#she still has a thing for feet unfortunately >>

[honestsycrets]

mío | baby-fever!miguel o'hara x wifey!reader

❛ pairing | miguel o'hara x wifey!reader, starved prequel

❛ type | oneshot, explicit

❛ summary | after watching mayday, miguel develops a bad case of baby fever, longing for a family of his own.

❛ tags | explicit, miguel has baby fever, babysitting, talk of family planning and contraception, f!reader, breeding, pregnancy kink, much fluff, some angst, starved!reader, miguel being frustrated and cute, clean that kitchen, one stereotype of latina women, Spanish is not translated, best friend!peter, self edited.

❛ request fulfilled | could you possibly write an imagine in which Miguel and his wife take care of mayday? + multiple requests for more starved reader/miguel.

❛ sy's notes | written to fulfill some requests. i do have another daddy miguel blurb to fulfill, but my future works should be nice and angsty.

Peter has it out for him.

It’s the only logical reason why he’d do this shit to him.

Miguel stood in his dark room in a pair of scratchy jeans, dragging a belt loop to loop when he heard the door to his room draw open. A resonant schwap, schwap, schwap.

“Mi reina?” Miguel cocked his eyebrow up, extending his claws.

“¿Sí?” you called back from the bathroom, the distant scent of his favorite perfume wafting into the air. Miguel threw a look to the bathroom, reaching for the bedroom door. It burst open before he could open it. 

“Hi, Miguel! Where’s your wife?”

Peter dragged his feet into the room, whirling around with a sloppily put-together backpack that leaked diapers onto the floor. An exasperated breath left his lips, dripping in the way he looked at Peter.

Unfortunately, his little wife liked Peter a bit too much for his taste.

“I should have known.” Miguel ran his hand through his hair, strands of mocha brown flyaways wisping along his tawny forehead. “Why are you here?”

His normally disheveled appearance was a little more disheveled. It wasn’t his appearance that bothered him but how it reached his eyes. Shocked, confused, tired. Peter pat his deltoid, awkward laughter choking in his throat. It bubbled on the edge of an overwhelmed sob.

“Well, you see, your wife said she’d watch Mayday because I have a date, and I haven’t had a date in a really, really long time. Like, a really long time—”

“Is Peter here?”

His head snapped to your bathroom where you came out, threading a golden hoop earring. You probably already knew the fight that was heading your way-- but for your part, you couldn’t be bothered to care any less.

“Got it, you need this date.” Miguel cut Peter off, standing behind you with his massive arms crossed. “¿Por qué no me dijiste?”

“¡Mi nena! Muévete Miguel,” you giggled, shoving your way past Miguel to Peter’s child carrier, sneaking your hands underneath her little armpits and whirling her around. She cackled, a glittering warmth to her mischievous eyes. You came to a stop, settling Mayday against your chest, nuzzling your foreheads together in some secret pact that the two of you shared.

Oh no, no, no, no. Not this. It hits him at once.

The sight of his wife— beautiful and cuddly with a very young baby in her arms. The only sight more beautiful was at the altar on his wedding day, your shy smile behind a sheer veil. It had been a long time, too long, since he had someone to call him father. He can still picture her glimmering eyes, the way she looked at him in nothing short of admiration, looking past the things that he’d done to see him and only him. Glimpsing at Mayday, remembering Gabriella’s soft, small face, it took him a moment to snap free. 

He's so fucked.

“You would have said no, amado mío.” 

You’re a natural at this, scooting by both men to set Mayday on the bed. Your tiny fingers spiraled out from her belly to change her diaper. Peter jittered uncomfortably, looking as though he wanted to jump in himself. You cleaned her, replacing the dirty diaper with a clean one. “We’re going to a market with Tío Miguel--” 

“Don’t bring me into this.”

