#miami kiss vibes

[the-pale-goddess]

Fun fact: run for the hills by Tate McRae was inspired by Puncture Wound

#i would say that i'm kidding but it's entirely possible kdsjfkdsjfkj #that song is literally T's misery train after the scene #post-miami tiffany is a vibe and *chef's kiss* #fic: puncture wound #open heart as netflix original series: the soundtrack #nevermind me i'm always in miami with E&T #life has been incredibly stressful and tough lately i'm running on fumes and need my OTP fix to keep me alive lol

[afterglowsainz]

crush | lando norris

summary: charles pr manager is always looking at lando while he’s being interviewed and fans think she has a crush on him

fc: lily-rose depp

a/n: who said fanfic about THE MIAMI GRAND PRIX WINNER

—

liked by charlesleclerc, alexandrasaintmleux and others

yourusername bahrein you’re always so kind🫶🏽

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username omg so beautiful!

username love the dress

alexandrasaintmleux prettiest girl of bahrein💕

yourusername that’s you!!🤍

username new crush unlocked

username pretty girls are tifosi confirmed (liked by yourusername)

charlesleclerc don’t smoke🙄

yourusername don’t tell me what to do🙄

charlesleclerc you tell me what to do all the time??🤨

yourusername that’s my job😡

liked by lissiemackintosh, landonorris and others

yourusername fun fun jeddah🍸

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username your vibes are immaculate !!!

username you’re so pretty i-😩

username all i see is the ultimate f1 it girl

charlesleclerc working hard or hardly working?

yourusername you do not want me to expose you charles leclerc

charlesleclerc 😳

username they’re so siblings coded😭

username manifesting this life 🕯🕯🕯

lissiemackintosh i’m seriously considering leaving marcus for you

yourusername what are you waiting for!

landonorris 😎

liked by charlesleclerc, carlossainz55 and others

f1gossippofficial lando norris and y/n y/l/n (charles leclerc’s pr manager) were seen partying together in japan after the race and were caught kissing outside the bar

tagged landonorris, yourusername

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username excuse me what

username what on earth is going on in the house of mclaren and ferrari

username this is such a random pairing😭

username OMG FINALLYYY

username the twitter girlies predicted this!!

username charles and carlos liking this is so unserious like😭😭

username how are the ln4 girlies feeling??

username okay but i just saw her ig and she is gorgeous

liked by landonorris, carmenmmundt and others

yourusername shanghai i have the biggest crush on you💘

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username so happy you enjoyed china🫶🏽

username the side profile my god😮‍💨

username lando norris i understand completely

alexandrasaintmleux so iconic of you🤍

username she’s not that pretty idk what all the fuss is about🤣

username girl go touch some grass

username how can you not say mother

landonorris only on shanghai?

yourusername 🙄

username BYE i love them already

liked by yourusername, charlesleclerc and others

landonorris broke my nose, won my first grand prix, celebrated with my one and only❤️ nice weekend overall

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maxverstappen1 congrats lando💪🏼

georgerussell63 congrats on the win🏆

username wow bro really hard launching like there’s no tomorrow

carlossainz55 congratulations landito, very well deserved😁

username damn man no one’s taking her from you

username im considering it

charlesleclerc very well done mate!!

charlesleclerc also yourusername if you break his heart i’ll fire you

yourusername ?????

yourusername why do you assume i’m the one breaking hearts?

charlesleclerc cause he’s in too deep now

landonorris no need to expose me like that mate

yourusername congratulations my love🧡

landonorris i love you my pretty❤️

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris one shot #lando norris imagine #lando norris fluff #f1 x reader #f1 #formula one #formula one x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x you #lando norris fanfic #lily rose depp #ln4 #smau #lando norris smau #f1 smau #formula 1 smau #social media au #ariana grande #mclaren smau

[chrollohearttags]

kinktober day nine

character: connie springer

show: attack on titan

kink: anal

word count: 1.9k

content + themes: sex toys (rose, spreader bar, butt plug, anal beads, etc), spit play, fingering, squirting + creaming, choking, reader calls him daddy and papi, baby oil, creampie in a, he is so fucking vocal my goodness, rapper connie/hairstylist reader bc I haven’t written for them in a while.

📝: I hope y’all are still fucking with my kinktober posts. Even though I’m a little delayed with them.

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.─── ── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.

dating a rapper was not something for the weak. It was one thing you had heard constantly since your time, working as a hairstylist in the heart of Miami. In a city filled with would-be Instagram models and ladies looking for a come up by marrying some famous athlete or musician, you’d hear the horror stories of how their pursuits had gone wrong. Some left with emotional scars from being led on, others left with a child and little to no support from the fathers. It was a mess to say the least. But the same could not be said when the famed artist and one fourth of the Dead Boys Society, Connie Springer aka Prince Cee, entered your salon…or rather you’d say, for the same reasons. From the second he laid his eyes on you, he was smitten. He was rather familiar with your work and asked to come in for a color job and to put some designs on his head to match his nails he had just gotten manicured. You were more than happy to oblige. Thinking that if for nothing else, he’d make great publicity for your business. What you didn’t count on was falling as hard as you did for the artist! From the second he entered your shop, Connie was such a vibe. Sweet, respectful and so hilarious. He had you cracking up the entire time. As a way to thank you on such short notice, he gave you free tickets, extra pay and asked if he could have the honor of taking you to dinner later in the week. Rather forward, but you liked that in a man. Skip almost six months and some change…and that same man who had walked in that day was now yours officially. Caught up in what could only be described as a whirlwind romance turned beautiful relationship, he had changed your life for the better! Traveling, being lowkey and making love to one another when the time permits. Fucking on islands or the at high rise condo you called home.

by far the healthiest relationship you’d ever had and you had no plans of coming up off of him anytime soon. Especially when the things he did to you…no other man could ever dream of. It was almost your one year anniversary and Connie had gone all out planning a surprise. Gifting you expensive jewelry, eternal roses, a stay in the Maldives and the keys to your second salon. Needless to say, you were overcome with joy. And he didn’t leave empty handed either but you gifted him a new chain, grill and watch. Along with a giant gift box full of his favorite things; shoes, designer clothes and ten bands. You loved a little different when you dated in your tax bracket. But perhaps the best gift of all was not any of those but it was what awaited at the hotel. A bed scattered with rose petals, wine and…some other treasures. Ones that he was going to take great pleasure in using on you. Intense kissing ensued the second you got behind shut doors. Clothes being torn off and tongues clashing in a haze of passion. Fast forward and the next thing you know:

“Ooh..fuck. Connie…”

here you were, howling at the ceiling with your legs spread ten inches apart, courtesy of the bar between your ankles with metal cuffs surrounding them. Your wrists lie suspended in the middle of it and you were entirely under his control. Not that you minded too much. Especially when the plethora of sensations he was inflicting on your body hit all at once. Rubbing on those sensitive, erect nipples whilst the steel of his tongue ring scoured all over your delectable little cunt. Repeatedly prodding at your clit and drumming up a trail of creamy arousal, that was currently dripping down to that puckering asshole..which was also a little preoccupied with a bejeweled plug. It was so sexy and Connie was having his absolute way with you. “Don’t worry, mami. Just keep puttin’ it in my face. Imma let you come soon. Lemme’ enjoy this shit a lil’ bit longer.” That drowsy drawl of his instantly causing your privates to thump. It was something about that voice that got you all worked up. Currently sprawled across the bed in nothing more than his boxers and jewelry, Connie grasped your plush thighs with his hands, sucking on those fat lips and folds..purely enjoying the flavor of your essence. “..’Dis pussy so good, baby. Goddamn.” Even so, he craved a little more tonight. It was no coincidence that you were sporting that toy in your other entrance. Because whilst he was having his fill of your sweet sex, he’d work to train that little hole; stretching and stuffing you with a string of beads designed for this, lubing you up and finally, letting you sport that cute plug. Just for his viewing pleasure though, he’d slick that pretty brown skin of yours up with oil. It was like an adult flick, just for his viewing and tasting pleasure. He’d slowly push two fingers into your core, gently working them in and out of your tightness..his hand intermittently slipping between his thighs to stroke his cock. He was getting extremely aroused at the thought of what was to come. Growing far more excited as he thought about getting to explore that pretty little asshole. Puckering and eagerly awaiting him..suddenly, he’d withdraw and drag a trail of saliva along with him, feeding you a kiss to let you get a sample.

“Mmm, damn. Can’t wait to fuck you, baby..can’t wait to fuck that lil’ asshole.” Almost drowsy and drunk off of your essence. Connie then reached over to retrieve the tiny bottle of condensed lubricant to coat himself and your hole. In one fell swoop, he’d shuffle those boxers down his waistline and let his length spring forth. His swollen tip pulsating red and emitting slippery precum as he laid it flat across your slit. Waiting patiently, you’d find yourself huffing in anticipation..wondering how it would feel. He’d done ample prep so now, it was time for the real thing. Spread wide open, (y/n) chewed profusely at your bottom lip as he’d slowly remove that plug; toiling his thumb pad over the entrance.

“You ready f’r this dick, mama? Hmm?..” questioning sweetly whilst slicking you up with a trail of spit. “Beg for it. Tell me how much you want that shit..” and you had no issue doing so. Begging him and whimpering in that sweet little tone. “Fuck me..put that dick in my ass, please..wanna feel you so deep.” It was as you were pleading your case, you’d feel a rather interesting sensation. That swollen member pushing through your tight bundle of nerves, filling you in an instant. Those brown eyes expanded to the width of quarters and your breath hitched within the back of your throat. It was unlike anything you’ve ever felt..warm, full and so goddamn good! But you weren’t the only one loving the sensation of your body right now. Tossing his head back, Connie shuddered with only half of his shaft embedded in you. But still stuffing you to the brim..he didn’t know for sure how long he’d last in it, as this was his first time doing anal as well but he’d enjoy every moment! Grasping the backs on your pinned legs, he’d ensure that you were okay for him to start moving and then proceed..

“There we go…just stay still and keep them’ eyes on me, okay?” Those rose petals pressed to your skin as you slicked with sweat and oil, lying there as you allowed him to delve deeper. Starting out with a slow pace, Connie began bucking his hips forward and developing a rhythm. Sucking his teeth to try and grit through it. He didn’t want to bust too quickly and embarrass himself but it was too much..so he’d eventually speed up and gather his bearings. That’s when he’d truly find his footing; fucking you the way he was supposed to!

“Just like that, baby. Just like that..feel good, mama? Yeah, you gon’ come for me, ain’t you?” Cooing whilst slipping a thumb between your lips. Nodding with a pathetic whimper. “Yes, papi. Keep fucking me..that dick feels so good in my ass.” “And you takin’ that muhfucka’ so good, baby. Shit…”

encouraging you as he could feel himself swelling inside of you..growing by the second. He couldn’t take it. Especially when he felt you twitching around his entire shaft and watching that pussy drip with cream from the impact. It was unbelievable how wet you had gotten from getting your asshole pounded. Those strokes turned from gentle and repetitive to fast and sporadic. He couldn’t stay still any longer nor could he feign off his urges to fuck you like an animal! Grasping for both your bars and the headboard, he’d free your wrists from the confines with one click, only to prompt you to use them elsewhere. “Grab that toy, baby. Play with that pussy real quick. Know she wet as hell f’r me.” Not even halting to give you the instructions. Only digging deeper and deeper. Grasping for the pink rose device, you’d make haste in clicking the on switch as you placed the suction part directly on your clit. The zaps of vibration combined with that euphoric fullness had you ready to shoot from the bed but alas, you weren’t done quite yet and neither was he! Those hazel eyes glaring down at you in absolute adoration as he whispered sweet nothings over your lips. Telling you how pretty you looked, how you were his good girl and that he loved you so much. Constantly rumbling on without a single breath. He was running on pure adrenaline and just at the moment; knowing that his impending climax was near.

“Fuck…fuuuuck me. Yes, stretch this ass. Don’t stop, please..”

“Not ‘till I nut all in this bitch, baby. Not till I fill you—“

at that very moment, his inflated words came to a halt and you’d watch as Connie’s face began to contort in pleasure. You knew he had just broken stride and next thing you knew, he’d halt in his tracks, but those warm strings began pumping into you, just as he promised. Stuffing you with ropes full of cum. It was the best thing you’d ever experienced. Shortly thereafter, that rose would bring you to your peak and a stream of squirt shot up against his abs. Finding yourself flailing around in pure bliss. Reality seemed to have faded for both of you in that split second, but you’d come back to as you basked in the afterglow together. Caressing the side of his face, (y/n) pulled him..

“I need a kiss. C’mere.” Shoving his tongue into your jaws as he clutched a hand around your throat. Hands down, this was the best night of your life. One you’d cherish for a long time.

“Happy anniversary, ma. I love you.”

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.─── ── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :

@greenieweeniesworld @spaceforher @anubisisthebomb @crazychaoticizzy @makaylasierra789 @momobaby227 @certified-stargirl @thickbihhwitdagapp @kameko-ko @valentineluvu @mukurosbracup @prettypink-princesss @bleach-your-panties @astrokatsuki

#kinktober #connie springer #connie x black reader #connie aot #aot x black reader #connie smut #connie x black y/n #connie attack on titan #connie snk #connie springer smut #connie springer x black reader #connie springer x black y/n #connie springer x y/n #black fem reader #aot smut #snk smut #snk x reader #snk x y/n #cw smut #cw suggestive #black reader #snk x black reader #snk au #musician au #musician x influencer au #aot au #black reader smut #black fanfiction #attack on titan #shingeki no kyoujin fanfiction

[bethanygretchen]

#miami #neon #neonsign #kiss #missme #vacation #vibe #summer

[ham1lton]

— a spinoff from the nepo!sis universe, what if you were the first female driver in formula one?

-> pairings: tba!

-> key people: mrs fluffkins as your cat. gavin as your race engineer and surrogate father. y/s as your younger sister. jo as your ever suffering pr manager.

-> author’s note: this is supposed to be a collaborative process!! so feel free to send in scenarios and ideas for our girl as this will constantly be getting updated.

tags -> all related works will be here.

main works.

YOU’RE STILL YOUNG (THAT’S YOUR FAULT) — your rookie season isn’t going well and you’re really feeling the pressure. after a particularly gruelling week, your sister is worried and calls in emergency help. that’s how sebastian vettel ends up on your doorstep on a rainy thursday afternoon.

QUESTION TIME? — being the only female driver on the grid means being the unofficial spokesperson for women in motorsports and you’re tired of it.

CASUAL — you expected dating to be difficult with your job but you didn’t expect to be having a debriefing with nico rosberg about your love life. but hey, when in monaco right?

WELCOME TO MIAMI — after the miami grand prix, you and some of your fellow drivers go out for karaoke and drinks for ‘bonding’ according to a certain lando norris.

MISS BAD MEDIA KARMA — after a night out, the media is alight with rumours and speculation about your romantic life. most people would call a pr meeting, you go through the funniest rumours on instagram live and rate them out of ten.

THERE SHE GOES — you win your first race and navigate all the chaos that follows. includes your iconic glossed camera kiss and social media’s reaction.

STREETS — you arrive in austin a little early, perfect time to go for a drive! you have the car, the playlist, charles leclerc, the vibes, the snacks - WAIT… CHARLES LECLERC? how did he sneak in your car? and why is this drive… kinda fun?

extras.

TEN THINGS F1 DRIVER Y/N L/N CAN’T LIVE WITHOUT. — the anticipated gq interview. it’s pretty straightforward, content is in the name.

Y/N L/N GOES SNEAKER SHOPPING W/ COMPLEX - formula one driver y/n l/n goes shopping with complex’s joe la pluma in new york and talks about her favourite shoes, her forage into fashion, her dependence on sneakers and buys her whole family a pair of sneakers.

alternate universes.

HE SAYS TO BE COOL (I DON’T KNOW HOW YET) — after a party at a mutual friends, you and jenson are photographed leaving together. the large age gap causes concern especially after your earlier admission that you had a crush on him as a young driver. ⋗ jenson button x maneater!reader.

#maneater ꕤ #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 smau #f1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 texts #f1 fanfic #formula one imagine #formula one smau #formula 1 #formula one #f1 scenario #f1 x you #f1 fic

[ghostofhyuck]

NCT Dream on their honeymoon!

AN: someone requested this one. GASP, THANK U. Mentions of sex lol because what's a honeymoon without sex. (Implied that you two already did it, but the first night meant having sex as a married couple, why am I explaining this jksdfkjsdk)

Mark Lee

Mark would probably take you somewhere in America. Probably LA or Miami, somewhere in the coastal area. Just you two enjoying the beach and spending the day at the carnival or fair land. You two are young lovers enjoying the night life in America! It'll be full of alcohol, giggles, and just spontaneous foodtrip! You two will book an airbnb with the cutest and coziest interior design. Also the first night would probably be more intimate and you two are nervous but at the same time, clumsy because you two wouldn't stop laughing ?? as if you two didn't fucked before lol. 

Huang Renjun

Since your wedding with Renjun is during the summer or spring season, he would definitely take you to Japan for the honeymoon. It'll be during the cherry blossom season! It's cute and something about seeing the first bloom makes it exciting for both of you. You two will book a nice expensive hotel room and just spent the duration of the honeymoon sightseeing and of course, taking pictures around cherry blossoms trees. The first night with him is just like the first time you two had sex, but this time, you two are now married and much experienced. So it's much more special!

Lee Jeno

Jeno would take you to Japan too because he knows how much you love the culture there. He'll book a nice traditional house, (for the vibe he said.) and just take you to places like Tokyo Disneyland and Ghibli museum because you're a child at heart! He'll enjoy it too of course! You two also did A LOT of shopping. Also his looks are so exquisite, very tourist husband vibes with the shades and camera. OKAY so the first night with him is VERY much intimate, like you two just sitting in front of each other before you tell him to please take care of you. And he'll just smiles and say the same thing.

Lee Donghyuck

I like to think that you and Haechan probably fucked after your wedding, and that's because you two were so drunk after the reception LOL. But despite having a beach wedding, Haechan will still have a beach destination for your honeymoon. Bali, Palawan maybe. Anyways, you two will book a room in an expensive resort that's overlooking the beach. It's just a honeymoon full of beach activities, playfulness, and just you two being lovey-dovey!! Will kiss you under the sun set at some point. Also the first night will be much more romantic compared when you two were drunk. 

