marcel had ignited in her.

“Few hours after we land, you?” She cooed now trying to look forward and ignore his advances.

“Same, so come with me instead.” Jude commanded with a particularly seductive bite to the nape of her neck. Lauren had a hard time stifling a gasp.

“Come with you where?” She smiled a little at the idea of going anywhere with him right now. Jude played her like a fiddle. It was so easy for him and she loved being played with.

“Just come to Spain, yeah? I’ll move your flight, you can head home after you spend the week with me there.” Her eyes widened at the offer. She was shocked he was trying to continue this past holiday. It confused her more, she really had dug herself quite a hole.

“I can’t…” she started talking when his hands caressed her soft skin higher and higher up her leg causing Lauren to quickly change her mind. “Fine, but we can’t tell anyone, they’ll make a big deal out of it.” She turned to face Jude a little taken aback for a moment forgetting his prominent bone structure.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He hushed her. You shook your head unaware of the plans being made and diverted your attention back to the silly little game Trent was playing and cuddled some more into him. He hummed at your touch.

“What are we going to do?” Lauren whispered to Jude needing a little more information. He moved his lips behind her ear some and then spoke.

“What I want to do right now but can’t.” She just nodded trying to downplay her excitement. Lauren clearly lost the bet so you sent her a Venmo request. ‘Make up your mind 😘’ you teased. You settled in more and fell asleep on Trent’s chest. You have no idea what everyone else did during the rest of the flight but you began to wake up to sweet kisses all over your face as the plane started to descend. You smiled and shuffled a little in his lap and picked up your phone, finally starting to get better service and opened Instagram mindlessly. Your eyes widened and you felt sick.

“Baby…? You okay, beautiful?” Trent cooed in your ear seeing your expression change, your body go stiff. You didn’t respond as you clutched your phone. You looked down at your notifications practically about to break your phone. You went to your profile and saw your measly 5,000 followers massed to over 250k since the time you had taken off in Greece.

“T…” you mumbled. You held up your phone for him to look.

“Oh wow… well, that’s sort of what you wanted, innit?” He joked trying to lessen the shock with some humor but your look of concern didn’t budge.

“T…” you groaned looking at him wide eyed.

“Alright, alright, it’s fine. Let’s put your instagram on private for now till we can talk to Tyler.” He told you kindly with a kiss to your forehead before grabbing your phone to do it for you.

“Y/N…” Lauren sheepishly called out from further down the plane. You picked your head up to look at her. “My instagram is being ransacked right now… my DMs are going insane with people asking for information about you.” She talked lowly. You winced hearing it. Trent felt your body shudder so he spoke before you did.

“Laur, I hate to do this, but can you just not respond to anything until we figure out what we’re doing?” Trent hesitantly asked her, feeling horrible about monitoring someone else's actions on social media.

“No, no, course.” Lauren cooed unphased but she saw your face drop more. “It’s gonna be fine. You were a public profile to begin with Y/N. You were never hiding. Try not to worry!” She said reminding you of the facts, walking over to you to give you a hug.

“Baby, our relationship was never a secret. Hmm? Lauren’s right, it's all gonna be fine.” He pressed a kiss to your temple. You just hummed, switching off your phone and throwing it in your bag before you hid your face in his neck. His hands stroked up and down your spine. As you calmed, Trent slyly texted Tyler giving him a heads up about the arising situation. He wasn’t thrilled but as expected he had it sorted and would handle it. You landed safely back in England. It was a sunny warm welcome, despite feeling like there was a cloud over your head at the moment. You stood on the ground hugging Trent’s waist, your head pressed against him as George explained something about airplanes to the group. You don’t really know what he was on about, your head was completely gone at the minute. The only thing keeping you sane was Trent’s hands on your skin and the thought of being back in your bed. Lauren walked over to you wheeling her suitcase and pinched at your waist.

“Gonna miss me?” She cooed with a soft smile.

“What will I do for entertainment now?” You cheekily responded, returning the soft smile. “Do you want us to help you get to your gate or anything?” You asked sweetly, pulling your head off Trent.