“Are you sure it's okay? I’ll be back at five, it's just a few hours, really--” 

“¡Vete! A ratty house robe and a dirty spider suit aren’t sexy. Look at mi Miggy,” now you’re just buttering him up. He shifts his weight from one leg to the other, inspecting the ground. “Wear something nice.” 

They’re sexy to her, he might have murmured. Not on a date, you bopped him. Mayday’s bright eyes tracked the space between you and Peter before you broke away to wash your hands. Peter’s clammy hands cupped Mayday’s sweet face, littering at least a dozen sickly daddy kisses over her tiny face. But Miguel what if--

“Adiós, Peter!” You returned to force Peter out of your room. Miguel peered at Mayday whose head snapped to the side, cheek against her fiery hair as the door clicked shut. He braced himself for the shrill that would inevitably come with her realization that her daddy was gone. She whined, grabbing her toes and tipping nearly off the side of the bed. Miguel begrudgingly hovered at her feet, blocking her from rolling off the bed. He could do this, he told himself, he could resist those giant baby eyes staring up at him.

He didn't need a baby, he didn't.

He blames Peter for having such a good baby.

She doesn’t ask for much other than requiring chest-to-chest contact with Miguel. It’s not that he doesn’t want to hold her, he finds himself aggravated by how much he likes to be around her. In a market full of things to look at food trinkets such as necklaces, body scrubs, and empanadas, it’s all her. Miguel props her up with an arm just under her bum, her tiny finger peeking curiously into his fangs. He snapped his teeth playfully at her, a nip, nip, nip, missing playfully every time. It rips ping a toothy grin across her face. 

“No biting Miguelito,” you called out, sliding your fingers in a teasing ring around his muscled back to chest. You leaned up on your tippy toes, placing a small little kiss on his lips. You ran off to go get her a pineapple whip after her tiny fist yanked your hair over and over again. You relented, staring at what she was cooing at. Sweets-- obviously, sweets. All the little ones loved sweets. 

“She likes it.” 

“Ya sé,” you said, “But we don’t need anyone noticing you’ve grown fangs.” 

“Tch,” he clicks his teeth in protest. She does too, throwing you a mean look for interrupting her fun. You plucked up a bit of the whip on your spoon, cutting through her displeasure through the power of sugar. 

"There's a lot of people here, Miggy, let's go to the park." You point toward the park, pointing away from the mounds of fresh produce and locally sourced goods toward a healthy patch of green grass. Miguel is glad-- he’s sick of being stared at for his huge frame. Despite the ring on his finger, people still seem to try their luck. He couldn't be more disinterested.

You lay a picnic blanket as Miguel holds Mayday's treat. Mayday sprawls across his chest, trying to take just one more bite-- then another-- Miguel looks down, chin level, eyebrow raised. She offers a bit on her tiny index finger to Miguel. A peace offering. “She’s not going to wait.” 

“Give her to me.” You kicked off your sandals on the edge of the blanket, dropping your things on another corner. You pluck Mayday from Miguel’s arms and set her down on the blanket in a way that is too easy. As though you wouldn’t have much of a learning curve in becoming a mother. No, no— you never mentioned anything about kids. Did you even want kids? He couldn't bring his heart to ask, to hope again.

“I didn’t know you were so experienced with kids.” 

“Mami had six,” you noted, plopping down with the whip by Mayday’s side. She sat with a small slant, reaching out toward the sweet treat again with those chunky, adorable hands. You brought her into your lap, at last relenting. “When you’re the oldest, you have to learn a little something to help out. Can you imagine-- being pregnant six times? Ay no.”

“How many times do you want to be pregnant?” he blurts out. Usually timed and precise, the question causes him to pinch his brow as he sits beside you. “Si quieres,” 

Your other hand comes on top of his and shifts it away from his face. 

“As many as will make you happy.” 

Shock. He chews on that response, his eyes glued to Mayday lapping at the last spoon of sweets you are willing to give her. She falls into a fit of complaints, a conniving look at the sweets, just as you lift her onto your shoulder.