Na Jaemin

Jaemin would probably take you to Europe for your honeymoon. Somewhere in Amsterdam or Paris because he's a romantic. Definitely a city tour especially during night where the city's much alive, filled with people and just bustling with noise??? yeah, you two would be holding hands giggling as you two venture out the city. Will also be that photographer husband who takes cute photos of your cute fits. He'll book an expensive hotel room for you two and for the first night, he was very very careful of you, like he was such a gentleman because he wants to show how much he loves you. 

Zhong Chenle

Chenle would think that it's fun for you two to stay within each other's comfort place, so he'll probably take you to Shanghai or maybe Singapore city. It'll be city tour too! Since he's very confident with talking with locals, you two will have underrated food trips and just take you to interesting places that he found while canvassing the area. He's the type to hold your hands because you tend to get lost in the crowd. You chose the accommodation, so you found a cute airbnb that suited each other's taste. The first night with him is full of playfulness! Chenle would constantly tease you but it was still lovely nevertheless.  

Park Jisung

Jisung would also bring you to Europe because he thinks that the 'honeymoon' vibe is just there. Probably in Rome or Barcelona. You two would book a nice hotel that overlooks the entire city, it was breathtaking when you two entered the room. You two would go sightseeing, try local foods, and just take pictures of each other. Jisung has his arms around your shoulder when you two are walking, and both your outfits coordinate! Also he likes to steal kisses from you. The first night would be romantic Like Jisung prepared EVERYTHING and you just lay there and be pretty for him. 

#nct dream #nct imagines #nct dream fic #nct fic #nct #nct x reader #nct dream imagine #nct scenarios #nct fluff #nct dream reactions #nct drabbles #nct dream imagines #nct mark #nct jeno #nct renjun #nct haechan #nct jaemin #nct chenle #nct jisung

[everythingne]

you have me and I have you -- DR3

Taking the twins to meet Daniel at a race nearly ends in disaster for the youngest, luckily you remember a little saying that goes a long way for when her emotions get too big for her all weekend away from her favorite person on the planet.

daniel ricciardo x wife!mother!reader

warnings/notes: probably inaccurate f1 information (specifically with where they live but idc its my fic), i'm not going off any actual timeline of real events dude this is just vibes, maxiel content bursting out of this fic, might make this little family a series i dunno, i don't have the most knowledge of daniel's career so mind some gaps

--

You and Daniel lived an exceptionally private life--surprisingly. Alpha Tauri's home base was in Faenza, Italy. And when Daniel was announced to be driving for them, you both tossed around a few different city names until Max of all people found you both a quaint little house just outside of the main touristy parts of Ravenna.

Somehow the world champion knew the both of you would find it was a perfect spot to nestle in for the time being. You knew that once the girls really got into school, like proper schooling, you'd have to settle them near Daniel's family. That's what you'd agreed to do when you planned to return to teaching full-time, but for now, Ravenna worked beautifully.

And it was beautiful too.

You had moved and traveled a lot with Daniel due to his career, it had never bothered you in the near decade the both of you had been together. The two of you never fought, sure you argued, but nothing hateful. It was usually a 'stop overthinking this' or 'stop overworking yourself on that' and with two perfectionists who adored their careers and families it could get a bit tense. But, you loved Daniel more than anything, and he loved you just the same. So it always worked out in the end.

Three years dating, one year engaged, seven years married, five years parents. Parents. Two beautiful twin daughters, you hadn't not been trying for kids, and though the girls were a surprise, they were happily welcomed by the Ricciardo's and your family when announced. And of course their loads of F1 uncles, like Max, Yuki, Lando, and of course Pop Pop and Grannie Horner, who had just about died when the youngest of the two twins--Rosella, called them that without you or Daniel prompting her to.

"She speaks the truth!" Daniel had laughed when Geri scooped the little girl up in her arms and squeezed her, kissing her forehead. Max had just laughed for like ten minutes at Christian's face before the man finally made some remark that he was "finally old enough for that title."

And then a few months later little Penelope would do the same, with a quite similar reaction.

Life in Ravenna was perfect, and you had been blessed with a remote job that allowed you to work anywhere making your life a breeze of constant travel, love, and spending nights alongside your husband or his family and friends in lavish hotels for grand prix.

Speaking of Grand Prix, it was time to get the girls moving. The two of them, Rosella Grace Ricciardo and Sienna Michelle Ricciardo, are currently settled with their suitcases beside them in the living room as you finish unplugging the necessary items and locking up the house. Rosella was playing with her stuffed bear, idly singing some song her grandparents had been trying to teach her, and Sienna was currently trying to repack her bag that you had so meticulously put together.

"Si, stop messing with your bag, sweetheart." You try to not let any annoyance sink into your tone but fail a little as you make your way to the foyer.

"Sorry, Momma." Sienna pouts and hides in on herself, her big brown eyes and bouncy curls making you think of her father--who was currently in a car going god knows how fast on the track. Max had been the one to invite you to Miami, saying it would be good to get the girls there to surprise Daniel.

What he hadn't thought of was how hard it is to get two twins through the airport, who look exactly like Daniel Ricciardo, without raising any eyebrows because this was their first appearance at the track since they were toddlers and didn't look like much of anyone except for having Daniel's undoubtedly huge smiles.

"Hey," you say, but don't explain the sentence that brings both of your daughters immediate calm, "You have me and I have you."

The sentence, something from the night before you married the girl's father basically equated to 'we've got this, don't freak out, I'm not mad and you're gonna be fine.' and whatever else it needed to at the moment and it had been a constant in the past seven or so years of your life.

And Sienna calms herself immediately, nodding at you.

You peck a kiss to Sienna's hairline as you repack her bag, "All better, nothing to be sad about, okay?"

She nods, taking her bag and helping her sister grab her stuff as you get them out to the car. The two are pretty well-behaved by now and have learned when to do as you ask and when it's okay to play around a little. You thank Daniel for that, he'd always set a good example. Once everything is in the trunk, you secure the girls in their seats and then thank one of the women you'd become close with down the road for driving you to the airport.

Natalie grins, patting your shoulder as you settle in with a big huff, "I just wish you luck getting them through the airport by yourself! Usually, you have Michelle with you."

"Well, Michelle's unable to come to Miami because she's working, so it's just me this time!" You try to hide your annoyance at the whole situation already, but Natalie just laughs as she starts to drive through the streets of your beloved town.

"Don't stress it, those girls are too well-mannered to cause a fuss."

"I hope so." You sigh, glancing over your shoulder at the both of them.

--

The airport in Italy is a breeze, it's the Miami airport that gives you trouble with the girls because one file isn't filled out correctly. One fucking file. You end up leaving poor Geri Halliwell in the pick-up lane for like an hour while you scramble to fix it so you're not shipped off back home with the girls, who are tired and miserable and just wanna go to bed.

And you'd run out of snacks on the plane, which was another level of catastrophe as Rosella complains every two seconds she's starving and going to die while Sienna complains her feet hurt and makes you carry her around.

Luckily, the airport staff seems to take a bit of pity on you and push you through as quick as possible. You stumble out to the pick-up line to find your ride, the warm Miami air making the girls want to play a bit. Setting down Sienna you make both girls keep one hand on your suitcase as you meet Geri halfway to the car and she kneels down to give the twins hugs as they scream her name.

"So much for discreet." You huff, watching Geri happily interact with the girls. And you learn right then that she's always planning ahead (maybe it's the whole having four kids thing) as she pulls out two little baggies of packed snacks for the girls from her coat.

Once the girls spot Christian, it's game over as they sprint with their little suitcases bouncing behind them and he barely has time to kneel before they're trying to hug him.

"Lookin' good Mama," Geri grins as she picks up Sienna's discarded backpack and you laugh off the compliment as she stands, placing her hands on her hips, "I'll take it they missed us?"

"They wouldn't shut up about getting to see you guys all week after Danny left," You let her pull you into a hug as she kissed your hairline. She helps you get the girl's stuff in the car while Christian entertains the two who sit in the back seat and you end up between your daughters on the drive to the hotel.

"We rented you a room on another floor just for tonight, we figured you'd wanna surprise Danny at the race." Geri turns to talk to you as Christian drives and you nod, leaning forward so she can sit straight. Sienna's babbling to Christian about class, Rosella trying to butt in to get his attention too, and you lean your head on Geri's seat.

"Thank you guys, I'm serious when I say I'll pay you back."

"It came out of Oracle Red Bull Racing's pocket, not mine." Geri holds her hands up and you let out a soft laugh, finally feeling the weariness of the nearly twelve-hour flight.

When you make it to the hotel, Christian goes first to ensure the coast is clear, and you find they've already checked into the room so you're able to go straight up. Once inside, you thank the Horners one more time with tight hugs and a promise to bring them around to Italy soon before shutting the door.

"Momma!" Rosella whines as soon as the door is locked and dead-bolted shut, "I'm tired!"

"Me too!" Sienna copies her twin and flops on the floor and you laugh.

"Let's get you two ready for bed, yeah?" You muse, grabbing the suitcases and flipping them open, and letting the girls pick out the pajamas while you do the same with some loungewear. It's only around five at night, and you do still need to feed the girls a proper dinner, so you assume a short nap with a break for chicken nuggets before bed will be perfect.

--

You rouse from sleep to two sets of little hands hitting you, the girls giggling as they whisper, "Momma, momma!"

"Mhmn," You groan, rubbing your face, "Yeah?"

"Daddy called you, Rosella answered it like a big girl!"

"Mhm!" Rosella cheers, leaning to not-so-secretly whisper, "I didn't even tell him the big secret!"

"That's great--" You go to say sleepily and then you blink your eyes open when you hear Danny laughing over the phone and you sit up to your elbows and snag the phone from her.

"Both of you, shoo." You wave a hand and the girls shriek as you curl your fingers like you're going to tickle them and then sit up in bed.

"I swear I set an alarm." You laugh, rubbing your eyes as you check the clock--in Italy, it would be noon right now which would be typical for your afternoon nap with the girls.

"No big deal. I just wanted to call you when I was getting up for race day." Daniel yawns and you can imagine him rubbing at his face as he lets out a muffled groan over the phone, "How are you and the girls?"

"They're having a blast but being little tornadoes," You huff, "but I'm managing."

"Ah, that's my girl. Superstar mom." You can physically hear Danny's smile in his voice and it makes you laugh, when you ask him how he's doing he regales practice and qualifiers as you get yourself out of bed and grab the girls a change of clothes. Mouthing for them to get in the shower as you mute the phone so Danny doesn't hear the water as you turn it on. Walking back to supervise from the doorway you pop in a few questions here and there.

By the time the call is wrapping up, Sienna's gotten soap in her eyes, so you bid Daniel a quick goodbye as you scold Rosella for splashing her sister in the face and end the call. You double-check to make sure it's actually ended before you move into the bathroom.

It takes an hour for you to get ready, which means by the time you're bringing the girls down to meet with Geri, her kids, and Kelly and Penelope, all the drivers are making their way to the track.

But, of course, you have to run into Charles in the elevator.

"Didn't know you were gonna make it this weekend," Charles says as you step in, the girls shy away from him a little, especially Sienna who practically buries herself behind her sister. You laugh softly.

"Guys, it's just Charles." You say over your shoulder and they both peek up again before gasping and jumping over to hug him. He kneels down to the girls, accepting both of their tight hugs as you speak,

"We weren't until Max told me he got us paddock passes,"

"They're still that close, huh?" Charles stands once the girls release him and you shrug,

"I think Max feels bad for how it ended with them in Red Bull, kinda like how Lando and Daniel are still super close after McLaren because of--God, don't get me started actually." You pinch your nose, the wound of McLaren's drop of Daniel had been the most difficult part of your partnership with Daniel thus far. You hoped it stayed that way.

"I'm glad they're still close." Charles smiles and then bids you goodbye as a Ferrari employee starts scolding him in French--or Italian, or maybe both, as she drags him off in the opposite direction.

You cart the twins off to the little restaurant within the hotel, thanking the hostess who brings you to Geri and Kelly's table and you greet them with a happy smile. Once the kids are all introduced and settled, you relax and roll out your neck.

"I am exhausted." You announce and Kelly pushes a mimosa towards you, grinning, and you happily take it. Breakfast goes relatively well, Penelope wants to sit in your lap halfway through because she missed you, and Bluebell updates you on her applications for university.

The Halliwell-Horner kids are a mess of different parents, but all act just as loving as your own twins, it makes you smile as you notice Bluebell pause mid-sentence to make sure her sister ordered her food correctly and her brother has enough to drink when the waitress comes around to check on you all.

And then Sienna gasps and points at the TV, squealing at an ear-piercing decibel, "Dad!"

"Shh!" You hush her, both Kelly and Geri laughing as you try and handle the two kids who are excitedly pointing out their father on the TV. It's interviews from yesterday on replay in preparation for the race later. And the twins won't stop even with you, Geri, Kelly, and the other kids at the table (save for Geri's youngest) trying to hush them.

"Girls. Knock it off or we're going outside!" You hiss through your teeth, pointing at the two next to you, and Rosella literally screams 'no' at you.

"Good grief." You sigh, then grab her by the waist and wave for her sister to follow you. While Sienna's a little hesitant, a gentle tap from Geri makes the girl scoot off her chair and follow you and a screeching Rosella out of the small restaurant. The three of you settle on the floor as you try to calm a clearly upset Rosella, who curls into your side.

"C'mere, Si." You hold an arm out as you sit on the floor and Sienna curls into your other side. You wipe the frustrated tears off Rosella's face, she had always been attached to Daniel by the hip, you weren't sure why you assumed this would be easier for her than her sister.

"I know you guys are excited to see your dad, I know, I am too." You say to the two twins who sit in your lap on the floor in probably the nicest hotel in Miami, "I miss him just as much as you guys do but... we have to be quiet in restaurants. We can't start screaming like we're at home, okay?"

"Momma, 'm sorry Momma." Rosella sniffles and you pepper soft kisses to her hairline and wipe the tears from her face as Sienna gives her twin a hug.

"It's okay, darling, you know you have me and I have you, yeah? You just have big emotions you wanna get out, but we have to remember inside voices and that there's always a time and place for everything, okay?" You rub her back as she hiccups, big tears rolling down her face as she starts calming down with big gasps.

The girl nods, scrubbing at her face and you give her a little kiss on the top of her forehead before giving Sienna a kiss there too.

"Are we calm enough to talk now, Ella?" You say softly and the girl nods, you scoop her up and bring Sienna back in so she can sit at the table and eat, informing Geri and Kelly you'll be right back after you take Rosella on a little calm down walk.

And you end up in a little courtyard, bouncing Ella on your hip as she speaks softly as you pause at a fountain.

"And Daddy's always there when I'm sad." She recounts as she hiccups, still crying a little as you rock her and rub her back, "and I got sad he wasn't there, and then he wasn't there to make me happy, and it made me more sad."

"Oh honey, it's okay." You look over your shoulder, swearing for the third time you're seeing Lando out of the corner of your eye--which is impossible because he's at the track and you're just being paranoid.

"Big emotions come out sometimes, it's happened to me. When your dad and I got married, I freaked out on him the night before because I was so stressed something would go wrong. I screamed at him, like a full freakout," You sigh, pressing your lips to your daughter's hair before whispering, "You know what he did?"

"What did he do?" Rosella sits back so she can look you in the eyes, you bounce her up and readjust your grip.

"He held me like I'm holding you now and he said 'I know you've got big emotions and so do I, but you know what we also both have?'" You remember the way he'd pressed his lips to your hairline, hands tucking you into his body as he cradled you in the bathroom of the wedding suite in the hotel,

"And I said 'no' because I was having big emotions, and he said 'You have me and I have you.' Just like right now, Ella, you have me and I have you."

"Oh! That's why you and Daddy say that." Ella smiles, kicking one of her feet a little and you nod. She wipes the last of the tears from her eyes and you kiss her cheek, before walking back to the restaurant when she claims she's finally calm enough to eat and be a little quieter.

--

About ten thousand things are happening in the Alpha Tauri garage when you sneak in with Yuki's help. You see Daniel off to the side, talking with some engineers with a stressed expression, and instead of walking over to wrap your arms around him like you want to-- you cart the twins off to his driver's room and settle them in there.

"Should I get him?" Yuki asks once he's finally gotten Sienna to pry off his leg and you laugh, shaking your head.

"Surprise, remember?" You speak softly, hushing the giglging twins.

"Yeah, but he's..." Yuki makes a face and you roll the idea around in your head. The girls had never seen Daniel frustrated, any sort of negative emotions you and Daniel tried to keep away from them.

"How bad?" You ask, mouthing one to ten, and Yuki mouths back a solid nine. So you groan, dragging your hands down your face and holding up a hand for him to wait while you kneel down and wave the girls over.

"Listen, Ella, Si." You poke their arms playfully as they quiet down their giggles when you slowly lower your hands to the floor, "Quiet time, okay? Momma's gonna go out and see where Daddy is, and I might bring him back here, okay?"

The girls nod and you kiss both of their foreheads before leaving the driver's room with Yuki and speaking softly, "I'll come with you."

He nods and waves you along, making his way through the back hall and back into the main area of the garage where Daniel was standing with his back to you. Mouthing good luck, Yuki slips off to stand beside Daniel as they talk racing stats. You just stand for a while, watching your husband as he clearly fusses over some fudging of numbers and how the team seems to be running whatever tactic on a sort of hail-mary moment. You know he hates leaving it up to fate.

"Okay, well," Daniel groans, clearly wanting to change strategy but knowing he's unable to do so, "I don't even know."

Yuki suggests something, but it gets shot down, and then you slowly start to inch forward. You see the videographers and photographers readying themselves for the moments, cameras lifting up high as they wait for the moment or whatever line will come out of your mouth.

"This is literally just as frustrating as getting the twins to relax on a plane," Daniel complains, Yuki smirking and biting the inside of his cheek as you finally cross the room to stand behind your husband.