“No, no, erm… I’m good. I actually think.” Lauren was cut off by an interrupting Jude.

“You wanna get going?” He whispered as his big hand gripped her tiny waist. She smiled greedily up at him, he returned the lustful look while you and Trent’s eyes widened.

“Okay…” you said, breaking their moment. Trent’s brows furrowed looking at them with confusion. You both were a little confused when they made such a big plan to leave together.

“I haven’t been to Spain in ages. It’s nothing!” She poorly tried to defend herself. She didn’t need to defend herself to begin with but in any case she did it poorly.

“The entertainment continues…” You joked rolling your eyes at her. “Call me, okay?” Giving her a bone crushing hug. You were somewhat surprised at Marcel's indifference to Lauren at the moment but then again you didn’t really understand their whole thing from the start. I guess she was right, it was ‘all fine.’ You said your goodbyes to everyone else gradually and nestled into the back of the car with Trent. When you finally pulled down your drive Trent asked if you would go open the front door while he got the bags. You obliged and dragged your very tired body up to it. You made it inside and he followed. Even though it was a pet peeve of yours you just let Trent drop the bags at the front door, leaving them there for now.

“Baby…” you pouted your lips a little.

“Yeah?” He smiled but was equally as tired as you so it was soft.

“I’m glad we’re home…” You said walking towards him then running your hands over his chest dragging your nails along the fabric of his shirt.

“Me too.” He cooed, pressing a kiss on your neck. He always managed to find the most sensitive spot every time and it made your heart beat faster. You purred as his hands ghosted over your skin. The only thing in your mind at the moment was the feeling of his hands trailing down your back, squeezing your ass. He gripped underneath it lifting you up. You gasped a little and wrapped your legs around him. Your arms came to drape around his neck. Since the plane ride when he had his hands practically down your trousers you had built up a lot of need for him throughout the day. He walked you into your living room. He sat back down onto the couch. His legs wide and a glint in his eyes.

“I love you so much” you whispered close to his face. “I want to be close to you, T” You shifted in his hold, grinding down on his lap. He was perfect and you wanted him. You cupped his face and pulled his lips to yours as you straddled him. Any semblance of composure you had was gone as you moaned into his mouth the moment your lips pressed against each other. He tasted amazing, he always had such a sweet flavor to him. The kiss was passionate, hot, heavy, and moving towards messy. He pulled away for a torturous moment to pull his shirt off over his head. You lifted your arms and he dragged your shirt off after his. He slid his hands around your waist slowly and gripped your ass cheeks eliciting another moan from you. He stripped the remainder of your clothes and looked at you completely naked on top of him. He licked his lips before he dropped his head, leaning you back, putting his lips onto one of your tits. He grazed your nipple with his teeth before nibbling and sucking on it.

“T..” You moaned again feeling his lips on you as you arched your back. You leaned into him further pushing your pulsing core down onto his hard cock. He was the one moaning now at the sensation of your wet pussy on him. You could feel Trent get harder and harder underneath you.

“Fuck, baby. You’re so perfect. Your tits are so perfect. God, you’re fucking gorgeous.” He rambled lost, pulling away from your boobs for a moment mesmerized. He knew he was completely whipped. He was obsessed with you and definitely obsessed with your body. You continued to roll your hips down on him but allowed him to take control of you. You liked him to take control. Trent switched boobs, making sure to give each the same treatment. Moments like this felt like a dream, a fever dream, a fever dream you never ever wanted to wake up from. Not now, not ever.

“T, you’re so good. Oh my god. I love you. You feel so good.” You rambled just the same back. Your eyelids felt heavy. You smiled at him incredibly turned on. He looked at you and he thought he could cum just seeing the beautiful lustful expression on your face.