"I never thought about it."

"No more, your papa won't forgive me if I bring you home all sugared up," you tsked your tongue at her. You patted along her back in small, tight circles until her angry huffs faded away. He reaches for the baby bag, slipping free a soft yellow blanket with white spiders strewn across the front. Miguel slides the blanket on top of Mayday’s small body, her groggy eyes sliding closed.

The more he watches you with Mayday, holding her so close, swaying as you held her, the deeper this ache burrowed in his chest. You would look beautiful all swollen with his child. Never mind Mayday or Peter, he can nearly see it, feel it under his fingers, the feeling of your taut belly under his skin, or the kick of tiny feet against his palm.

“We’ll see, Miggy.” 

We’ll see-- the answer seems too noncommittal, too distant to be a satisfactory answer. With Mayday sound asleep, you settle her between your plush thighs. She expelled bursts of energy that milked her energy dry.

A little old woman passed by, her cane pierced soft grass as she moved closer with a bag of tomatoes and green beans. Her face, aged by time, pulls into a wide smile. He doesn't like her smile.

“You two are doing a great job. How old is she?” 

You blink, looking up into the woman’s cool blue eyes, her dark hair peppered with thick grey and white strands. You tuck Mayday in her soft blanket, sparing the woman a kind smile that Miguel doesn’t quite have the patience for. 

“Oh, oh. Thank you-- um, a couple of months,” you recount, perhaps thinking of Peter’s anxious pacing or his delighted shouts about becoming a father. 

“Adopting is a great option. Back in the day, my husband was a bodybuilder too. Had a low sperm count don’t you know. Steroids shrink things. Oh, but these days you can do all sorts of things like IV--”

A what-- Miguel’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull at the suggestion. Was this old bitch’s suggestion that he couldn’t do it-- couldn’t get you pregnant? He could easily do that. If he wanted you pregnant, you would be shocking pregnant. He’d be damned if some old woman put it in your mind that he couldn’t.

“We’re babysitting for a friend,” he blurts out. “I have--” had, “a daughter.” 

“Oh, do you? I’m sorry. I thought-- well, it doesn’t matter what I thought, have a good day."  

She’s saying that, but it comes out slanted. You don’t bother correcting Miguel, not on this. Rather, your hand inched toward his, picking up on the energy that was pluming from his body in waves. Irritation-- annoyance-- the little old lady hobbles off. You’re in your mind well enough to bid her goodbye. But you know better than to say anything more, slumping your cheek on Miguel’s firm chest. It makes the ache of Gabriella's memory a little more bearable. 

 Low sperm count his ass. 

It bothers him long after Mayday is gone. Peter, for his part, looks refreshed. He supposes that’s what happens with a full day of opportunity to empty your balls after weeks of no relief. It bothers him long after you come back from the kitchen, his favorite dark red slip plastered to your perfect body. It would look beautiful, full of his children— he just knows it. 

“I may have hijacked the kitchen a little bit,” you teased, the waft of warm chicken and brewed spices filled his nose. He had no appetite. “But I made you some pollo guisado.” 

“Hm,” he grunts into a pillow. “Later.”

Beside the bed, he has a bowl of brightly colored condoms. With your sensitivity to birth control, it is the best option available. It wasn’t, however, something he was ever happy about. He should be able to feel your body. Not once had he felt your body pure and unadulterated, warm and perfect for him. He was your husband. He wanted that moment— to fill you up just once, watch his cum dribble out of your cunt. It would be perfect. You set the food away, bowl and spoon clinking together.

“Miguel.” 

Forget your warm body. This room is too quiet. It is almost stifling in its silence. Mayday’s sweet huffs, the memory of Gabriella’s laughter. A proper home full of a child's giggles. He’s going crazy-- he has to be-- this isn’t normal. This isn’t Miguel. 