"I dunno, I did pretty well--"

"--Holy shit!" Daniel shouts, barreling himself into you as he sweeps you off your feet in a loud laugh, "Oh my god! Hello! What?! When did you get here?!"

He sets you down after a tiny spin and presses a long kiss to your lips before you can explain, his hands firm on your hips and your arms tossed around his neck, just like puzzle pieces.

"Max got me passes, we got in last night. Blame the entirety of Red Bull." You wave a hand and Daniel kisses you once more, arms now wrapping around you.

"Okay, fuck strategy for a moment, I need this." He says to the Alpha Tauri team who wave him off and laugh, and you let Daniel just bury his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in the way too expensive Dior perfume he'd bought you for your birthday, and sigh out his stress.

"You have me and I have you." You murmur to him, pressing your lips to the side of his head, since it's all you can reach at this angle, a very similar angle to which his mini-me had been held in only a few hours prior.

"I know." He steps back, then blinks at you, "Wait. The twins are here too aren't they?"

"How the fuck--"

"You aren't wearing your necklace you always wear when you have someone babysit them for the weekend." He pokes the necklace you are wearing, one of your last names written in one of the prettiest fonts you'd ever seen, the gold blackened and dirty from its constant wear. A wedding gift from his mother.

"You little shit." You whisper, before turning and shouting, "Ella! Si!"

And it's like they were waiting for it because the sound of the door slamming against the wall followed by the patter of small sneakers sounds through the garage as the twins sprint to find you and their father. Their joyful screams overlap as Daniel drops to one knee to scoop both girls in his arms, fawning over their matching sundresses (custom-made to be the same color as his racing suit, as is the dress you wear) as he lifts them up to your height.

"Look at my girls." Daniel smiles, letting the twins babble on about whatever as he turns to press a kiss to your cheek, "Thank you."

"Thank Max." You step up to take Sienna from his arms so he can easily hold Rosella, but the arm you've freed snags you by the hip and pulls you close.

"There we go!" He grins at you, "All three of my girls in one place, yeah?"

And it's perfect, a little slotted puzzle piece, and regardless of if they figure out whatever issues are going on with the car you know Daniel will be loving every minute of Miami this year. Just because the three of you are there as his backbone.

#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo fanfic #dr3 x reader #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo x female reader #daniel ricciardo fic

[pumpkinbxtch]

Hey!! Could you do aftercare Leo Valdez head cannons please!!

˗ˏˋ leo valdez | aftercare headcanons

☆ radiostar is playin': 1-2-3 by gloria estefan and miami sound machine...!

warnings; allusions to sex, language a/n; hey! you mean my favorite boy? absolutely yes. tags; @green-tea217

Maybe he doesn't look like it to some, but...

he's a total love machine.

he's all smiles afterward, feeling silly with that afterglow vibe he always tries to spread around, and it works.

both literally have that goofy grin while catching your breath.

you feel that love in your stomach and-

stop Let's move on!

yet you still end up drained.

Leo rolls over to see you (with flushed cheeks and sweat on his forehead) and admires how you slowly recover, whispering sweet (but also teasing) things to you.

"That's my girl," "Hmm, you've never looked better, huh?" and he makes you blush, but he also makes you feel loved.

Then he opens his arms and raises an eyebrow, testing the waters to see what you want at that moment.

If you hug him, he'll hold you until you say you want to move, cuddling with you while stroking your hair.

He traces your skin delicately with his index finger.

there are moments when you're drifting off to sleep in his arms, feeling the taps on your bare back in Morse code. "I love you."

"Me too," you respond weakly, smiling against his chest. He grins like a fool.

He also buries his face in the crook of your neck, and you run your fingers through his curls that tickle your jaw.

He looks for you a lot too, in a way to let you know how good he feels with you.

Anyway, if what you want afterward is a bit of privacy to be alone, he'll get up, put on his boxers, and walk to your side of the bed to tuck you in with the sheets.

"I'll be back, mi amor," he says after giving you a kiss on the forehead and brushing your hair away from your face.

That man cooks for you, like REALLY cooks. You know because you smell the pasta cooking in the kitchen from his room.

He checks on you and brings you water a couple of times.

He sits on the edge of his bed and hands you the glass with a beaming smile. When you give it back, he sets it on the nightstand for a moment and asks if you're feeling okay.

"Everything alright?" he whispers sweetly while holding your chin and locking his chocolate eyes with yours.

You nod, and he kisses you.

He tells you the food will be ready soon, then offers to take you to the bathroom so you can shower.

That mf has gotten really strong. He can carry you however he wants, but he does it by throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and runs to the bathroom laughing like a kid.

When you enter, you see he's already placed your towel nearby for you to take, and when you come out to dress, you see he's left your -his- clothes for you to wear.

Before you eat together, he does the same and includes tidying up the room.

he wants you to feel comfortable, happy, and he succeeds.

when he's ready, he hugs you from behind and kisses your neck, you jump when you feel his wet hair but it gives you relief to feel him close.

"Hungry?" he whispers in your ear while gently tightening his embrace and smiling like the damn devil because he's saying it with a double meaning.

"you'll be the death of me, babe" he says because he really can't help but drool over you when you walk around in his clothes.

Both return to bed for a cuddle session and sweet whispers in each other's ears.

he uses his warmth powers for you, which is the best when the weather is cold or rainy.

"You're too good for me," he says and gives you a slow kiss while caressing your cheek.

you enjoy resting on his chest, and he's delighted with it.

You sleep entwined with each other, he's the big spoon, you're the little one.

He lives to see you happy and satisfied, doing it with love and kindness because he's your man.

#maría's shared dreams☆｡ﾟ✧ #pjo hoo toa #heroes of olympus #leo valdez #pjo #leo valdez x you #leo valdez x reader #leo valdez x y/n #leo valdez headcanons #leo valdez hoo #leo valdez fanfic #leo valdez fic #hoo x reader #hoo x you #percy jackson and the heroes of olympus #blood of olympus #leo valdez imagines

[pensat-i-fet]

All yours (Rúben Dias x Reader)

**So I got a couple of requests to write about being on holiday with Rúben after he posted some holiday content. And a more specific one involved this sort of fwb situation with some jealousy in the mix that inspired me a lot. And this is what I came up with. I always appreciate any feedback but this time it'd be interesting to know your thoughts since the tone and vibe (not the topic itself completely) of this is similar to a Rúben series I need to continue working on. So it'd be amazing to know how you guys feel about it. Enjoy reading!! ❤️**

Word count: 2947

Masterlist

Wattpad

"You're coming with us to our holiday, right?", asked Rúben when you got out of the shower.

"I don't know".

"What do you mean you don't know? You've travelled with us for the last 5 years. Do you have better plans?"

"I just…I don't know if it's the best idea now that…you know".

He got closer to you, smirking. "I might be having memory problems. Now that what?"

"You'll have other problems if you don't remove that annoying smug grin from your ugly face", you said, rolling your eyes and making him laugh.

When you tried to walk towards your closet, he stopped you wrapping his arms around your waist.

"Do you mean", he said, leaving kisses on your neck, "now that we stay in each other's beds instead of the guest rooms during our sleepovers? Because I only see that as a bigger reason for you to be there. I'm sure we'll find a way to have some alone time".

"But this is just something casual, Rúben. You’ve said it many times. What if I cockblock you? Or worse…you cockblock me!"

You noticed his arms holding you tighter for a heartbeat before he let go of you.

"We'll be fine. Please come with us, the boys always want you there. I want you there. You know that".

There was something in his tone that made you stop. Did he sound a bit…sad? But why would he? It’s just the summer holidays.

“Where are you going anyway? Same as always?”

“No, we’re going to Miami”.

He looked at your reaction, knowing you’d wanted to visit Miami for years. That was actually one of the reasons why he suggested that place as an option in the first place.

“I mean…”.

“I’ll send you the info when I finish booking everything”.

“I didn’t say yes, Rúben”.

“You said it with your eyes”.

“Oh yeah? What are my eyes saying now?”, you asked, glaring at him. “Stop smirking! You’re so annoying!”

"We are going to have so much fun!"

"Nothing is going to happen there. No one can know about this…arrangement. Or we'll never hear the end of it".

"Try and be a bit more quiet, then".

He was still laughing when the pillow hit his face and you took that opportunity to go get dressed. And to start planning what to pack for Miami.

                                      **

"I'm so hungover", you said when your little group of friends was waiting at the airport for your flight to the US.

"You sit with Rúben, then. He's probably still hungover too from the celebrations".

"As long as he doesn't puke again…".

"You're all so funny", said Rúben, rolling his eyes. He wasn't hungover but really tired after such a long season.

"You take the window seat. I'll be sleeping most of the time, anyway".

"Ok".

Trying to get comfortable, you started to notice it was a bit chilly on the plane.

"I need my jacket and your brother has my bag. I'll be right back", you said, trying to get up but Rúben stopped you.

"Just wear my hoodie", he took it off and put it in your lap, but instead of taking it you just stared at it. "What?"

"It's just that, wearing your clothes…that’s like couple stuff. And we’re not a couple".

"It's something you've done your entire life. Don't try to make it weird just because we are sleeping together now".

"Rúben!", your eyes widened and you also noticed the man sitting to your left staring at you two.

But he just shrugged and put his headphones on, ready to watch a movie. So you took the hoodie and put it on before trying to fall asleep quickly. But seeing Rúben sitting next to you made it harder to sleep. This whole friends with benefits thing was fun. I mean, it was Rúben you got to sleep with. But it was also…weird. You had always been friends and how were you supposed to go back to just friends once one of you found a partner? And why did that idea feel so wrong right now?

"Can't sleep?", he asked when he looked at you and saw you staring at his movie.

You shook your head, sighing.

"Come here".

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. Come closer so you can cuddle me. You'll fall asleep quicker".

"You think so highly of yourself, Dias…".

But you did as he said, moving closer so you could put your arms around his waist and place your head on his chest. His arm was around your shoulder and his hand kept caressing the top of your arm. And even if you were overanalyzing a gesture that was so normal for you two, in just a couple of minutes, you were already sleeping.

                                          **

Sleeping on the plane meant you were ready to enjoy the rest of the day once you landed in Miami. Everyone else just wanted to go to the beach and rest but you were itching to go out to explore the city.

"Come on!! It's so early. Let's go find somewhere to eat and then we can walk around the area".

"I'll go with you".

When Rúben spoke, everyone looked at him and you started to worry about them suspecting something. He was always volunteering to be with you, no matter what you suggested.

"Cool, Rúben can go with you and be your bodyguard for tonight".

"Bodyguard?"

"We aren't going to let you run around all alone in a foreign country…and at night".

"You don't even let me run around my hometown", you muttered, rolling your eyes at how overprotective they all were.

"You are like a little sister to us. We have to protect you. So off you go with big bro Rúben".

Shaking your head, you turned to leave the hotel, noticing Rúben right behind you.

For the first couple of minutes, you two walked in silence. You were too busy staring at your surroundings to say anything. And then you noticed Rúben putting his arm around your shoulders.

"What are you doing?"

"There are some weird guys looking at you".

"Thank you, big brother. What would I do without your protection?"

Rúben didn't find your sarcasm funny and when you were walking past an alley a couple of seconds later, he made you both walk inside it so he could push you against the wall and kiss you.

"I'm not your brother".

"You aren't my boyfriend either".

He shook his head, looking like he wanted to say more but not doing it. "Let's keep walking".

When you got back to the hotel, a part of you was hoping he would ask you to go to his room. Or that he would follow you to yours but he only wished you a goodnight and left you outside of the lift.

That's where you found him and the rest of the gang the next morning.

"Ready for today?"

"What's the plan?", you asked, hoping they didn't just plan on staying at the beach all day.

"Breakfast, beach, sightseeing and night out".

"I love that plan", you said, clapping your hands. "Maybe we can go shopping too".

After you had some breakfast, you moved to the private area of the beach so you could relax on the sunbeds for a couple of hours.

"I need sunscreen on my back!", you said, lifting your arm that held the bottle until someone grabbed it. You didn't even know who did, but when you placed your head on the sunbed, you saw Rúben sitting a couple of sunbeds away from you. So it wasn't him.

You closed your eyes, trying to relax. But anyone who bothered looking at Rúben's face would have noticed the tension in his features. He knew neither his brother nor his friends were interested in you in that way. They really meant it when they said you were like a sister to them. But still, seeing another man's hands on your body filled him with rage. He wanted to be the one putting the cream on your back and shoulders, leaving kisses all over your body while he applied it. But he had to look from afar. And it ruined his mood for the whole day.

By the time you made it to the hotel, you only had 30 minutes to get ready. But you already planned some cute outfits for the nights out so you ended up getting ready in less than half an hour.

"You're wearing that?"

His friend's words made Rúben look up.

"We are not doing this, boys. It's just a dress".

"One of us by your side the whole time, yeah", they joked.

"You'll have to catch me first!", you laughed, running outside of the hotel and making all your friends get up quickly to follow you.

You were so busy looking behind you that you didn't notice someone walking in front of you until you bumped into him.

"Oh my God! Sorry".

"It's ok", he said, holding your arm to steady you. "Are you ok? Were you running away from someone?"

His concern made you smile. And the fact that he was cute didn't hurt. "My friends but as a joke. They are alright…and right there".

"And they are all men".

"Yeah", you laughed. "But they act like little boys most of the time".

When they got to where you, and a stranger, were, they didn't know what to do. It was always hilarious to you how they didn't understand the concept of you talking to other men. You were one of the lads to them, but in moments like that, they realized you weren't a lad.

"We were going to grab a drink at a bar, do you want to come with us?"

"Sure", the guy, Sean, said. And you introduced him to everyone before making your way to the bar.

To say that Rúben wasn't happy would be an understatement. He just kept staring at you and Sean, while you were laughing and dancing. It should be him doing that with you, not a random dude whose last name you didn't even know.

"Another drink? How obvious".

"What are you muttering, grumpy?", asked his brother, who knew more than you and Rúben thought.

"Nothing…but I mean, what's that? The third drink he buys for her? We all know what he's trying to do".

"We are here to avoid that, stop worrying. No one is hurting her while we are around".

"I don't know. Maybe she wants it. Maybe she wants him".

Everyone could hear the bitterness in Rúben's voice.

"When she should want you, right?"

Rúben cleared his throat, not wanting to look at his brother after being so obvious.

"Do you think I don't know about you two?"

That made him look. "How would you…".

"You're not as discreet as you think you are but I get you wanted to keep it a secret so whatever", he shrugged. "What I didn't know was that there was more".

"More?"

"You couldn't be more jealous, Rúben".

"It's just something casual. But she's my friend…".

"No, she's my friend. That's why I'm careful to look her way every once in a while just in case she needs me. You are just looking at him and fantasizing about breaking his nose, probably".

Rúben shook his head and left to go to the bathroom. He just needed to splash some cold water on his face to hopefully get his common sense back. You were just friends with benefits. He didn't get to be jealous.

"Hey, bro".

Of course, it had to be Sean who he found in the bathroom. "Hey! Having a good time?"

"Do you have to ask?", he laughed, and Rúben didn't like that laugh at all. "Your friend is so hot. Is she good in bed too? She has to be, right?"

"How would I know? She's just my friend".

"Right…if my group of friends had a hot chick like her in it, we would all be just friends. Of course".

"What are you insinuating about her?".

Sean didn't realise how much bigger than him Rúben was until they were almost face to face.

"The way you all joke, the way she dresses…and she just invited me to buy her drinks before she even asked my name. Do you want me to believe you haven't all at least tried it once? I know girls like her".

Rúben pushed Sean against the wall, lowering his voice to try to not make a scene. But making sure his voice was menacing enough for Sean to get the message that he could break his nose, like his brother suggested, very easily.

"You don't know her at all. And what you're going to do is go out and excuse yourself and leave. Or you'll regret every word you've said about her…and all the ones you thought but didn't say out loud. Am I clear?"

Sean swallowed and nodded. And Rúben moved back just enough to allow him to leave the bathroom but to also take note of how strong Rúben really was.

He took a couple of deep breaths before going out and when he did, he couldn't believe what he saw. Not only was Sean still there, one of his hands was on your waist and he was whispering things in your ear.

Without saying a word to anyone, he walked towards you two and when Sean saw him, he just smiled.

"You don't want to make a scene here, do you?"

"What are you talking about?", you asked, looking from Sean to Rúben, confused about the whole situation.

"We are leaving", said Rúben, grabbing your hand so you can follow him.

"What? No! Why would I leave? I'm chatting with Sean".

"The guy who calls you a whore the moment you're not around? No, you are coming with me".

"He called her a what?"

All of your friends were now surrounding Sean. But you didn't care about any of them, tired of their overprotective nature towards you. So you let go of Rúben's hand and got out of the bar.

Rúben followed you, worried about your reaction.

"Wait! Stop walking. You're not even going in the right direction!"

"Maybe I'm going in the right direction because I'm going as far away from you as possible!"

"You didn't hear what he said about you. It was disgusting".

"If I want to be with a disgusting guy, it's my problem!"

"Now you're being ridiculous. Should we let you be taken advantage of?"

You finally stopped walking and turned to look at Rúben.

"What do you want from me? You are confusing me so much that my head is fucking spinning! First, you want us to just be fuck buddies and nothing else. Then you act all jealous whenever I talk to a guy but you keep on going out with girls so…how does that work? Do I get to be jealous too? Or it's only you who can?"

Rúben didn't know what to say. Because he was the first one confused by what he felt.

"What is it, Rúben? Because I don't know. And now you do what? Defend my honour? As if you were my boyfriend".

"You didn't hear what he said about you", he repeated, still mad at Sean's words.

"Let me guess. He thinks I'm fucking all of you, right? Like literally every man I meet that finds out I have a group of friends with only men in it", when you saw Rúben's face, you let out a sad laugh. "He was going to be a one-night stand, Rúben. Not my future husband. Who cares what he thinks about me?"

"I do! Hearing him say those things about you…".

"I said it the other day and I'll say it again. Rúben, you aren't my boyfriend. Stop acting like you are".

He swore under his breath when you started to walk again.

"Let's change that, then".

"Change what?"

"Let me be your boyfriend".