“No one else is ever allowed to touch you, baby. You’re fucking all mine.” You gasped at his possessiveness and the feeling of his cock abruptly sliding inside your wet pussy. You slowly but gradually sank down on Trent’s length. The sounds your slick made were so lewd, squelch after squelch. It was tedious and repetitive. You grinded forward rubbing your clit against him. Suddenly he spanked your ass hard and you felt yourself get much wetter. You could only nod your head at Trent’s statement. Your breaths were growing rapid. After tantalizing minutes, you started feeling your orgasm coming. The sound of his cock pulping in and out of you brought you that much closer to the edge. When he moved his thumb to play with your clit you could only feel pleasure, numb to everything else happening in the world except him; in front of you now. The pressure in your stomach started to build up. Your toes curled. His upwards thrusts started to falter, you rutting back and forth against him got sloppy. He stared up at you with dilated pupils sucking his teeth before you felt his cock twitch a little. “Want to get you pregnant, baby.” He begged into your ear. His raspy low voice sent pleasure coursing through your body. He knew the words would set you on fire. He leaned his face closer to you when his hands feverishly pulled you into a messy kiss. He pumped his cock into so deep your eyes began to water. You stared at him with so much love in your eyes, it felt like such an intimate moment. Trent felt the same. Like his cock, Trent felt his heart could burst at any moment. He loved you so much, loved you desperately.

“Want you to fill me up, T. Please please get me pregnant. Let me cum all over your cock while you cum inside me please.” You whined begging and babbling. Trent’s thrusts became erratic, both your highs approaching fast. Your eyes rolled back. Your legs spread on top of him were quivering.

“Oh fuck, baby. Holy shit. I’m gonna cum, baby. I love you fuck ffuck.” He stuttered as you squeezed his cock. He shuddered and you felt your pussy spasm around him. You dug your nails into his skin leaving little crescent marks on his tan body. He pumped you full of his cum, grunting. You clenched tighter taking every bit of him, so much you felt it oozing out of you. He thrusted a few more times slow and languid as you both finished. He laid his head on your tits tired. You were both exhausted, panting, he grabbed your body to be even closer together. You stayed clung to him for some time just happy in his embrace. Over an hour later though you found yourself still naked on the couch with him. You laid cuddled on his chest breathing a little better now. Your previously sweaty body stuck to his skin was starting to cool as his hands moved over your back drawing shapes. You nuzzled your face into the nape of his neck humming at his scent and warmth.

“I like this” Trent spoke softly and vaguely. You didn’t move your head, you just hummed again but with more of a curious tone so he answered you. “You… naked, in our home, alone, with me… I like it just like this.” He murmured quietly, placing a kiss in your hair. His hands moved a little slower up your spine. You couldn’t help but smile at how perfect he was. How safe he made you feel, how much better he had made your life.

“I love you.” You whispered into his skin.

“I love you more” he echoed you. His voice vibrated his chest a little beneath you. The sound of his voice lulled you into further bliss. He was your whole world. You moved ever so slightly to lay down, still on top of him but just a little more snuggly with your head on his chest tucked under a blanket. He held you in comfortable silence on the couch loving being back home with you.

“Are you happy, T?” You broke that silence. Trent closed his eyes softly smiling at your question. Sometimes he couldn’t wrap his head around how sweet you were. You asked questions so innocently when you genuinely wanted to know about something and it made his heart skip a beat. You were so kind and so perfect for him. He felt it the first time he met you that he just wanted to take care of you, protect you, love you. God, did he love you. He loved you so much it made him sick sometimes imagining that you both had lives without each other before.

“With you in my arms, absolutely.” He responded to you softly. You giggled a little, your cheeks filling and going a little pink. You nuzzled in a little further and he pulled you tighter to him, giving you another kiss.

“You’re cheesy.” You kept giggling. He loved to hear you laugh. The house was quiet and the sound of your bubbling laugh warmed his heart. He wanted this, this moment, this sound, this girl, this feeling forever.

“Honest too” he cooed back at you, pressing another kiss to you. He laughed a little, bringing his hand up your spine to the back of your neck. His hand wrapping under your jaw, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “Are you happy?” He asked hesitantly because he was so happy in this moment he didn’t want to entertain the possibility that you weren’t feeling what he was but deep down he knew he made you as happy so he asked anyway.