“Mi vida, don’t pout,” you reach out, rolling your fingers through his long brown hair. Your fingers tease along his scalp, turning around his ear. Your fingers tickle his lobe, your voice cemented in a concern that he wanted nothing more but to fix if it were anything other than this. “Miggy. Miggy, what is wrong? You look sad.”

“I’m not sad,” he says with a whine on his pillow. How silly he must look with his broad arms wound around the body pillow, squeezing its fluff for life. If he said the words well enough, you might believe them. 

“I know you are,” you nudge the pillow loose. He takes you instead, the air thickening with the closeness. You fed off the tension, sliding your leg over the sheet that covers his naked hip. “Tell me why.” 

He turns his hands over your thighs, traveling past your hips to ghost along your belly. 

“Sí, Miggy?” 

“I need…” he trailed off, finding the words nearly impossible to admit. They grow into a ball and cement in his throat, present but stubborn. Rather than break the words free, he swallows a bolus of desire and frustration. “It’s nothing. Let it go.”

The issue was— you loved him enough to let it do so. 

Miguel doesn’t want to press the issue. He knows you. All you want is Miguel’s happiness. Sometimes, he worries it is at the price of your own. The distance he places between you and him is intolerable. It bothers him every time he finds you babysitting Mayday.

Today, while Peter goes on a small date, you and Mayday make his favorite empanadas. She’s covered in a dusting of flour from head to toe. Peter would have fun with that. 

“Miggy you’re back?” you called as Mayday’s chubby hands shot out, nearly plopping off the counter if not for Miguel’s quick reflexes, setting her back in place. 

“Empanadas?” he settles the words in a small kiss to your lips. You glance at him over your shoulder. 

“It's... it's Gabi's birthday, isn't it?"

You’re too good for him. Despite the day coming and going, no one else notices his grief today. Not even Peter who came in alongside him, reading the room, and snatching up Mayday off the countertop. He’s babbling something, a thank you, see you later— you kiss Mayday with only the sweetness a mother could know.  

“Peter! Mayday made these for you,” you reach out to a box of uncooked empanadas. “Take them home!”

Her first empanadas— the delight is palpable. Peter may have snapped a photo, or ten, of his little flour girl on the way out, empanadas in hand. Then there’s silence. Miguel returns the nearly forgotten bundle of empanada dough and filling to the fridge in the space of unspoken tension. Miguel dips down to your neck, caramelized perfume warm on your neck. His lips trace the warm pulse of your neck. 

“Mami,” his voice mesmeric, warm like the filling you used to make him happy when no one else could. Your doting attention, even in the face of real issues like work and babies, was always on him.

"Sí, mi vida?"

His hands coast around your waist, using his strength to gently turn you around. It isn’t important right now. What is important is how he lifts you up onto the floury surface, purring his need into your slight ear. “I want a baby.”

“¿Qué?”

“Una niña,” Miguel leans his fingers along your collarbone. 

“Oh, Miggy.” You puff the words. They come out almost wounded. You know him so well, the vulnerability of the words causing him to look down. Your warm palms cradle his cheeks, forcing him to look into your eyes. “You miss being a father, don't you?”

You’re not stupid. Neither is he. He thought he could wait— watch Mayday grow up and not feel this sundering longing. As though he could stomach never feeling a child in his arms again. The ghosts of the past that came with Mayday’s longing haunt him day by day. 

You devour his insecurity, winding your legs around his waist and forcing him forward. He stumbles into your embrace, as though he were not a man who could decimate villains and spiders alike. When he was here, in your arms, he barely felt like the weapon of a man that he is. 

“Miguel. Speak to me.”

“You’re right,” he can’t lie— can’t hide the longing that comes with the thought of his own child on his chest. Not Mayday, no matter how many times she cuddled up to his chest. At the end of the day, she would never be his. You drew your lip into your mouth, nipping it fat and red, a bob in your head. His heart beats faster, strumming as though it would break free from his chest. Whatever it is you’re thinking he’s not sure. Only that it’s been so long.