This time you stopped walking but feared turning to face him. Those were the words you had been dying to hear since the day you kissed while watching a movie months ago. You expected him to tell you he felt the same way about you. That he had been in love with you for years too. But he just proposed the stupid friends with benefits arrangement. And you said yes because at least you got to have him in some way. But it wasn't enough. You kept pushing him, telling him you weren’t a couple when he acted like your boyfriend. You wanted him to react. And he finally did.

"Don't just say it because you are angry at a dude calling me names, Rúben. You don't get to play with my feelings like that".

"I'm not playing. I thought I was scared of losing you as a friend but…I was just scared of facing my feelings. Of telling you how I felt and seeing you rejecting me".

"How do you feel?"

"I love you. And I know it's not the first time I tell you that but …I don't mean love as a friend. I mean, that too, of course. But I'm also in love with you. And I have been for a while"

He didn't know how to interpret the tears in your eyes. But a hug was always a good option, right?

"I love you too. But I need all of you, Rúben. Not just the little bits I've been getting these past months. It’s all or nothing".

"You have it all. All of it. I'm all yours. And I need you to be mine".

"I already am".

#ruben dias #ruben dias imagine #ruben dias one shot #ruben dias x reader #ruben dias x y/n #ruben dias fluff #ruben dias angst #footballer imagine #footballer one shot #footballer x reader #footballer x y/n #footballer fluff #footballer angst

[blueywrites]

Where you and Steve swing with Eddie and Chrissy, and it gets complicated.

TO KNOW YOU'RE MINE (modern!swingers!au) (18+ only)

eddie munson x chrissy cunningham x steve harrington x you

fem!reader, chubby!reader, minimal use of y/n, body insecurity, swingers, smut, fingering (v), oral (f & m receiving), p in v, praise kink, emotional sex, aftercare, infidelity

chapter eight : just pretend (13k) | playlist | AO3 | next

🎵 in this au, deftones=corroded coffin. the playlist is a combination of R's sad girl music vibes and some foreshadowing. the songs for this chapter are #25-27. The middle song is not mentioned by name.

Weigh down on me, stay 'til morning

Way down, would you say I'm worthy?

Just Pretend — Bad Omens

The entrance ramp to the freeway is less than a quarter of a mile away. You've been inching towards it for the past fifteen minutes, fingers tapping restlessly on the steering wheel. The sunlight streams like a piercing veil through the windshield, forcing you to squint despite your sunglasses as you stare dully straight ahead, eyes fixed on the little bumper sticker family on the minivan in front of you. You've barely budged; the mile marker to your right is still winking at you mockingly, and you avoid its gaze. Damn summer rush hour traffic. Shouldn't you all be heading to the beach?  

It's crazy to think that exactly one week ago, you were boarding a plane on your way to a tropical vacation in Miami. Now, not only are you back to the daily grind, driving home from the pediatrician's office in a reverse commute back into the city— a direction that usually serves you well in terms of traffic— but you're also in the midst of a major heat wave, with temperatures still close to ninety degrees at six in the evening. Hotter than it'd been in paradise, even. You'd be groaning aloud in frustration if the air conditioning wasn't blasting you in the face with a sweet, blissful chill and the radio wasn't playing Miley Cyrus' new song Flowers, which is surprisingly catchy and equally as cathartic.

'Can love me better, I can love me better, baby….' You've already caught on to some of the lyrics and are singing softly along, head bobbing as your eyes go a little unfocused, staring straight ahead. All in all, this week back to work wasn't bad. Monday was rough because you'd gotten very little sleep Sunday night, but by Tuesday, you'd thrown yourself back into your weekday routine, taking solace in its familiarity. Your head bobs a little more emphatically as Miley belts, 'I can love me better than you can—!' A delighted smile spreads across your lips as you hear the raspy strength of her voice, a smile of mutual appreciation from one singer to another. Okay, Miley, I see you—

The little bumper sticker family your eyes have been resting on is partially obscured by a wafting plume of gray.

Mind blank with confusion, you blink as another waft of gray quickly follows, streaming up from the blue hood of your old Honda Civic. Your eyes dart to the dash, and that's when you see it: the needle of your temperature gauge is now slanted up near the top of that alarming red band. The blaring orange check-engine light is just the icing on the cake. 

The spike of panicked adrenaline that pierces your chest is accompanied by only one thought:

Oh, fuck.

Thankfully, fate has dealt you two small miracles this day. First, you're already in the right lane, ready to take the entrance ramp onto the freeway and thus directly adjacent to the shoulder. And second, during your Miley jam session, the minivan in front of you had moved up a few feet, leaving a sizeable gap where previously your bumpers had been nearly kissing. It's surprisingly simple to wordlessly cut your wheel to the right, pull up and over onto the wide stretch of asphalt, and turn your key to kill the engine.

 You sit in your panic for the briefest moment before you're scrambling for the door handle, snatching your phone from the cupholder as you stagger from your vehicle. Thankfully, the shoulder is sizeable, and the traffic is still moving at a crawl, so you don't have to fear being hit as you put some distance between yourself and your lightly smoking vehicle. Your heart is still hammering as you unlock your phone, blood rushing in your ears as you pull up your contacts. Your finger hovers over Steve's contact picture: the two of you at the basketball game he'd taken you to for your anniversary last year. 

You gaze at Steve's white smile, and you hesitate.

It's almost twenty after six, and you know Steve is on his way to happy hour with his colleague visiting from California. Part of you feels a little pang of selfishness at the thought of interrupting him, though you know he'll be more than understanding when he hears why you're calling. Another part of you whispers that there's someone better to call— someone who knows much more about cars than Steve. Someone who works with them every day, someone who can diagnose your problem and tell you, in no uncertain terms, exactly what you should do in this situation.

No picture accompanies Eddie Munson's contact card, just a little purple circle with a black 'E' in the middle. Your finger hovers there as you hesitate again. Because Eddie's text— his song— is still sitting lonely in your messages app, read but unanswered. Though it's only been five days since you'd seen or spoken to him, it's longer than you've gone without some form of contact in months. And it had felt strange, an absence you couldn't stop noticing, like the gap where a tooth had been. But you also couldn't bring yourself to fill it.

You'd tried to answer Eddie on Monday and then again on Tuesday. But every time you'd pulled it up, staring at the message he'd written and hearing the echo of his smoky voice crooning in your head, you'd been filled with a tangle of difficult emotions, woven so impossibly tight there was no unraveling them. 

In the end, the reason you didn't answer Eddie was simple. You just didn't know what to say.

It weighs on you now, your conspicuous silence for the last five days. You're afraid to call him. Afraid to hear that smoke voice come through the phone sounding flat and quiet, bitten curt and short, or edged with irritation. Afraid because this week is the first week in five months that your normal group play plans haven’t been made. Albeit, it’s because Steve had another obligation, but you can’t deny that you were relieved to have an excuse not to see Eddie after your extended silence, or to see Chrissy’s lithe porcelain body, a reminder of what she is and what you are not. 

But one last glance at the lingering stream of smoke still floating from underneath your hood, much thinner and weaker now but still present, has you pushing past your hesitance and tapping on the call icon. Because above all else— despite the little read receipt beneath the MP3 file, despite the dove gray paint now chipping on your nails— you know that Eddie is kind. You know he'll help you. 

Eddie answers after the first ring. "Hello?" 

He doesn't sound annoyed like you'd feared; instead, he sounds mostly surprised, if not confused. His voice makes that poignant yearning bloom behind your sternum, an utterly unhelpful feeling in this situation, especially since you're already on edge because of your car. You try to keep your voice from wobbling as you respond. "Hi, Eddie." 

"...Hi, y/n. Ah, what's—" You hear a bit of shuffling, some noise in the background like he's somewhere out in public. "What's up?" 

You're already nervous and unsure, fiddling unconsciously with the ID badge still clipped to the pocket of your scrubs. Your voice goes high, words coming quick as if your mouth is stumbling over itself to explain. "I'm sorry to call you out of the blue; I just— I didn't know—" 

You cut yourself off with a quick huff of frustration, dropping the badge and forcibly stilling your fingers at your side. You take a quick breath to start again. "My car started smoking from the hood, so I had to pull over on the highway—" 

"Shit—" Eddie hisses, and then his voice is suddenly louder, clearer, like he's taken you off Bluetooth or brought the phone closer to his mouth. His voice has an edge of panicked urgency as he demands, "Are you safe? Is the car still smoking?" 

Your lips pinch, a flutter blooming low at the sound of his concern; you glance toward the car, watching for a moment for more wisps of gray. "No, it's not really smoking anymore. I'm okay. I'm standing on the shoulder. It's a wide shoulder, and there's a lot of traffic, so the cars are moving slow. It does look like it's clearing up, though." Are you over-explaining? Probably. "I'm right outside the city," you add as if he'd asked. "I was driving home from work." 

"Okay. Okay." A heavy sigh of relief distorts on the other end of the phone, and, Eddie continues much more evenly, "Then, uh… start from the beginning and tell me what happened." 

You describe what you remember happening— sitting in traffic, seeing the smoke, then noticing the spike in the temperature gauge. Brow crumpled, voice a little small, you ask Eddie, "So… what should I do?"

 "Well, definitely do not drive," he says through a wry chuckle, and before you can help it, you're retorting sarcastically.

"No, really?" 

You hear him husk a chuckle, warm and throaty and genuine, and the sound makes your belly flip. “Is it an old car?” 

"Yeah, it's my sister's old Civic. I think it's, like, a twenty-ten." 

"Right, makes sense. Doesn't usually happen in newer cars, but it's definitely your radiator. Probably overheated sitting there in traffic since it's a hundred fuckin' degrees out today." There's a pause, and Eddie sighs— not beleaguered, just a little light huff before his tone turns business-like. "Look, I'm gonna call my buddy from the shop. He'll come with a tow. It'll be after hours by the time it gets there, but tomorrow we can take a look at it. I had the early shift today, and I'm at the gym now, so it'll be a few, but I'll come give you a ride home." 

Instantly you prickle with regret upon hearing that you're disrupting his plans. "Oh, Eddie, you don't have to do that. I can just call an Uber—" 

"No," he interrupts you, voice still kind but firm. "I'm coming to get you, y/n. I'm not leaving you on the side of the highway." His tone brokers no argument, and you can't help but feel a flutter of moth's wings at how resolved he is. Like he would never be satisfied leaving you in anyone else's hands but his own. Your throat goes thick. 

"Okay?" Eddie prompts when you don't respond. 

You clear your throat to keep your voice from wobbling. "Yeah. Okay. Thank you, Eddie. I'm sorry I ruined your gym plans." 

 "What'd I tell you about being sorry?" 

You can hear the smile in his voice even as he chides you lightly; you chuckle a little, unable to help the smile that blooms warmly on your face. "Right. Just thanks, then." 

 "You're welcome. Ping me your location, and I'll be there soon." You bask in the answering warmth of his smoke before he hangs up.

In the silence that follows, the first emotion that trickles in is relief. Relief that Eddie isn't upset at you, that he hadn't rejected you. Though you didn't really think he would, a tiny part of you still feared he might, so to hear it confirmed has tension melting from your frame. The relief is short-lived, however, when you look down at the front of your navy scrubs, which are wrinkled both from working a full day's shift and from the oppressive heat that is still beating down on your head, heating your hair and making sweat spring at your temples and on your upper lip. After sending your location to Eddie, you quickly pull up your front-facing camera on your phone, feeling a little ridiculous when it occurs to you that every car that passes can see you checking yourself out on the side of the road. The self-consciousness is still nothing compared to the spike of nervous anticipation that flutters within at the thought of seeing Eddie soon, so you push the thought aside in favor of examining yourself closely. And it's just as you feared: your hair is limp, lifeless, and a little tangled, and your skin is dewy from the heat but lacking the charm of mascara, blush, or lip color. Of course, I would choose today to sleep in a little and skip putting on makeup.

You stuff your phone back in your scrubs pocket, working your fingers hastily through the tangles in your hair before flipping your head upside down and shaking it out, seeking some semblance of volume. You swipe at the wrinkles on your scrub shirt next, giving up quickly when your efforts do nothing to smooth out the fabric. Do I have a spare shirt in the backseat? You stare at the iridescent blue shimmer of your Civic, now radiant in the ever-deepening light, wracking your brain for what may be back there and whether it's worth it to try approaching your car considering the smoke. Probably just some empty paper Dunkin' bags, you figure, but you also need your purse, and the smoke seems to be gone, so you venture over anyway.

Sure enough, the backseat search turns up no spare shirts. You collect your bag and detach your car key from the ring, slipping it into your pocket before you pull out your phone again to shoot off a quick text to Steve. 'Car's busted. Have to have it towed.' 

He answers quickly. 'God babe, you okay??' 

'Yeah, I'm fine. Radiator went because of the heat, Eddie said. He's having a tow truck pick up my car to take it to the shop.' 

A longer pause to accommodate the longer response. 'Do you want me to come pick you up? I can be out of here in fifteen minutes.' Your stomach swoops, and you type your reply quickly to head him off.

'No, it's okay, no need to leave. He said he'd give me a ride home.' Before sending, you add, 'Have fun at happy hour!! I'll see you when you get back!' 

There's an even longer pause before Steve's final reply. 'Okay babe, see you tonight,' he says, ending with a smiley face. Your stomach settles, and you lean against the back bumper to wait for Eddie. Despite the heat and humidity, you're better off there than sitting inside the car with the engine off. You mourn the lack of air-conditioning as a bead of sweat trickles down the center of your back.

It doesn't take too long for you to spot Eddie's van angling from the left lane to the right. If you didn't recognize his car, the recklessness of the driving would've been a dead giveaway that it's Eddie behind the wheel; still, as he cuts over onto the shoulder, his breaks nearly squeal as he slams them excessively, slowing to a crawl as he approaches you. You huff a little breath through your nose, amusement briefly cutting your nerves. Sweet of him not to run me over.

Eddie's out of the van almost as soon as it rolls to a stop, and you wipe your sweaty palms against your scrub pants as he hops down. The sight of him like this— dressed in sneakers, joggers, and a loose muscle tank, hair scraped back off his neck, striding toward you with purpose— makes your wings flutter so wildly that your head feels suddenly fuzzy and your throat goes dry. You swallow to wet it, gaze darting around his face, catching on those wide honey-brown eyes before they flit away again when your heart thumps. 

You manage to compose yourself enough to say, voice smaller than you'd like, "Thanks for coming." 

The quick flash of his grin makes you both melt and seize up. "'Course," Eddie replies easily, pausing before you. "I'm gonna check it out real quick," he tells you, eyes sliding away just as yours return his stare. Even that brief flash of contact has you chewing on your lip as you trail after him. 

You watch Eddie from a short distance as he feels around the edge of the hood for the catch. As your eyes run over those dextrous hands, those ruddy knuckles absent his usual silver, you can't help but remember the feeling of his callouses rasping against your bare waist, so slow and tender. You feel a thrill of heat bloom low at the memory, though you squash the impulse almost immediately. This is not, in any way, the appropriate time to think about that. Pointedly, you avert your eyes from his flexing biceps as he lifts the hood. 

After a brief perusal, Eddie lets it fall with a decisive thunk. "Yup," he says, "definitely the radiator." You hear his footsteps crunch on gravel as they approach, stopping a brief distance from you. You glance up to see that his expression is neutral, but those brown eyes are unnervingly unreadable. "Wanna sit in my van while we wait for the tow? It's hot as balls out here."

The promise of relief from this oppressive heat has you nodding immediately. "Please," you sigh, genuinely grateful, and Eddie rewards you with another flash of his eyeteeth in a broad grin.

"C'mon." He leads you to the passenger seat, opening the door for you in an unnecessarily chivalrous gesture that strikes you as dangerously charming. Dangerous because, as you watch Eddie lope around to the driver's side through the windshield, that impossible tangle of emotions rises within you again, conjuring memories. Memories of broad hands holding you close, of tender kisses pressed to your wet cheeks. Memories of bow lips spilling sweet words about boys and girls, of butterfly-wing whispers during backseat conversations. A war wages inside you, a war between hope and despair, like two hounds with their muzzles locked tight, neither willing to release.

When Eddie pulls himself into the driver's seat, it stirs the air in the van, which is musty with stale cigarettes but blessedly cooler than outside. Silently, he turns the key, and with a cheery chime, the vents sputter and begin pumping air into the cabin. You shoot him a tiny smile, one hand resting in your lap, the index of your other hand running back and forth along the plastic edge of your ID badge. Now that there's nothing to do but wait, you're beginning to feel awkward. And it seems Eddie might feel that way too because, though he's lounging casually back in his seat, his thumb automatically seeks a knuckle before he glances down and notices he's not wearing his rings. He splays his fingers against his thighs instead, and you glance away.

He's the first to break the silence between you. "So, uh…" You look up, catching the quick glance he tosses at you. "Haven't talked to you lately. How are you?" 

The question is stilted, anything but smooth, ringing like a sour note between two people who shared an incredibly intimate moment less than a week ago. You appreciate the gesture, even though it doesn't do much to quell your tense emotions. You find yourself babbling in your nervousness. "I'm okay, besides my car, obviously." A little awkward chuckle, and then you're plowing on. "Work's been normal. The same. I spend my days sticking thermometers under tongues and brandishing lollipops to ease the sting of immunizations. You know. The daily grind." It suddenly seems extremely important to explain to Eddie why this Friday is the first in nearly five months plans weren't made for group play. You dart a look at his face before turning your eyes back down to stare at his fingers, voice tight with frenetic energy. "Steve's been working like a fiend since we got back. Just, like, so busy. There's a new project he's heading. He said they're making sure their systems are ready for the student loan relief bill that just got passed. It's all really technical, and he tried explaining the details, but that kind of stuff is just in one ear, out the other for me." Another glance up, and Eddie's watching you with those dark eyes, face inscrutable. You explain, "He's at happy hour with his coworker who's visiting from California tonight, so…" that's why we didn't make plans, is how the sentence would probably end, but you let it trail off into implication. 

Eddie nods; you suppose it's to show he was listening, and you rush to continue. "Um, anyway. How's Chrissy? I've texted her a little this week, but not much."

The most minute twitch of Eddie's brow follows; if you hadn't been watching him so closely, you would've missed it. "She's fine," he says simply.