“In your arms…” you teased, kissing his wrist. You fluttered your eyes open to look up at him through your eyelashes when he started moving you.

“Funny… C’mere” he rolled his eyes at you mocking him and rolled your body over as he sat up right, leaning back into the couch cushions. He pulled you to sit in between his legs, your back to his chest. You got more settled as he slipped his hands around your waist, his big hands coming to rub your stomach. He kissed behind your ear before he placed his chin on your shoulder. “You want a girl or boy?” He spoke quietly into your ear as you nestled back into him. Your hands over his on your stomach.

“Just a baby is good by me… I’d like to get there first.” You laughed a little at your own joke but hummed feeling his warm hands on you then again thinking about the sex you just had possibly leading to a baby.

“Yeah but I’m imagining it. What’d you call it? Manifesting, innit?” He talked a little faster now coming out of an orgasmic haze. You laughed at him trying to talk about manifestations when you had mentioned it maybe only once before. It was cute he listened so carefully though. He sat up a little further and pulled your body with him.

“Yeah, that’s it. Manifesting.” You giggled more. “I don’t care though ultimately but in any case I wouldn’t be upset if they looked just like you, pretty boy.” You cooed, bringing your hand up behind you to stroke his cheek.

“Oh Yeah?” He smiled flattered by your touch and your words. “I don’t know, baby, I think I want them to look mostly like you. You’re beautiful. I like your nose…” he thought a little more quietly. “I like your eyes…your… I like” he kept rambling random body parts as you started to feel more and more sleepy, you could only hear every couple words when his voice just started to fade out, your eyes closing. Trent wrapped his strong arms around you and held a kiss to your head as he held you tightly as the night crept in. Trent carried you upstairs sweetly. He tucked you into your bed gently before climbing in himself and pulling you into his embrace.

“So so perfect, baby. Want to have you forever” he whispered into your hair. “Love you so much” He continued through a yawn bringing your body tighter to his before he fell asleep with his head nestled in the nape of your neck.

You woke up when you heard Trent’s phone continually ringing on the bedside table. You pressed your lips to his bare chest trying to wake him up softly with a kiss.

“Baby?” You cooed, sliding your hand from its current place on his abs up towards his shoulders. Your hand squeezed him a little as you spoke again. “T, your phone.” He shifted a little beneath you and let out a moan but just pulled you closer to him not opening his eyes any. His phone rang again. The noise was starting to drive you crazy and it confused you how it didn’t seem to bother him in the slightest. “Sleepy boy… can I at least see who it is?” He hummed a yeah.

“Just answer f’me, baby.” He moaned. You nodded and reached over him and grabbed his phone coming to lay on his chest again with the phone to your ear. You answered and it was Tyler. Suddenly the reminder of your sudden Instagram exposure pinged in your head.

“I’ll be there in like 15, alright?” Tyler's voice muffled through the speaker against your ear. Trent started to wake up, his hands inching down your body until he was palming your ass. Kneading it. His lips were on your neck. You lost track of any thoughts you had in your head. You let out a silent gasp when he nibbled a little on your neck.

“Hang up the phonnnee.” He groaned in an incredibly sexy morning voice. You heard Tyler say your name again through the phone when you didn’t respond.

“Yeah, yeah, see you then.” You barely got out the words in a squeaky voice flustered under Trent’s touch. You found yourself 30 minutes later heavily breathing under Trent. He had 5 missed calls from Tyler who was now unimpressed sitting at your kitchen island.

“Sorry, mate!” Trent said, jogging down the stairs, seeing Tyler slouched on his phone waiting impatiently.

“You’re not, but it’s all good, bro. You alright?” Tyler spoke, rolling his eyes, turning to see Trent pull a t-shirt over his head rushed as he came into the room.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Definitely good.” Trent cooed while walking around the island to the refrigerator with a silly smile on his face after his morning with you.