“I just want to make you happy, will this make you happy?” you nearly whisper, knowing that there’s no one but him to hear the words. It’s what he wants for you, too. As he stands there, coursing his fingers along your thighs and hiking your dress up your hips, he can’t help but feel the foggy discomfort of forcing you into parenthood before you were ready. 

“It will.”

As well as it could. It would never erase Gabriella-- and, in the vulnerability of begging his wife for another child, came the guilt. Not only the guilt of failing to be a proper father or to protect her but moving on without her in his life to a beautiful family she would have loved. The feelings surge in his chest, a well of uncomfortable emotions in his eyes, threatening to fall. 

“Miguel,” you’re whispering, your fingers cutting across his sharp cheekbones. You cup his face, drawing your lips together in a commanding kiss. You never liked being ignored or forgotten. He’s not sure how he could now, with your tongue flicking between his lips, begging him to come back with a sugary sweet whine. “Stay with me, Miguel.” 

“I am,” he says, gripping either side of the counter by your hips. He feels your eyes on him, soft and careful, pressuring him to meet your gaze. He searches for an inkling of an answer in your gaze. "¿Qué piensas?"

“We can try,” you bite your lip, sliding it free between your teeth. “If you don’t have a low sperm count,” you tease. “Maybe it’ll take.” 

“¡Por dios!” He throws a curse to the side as if he believed in such a being, throwing a look back at you. “You don’t actually believe that vieja.” 

“Ay Miggy, of course not.” His lips work into a budding smile. You leaned up against his stubbly jaw, setting soft kisses there. Your lipstick stains his neck, dragging down to his prominent adam’s apple. He looks down at you with heady eyes, tracing the way you suckled a mark on his throat. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t like them a little more when others noticed them, little marks of possession. Miguel’s fingers come up to the straps of your dress, easing them over and down your slight shoulders. You pull back, words forming puff against his neck. 

“Not right here,” you inhale a soft breath. “Someone could come in.” 

Miguel eases his finger over the small bud of your breast, rolling his thumb along the silken skin, His hand comes up, encompassing your neck and shoving you back into the cabinets. It isn’t comfortable, not by far. He works the nub to its peak before turning his attention to the other. His mouth covers your breast, fangs grazing your nub as he suckled and tugged gently. Miggy, you pull him back up, stripped of your touch. Your hand slide across Miguel’s chest, tracing the taut muscles of his chest. 

“Who would come in?” 

“Peter,” you answer. 

It’s always Peter. He supposes that you wouldn’t want your friend to see you here, cunt stuffed with Miguel on the very same counter you earlier made him empanadas on. Miguel snatched the dress that fell along your hips laxly, utilizing it to yank you off the counter. You fell forward into Miguel, a heavy wall of muscle, your lips failing to form anything of use. You looked at him, cheeks flush and eyes doting, he’s the only one you see. 

“The balcony, then.” 

“Dianche, Miguel! Do you want all of Nueva York to see me?” 

“Maybe.” 

No, but see Miguel breeding you? Undoubtedly yes.

He couldn’t simply choose the bed, that would be too easy. Miguel set a kiss on your forehead, soft and scratchy with his stubble. You return it by dragging him down for another kiss, a wave of warmth coming over him as you force your hips back onto him, rolling your hips against his, teasing him. Miguel doesn’t appreciate the tease and gently pushes on your hips, motioning you to face the counter. 

“Bend over.” 

"Can't we go to my room?" you complain but comply all the same. Miguel’s palm ghosts your spine, dragging his fingers smoothly over the middle of your back and past the dress that gathered around your hips, He strips you of the little cover the dress gave, eager to have you bare and rid of the thin clothing that served as a veil from prying eyes. Miguel can cover you from the prying eyes of others if necessary. Not that he cared if others saw him fucking-- he’s all the more eager to have you all to himself, here and now. 