You nod, head bobbing more enthusiastically than necessary. "And, um, how are you—?"

"How come you left me on read?"

You fall instantly silent as Eddie interjects. Just gonna come right out and ask, huh? You suppose it's never been Eddie's style to be subtle. It's not accusatory, his tone, but nevertheless, it makes your chest squeeze tight. Your eyes dart down to your lap as you mumble your excuse. "I dunno. Just… getting back into the swing of things after vacation. I've been busy." It sounds lame as you say it, and you can feel yourself wince as the words come out of your mouth.

Eddie's voice is even quieter when, after a beat, he replies. "Too busy to listen to my song?" 

The edge of hurt in his voice has your eyes wide and stuck to his in an instant. Your brow crumples, expression earnest as you rush to say, "I did listen to it, Eddie. I listened to it a lot, actually. I just…" A little oozing guilt seeps up at the bottom of you, regret that you know he can probably read in your face. "I just didn't text you back." 

Eddie looks at you with those dark eyes, examining your face silently for a moment. And then the corners of his mouth soften just slightly. "And what did you think?" he asks, brow pinching.

You want to reach out, smooth the wrinkle between his dark brows, bury your nose in the crook of his neck and hold him, or let him hold you. 

'I think Eddie's gonna propose!' Chrissy squeals, blue eyes wide and sparkling with uninhibited joy.

Your fingers twitch with the impulse to reach for him, but you twist them together in your lap. Still, you can't help but be honest, and your answer comes out soft, unable to be wholly scrubbed of the tender poignancy you feel. "It was beautiful: the music, the lyrics. Your voice. Your voice is always beautiful," you say, speaking slowly, "and I don't really know why, exactly, but… something about it made me sad."

Eddie's eyes dart between yours— honey brown deepening as the sun shifts, bathing him in a shaft of deepening gold, turning his dark curls richer. The wrinkle eases on his forehead, and your gaze drops to his plush lips, pink and pillowy-soft in the pale quartz of his face. You watch his tongue dart out to wet them before he responds.

But as they part, the rumbling sputter of a truck interrupts. It draws Eddie's gaze to the side window, and you both watch the truck pull off onto the shoulder, skirting around your car to park in front. You meet his eyes when he looks back at you, a moment of hesitation lingering before you exit the car. The loud thunk of a door slamming outside breaks the moment, and mutually, wordlessly, you both open the van doors.

Eddie and his coworker meet by your front bumper, clasping each other in one of those manly, complicated handshakes guys do. You pull the car key from your pocket and pass it to Eddie, cheeks heating at the brush of his hot fingertips against your palm when he plucks it from your grasp. You hope he doesn't notice and step back to let them work on hooking your car up to the tow.

Once they're done, his coworker hoists himself back into his truck. When you call out a thank you through his rolled-down window, he jerks his chin in acknowledgment. Eddie leans an elbow on the doorframe, and after they exchange some brief parting words, you watch your old blue Civic finally roll onto the freeway entrance ramp you'd been staring at nearly an hour ago now.

A nudge at your elbow and your eyes dart to Eddie, who withdraws his hand quickly but motions with his head back towards his van in a silent prompt. You follow him, sliding again into the passenger seat and clicking your belt into place as Eddie falls into the driver's seat, long legs stretched comfortably beneath the wheel.

You're suddenly overly aware of your own body in this space that so clearly belongs to Eddie. The scent of the air you’re breathing— stale cigarettes atop soapy, artificial pine— is conspicuously foreign, and the scratch of the fabric seat under your palms is unfamiliar, too. Though you've ridden in the back of Eddie's van before with Steve, this is the first time you've been privy to the passenger seat. The van is scattered with debris of Eddie’s daily life: gas station receipts and half-full boxes of cigarettes littering the center console, empty fast food wrappers stuffed in the door pocket, the odd guitar pick stuck along the seam of the floor mat under your feet. A life you’re now witnessing up close, inserting yourself into as you ask for his help. Selfish. You press your thighs together, folding your arms in your lap as Eddie turns the key and the van rumbles to life beneath you. Despite the tinge of discomfort, you’ve already accepted his help, so there’s no point dwelling on that now. You let out a slow breath from your nose, squinting as it occurs to you, when Eddie makes no moves to pull out onto the road, that he probably doesn't know how to get to your apartment from here. 

"Hey—" Your voice isn't loud, but it still seems to startle him. Eddie's wide eyes dart to you, and you bite back the apology at the tip of your tongue, unable to keep your lips from curling in the tiniest smile as you think about his warm voice over the phone. 'What'd I tell you about being sorry?' "I can put my address in Google Maps if you want," you offer, and Eddie doesn't hesitate to tilt his hips and pull his phone from his pocket, swiping it open before passing it over.

You blink as you take it, the weight of his phone familiar— the same model as yours— but also so conspicuously foreign, just like the smell of his van and the sight of all his personal items scattered around the cabin. Little bits and pieces of Eddie that you can't help but savor. Crumbs that burst with flavor on your tongue. And you can't stop yourself from collecting another morsel: you stare at his phone background for a moment before you open up the apps. 

It's a photo of Eddie and three other guys, faces all squashed together to fit in the frame. It’s slightly blurred and grainy like it’d been taken at night, and the handle of a shopping cart peeks from the bottom edge. Eddie looks younger than he is now, and the unmistakable joy on Eddie's youthful face— the brightness of those brown eyes, the smile lines at the corners of his mouth, those full lips stretched in a manic, delighted grin— makes your leaves quiver. That poignant yearning rises to the surface, untangling from the rest of your emotions to settle behind your ribs. It comes out in a soft smile as you think about Eddie's eyes while you set your address.

You pass the phone back, and Eddie scans the directions before fitting the phone into the closest cupholder, pressing it up against an open packet of cherry-red Twizzlers. "Don't forget to rate me five stars at the end of your trip," he quips, shooting you a brief grin. Only once you return his smile does he glance out the side window, looking for an opening before pulling off the shoulder in a controlled squeal of rubber. You take a steadying breath, reminding yourself to be grateful for Eddie's help even though his driving makes your heart leap into your throat.

You think back to the conversation the tow truck's arrival had interrupted. 'Your voice is always beautiful,' you'd said, and that emotion that had wrinkled his brow— nervousness, maybe self-consciousness?— had eased. You want to know what he was going to say in reply, but you sense that the moment has passed as you peek at him. Eddie's eyes are focused on the road; one hand lightly grips the steering wheel while the other taps an erratic beat against his thigh. 

Eddie's constant motion makes the lack of music suddenly obvious. Before the silence can get awkward again, you ask, "Can we put the radio on?"

"Never gonna say no to that." Eddie's lips quirk in a crooked grin as distorted guitars and haunting vocals suddenly blare from the speakers. No chance of hearing Miley Cyrus on this station, you think dryly. He cranks the volume, settling higher than you find comfortable, but you don't really mind. He starts headbanging lightly, dark curls swaying until the song breaks down into a soft melodic interlude as the singer croons, 'Can't you see that you're lost? Can't you see that you're lost without me?' When the beat drops back in, you bite back a giggle as he resumes more emphatically, both palms now tapping against the steering wheel as he bites his bottom lip, movements frenetic and exaggerated but also oddly endearing. Your giggle breaks free, barely audible above the music; Eddie glances at you, brown eyes glinting as his smile widens through that bitten lip. 

"What is this?" you ask, nearly shouting to be heard over the music. 

Cheekily, he replies, "Metal, sweetheart."

You huff, shaking your head fondly as he resumes tapping on the wheel. But when his hands leave it entirely, beating on his thighs as he gets hectic, you intervene. "I know you're the craziest driver to ever exist and all, but if you kill me before I get home, I can't rate you five stars." Your voice is lightly dry though tight with genuine anxiety, considering how you're currently cruising down the highway and Eddie has no hands on the wheel. 

He huffs lightly but quickly complies, and you flash him some playful side-eye. "Thanks," you say, still dry, though not so dry that he would think you're really upset. 

You make it into the city without incident, and Eddie's steady speed is significantly reduced once you hit the gridlines, that labyrinth of red and green lights that stretches on perpetually into the distance. You're about fifteen minutes away from home when a song comes on that you actually recognize: Just Pretend by Bad Omens. You find your head bobbing as you watch the setting sun glint off the tall glass buildings that cage you in, towering over the cars crawling block by block toward their destinations just like you and Eddie are. At that first emphatic chorus, when the singer croons, ' I can wait for you at the bottom, I can stay away if you want me to,' you glance at Eddie, expecting to see that emphatic headbanging again. But Eddie's head is still, and his brown eyes are deep and dark as he stares out the windshield. You frown slightly, concern rising at the whiteness of his knuckles where his hands grip the steering wheel. He doesn't return your stare, tongue working the inside of his cheek, eyes pensive and far away. Consumed by the blaring metal and Eddie’s headbanging, you'd briefly forgotten the tangle of your emotions, the war of hope and despair waging within you. But Eddie's shift in mood brings it back. The hounds are still locked in a bitter feud, neither yielding, both equally matched. You turn your eyes to your lap, worrying at the hem of your navy scrub shirt to keep your fingers occupied. 

The next time the chorus refrains, the words ' heaven knows I ain't getting over you' grow gradually quieter, and you glance up to see Eddie nudging down the volume. The gesture is simple, but coupled with his shifted mood, it feels meaningful. There's a spike of nervous trepidation in your chest mixed with a tiny shiver of anticipation, and then he's speaking.

"Look, I need to say something."

"...Okay," you reply cautiously, nerves spiking again as you wait for him to continue. Your eyes lock on his face, and you watch Eddie's jaw twitch before he continues speaking slowly and seriously.

"What happened on the way back from the airport… what Chrissy did… It wasn't right."

That hot rush similar to mortification needles down the back of your neck as he glances at you, brow lightly furrowed. You avert automatically from the flash of his brown eyes, not wanting to read the look there. You find yourself wanting to avert from the conversation entirely, to protect yourself from what might come. Regret. Reluctance. Pity. All would be painful, and you don't want any of it.

Quickly, you reply, trying to keep your voice even and pleasant as you head off his concerns. "What do you mean? We've literally all had sex together, so what's the big deal? It's not like we don’t know you’re having sex with each other."

Eddie's frowning now, brow knit tight, full lips pressed into a line. Bothered, but not angry. Despite your attempts, he pushes back. "Sure, but… she didn't need to talk about it like that in front of…." 

Your eyes dip back to your lap when he trails off, and you can feel his gaze on the side of your face. You feel exposed, vulnerable; the hounds growl, teeth gritted tight. Hope and despair warring fiercely within you. 

Eddie's waiting for your response. And you try; you really, really try to maintain that pleasant evenness you'd achieved before. But it wavers as you remember Chrissy's bright red acrylics, her happy chattering in the salon chair, talking about her future with Eddie. "In front of me?" you ask, predicting the end of his unfinished sentence. Your voice is dull, nearly impassive. "Why would that matter?"

It would sound nearly impassive to someone who doesn't know you well. 

But Eddie knows you well.

You aren't looking, but you hear him huff a humorless chuckle. You tense immediately, heart dropping in that brief pause before he says tightly, "Dammit, y/n. Fuck it."

Eddie turns into a narrow alley between blocks, swerving quickly to the right to pull along the curb. The van skids and rocks as he throws it into park. You're reeling from the abrupt change, eyes wide as Eddie turns to you, looking so serious. Before he speaks, he jams his thumb against the radio dial to cut the music entirely. "It killed me to hear her saying all that. I didn't wanna go along with it; I just didn't know what else to do." His brow creases, brown eyes imploring as they stare into yours. "I'm sorry."

Your heart begins pounding as Eddie stares at you. His obvious earnestness isn't lost on you, and you hadn't realized how much you yearned to hear him say that— to feed your hope— until you heard it. Still, the despair hasn't released you. Its grip has loosened with his words, but it still clings stubbornly, prompting your quiet reply. "Don't be sorry, Eddie." You nearly smile because you won't stop telling each other that, but you can't quite bring yourself to. You swallow, throat thick as you push out the words. Acknowledge the truth. "She's your girlfriend."

Poignant yearning aches within you, rising to the surface as you voice it. Your gaze draws across Eddie’s face, caressing the darkness of his curls; the pale quartz of his cheeks; his brown eyes, wide and framed by long lashes. It lingers there, and you see when those eyes go so soft. Eddie wets his lips, and they fall slightly open. And then his smoke fills the space between you.

"But I don't want to hurt you." Hoarse, quiet. Sincere. "I really care about you."

The smoke settles within, fluttering your wings. It sinks into the peat at the bottom of you, turning to charcoal that nourishes your roots. You feel wobbly, head fuzzing, blood rushing in your ears, but as your green reawakens, the despair releases its teeth. 

Hope wins.

Your admission isn't more than a whisper, but it's enough. "I really care about you, too."

Something shifts behind Eddie's eyes, then. They dart between yours, honey deepening to amber as he rasps, "And…" He breaks off, brow furrowed, nostrils flared. His internal struggle is obvious, and the seconds tick by— loaded, motionless seconds that hang heavy in the waning light as evening approaches. You wait, fingers fisting in your lap, for the resolution of that tension inside Eddie, for whatever that will mean for you. Your eyes want to flit away as you wait, but they can't. They're stuck on amber brown, drawn inescapably in, helpless to the pull of its brightness.

You see the moment Eddie reaches his decision. It's written all over his face the instant before he speaks.

"And all I can think about is how much I wanna kiss you right now."

Your breath catches in your throat, but the smoke sinks straight through your scrubs and into your chest. Your reply is inevitable; it was written long ago. As you stare into the light of Eddie Munson's eyes, it comes as a tremulous whisper. "Then kiss me, Eddie."

The flash of those brown eyes and the instant heat on Eddie's face hit you so hard you're left trembling, fingers fumbling the buckle of your seatbelt. You're leaning toward him, straining against the strap, brow furrowed in frustration as it holds you back— and then Eddie's hand is there, fingers brushing hot against yours as he unclips you, and you're free.

You lunge for him at the same time he grabs for you. The center console digs painfully into your hip as you tilt awkwardly over it, hand fisting for purchase in the shoulder of his tank; Eddie's fingers on your face are pressing hard into your cheeks, molding your flesh in a grasp rougher than he's ever been. 

But when he finally mashes his mouth to yours, nothing else matters.

The press of Eddie's full lips is ecstasy. They're warm and supple despite the fervor of his kiss, offering sweet comfort and sweltering heat alike. He moans into your mouth— a deep sound of utter relief as your mouth opens unhesitantly, allowing him access to you. His tongue seeks yours, and he tastes like smoke and spice, like cigarettes and cinnamon gum, that flavor so uniquely him. Your desire is a wild thing, more frenzied than you've ever experienced before. Just the feeling of Eddie's hands on your face and his tongue in your mouth has your pussy throbbing already.

The kiss is careless in your mutual haste, borne of desperate need that propels you together without finesse. After a moment, Eddie tilts his face, slotting his lips more ideally against yours, soft nose brushing as he works into your mouth. And it was affecting before, but Eddie's kiss now is utterly delicious— deep and thorough and oh, so sensual. His fingers soften on your face, rasping back to cup your neck, dragging up to palm your skull, unconcerned about the mess he's making of your hair. That low heat catches to embers in your belly, flaring as he licks along your bottom lip. And then he bites down on it, tugging gently in a move that has your mouth falling open in an involuntary gasp and your pussy pulsing hard. 

Fuck, you want him. You want him more than you've ever wanted anything in your life.

The sounds of the city filter through the walls of Eddie's van— horns honking, tires crunching gravel, thunks and clanks of cars rolling over sewer grates. You're in a side alley off the main road, but anyone who pulls down this tiny street would see you through that wide glass windshield: cheeks flushed, eyes closed, lips locked as you release the fabric at Eddie's shoulder from your fist to drag your hand up the length of his thigh, feeling around blindly until you cup the hard bulge in his joggers.

You feel Eddie exhale sharply as you touch him; his fingers tighten against your scalp as you press down with the heel of your palm, rubbing along his length. Eddie's hips jerk up into your touch, and your blood sings in your veins, yet he breaks the kiss almost instantly. Your eyes pop open in surprise, though you flush hotter as you see him: eyes burnished with deep need, cheeks stained high, plush lips dark and swollen, chest heaving as he pants. His hand gently cradles your face, fingers splaying against your neck. When his thumb presses underneath your jaw to angle your head up, you can't bite back a little whimper of need. 

Eddie's eyes flash, and his voice is gritty as he rasps, "Are you sure about this?" He pauses before adding quietly, "We can still stop." 

You consider his words: We can still stop. We haven't yet crossed that line. On this side, rule upheld; step over, rule broken. But it's not just that, not anymore. Not here in Eddie's van. 

On this side, faithfulness; step over, infidelity. 

The hounds of hope and despair have released you, but this is a beast of a different kind. You know Eddie is right to pause, to take a moment to think before you both do something you can never take back. You search inside yourself— search for that ooze, for that green.

For what feels right.

In your silence, Eddie examines you, and his hand slackens on your neck. "Maybe we should stop," he says finally. And the look in Eddie's eyes— the concern, the gentleness that shines in beautiful brown— resolves you.

Your words come from the bottom of you, from the roots that could never be choked by the ooze of shame and guilt. You cover Eddie's hand on your neck, weaving your fingers together. "Eddie, I want to," you admit, and your voice nearly cracks with the force of your longing. "I really want to."

He shudders a sigh, a full-bodied thing that tremors through him. A sigh of relief. "So do I, sweet girl." The rumble of his smoke voice is so tender, and you drag his hand from your neck to your cheek, listing into his touch as you flutter and bloom. His lips tilt with a gentle smile. "C'mere."

The back of Eddie's van is dark inside; there are no windows back there. The third row of seats has been removed, and you suppose it's to make room for his band gear. The empty space is wide and relatively clear aside from a random assortment of loose cords. It’s lined with fabric rougher than the seats when you press your palms to it and hoist yourself in. 