“Yeah? I’m sure.” Tyler quipped. “Y/N coming down? He asked looking at Trent who grabbed a water and was chugging it down. He gasped a little as he finished it

“Think so.” Trent said just as he saw you come gliding down the stairs. You smiled coyly and licked your lips seeing Trent in the kitchen send you a wink. You skipped into the kitchen wearing a shirt of Trent’s wrapping your arms around his waist. “Good morninggg.” He cooed as you looked up at him. He pressed a sloppy kiss to your forehead and you squinted your eyes at the wet feeling.

“I think you already said good morning.” You giggled, squeezing him a little tighter alluding to the fun you had after you hung up on Tyler before turning your head to him whose unimpressed face had yet to change.

“Yeah, gross. Erm… I would loved to ask about the trip but obviously we have to talk about the Instagram first. It’s not what any of us feel like doing this morning, I know that but…” Trent guided you back around the island to sit on the stools next to Tyler. “Good thing is… it really isn’t a big deal.” He said making you feel just a little better.

•

Thank you for continuing reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter / series … 🤍

Next part - Chapter 26 xx

#trent alexander arnold x reader #trent alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold imagines #you’re mine fic #taa x reader

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glittercake · 9 months

Note

would you ever write more sam in lingerie? 🫣

Here you go, Anon:

E | 800w | some more lingerie here | and another one here.

Getting undressed after missions is honestly the highlight of Bucky’s day. He can't wait to get rid of all the straps and leather and buckles that protect and bind him, kick his boots off and feel the cold tile under his feet.

Sam’s quick to unbuckle the suit, too. And, alright, perhaps Bucky lied. This has got to be the highlight of his day. He always loves watching Sam suit-down, watching his worn knuckles work that zip open from his neck to his navel. The way he lets the top half hang around his waist while he stretches his arms and cracks his neck. It’s enough spank bank material for a lifetime. Never mind that he gets to take Sam home every night, have him all to himself in all kinds of dirty ways.

But tonight, when Sam slides the zipper down, Bucky’s in for something else entirely.

At first he’s not sure he’s seeing correctly. He is one hundred and seven goddamn years old and maybe all those years are finally catching up to him.

He squints, tilts his head sideways, but then Sam catches him looking and smirks, and Bucky just knows he’s not mistaken.

Because, yeah, underneath the stealthy navy blue and muted silver vibranium, there’s a glimpse of scarlet lace peeking out.

“Sweetheart,” Bucky says, dropping his gun harness on the carpet. He can’t tear his eyes away from Sam’s chest. Thinks he’s gotta be dreaming. “What the fuck is that?”

“What’s what, Buck?” Sam’s got that pretty little smile dancing across his lips. One that is all too insinuating for how innocent he’s acting.

“No, come on,” he says, goes over. Sam lets him yank the suit open, slide it down his arms. “Jesus fucking Christ?” He looks at Sam—who has an infuriatingly content air about him—but his eyes struggle to focus on one place.

The lace is so delicate he thinks one solid tug could rip it apart. It spans over Sam's chest, little satin strings looping the balls of his shoulders to hold it up. Bucky’s thumb slips underneath. Sam’s battle warm skin and the smooth fabric sends an electric vibration up his left arm and it gives a deep mechanic purr.

“Oh, that got you going, huh?” Sam licks his lips. Bucky’s eyes flip up to him when he speaks. His brain’s going way past the speed limit, trying to comprehend this. “There’s more, though.”

“Darlin’,” Bucky says, incredulous, “what more could there possibly be?” His eyes fall back to the red lace clinging to Sam’s skin. He wants to yank Sam’s body against his, has an inexplicable urge to press that dainty material against his rough leather gear and buckles, wants to see the contrast. Wants to feel it. Wants to fuck Sam just like this bent over the counter.

And then Sam slips the suit over his hips and there really is more. God, there’s more. That was a dumb question.

Same delicate lace, same bright red, draped over the dips that cut down from his hip bones to his dick.

“Fuck,” Bucky says, he frowns then looks up. “You had this on the whole goddamn time?”

Sam shrugs. “Maybe. You like it?” he laughs, steps out of the suit so it’s just him in this get-up standing in front of Bucky.