You turn and watch as Eddie hops up after you, one hand wrapped around a handle on the ceiling as he crouches. There's a bundle of fabric stuffed underneath his other arm. He kneels beside you, and wordlessly, you help him clear the cords and spread the flannel blanket as a buffer between your bodies and the scratchy floor. When the back doors thunk closed, you're plunged into darkness until Eddie flicks a switch above him, filling the space with warm light that casts his black and white in a soft glow. The back of Eddie's van affords enough privacy that the sounds of the city recede from your mind.

Nothing is stopping you now.

He's kneeling before you, the lines of his body stretched as he reaches for the ceiling light. You don't know what to reach for first— there are so many different places you could kiss or caress that you're overwhelmed with the possibilities. Eddie is a feast spread out before you, and you're burning to devour him. And it seems that Eddie may be thinking the same thing because his eyes are dark and molten as they drag slowly over you as if he’s savoring the sight. And it's a peculiar thing. So often, the presence of others' eyes on you makes self-consciousness squirm uncomfortably in your gut. But when Eddie consumes you with his heated gaze, you don’t feel self-conscious. Instead, as his eyes linger on your face bare of makeup, your hair limp from the heat and mussed from his fingers, and the formless, wrinkled shape of your scrubs, you feel nothing but desirable.

You're already melting before Eddie tells you, "It's just you and me, sweetheart. Don't hold back."

You can’t. 

You won’t.

"Touch me, Eddie," you moan, "please—"

Hearing you beg has Eddie reaching for you instantly, hands pushing up your scrub shirt to expose your soft belly. You help him, pulling it over your head as he shoves your pants down your hips, and you fall back on your butt as he yanks them down to your ankles. You laugh as he grumbles when they get stuck on your sneakers. "Hold on, fuckin'... stupid shoes…" he mumbles to himself, and you sit up to untie the other pair of laces while he works on the first. Your shoes and socks end up flung heedlessly aside, and then you're tearing at Eddie's clothes next. Your arms wrap around each other as he gropes at the clasp of your bra and you drag his shirt up his back, your hastiness more of a hindrance than anything as you mash together, fumbling until you're both down to underwear. 

His brown eyes lock eagerly on the generous swell of your bare breasts and the dusk of your soft nipples. "Tits really are so fuckin' perfect." Eddie grins, and you glow with pleasure, smiling broadly back as you playfully tighten your arms to push your breasts together. His brow tugs up as his grin turns wolfish, and without warning, Eddie shoves his face into your ample cleavage. 

You squeak a surprised giggle as his curls tickle. "Smother me." His words muffle hot against your skin. "I'd die happy like this."

You laugh harder, breasts shaking as he emerges for air. "You're such a weirdo," you say through chuckles, eyes bright and fond as he tugs you against him in a tight embrace. 

"You like it," he hums cheekily, smile charmingly crooked, brown eyes honeyed and warm. You soften, leaning in to bring your faces closer.

"I do like it," you confirm, and the playfulness on Eddie's face fades, smoldering into heat as he drops kisses down the side of your throat— slow and light and delicate at first, then deeper, more insistent as your head tilts to give him access. The press of his fingers splayed against your back, the warmth of his skin against your chest, the sensual caress of his plush lips and tongue; they all settle low in your belly, stoking the embers of your desire. You hum your pleasure as his lips trail slowly back up, teasing until you're throbbing insistently again, body hot and flushed. 

Eddie's smoke voice rumbles against your throat as he murmurs, "Been thinking about makin' you cum on my tongue."

"Mmm." You drag your teeth against your lower lip; your voice is hoarse and soft with feminine heat as you reply, "Yeah? You've been thinkin' about me, Eddie?"

He nips and sucks at that sensitive spot beneath your ear, making you shiver with pleasure. "Always thinkin' about you," he mumbles, and you flutter as you wrap your arms around his shoulders in a tender embrace. Eddie sighs as you hold him, hands rasping slowly up your bare back. These words don't just feed your desire— they nourish you deep inside, perking your growth until your flowers quiver and awaken.

Softly, you tuck your face against his curls; your voice is barely more than a whisper as you admit, "I missed you."

I'm sorry I never answered. I thought about you every day. 

"I missed you, too," Eddie murmurs back, warm and gentle, and you cup his jaw, kissing him tenderly. He sighs through his nose, relaxing into your hold as your thumbs stroke lightly against his cheeks.

Slowly, your languid kisses heat, turning more fervent. When you feel Eddie's hand dip beneath your panties, you press your hips forward to encourage him. He parts your folds, seeking the honey at the center of you, and the burn in your belly flares as his fingertips graze your clit.

He breaks the kiss but stays close, and his brows jerk in surprised pleasure. "Holy— you're soaked, sweetheart."

You flick his lips playfully with your tongue, pussy pulsing when you see his eyes darken and heat further. "All for you, Eddie," you murmur. He groans and grins crookedly, an eager, manic flash of eyeteeth.

"Is that right?" he husks, and when you nod, he pulls you into a firm kiss that steals your breath. 

And once Eddie starts to kiss you again, he doesn't stop. Those kisses travel down your body, trailing heat in their wake as you lay back against the flannel blanket. He presses his face to your covered pussy, and you buck into the tease of his touch over fabric, grinding yourself against his nose as he groans at your eagerness. That wild desire resurges as he bares you, prying your puffy lips apart with his thumbs so he can finally bury his tongue in your wet heat.

Your fire catches instantly as Eddie's broad tongue drags like a slick blaze from your entrance to your clit. There's no reason to muffle your sounds as his fingers quickly circle your entrance before plunging inside. And with nothing to distract you, nothing to inhibit you— with your focus entirely on Eddie and the pleasure he's giving you— you feel that fire lick high up to your navel, tightening so quickly that your mouth falls open in a loud whine.

Eddie moans into your heat, and your hand shoots down to grasp his curls as the vibrations rumble deliciously against you. "Fuck, Eddie," you whimper, hips rolling as he works the flat of his tongue against your clit, fingers moving insistently inside as he pants against your heated flesh. His eyes flick up to watch you intently, brown deep and hazy as his gaze remains locked on yours while he pleasures you, and the sight of his pale face between your plush thighs makes you writhe. 

When Eddie curls his fingers, rutting against that soft spot on your front wall as he rests his chin on the soft curls covering your mound, you throw your head back, moaning unabashedly. You feel him press a kiss to your mound, and the tenderness of it makes you whimper; your petals quiver, opening their faces. "Taste so fuckin' sweet," Eddie husks, arm wrapping around your thigh to hold you securely with a hand on your hip. "Could eat you every day and never have enough." And then he dives back in, lips suckling at your clit as he works you with his fingers. 

Your chest heaves with your breath, a flush spreading down your neck as his words and his mouth and his hand drive you relentlessly toward your completion. "Oh, Eddie, oh—" His name is all you can say as that tingle spreads low between your hips, licking like fire up to your navel. He hums against your pussy, a little sound of reassurance as if he's trying to tell you he understands. You imagine the cadence of his words, can nearly hear them as if he's murmuring them low in your ear. 'I know, sweet girl. It feels good, doesn't it? I'm gonna make you cum, aren't I?'

Your fist tightens in his hair, holding on desperately as Eddie propels you straight to the brink. "Yes—!" you gasp as if in answer, and then the tension snaps, flooding you with sweet release. 

Eddie's fingers slow, working you evenly as your orgasm rushes through your body, washing you with waves of tingling pleasure. You whine and whimper, muscles flexed, hips pushing up into his mouth as he swipes at you with the flat of his tongue. Eddie pulls out his fingers as your hips fall, replacing them with a lapping tongue that greedily gathers your slick until you twitch away, heated flesh oversensitive. He contents himself with kissing your thighs instead as you sigh, stretching luxuriously against the flannel beneath you. 

But your orgasm hasn't left you sated; instead, as Eddie's head pops up from between your legs, curls adorably disheveled and pink lips glistening from his attentions, you're even more ravenous for him.

Eddie starts to travel up your body again, but he's moving too slowly for your taste; you haul him closer by the arms, and he grunts and chuckles as your mouth clings to his when he lands at your side. You kiss him hungrily, tasting smoke and spice and musk until you've licked your own taste from his tongue— and then you shimmy down, nose brushing the softness of his belly as you fix eager eyes on the waistband of his boxers.

It's unceremonious how you expose Eddie: not dainty, not coy, just a quick tug of plaid to his knees, rushed in your need. He pops out stiff and flushed, bobbing with his own weight, sticking proudly from that thick snatch of dark curls. You pull his boxers off entirely, hasty to taste the bead of precum weeping from the deep, mouthwatering pink of his tip. You don't have the patience to tease; he looks too delicious, too tempting. You take him into your mouth, humming in relief as you feel him hot and heavy, taste him briny on your tongue.

Your enthusiasm hits Eddie hard. As you quickly engulf him, lips stretching over his length til he's sunk halfway into your mouth, his groaning cry sounds like it was pulled from deep in his belly in desperate surprise. It hits you low, leaving you already tingling with renewed pleasure as you draw your head back, only to take him deep into your mouth again just as quickly. Eddie props himself on an elbow to watch you as you set a brisk pace, and you're gratified when his palm settles on the crown of your head, a heavy weight that doesn't inhibit your motions. You suction your lips around his head as you maneuver your arm to cup his balls, pulsing as you hear Eddie whimper when you knead them lightly. The vein on the underside of his cock becomes your focus; you trace it with your tongue as you start to bob again, savoring every twitch of his legs under your arms, every sound that spills from his plush lips. That smoke voice is tight, pitched higher than normal, and you burn with the knowledge of how you're affecting Eddie. You want to make him feel good; you want to make him feel so, so good.

"Holy fuck, your mouth is like— like f-fuckin’ heaven—" Eddie chuckles breathlessly before breaking off in a sudden sharp moan, hips jerking as you take him even deeper, motivated by his praise. He's always so composed, and your thighs squeeze, pleasure pulsing low as you realize you've reduced him to a stuttering mess. "Oh, fuck, y/n… oh, fuck—" Eddie sounds like me now. The thought is delightfully thrilling, and as you hum in satisfaction, Eddie's fingers suddenly tighten on your head, voice now breathless and urgent, not heated like before. "Wait—wait—wait, hold on—!"

Instantly, you pop off him, eyes wide; you pant through swollen lips, brow creasing with concern. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

He chuckles again, though it's a bit sheepish this time. "Yeah, no, sweet girl, it's— it's really fuckin' good. Just, if you keep doin' that, I'm gonna blow way too fast."

Oh. Your concern melts back into pleasure, and you glow with a smile as you drape your arms over his hips. Eddie's cheeks are flushed; his inked chest rises and falls quickly as you rub your cheek against his stiff length. You pout playfully as you say, "Don't do that."

He laughs again, husky and genuine this time, and your smile widens as you crawl up his body. You straddle his waist, pushing his shoulders down flat to the blanket as you capture his mouth. He presses up into your kiss, returning it eagerly, and when you pull away, Eddie stares up at you with brown eyes bright with awed delight. "Look at you," he murmurs, hoarse and smoky. "Takin' what you want. So fuckin' sexy."

You inhale his words, smoke settling rich and heady in your belly. "Yeah?" You're almost surprised to hear the lowness of your voice, the feminine husk that deepens it to a sultry hum. You sit up straight, reaching back to run your hand over the length of his cock slick with your spit. "You gonna give me what I want, Eddie?"

You feel powerful when Eddie's wide eyes darken, pupils blown wide. "Fuck yes," he groans keenly as you bite your lip and hover above him, notching him between your swollen lips. His hands settle automatically on your hips, holding you steady as you begin to lower down onto him.

Eddie is thick, and he stretches you tight, but you moan in nothing but relief as you slide down onto him, taking him all the way as your hips fall flush with his. The grit of his hair against your clit isn't overstimulating anymore; it just makes you spark with pleasure as you begin to rock on him. 

And you don't rock with tentative little movements like the first time. No, this time, you ride him, chasing your pleasure from the first moment you feel him hot and thick and unyielding inside you. You writhe, abdomen rolling as you lean forward, hands bracing on Eddie's strong biceps for leverage as you fuck yourself on his cock. And all the while, Eddie watches you, eyes glittering with satisfaction as you take what you need from him. He lets you do it freely, happy to give you what you want.

The embers reignite, hot and heady, as Eddie's cock presses against your front wall and his hair grinds against your clit, still swollen from the orgasm he'd given you. "That's it," he encourages you. "Just like that. Good girl—"

You moan, head lolling as his words coax your fire. "Oh, Eddie—" Your voice is breathy and delicate as you sigh with bliss.

Eddie's fingers press into your hips, kneading your soft flesh. His eyes capture yours, holding fast as he says, "Show me how much you love my cock, sweetheart."

Your breath hitches as you flutter wildly, blooming verdant and green. Because it's a daring thing to say, daring words that play at the edge of what's forbidden. Bold. Thrilling. 

You feel another thrill race through you as you anticipate the words you'll reply with. Soft, hoarse, delicate, you tell him, "I do love your cock, Eddie. I love it."

Eddie groans in response, and you feel raw, charged like a livewire as you rock harder on his length, lifting higher and falling back down with loud, fleshy smacks. And Eddie's hands are everywhere: rubbing over your wide hips, squeezing the heft of your ass, pressing into your soft stomach, fingers molding into your flesh. Your hips are shaking, your body is swaying, and all the while, Eddie is watching you intently. You're exposed, fully visible, on display— and you don't care. You don't care at all. 

Eddie watches you, and you feel beautiful.

And you watch him, too. Your eyes run over his face as if you're gazing at something treasured, something precious. You savor the way his bangs feather against his forehead, damp with sweat; the way his curls fan against the plaid flannel beneath you; the way his soft nose and cheeks are flushed from heat and pleasure, pink spreading down over the pale cords of his neck to the inky armor of his chest. Black, strong, masculine and sharp; but also white, gentle, tender, and kind. Eddie is captivating, all light and charcoal, ink and smoke that feeds your soul. Suddenly, it's not enough to be on top of him, to have his thick cock inside you. You want him as close as he can be. You want him to enclose you in his strong arms, to sink inside you and never, ever leave.

Abruptly, you stop moving on top of him, and Eddie's hands still on your waist as his brow tugs up. "What is it, sweet girl?"

He sounds so soft, so concerned that your plea comes out nearly choked. "Hold me," you beg him. "Hold me close, Eddie; I need you close—"

His hands tighten on your waist, pressing up so you'll lift off him. Quickly, he maneuvers to his knees, widening his stance as he hauls you onto his lap. With your thighs spread wide, you cling to his shoulders as he cups under your ass and presses his length back into you, warm breath puffing against your cheek. This. This is what you'd wanted— for your breasts to squish tight to Eddie's chest, for his lips to seek yours, warm and soft and wet as you writhe against him and he thrusts up into your tight heat. 

You pull from the kiss, noses brushing as you whine against his mouth, "Fuck me, Eddie, please—"

Eddie sucks in a sharp breath and exhales an eager groan, breath puffing warm against your lips. Your brow pinches as you stare into beautiful brown, arms tightening around his neck, fingers sinking into soft curls. You inhale that smoke voice up close as he fucks into you, splitting you open so deliciously. "Makin' me feel so good, sweetheart," he pants out. "So needy for me."

It's not particularly daring, not as it is, but you can make it so. Turn it bold. "I do need you, Eddie," you admit, soft and whiny, hoping he understands. "I need you—"

Eddie presses his face close, and as he whines against your lips, you bloom. You thrill and pulse with pleasure, licking with tingling fire that tightens in your belly. Arms and legs quivering, you rest your sweaty forehead against his. He jostles you in his grip, readjusting his hands as he grunts, "Tell me when it feels good, okay? Tell me—" 

He hikes you up a little higher, hips seeking as best he can in this limiting position, angling until you gasp and your fingers tighten in his hair when he ruts against that soft spot inside you that sparks bright. "Right there," you breathe, "right there, Ed, right there—"

Eddie kisses you, humming desperately as you whimper. You can feel his arms trembling as he holds you steady while the tingle spreads again between your hips, tightening up to your navel as he drives against that spot over and over and over. But this time, you're not afraid. You feel nothing but bliss as you press a tender kiss to Eddie's lips, breaking away with a little panting mewl. "You're gonna m-make me cum again, Eddie," you wobble, voice airy and soft as you communicate your pleasure.

Eddie exhales sharply again, a desperate sigh as he pulls his face back to look into your eyes. His brow is pinched, skin damp with sweat, wide eyes dark and deep. "Cum for me, y/n," he rasps, arms tightening, "It's okay. I've got you— I'll never let you go."

And Eddie's voice is so tender, so soft, and his gaze is so gentle… you think these might be more of those daring words wrapped up in the guise of sweet talk, but you have no time to dwell on them as your pleasure overtakes you and your mind goes blank.

You keen as your orgasm rips through you, white-hot and more intense than the first, as Eddie keeps moving inside you. You blossom with wondrous feeling, tingling pleasure rushing through your tense limbs as you gasp and writhe in his grip; Eddie grunts, working hard to hold you as you squirm on him while you whimper out the depth of your feeling. But Eddie doesn't let you go, just like he promised. He holds tight until you relax, arms shaking as you cling to his shoulders. "Eddie," you gasp a dry sob, and he peppers your cheek with kisses, moving gently inside you. Your want spills out from your lips in trembling words, fingers shaking where they cup the nape of his neck. "Please, fill me up, Eddie. Cum inside me. I want you, I want all of you, please, give me everything—"

Caught up in the heat of the moment, it's more daring than you intend. You feel suddenly that you've peeled your own layers back, exposing the green at the center of you, the white of your flowers, the tiny fruit that has sprouted on your growth. Fear, sharp and acrid, pierces your chest as you realize what you may have revealed. It freezes out from your sternum, frosting along your ribs—

But then Eddie moans, smoke voice tight and high and so achingly sincere. "Anything for you—"

And when his hips stutter, pressing up into yours, and Eddie digs his nose into your neck, you gasp, nearly overwhelmed at the feeling of his seed spilling warm inside you. Your eyes prick with tears as you hold Eddie close, cradling his head as his length jerks and twitches until it finally falls still. Your chin trembles as you rest your cheek against Eddie's hair, reeling with emotion as he holds you for a long moment.