“Sweetheart, that ain’t the word.” He smooths his hands down Sam’s sides and Sam arches into the touch. Bucky slips his fingers underneath the thong’s straps and pulls, watches it dig into Sam’s skin. He lets his fingertips travel forward until he reaches Sam’s bulge trapped behind the lace. He pauses, careful with the dainty fabric, then traces his finger tip ever so gently along the thong’s seam and Sam’s shaft.

Sam shudders from the bare touch, dick twitching in its confinement, and finally leans in to kiss Bucky. And that does it, it derails any other thought Bucky has going on. He scoops Sam up, lowers him to the floor, and gets his mouth on the lace.

Sam grabs at his hair, and for a second he regrets growing it out because it stings, but that soon melts into a feverish want in his gut. He bites down, gets a good mouthful of Sam’s pec and red lace in his mouth, sucks his nipple through the fabric. Feels Sam squirm beneath him, urging him on.

“Shit, baby,” Sam says, reaches between them and gets Bucky free of his zip, lines them up—bare skin on lace—and then sighs like it's balm on a wound for him. “If I knew this was all I had to do to get you on me—”

“Sweetheart,” Bucky cuts him off, groans when his cock finally rubs up against Sam's. “Fuck—All you gotta do is look at me, you know that.”

Sam bites at Bucky's bottom lip, tugs at it with his teeth, and smirks because he knows. Of course he knows that.

He’s known that since they first laid eyes on each other.

#sambucky #winterfalcon #sam x bucky #drabble #samantha writes #sam in lingerie

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roseandgold137 · 14 days

Text

wip preview:

The day started like any other day. Bernard woke up, squinted against the bright sunlight – great, he’d forgotten to close his curtains – and stretched. He basked in the coziness for a few more moments. It wasn’t like he had anything to do today, right? …Right?

Bernard shot up – shit, school, his stupid alarm hadn’t gone off – and tugged his pyjama shirt off. Pants – where were his stupid pants gone – he snatched the nearest pair of cargo pants and stumbled into them. Socks – under the dresser – his shoes were downstairs, he’d grab them in a second. Bernard pulled the first t-shirt he found over his head and swung a jacket over his shoulders.

His phone was ringing, music blaring – Do You Believe in Magic? on full blast. Bernard answered the call, balancing the phone between his ear and shoulder while he shoved copybooks into his bag. “Darla, this better be quick, because I’m running so unbelievably late right now – ”

“Well, you’d better still be on your way, because Tim just bailed on us.” Darla’s voice practically assaulted his ear – shit, he’d pressed speaker, ow – Bernard dropped his phone back onto his bed while he wrangled his chemistry worksheet into his folder. “He said it was, like, an appointment? But then he didn’t say he was coming back later, so I think I’m just stuck with you now.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Bernard said. Okay – the bag zip wasn’t too happy with the sheer amount of things that were haphazardly packed in, but Bernard managed to close it without breaking the zipper. “Hang on, I gotta run downstairs.”

Darla clearly hadn’t heard him, or she just wanted someone to complain to regardless of whether or not they were listening, because Bernard could still hear her talking while he swung around the banister. He practically burst into the kitchen – no worries about being loud, his parents left for work early anyways – and grabbed a handful of fruit – apple, apple, banana – fuck, they were out of oranges. He found a pack of crisps in the cupboard – not the healthiest option, but beggars can’t be choosers. It wasn’t enough for a full lunch – he could get something else from the cafeteria, that was fine.

Bernard snatched his earbuds from the counter and slid them in, and Darla’s voice came in through after a second’s delay. “ – and, frankly, I’m not really in the mood to take advice from someone who almost named their dog after fertility bank – ”

“What?” Bernard asked – okay, clothes, books, lunch – he had to have breakfast, what was he doing? “Who are we talking about right now?”

“Chris? From – fuck, what class was it - don’t you have bio with him? The tall guy, with the bad frosted tips.”

“Oh, that guy. He got a dog?”

“He has three, Bernard. He’s had two of them since before you even met him.”

Bernard settled on the granola in the fridge – hey, it was healthy, and it came in a tub, so he could take it with him on the bus –

“Oh, are you kidding me.”

“About the dogs? Why would I possibly do that?”

“My bus is like, definitely gone by now.” If he made it to the other end of the street, he might make the other bus – but that was if it was running today, and he’d probably still be about five minutes late. Great, great, grand. “What class do we have first?”

“I have music. You have… home ec?”

“Okay. Okay, that’s okay. Ms Howell won’t mind if I’m a couple of minutes late. I’ve gotta bounce, I’ll call you back – wait, no, I won’t, I’ll see you in English.” Darla hung up on him before he got the chance, and Bernard ran out, granola and spoon in hand.

#bernard dowd #darla aquista #Tim’s only mentioned in this but he’ll play a bigger part later #Does anyone want to guess the plot 👁️👁️

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jalapenobee · 2 years

Text

Yeah so this is what I said would make up for the other stuff, enjoy

Warning: a kiss that could’ve been good but was reduced to a small paragraph because I’m bad at that

So we’re at a party

“Honestly Shiro, you really are six. You seriously don’t know how to tie a tie? I’m Altean, and even I know how to do it.”

Shiro frowned and turned his head to the side while Allura straightened his tie a final time. “I never had the need to wear one…”

Allura nodded. “That makes sense. But you should at least know how to.” She finished by brushing off Shiro’s shoulders and adjusting her own light purple dress. “You look great.”

Shiro beamed. “You do too. Now, would you accompany me to the ballroom, Princess Allura?” He held out his hand and bowed cheesily.

Allura giggled. “Of course, paladin Shiro.” She took his hand and together they left the dressing areas, heading towards the big ballroom.

Earlier that week, the paladins had been invited to a ball in their honor by a planet they had saved before. Which is why everyone was getting dressed up, and why Keith and Pidge were complaining about all the fancy clothes.

“Do I have to wear a dress? I could be wearing pants, you know. They’re so much more practical.”

“And do I have to wear this suit? It’s so uncomfortable.”

“Yes Keith, you have to wear the suit. And Pidge, you’re so small that none of the good pairs of pants would fit you. We’re going to a damn ball, so lighten the up.”

Lance, unfortunately, was being tasked with dealing with the two because Hunk and Coran were running last-minute diagnostics on the lighting and music. Pidge would’ve liked to do this, but she was stuck putting on a dress instead. On top of that, Lance also has to get himself ready, which is why his tie was slightly lopsided.

But he couldn’t help but notice that Keith was looking absolutely stunning tonight in his dark red suit and combed hair.

“Can one of you help me zip this up?”

Keith begrudgingly went over to zip the zipper on Pidge’s dress, then the three of them left for the ballroom.

“Alright, I think the lights are working! They aren’t flickering anymore, at least.” Coran shut the panel door with a loud clang and stepped back. “How are you doing, Hunk?”

Hunk looked up from the computer. “Almost done, just need to adjust the volume.”

He scrolled through a few settings and swiped a bar lower. Then he turned back to Coran and gave a thumbs-up. “All good.”

They started to descend the stairs from the control room down to the main ballroom.

“Hey, do you think Shay will want to dance with me?”

Yes, other aliens were invited too. Just for the story.

Coran turned to smile at the boy. “Of course she will, Hunk. You’re a great person, I’m sure she’ll like you.”

Hunk furrowed his eyebrows in thought for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, thanks Coran. I just needed to hear someone say it.”

Coran patted his shoulder. “No problem, Hunk. Now go ‘get your girl’, as you humans say it.”

And they went their own separate ways, exploring the ballroom just like the other paladins.

A few hours later, the paladins had regrouped to one general area with some of their friends and allies. A few of the Olkari, Shay and her balmeran friends, Nyma and Rolo, Romelle, and even Krolia and Kolivan had managed to show up.

Allura and Shiro were dancing (do I ship them? Yes) while the other paladins watched them and ate. Well, Hunk ate. Everyone else just had drinks.

“Hunk, you eat too much.”

“You eat too little! It’s no wonder you’re small!”