That fear that pierced you— it wanes, soothed as Eddie pulls out and lays you down flat, draping himself over you as quickly as he can as if he doesn't want to leave you for a second. Your thighs are sore and burning, and his cum is leaking thick between them, but it doesn't matter once Eddie presses his weight down on you, enveloping you in black and white. He's still panting, deep, gasping breaths of exertion, skin damp and hot as it sticks to you. You brush back the curls clinging to his cheeks as your emotion wells up, and you're struck with the desire to say more. Shakily, you stare into the light of Eddie's brown eyes and manage a whisper: "Eddie, I—"

But the words choke, sticking in your chest as you gaze at him. Your eyes begin to dart; your thumb traces his jaw, stroking quickly as frustration builds in your chest. Eddie must see your rising distress because he softens, shushing you quietly before he presses his lips to your brow, lingering there. Your breath shudders; bitter and wanting, you're desperate to fight against the blockage and tell him. But when Eddie presses tender kisses to your lips, slow and gentle, you finally give in to his patient coaxing. You release, easing your effort as you wrap your arms around him, drawing your fingertips over the planes of his back.

You cuddle naked in the back of Eddie's van for a long time, smelling of sex and smoke. Cleaning up, getting dressed, checking the time— none of these are your concern, and neither are they Eddie's as he works his fingers gently through the tangles of your hair, and you drag your nails lightly along the ink of his arm, tracing patterns into his wrist and then up to his shoulder. Your legs are woven with his as you lay side-by-side, Eddie propped on an elbow, your head pillowed by the plush material of his folded joggers. 

As you draw your finger up a vein in his neck, the sight of Eddie's tank strewn nearby has you musing absently, "I didn't know you work out at the gym."

Eddie eyes you with a slanted smirk. "What," he snaps playfully, "you callin' me a weakling?"

You flush, heat flooding your cheeks as he calls you out. "No! Clearly not!" you defend, withdrawing your finger. "I just—" you cut off, no excuse readily, and he chuckles huskily while you pout.

"Between working at the shop and carrying gear, it pays to keep in shape." Eddie lifts his arm and flexes his bicep, waggling his eyebrows at you wolfishly. 

You pretend to roll your eyes, but a smile breaks free. "So, was this gonna be leg day?" You tease, eyeing his pale thighs pointedly.

He laughs again, and you savor the sound and the bright flash of his eyes as he murmurs, "Still got a full-body workout, after all." He ducks close, hand cupping your cheek and stroking back your hair as he kisses you slowly, languidly, like you have all the time in the world.

You hum fondly, contentedly, hand settling again on his shoulder and drawing lightly across his chest. You've been close to Eddie many times over the last five months, but you've never been able to take your time examining the dark body armor he wears— the ink that scrawls across his arms and chest, which you've been captivated by since the first time you saw him on stage. "I love your tattoos," you tell him, and the bright smile that stretches his cheeks makes you warm with fondness. You trace the bats at the crook of his elbow, adding, "I feel like I've never really looked at them. I mean, I've seen them a bunch of times, but…." Your gaze drops to the strange dice on his wrist, thumb stroking the tendons there. You know what you're really trying to say— that even though you've seen them, you don't know them. Don't know why Eddie has them; don't know what they mean to him. And you want to know more about Eddie— to see inside him, down to whatever grows at his core.

"Ask me 'bout 'em," Eddie offers, and your wide eyes dart to his. His face is calm, brown eyes clear, mouth crooked with an easy smile. 

"Okay," you say shyly, peering down at his arm. You start with an easy one— the ink on the wrist you'd been stroking. "What are these?"

"Those are dice," he replies, gentle and free of judgment despite the obviousness of the answer. "Used in several different contexts, but I have 'em because of a game called Dungeons and Dragons. I was really big into it in high school. Ran a club and everything."

A tentative smile blooms bright on your face, and Eddie's eyes soften as he sees your enthusiasm. "Really?"

"Yeah," he says. "It's a role-playing fantasy game, kind of like League of Legends. Have you ever played that?" You shake your head, and he seems to settle in, head resting more comfortably against his palm. "Well, you basically—"

Patiently, thoroughly, Eddie shares himself with you as you examine the tapestry of his ink. He walks you through the weaving of old and new alike— explaining the fuzzy blow-out of that demon head on his chest, done by a kitchen-scratcher when he was seventeen, and the crisp lines of the hobbit door along the curve of his shoulder to bridge the gap between two other pieces, completed last year. A clear pattern emerges— dark imagery, chaotic and unruly in its skulls and snakes and knives, scrawls of metal lyrics, and anti-conformist sayings proclaiming individuality and rebellion. But his collection is not without outliers. You spot a small raccoon, shaded softly and nestled in the crook of his left elbow. "'Cause I always fed the ones around the trailer park," Eddie tells you, smile manic as he adds, "Used to drive the neighbors nuts when they started hanging on their porches looking for more scraps." You grin at his boyishness, head settling in that crook to cover the raccoon as you snuggle closer. And that's when you see it— innocuous, just below his clavicle, small compared to the black widow spider nearby. A simple outline, a stamp of white quartz skin in the heavy black surrounding it, one you've never noticed before. You raise your head to peer at it, brow crinkling confusedly.

"Is that a…" you squint, head tilting. "...a mug?"

Eddie turns his face down, chin wrinkling into folds as he pushes his shoulder forward to see what you're looking at. When a corner of his lips tugs up into a gentle smile, and he looks back at you, his eyes tell you it isn't because he'd forgotten about it. "Kind of different from everything else, right?" You nod wordlessly, and he lays back flat against the blanket, eyes scanning the ceiling, plush lips slack as he goes quiet. You nestle against the plush of his joggers, eyes locked on the side of his face. He looks suddenly pensive and wistful. The dip in Eddie's mood is obvious, and you're about to tell him he doesn't need to talk about it, but then his smoke voice is filling up the back of the van— hushed, low, but unwavering.

"I told you I grew up in a trailer park," he says, brown eyes fixed on the soft glow of the ceiling light. "But I didn't always live there." 

Eddie tells you about Indianapolis. About his mother, how the house had smelled of shea butter and burned plastic until she skipped out when he was seven, track marks sunk in her arms. About his father, how Eddie spent evenings in the backseat of a dark car parked outside rundown stash houses until he was old enough to come inside. "He didn't teach me how to fish," he tells you, "but he made sure I knew how to hotwire." He tells you about the drunken rants, the acerbic insults he weathered once his mother left father and son trapped together. About the bruises on his stomach and his arms, but never on his face. Never where they couldn't be hidden. 

And once your chest is heavy with the weight of your sorrow, Eddie's lips quirk in a tiny grin. "And then there was Wayne." His uncle, his father's gruff older brother, who plucked him from that house and gave him the only bedroom in his tiny trailer without a word of complaint. He slept on a fold-up in the living room, pulling doubles to put food in Eddie's stomach, a roof over his head. Providing a refuge Eddie could hide in until he healed and emerged, blinking in the sunlight, finally able to be himself at fourteen years old. "He has this gigantic mug collection, and every Christmas, I get him a new one. The most ridiculous one I can find. Used to hide stuff in them, too, to see if he'd ever find them." He chuckles, a husky sound of fondness. "He never did."

Eddie settles, brown eyes sliding to yours as he says quietly, "Wayne's more of a dad to me than my father ever was." You marvel at him— how Eddie could be broken into something rugged and sharp but still remain gentle at his core. Your heart aches for the boy he was, but it yearns, it longs, for the man he is.

"I'm so sorry, Eddie," you whisper, voice thick with emotion. "You didn't deserve any of that. But I'm so glad you had him." When that little wrinkle forms on his forehead, you smooth it with your thumb. Your touch is gentle as you draw it over his brow, stroking slowly. "To go through that and still be as kind, as good as you are…." You swallow thickly. "It's something rare, I think."

Eddie stares at you for a moment, and you hold his gaze until he shifts, rolling over. 

Rolling towards you. 

Rolling onto his side, head landing on your shoulder as your arms wrap around him. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, pressing himself to the length of your body. One hand strokes his hair while the other presses flat to the warmth of his back, and your chin rests against the top of his head. 

And there you both lay— still, quiet, breathing one another in. And as you hold Eddie, as he bares himself to you, your roots stretch. Your leaves quiver and your white flowers spread their petals, blossoming soft and full. And the fruit that sprouted abundantly along your green begins to grow plump. It ripens until it hangs heavily from the vine: succulently red, deeply sweet. 

Latent and ready to provide nourishment; just waiting for the right moment to burst from your tongue.

–

Eventually, the evening must end. No longer can you just pretend that the back of Eddie's van is all that exists.

It's nearly nine-thirty by the time he pulls onto your street, and when the van rolls to a stop against the curb outside your building, you take a moment to shoulder your purse and check that your phone is inside. You pat down the length of your hair, smoothing the wrinkles from your scrubs, anything to delay the moment you'll leave the smoke and artificial pine of the van's cabin. Anything to keep the tangle of your emotions quelled by the light of Eddie's brown eyes and the rasp of his callouses on your cheek. 

As it's fluttering around your thigh, Eddie gently snatches your hand, and you bite your lip as he slowly weaves his fingers between yours. Your eyes catch beautiful brown as Eddie stares at you mutely, gaze all melty soft, the same way you feel inside. Deliberately, you squeeze his fingers; deliberately, he squeezes back. 

There are no parting words from either of you. Instead, your hand slips from his, and when you finally step outside, the sweltering heat has waned. Now, the air is balmy like turquoise sea water.

You spend the elevator ride up to your floor chewing on your thumbnail, mind racing to decide how you'll justify the length of your absence. But when you finally turn the doorknob, the interior of your apartment is dark and still. Steve is not yet home. You check your phone; there's a text from ten minutes ago. It's Steve telling you he should be home in about twenty minutes.

This stolen time without your boyfriend is welcomed, and you shed your disheveled scrubs immediately, heading straight for the shower. The spray washes the sweat from your skin. Conditioner smoothes the tangles in your hair. Soap washes the seed from between your thighs. You take your time in the steam, letting it loosen the tangle of your emotions until you can lay them out flat, uncoiling each strand to examine its meaning.

When you emerge, swiping your hand across the condensation on your mirror, you gaze at your reflection. At the brightness of your eyes. The healthy flush of your cheeks. The soft sheen of your hair. The radiance of your skin, a radiance that glistens from the swollen red flesh of fruit now fully grown at the center of you. You acknowledge the truth, calling back to the surface that realization you'd just begun to fathom sleeping next to Steve in the hotel room, watching Eddie's back rise and fall in the next bed over:

Steve Harrington is your boyfriend, but you aren't in love with him anymore. And your feelings for Eddie are stronger than what you felt for Steve, even at the beginning. Because Steve never shone a light on the deep earth concealed at the bottom of you. He never planted a seed, tended your roots, or encouraged your growth. And you aren't angry at him for it. You think he would have if he could. He simply hadn't known how to. 

Words don't come easy to you, and you know these won't, either. But you're going to do it anyway.

Tomorrow, you're going to break up with him.

#tkym #blueywrites #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fic #steve harrington

[heavyhitterheaux]

Sex Lies (NSFW 18+)

A First Lady of Private Garden Fic

AN: You know it's a vibe 😏

Synopsis: You and your husband write and record your song Sex Lies for your debut album

Pairing: Husband!Jack Harlow x Wife!Reader

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

Requested by: my honey bun @arination99​ 💕😘

Do Not Engage If You Are Not 18+

"Babeee! Come on and stop playin!" 

You were frustrated with your husband since he kept distracting you while you were in the studio trying to finish writing and recording songs for your debut album.

"I'm not even doing anything!" Jack responded as he was occupied with placing kisses along your neck.

"You are literally doing everything EXCEPT helping me write this."

"Then stop teasing me all the time."

"Sir, I am literally just sitting here."

"Yeah, sitting there in some tiny ass shorts that I can practically see your pussy through. Don't nobody need to be seeing that shit but me."

"We are literally the only two people in the studio right now."

"Lemme eat you out real quick. I'm hungry."

"JACKKKK!"

"That's what you'll be screaming in about two minutes."

"Baby, I have an idea."

"Does it involve me getting my dick wet or your pussy on my tongue? Because if it does I'm all ears."

"Babe...."

"Okay, okay. I'll be serious."

"Impossible because you so damn childish."

"Just lemme slide the shorts to the side."

"You keep this shit up and I won't give you any for a week. Now write a damn verse for this."

You handed him your notebook full of lyrics and Jack saw that the song you were working on was entitled Sex Lies.

"Now I'm already horny as hell and now you want me to write a verse for a song called Sex Lies?"

"If you write it and I like it, you can eat me out."

"Right here?"

"Yes"

"Right now?"

"Yes"

"Hand me a pen mamas."

As Jack was writing his verse, you were trying to think of another verse to add on after his and then the song would be complete. He actually sat there quiet and let you focus on the task at hand.

"Baby..."

"Yes, my love."

"I'm finished. You wanna look at it?"

"Jack, it's only been ten minutes."

"I know and this shit is fire."

"I'll be the judge of that. Hand it here."

Jack slid the notebook over to you and you began to look over his verse all for there to be an increase in wetness in between your thighs.

"You okay over there mamas? You look a little hot and bothered."

"Why do you say that? I’m fine."

"Your nipples instantly got hard when you started reading so I already know you probably wet as hell."

"Jack...."

"Hmm?"

"Shut up and let me finish reading."

"I'm just trying to be a good husband and offer my services to my wife."

Jack then picked you up to sit on his lap and began kissing your neck once more earning a moan from you leaving the notebook forgotten.

"Hmm, looks like it's not just me. You want this as bad as I do, don't you baby?"

"Fuck you."

"And that's what I plan on doing."

Jack then slid his hand into your shorts all to notice you weren't wearing any panties and began rubbing small circles on your clit and you felt the coolness of his Private Garden ring. 

Your breath hitched in your throat as Jack was trying to keep you in place with his other hand because knowing how you get, both of you would have ended up on the floor. 

You were known for squirming and trying to run away, but he wasn't having it.

"Babe...."

"Now I now you didn't leave the house with no panties on. What do you have to say for yourself? And you know better, what's my name?"

"Daddy and nothing because I'd do it again."

"So you out here in these streets acting like a little slut?"

"No." You whimpered as Jack's motions were becoming faster before he slipped two fingers into you and you could feel how hard he was through his jeans.

"But, I think you are."

"Only... for.... you... fuckkkk I'm about to cum."

"Just for me huh? You remember in Miami when I had you bent over the balcony railing?"

"Mm yesss."

"You took me so well, baby. And I got to let everyone know how much of a little slut you are."

Jack then added another finger before moving them in and out of you at an even faster pace.

"JACKKKK!"

"And there it is. I told you that you would be screaming my name. Come on baby, let go. You look so pretty when I make you cum."

You released all over his fingers and moaned at the sight of him licking them.

You then let out a breath that you didn't know you were holding as Jack picked you up and sat you back down in the chair he was once sitting in while dropping to his knees and spreading your thighs apart.

"Babe.."

"You said I could eat you out if I wrote the verse did you not?"

"Yes, but..."

"Then shut your ass up and let me enjoy my meal."

Jack slid your shorts to the side and took a second to take in the sight that was in front of him.

"Shit, mamas. It's like Niagara Falls down here. You tryna drown me?"

"Baby, will you hurry up?"

"I literally just made you cum less than a minute ago. Be patient otherwise I will let your ass stay horny. Understand?"

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, daddy."

"That's what I fucking thought. Keep them legs spread."

Jack first started out by kissing along both of your thighs and you were growing impatient and let out a groan making him stop.

"Does Mrs. Harlow have something she would like to share with me?"

You quickly shook your head no and Jack's curly head of hair dived in between your thighs with his beard tickling you. A sensation that you had grew to love. 

With lapping at your folds and inserting four fingers this time you just knew you were about to lose it. You quickly inserted your hands into his curly hair to pull him in closer. 

“Ohhhh shiiiit, babeeee!!”

“Wrong name.”

“Fuck, daddy.”

You came once again and Jack was not trying to show you any mercy and dove right back in.

“Wait, hold on...”

“Nuh uh you begged me for this shit and now you want me to wait?”

Just then you were interrupted by the door opening, however this just made Jack hold onto your legs tighter making you whimper and impossible for you to push him off of you.

“I’m back with food... and Druski.”

“Jackkk”

“Wait one got damn minute?! Y/N!! Jack!!” Druski exclaimed at the sight in front of him.

There wasn’t much they could see since your back was turned, but one thing was clear.

Your husband was in between your legs.

“That’s what Mrs. Harlow just said.”

“Can yall not keep your hands off each other for AN HOUR? I only went to get food!”

Urban. 

“We’re about to be done in 3...”

“Shiiitt....”

“2...”

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuckkkkkk.”

“1.”

“You.get.on.my.nerves.”

“Hmm, is that how you treat your man after I made you cum three times?”

“Jack, get your ass up off the floor. Hi Y/N.”

“Why? It’s my favorite place to be.”

“Hi, this will be the first time and the LAST you will ever see that.”

“Jack, I can see that, but you have company now and Y/N, is that how you treat your guest?”

“Yes, she does. She know I don’t share. Once in a lifetime thing for you.”

“Excuse me. Anyway, did yall finish the song?”

“Yes, just have to record my verse.”

“Drive her crazy when I talk when we fuckin'

But it's crazy 'cause if I ain't have nothin', we wouldn't be talkin' or fuckin'

I bust a nut, and that's the end of discussion

I fuck you like it was our last time, I know it's lust, I don't say that I love you (love you)

I might just whisper in your ear and tell you nobody gon' fuck you like me

Then she turn around, she look back up like I'ma make you wife me

I push on her legs, I go in deep and I she don't even fight it

I won't stop until we reach the climax, I'ma keep on climbing

Look me in my eyes and say it's mine, but I just know she lying

Always on the grind, I don't have time for no wine and dining

And I can find another you before you can go find a dime

And you gon' make that pussy cum for daddy is my favorite line “

“WELL SHIT! I see why we walked in and saw what we saw.”

“Damn, say that last line again for me daddy.”

“NO, DO NOT. We don’t need another show. One was enough.” Urban replied while rolling his eyes.

“Speak for yourself!” Druski exclaimed from his spot on the couch next to Urban. 

Jack smirked before coming over to where you were sitting and bent down to whisper into your ear.