Pidge rolled her eyes and took a sip of her drink, which totally wasn’t just apple instead of the overpriced space alcohol. She eyed Lance as he headed towards them, slightly tipsy.

“Hey Lance, have you tried the food?” Hunk stuffed another cracker in his mouth enthusiastically.

He nodded, and stood with them. “I’m bored. Hunk, sing a song. You gotta entertain me.”

Hunk choked and Pidge punched him in the arm, with just enough force to make him nearly spill his drink. “Why? Met every girl at the party yet?”

Lance nodded and grinned, a bit too big. “In fact I have.”

Pidge smiled a small smile. “Hey, look over there.” She aimed her drink at Shiro and Allura, who were dancing and laughing in the middle of the room.

Lance’s eyes followed Pidge’s and they boggled. “Is that Shiro and Allura?”

Hunk nodded. “Yup, they’ve been dancing for a while now.”

“Space dad has a space mom now.” Pidge said.

An idea popped into Lance’s head. “Hey, why don’t we dance with people?”

“That’s a good idea. I could hang with Romelle or something.”

“Yeah, and I can go find Shay!” One look at Pidge and Hunk knew exactly what to say.

“Lance, go dance with Keith. He looks lonely.”

Lance nearly choked on his drink and immediately became sober. Dancing? With his crush- er, I mean, uh, rival?

“Why Keith? I bet he can’t even dance! I’ll be humiliated!” Lance sputtered. Even so, he had locked his eyes on the dark haired boy.

Keith was standing against a wall with a drink in his hand, his hair combed to a point where it wasn't full of knots. He watched as people passed by him, ignoring the kind-of-short male who stood alone. Even Krolia was talking to people.

“Well, too bad. You’ll be humiliated together. Pidge, you can go find Romelle. I’ll take Lance.”

Pidge nodded and walked away in search of a certain Altean. Despite Lance’s pouting, Hunk pushed him towards Keith.

“Hey Keith, Lance wants to dance with you!”

Keith looked up, looking confused with one brow up. “Um, what?”

And Hunk ran away. Keith looked to Lance expectantly.

“Sorry. I suggested we dance with people, and then Hunk said I should dance with you, so yeah.”

Keith nodded. “That makes a lot more sense.”

The two watched in silence over the party for a while, until Lance spoke.

“I mean, we could if you want to.”

“What?”

“Dance.”

“Oh. Sure.”

The two boys discarded their cups and walked towards the dance floor to join their friends. And because this is Klance we’re dealing with, they started to argue.

“Okay, I’ll lead.”

“What? No, I’m leading!”

“I’m taller! I should lead!”

“Nuh uh! I’ll lead this time, and you lead the next. Deal?”

“Fine.”

~I was about to write this and then I remembered I didn’t know how dancing works so I looked it up so I apologize for this crap~

So Keith put one hand on Lance’s back and the other in his hand, trying to ignore the electric tingle wherever their skin touched. He led the two of them in a tango around the dance floor, face kept down so Lance wouldn’t see him blushing.

The Lance, in question, was also trying not to blush. Because who was he to? He was the one to create the rivalry, although Keith was the one to act cold and emo.

“You’re not such a bad dancer, Mullet.”

He wasn’t lying. Somehow, Keith was a professional. How did that happen?

To prove Lance’s point, and because he was feeling brave, Keith dipped him and brought his face close to his, the tips of his hair just brushing the tips of Lance’s forehead. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m still a better leader,” Lance said, flustered.

“Then who’s leading Voltron, hm?”

“Still.”

“I could drop you right now.”

“Please don’t.”

And as if something possessed him, Keith found himself closing his eyes and leaning down to connect his lips with Lance’s. The kiss was slow and sweet, the liquor taste still in their mouths and their tongues fighting for dominance until Lance pulled away for air.

“You’re not just good at dancing, Mullet.”

“You too, sharpshooter.”

Keith spun Lance back up for another kiss, and they laughed and danced for the rest of the night.

1,316 words

#klance #fluff #vld fanfic #lance mcclain #keith kogane #my fics #tiny subtle bit of shallura

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