“And you gon’ make that pussy cum for daddy.”

“Aye! Cut that whispering shit out. Horny asses.”

“Stop being a hater, Urb!” Jack teased as he rolled his eyes while you hugged him from the side.

“We have to get him a girl.”

“Yeah, because right now he’s married to Mary Jane.”

“I HEARD THAT!”

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#jack harlow #jack harlow x black reader #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow fluff #jack harlow smut #jack harlow concept #jack harlow x you #jack harlow fic #jack harlow fanfic #Spotify

[ladylooch]

What would Nico’s reaction be to Lex wearing a sundress and a bow in her hair

A/N: Let’s use this to set the stage for 🌸 anon’s upcoming request… Also, I wanna go on vacation with these five. Damn.

The skirt of my sundress swirls around my thighs as Emma and I walk to join the boys at one of the resort restaurants. We are currently vacationing together as a family in Miami. The team has a few off days in southern Florida, so Emma and I flew down with Lio to spend some time soaking in Vitamin D. The gorgeous Atlantic vibes are the perfect compliment to our first dinner here. Nico and Timo had gotten sick of waiting for us to finish getting ready in mine and Nico’s room, so they took Lio down to the bar for a beer. 

We find them sitting on bar stools, chatting with the bartender as Lio sits on the bar with Timo’s arm around him. Lio is blowing spit bubbles and the group of women to the left of the boys are entranced.

“Oh my god I want a baby!” One of them moans. Lexi can see the allure as her and Emma approach. Lio is so cute. A happy baby that loves to suck on his toes and spew baby giggles at any exciting noises or tickles.

“Bbbbbb.” Lio bubbles, spit dribbling onto the surface as his hands patty cake on the bar top.

“So he’s already had his first sip of beer?” Emma chuckles as she comes to her husband. She wraps an arm around his large shoulders, not even glancing to the women that were obviously hitting on our husband’s just now. I give a look, noticing how all of them deflate at Emma Meier’s presence. Yeah, she’s that beautiful. 

Nico’s arms find my waist as he glazes his eyes along my dress. He likes what he sees. It’s a white dress with a linen fabric. Dainty, blue flowers with yellow centers create a busy pattern. The skirt is short, accented by the wedge heels I’m wearing. I feel his fingers slid along the backs of my thighs, teasing his way a bit under the hem to grab my butt.

“Easy access tonight.” He whispers in my ear as I sit on his thigh. He has no idea. “You wearing panties?” He questions as his fingers trail higher. I shake my head no. “Lex.” He groans, resting his forehead on my shoulder. I curl it inwards so I can kiss the top of his head. Now the group of women have looked away all together at seeing me with Nico too. Good. He’s decidedly taken.

Lio reaches for Timo’s cold glass of beer, trying to gum at it with his mouth.

“Buddy, you’re making it look like I actually gave you beer.” Timo chuckles, moving the glass. Emma picks it up, taking a sip and sighing at the flavor.

“Damn, that hits on a humid night.” 

“You want one?” The bartender asks, motioning to both of us.

“Yeah, we have some time before dinner.” Nico encourages. As he responds, his thumbs brush along my bare hips under my dress. 

“A little less of that.”

“Why? Can’t handle it?” I say nothing, just give a little wiggle of my hips that makes him squeeze me in response. “Hey. Not fair.”

The bartender sets two beers down in front of the boys, who funnel them back to us. Lio tries to grope for it.

“Okay, I have to ask..” Emma begins.

“No, babe. I did not give our 7 month old beer.” 

“Okay. Well, daddy has different rules than mommy sometimes.” She widens her eyes at me. 

“Yeah about bedtime, not alcohol consumption.” He taps Emma’s ass making her hide her grin in Timo’s side.

They look so cute together as a family of three. Nico and I have been discussing kids on and off the last few months. We haven’t been married long, but I ache for a baby with him. Spending time with the three Meiers the next few days is going to heighten that desire.

“He didn’t do it. Only because he said he was scared of you.” Nico laughs, thumb stroking across the top of my thigh, igniting fire. I close my eyes and take a sip of beer to stay centered. He is so calm beneath me, like he has no idea what his fingers are doing to me.

“Good. I like him that way.” Emma leans forward to close her lips over Timo’s. 

The four of us fall quiet for a moment, watching Lio try to wiggle over to the group of girls I forgot about. He likes their glittering dresses and bubbly drinks on the bar. 

“Just like his dad.” Emma jokes, picking him up and resting him on her hip. Lio leans forward to suck at her shirt on the side of her breast. “Again, like his dad.” We all laugh, appreciating the baby chuckles that shake Lio in response. 

#TM: Loving & Leaving #What My World Spins Around AU #nico hischier blurb

[spevvy]

Although the fact I finally leapt on the CNCO train almost four weeks to the day after they officially split up is 100% on brand for my rotten luck, I'm very fortunate to have ADHD and so I have spent the last four weeks trying to cram 8 years' worth of fandom into my brain, with a level of success that has impressed even myself.

Things that especially give me extra dopamine about these doofuses:

. We don't have time for all the things I love about that idiot Vélez but I'll come back to him in a moment. In any case, let me tell you, he's such an amazing human being that I'm not 100% sure he's even real.

Stop it this instant please (don't you dare)

. Watching the official videos and still being constantly astounded at Rich's wardrobe. This is split into two levels of incredulity—a) "What the bleedin ell has he got on this time?!", and b) "There wasn't enough budget for a shirt for the poor sod again, eh?" (NB: There is rarely any budget for a shirt for Rich in any video, the poor love. Let Rich Be Warm™, FFS!) Both a) and b) are particularly evident in the Miami video, where the Rich's Shirt budget appeared to have been spent on a granny scarf. For his hair. Obvs. Because of course.

Legit son, what the fuck, did you lose a bet or something, lad?? 👀 It's like when Stewart Granger was in films in the 40s and 50s and he'd wear increasingly bonkers outfits scene after scene but he had absolutely zero confidence issues so he just owned everything like of COURSE he was gonna rock the hell out of it. Oh to have a thimbleful of Richard Camacho's self-confidence!!!!

. Every. Single. Time. I. See. Joel. Pimentel. De. León. The. Only. Thing. I. Can. Think. Is. "CABELLITO AZÚUUUUUULLLLL!!!!😭😭😭"

Never has the loss of a toy blue horse (is he just trying to not say My Little Pony, or???) ever been so heartbreaking to me 💔💔💔 Bless that small sweet boy, I just want to protect him, he takes up that one hidden sliver of maternal instinct I have lurking somewhere!! 🥹🥹🥹😭😭

. Chris' hair during the CNCO album era totally gives trans butch lesbian vibes. No I will not take questions on this. Yes I'm way more into it than I can possibly explain in polite company. Stop it, Christopher, I'm already bi. Totally here for my inadvertently genderfluid monarch.

I just want her to slam me into a wall and call me a good girl I don't know what to tell you.

. Erick Brian Colón is the visual representation of iron fist in velvet glove. He may have the face of a little angel and the biggest greenest most beautiful eyes since the invention of green - but that kid is brutal, folks!!! BRUTAL!!!!!!!!!!!

"Guess who just got MUUURRRDEEERRRRREEEDDD!"

. Two words. Lengua kiss.

Zab, sweetheart, you said it perfectly. You couldn't have improved upon it, thank you for blessing us with your lengua kisses, we are grateful.

. The amount of clever camera trickery and stage choreography involved in showing Chris actually dancing as little as possible. Before any of you come at me over this—I'm not saying Chris can't dance, I'm saying they cut around him and they do it consistently enough that it's hilariously obvious they're doing it. One of my favourite examples is in the Vevo Lite performance of Reggaetón Lento, where they just show his left elbow. Oh honey. (I marked it with a pointy finger to help you out)

I have a few theories about this but it's probably because his hips are so wiggly that if they showed them doing their thing on screen they couldn't have marketed the band to kids and that's a giant drop in revenue before they've even started. Not that I've made a study of his wiggly hips. Honestly.

. I have, however, made a very careful study of that lip-lick-into-lip-bite thing he does, and have come to the conclusion that HE is nsfw. Him. Himself. Alone. With no help. He just oozes it. Holy fudgeballs (probably). He's 100% that one guy who would openly flirt with an empty bag of crisps. "Hola, paquetito vacío de papas fritas, seguro que parece que ha pasado un tiempo desde que tuviste papas fritas dentro de ti..... te apetecería??!?!?" Seriously son, give it a rest, we're all pregnant now.

I swear to god you wouldn't be able to sit down for a fortnight. Fucking bloody hellfire. Is probably how it would be. OOOOFFFFFFFFF......

. I have literally lost count of how many times I've seen 4Ever in the last four weeks. I mean genuinely I cannot remember. I stopped counting at 12. There is no particular reason for this. I can't imagine anything that keeps my attention so solidly.

It's beautiful. I've been looking at this for five hours, now.

. "Que quiénes somos? YOU ALREADY KNOW!" My guys this has been my very problem with artists announcing themselves on their songs for at least the last decade, thank you for addressing the pointlessness of this activity but doing it anyway, I love you for it.

(Can he not? Does he ever take a day off??)

. Bringing back 90s boy band dancing with a level of aplomb I haven't witnessed since approximately 1998. And yes, I do remember. I was 15 in 1998, I was very much the target audience. Anyway, watch Mis Ojos Lloran Por Ti, it's the most authentically 90s thing I've seen since actual 90s boy band music videos.

White shirts AND white vests with black trousers in an abandoned building? ALL THEY NEED IS RAIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Also the rap section of Mis Ojos Lloran Por Ti sounds EXACTLY like the rap section of Mysterious Girl by Peter Andre. It does. Go on, check for yourselves, I'm right about this.

. Tóxica. Just. Omg. Tóxica. It's beautiful. I dunno whose idea it was to do an acapella arrangement, but I hope they always hit the green light in traffic, because wow. What a song. (here it is if you're unfamiliar with CNCO, you've read this far, and you've never heard the song before. Even if you have, it's always worth another listen!)

Honestly it gives me proper goosebumps every single time, it's THE dopamine song for me, it just does all the things to my brain all at once. I was listening to all their songs on shuffle and all of a sudden I heard this one and I just stopped dead in my tracks like "holy SHIT what the hell....this is... this is stunning!" Like THAT was the moment I was like yep that's it folks this is MY band now, these are MY boys, they've got me for life whether they like it or not, I'm theirs, they're mine, that's how fangirls and musicians go, my guys (gender neutral).

. I am obviously not a native Spanish speaker nor am I 100% fluent in speaking, but after 4 weeks I've managed to learn a significant portion of their back catalogue and I am so goshdarned proud of myself. By comparison it's taken me about 5 years to learn most of Morat's back catalogue and I've been in the fandom since just before Balas Perdidas dropped.

Okay fine I have a whole different set of distractions with Morat (goddammit Monchi!!!!), we can't compare them, and it's not a "which band is better" thing at all cos I refuse to choose between any of my boys because they're MY BOYS. It's just nice from a personal viewpoint to feel like my Spanish level is now at a stage where I can pick up new lyrics to songs quite quickly!!! I feel like my Spanish has really improved in the last month and these doofuses are 100% to blame and I adore them for it and so many other things.

Suffice to say, I may be way too late to the party, but I think I get to be at least an honorary CNCOwner at this point. Without the smallest shred of doubt I know that I am retroactively CNCOwned, at any rate.

(ya tú sabes😉)

#Christopher Velez #Chris Velez #zabdiel de jesus #erick brian colon #joel pimentel #richard camacho #cnco #my poor everything #what even was my life befife December 14 2023? #i cant remember #it doesnt matter #nothing matters any more #everything is Christopher Briant Vélez Muñoz and nothing hurts #i love him your honor #he's just perfect #I feel like people might come at me over something here but its all with love folks #we'll see I guess #some of the gifs are mine but meh me da igual

[definitionsfading]

Aaron is still committed to dressing like a villain in an ’80s movie. Today, he looks like he’s about to get killed in a shootout against Eddie Murphy or something. This is not to say that he looks bad.

Everything about ATJ’s look – the scoop neck, the significant amount of gold, the skinny belt, the cuffed jacket sleeves, the tassel loafers with the stacked heel – it’s all so chef’s-kiss perfect. Just pure pharmaceutical-grade Hot Jerk and he’s reveling in it. Dandy Douche Chic, we’ll call it.

We haven’t seen the film yet, but we’re going to go out on a limb and suggest that he doesn’t play a sensitive, bookish type. In other words, this sudden turn toward Miami Vice Drug Kingpin Chic could be seen as a sort of thematically appropriate way to dress for a testosterone-fueled action film.

the way Tom and Lorenzo dot com [x] analyzed Aaron’s fashion choices all during the Bullet Train press tour kills me, but it’s also fascinating that they repeatedly peg his style as something in the same vein as a TV criminal would wear lmao. it makes me wonder; did Aaron [or his stylist] dress him like this on purpose to better represent his character and vibe in the film (aka casual Tangerine chic), or was it just a serendipitous coincidence other people were copping that read? see how the chest and necklace are ALWAYS out for the peanut gallery to see. thank god for small favours.

anyway, I choose to believe Tangerine wears short sleeve silk button-downs open to his sternum on his days off. don’t even get me going on the heeled boots

#aaron taylor johnson #menswear #bullet train #tangerine bullet train #dandy douche chic

[bettercostume]

Mars, I need help. Thoughts on kunessi dynamics 🎤

Meb i thought about this on the train to work and the train home from work and iiiiii have so many thoughts.

Literally Kun is his second wife. Or first wife, actually, since I think he's know Leo since Leo was the quiet kid who barely spoke and sat at the same table with him at the under 19s training, and who from that moment forward was his best boy, his right hand, his soulmate, his---i'm drawing a blank at romantic couples of history here but you get the idea.

Basically Kun is the mouth. He's never uncomfortable, and even though i get the sense he takes everything in deeply, he can rally like an inflatable punching clown. He does the practical jokes. He's the HE ASKED FOR NO PICKLES, but delivered with a backslap and a blinding grin. You feel compelled to like the guy. He's a rascal. He's also astonishingly good at football, and it takes a guy like Messi to make him look like an also ran. He is leo's number one fan forever, amen. He is fuck it we ride, ready to fight, but also there to pick him up and take him to the airport at 2 am with the radio on low and hot water already in a thermos on the console. It's nothing, pa, you know I love speeding through toll roads at night.

I think Leo really gravitates towards people who are the opposite of his persona, and his seemingly internal focus and observational participation in social stuff as a kid. As a fully formed adult, both he and Kun have become both more of their caricatures and less at the same time, mellowing out into people who can reverse card each other with expectations, but have a rock-solid bond. I think it would take like, kun murdering leo's kids in front of him for them to have a fallout.

There's the apocryphal story (that kun loves to tell. he loves building the kunessi lore) where they're at that lunch table i mentioned and kun is like hey who are you anyway? and leo is like, leo. everyone else twigs to who he is, the wunderkid shipped back from barca, but kun is like oh word? but like what's your last name? and it takes like three more repetitions for kun to be like OHHHH, WORD??? Which sums up their dynamic pretty well, I think. But after this I think really Leo has the opportunity to hurt Kun more: he's less overtly affectionate, imho, and he doesn't verbalize the love he feels. Sorry to self plagiarize but in the fic i wrote i basically say that leo is like it should be obvious i love you even if i don't call or text, because why would i stop? and kun, who wants to be needed and coveted, is like, ok but i wouldn't mind the princess treatment SOME of the time. and leo is like your wish is my command, i moved your suite to mine and you're living with me now happy world cup btw we will have adjoining mansions in miami when we retire.

I think the fact that Kun isn't afraid to look like an idiot, turns the party, and also has kind of a bitchy edge that resonates with what i believe to be the nougaty, spoiled princess interior of leo--i think all these things endeared him to the other and that leo was like. ok. kun is my friend forever IMMEDIATELY. I also know with that trust and affection they practiced kissing each other and whipped it out to compare length, width, and accuracy. KNOW AND TRUST THEY HAVE EXPLORED EACH OTHERS BODIES. The love is real and long-term but I think also they would absolutely be bucknasty filthy, still. IMHO they have a kind of macho old boys club thing where they don't talk about the physical sex as much, its so obvious, but then also are like yeah you love that tight little hole you homo you sissy etc during and it makes them so insanely hot when they're with their wives that even if months intervene they still freak like it's 1999. That's one read, the other is that they make love with lots of eye contact and kun cries the entire time. POR QUE NO LOS DOS. Sorry I sounded like the weeknd in his bad tv show there for a moment but you get the vibe.

ANYWAY. I HOPE THIS IS WHAT U WANTED.

#i could give a TED talk on kunessi #MEB MY GAL MEB!!

[maxverstepponme]

Don’t know if this sent yesterday cause the wifi in my house is so bad but wanted to give me 2 cents

Kelly was only in 1 scene and then just a glimpse of her at Canada race and another one so she really wasn’t in it// I always find it funny when we see videos of them together, like they visibly don’t seem to have any chemistry and have this awkward vibe around each other almost like they’ve just started dating. When the videos came out of Japan and she was grabbing him and he just didn’t reciprocate, I was like okay he just wanted to celebrate with the team but it seems they’re always like that. When they were in the car in the documentary and she kept trynna hold/play with his hands and he kinda moved his away or when he made a joke about the police having guns her face was completely deadpanned and like unimpressed, and the ‘no, no, no’ finger wagging at him when he talked about gaining weight. I thought this documentary would show a more genuine side of them but they look so lackluster together and nothing like how she portrays them on ig. Idk I wish they were cute together and had genuine chemistry (and if she were a good person) cause max is so boyfriend coded and deserves to be loved. The whole relationship is strange from the timeline (meeting at 18?!!?) to the apparent lack of chemistry (even when they kiss it’s like it was forced, the kiss she post on her ig from the Miami go still gives me nightmares 💀) and her faking things, leaking things, calling the paps like I just don’t understand the relationship, yeah she benefits from the fame and he gets stability but he’s on the sim all the time at home so how much do they actually see of each other. There’s a break now for 3 weeks so interested to see how things go (e.g. how much max is on the sim). Sorry for the rant but I’m just confused by their whole relationship

Really weird