“No panties,” he notes, his warm hands on your inner thighs. “It’s almost like you knew.” 

“I might have,” you return, spreading your legs obediently for him. He palms your vulva, your hips shifting down over his hand. Sticky and wet, he wonders if his need to breed you has rubbed off on you too. His fingers shift, sliding over your soft hole. “Apúrate Miguel, you’re so slow.”  

“Can’t you be be good for once.”

You were always bossy. He likes it, most the time, being led around by what his pretty little wife wants. Today he wants to take his time, curving his broad fingers into your glistening cunt. Your wetness drips over his knuckles, fingers teasing the velvety soft walls he has never felt without a condom. A pleasured cry wracks in your chest, turning your head over your shoulder to watch Miguel’s fingers stretching you out. No matter how much your walls gave under his fingers, you would still ache when he penetrated you. It was the favourite part, the rich pull of his dick into your hole, bottoming out as best he could in your stomach. He soothes your complaints by grazing his other hand against your perky clitoral hood, finding the soft nub there for relief. You settle your arms on the floured surface.

“I never-- ah-- am,” you threw back.

Miguel slipped his fingers free, cupping your cunt with his palm for a teasing slap. You want to be good-- it’s just so hard, your cunt pulsing in the abswnce of his touch. He drags his sodden fingers to your lips, glazing them in taste of your lubricant. You suckle your tongue around his thick digits, savoring your own taste, his soft grunt of approval spurring you on. You feel like such a good girl with his fingers crooked in your mouth. 

“Are you ready?” Miguel stands fully upright, dragging your hips to his. He’s hard as the counter you were pathetically clinging onto. His hipbones ground into your plush ass, dick pulsing in his immediate ache to feel your cunt. He backs up, fiddling with something at the waist. You don’t need to ask to know that it was his big cock grinding between your cheeks, smearing fluid over your slit.

“No condom?” 

“No condom,” he affirms. You bow your head, nodding gently over the countertop. The head of his cock drove into your wetness, pushing past bundles of nerves. It’s impossibly different without the bag over his dick. It’s been so long. His world blinks out, savoring the feeling like he was an inexperienced teenager again. 

“Carajo, you’re so good,” he finds himself cursing, leaning over your back. 

“Now he says I’m good."

“Shh,” Miguel clips with a mean nip at your nape, lining it with soft kisses, encouraging you on to take him. Warm and wet, Miguel can only describe the slide into your cunt as untethered delight. Released from the bondage of his usual condom, he’s a mess against your soaked cunt, gripping you for a semblance of stability. 

I just want to make you happy. For all your needy complaints and little quips, he knows you do. Otherwise he wouldn’t be here, with your hands cupped on top of his, squeezing for more closeness. Miguel laces your fingers together in a needy weave, drawing back to stroke his cock right back into your wet body. You lead one of his hands between your legs, urging him on to stroke your clit. Your walls clamp down on him, teasing out bursts of pleasure with how deeply he was buried. Miguel’s lips part into a whine of his name, skin slapping against skin. He sets a kiss in the crook of your neck, breath nearly unbearable. 

“Mami,” he gasps, the word coming out between his unstable thrusts. Your eyes shut hard, sparks of pleasure winding and building in your core. “Give me a baby.”

“Sí papi,” you heave, “I”m trying to.”

Miguel knows what you like-- and you like him desperate. His voice so low and rich that you gush around his swollen length, falling apart below him. He catches your body from dropping in an instant, his thighs shaking as he works you through the fibers of gentle pleasure. Hot pressure builds low in his stomach. 

“Qué bella eres. I’m going to finish, fill you and knock you up,” he whispers, drawing himself free and admiring the hazy space of pleasure and reality. Miguel turns you back to face him. You think you may complain-- you didn’t cum, or something of the sort. He shifts you to sit on the counter, spreading your vulva for inspection. Miguel spat on your cunt, rolling his fingers over the swollen folds to spread you apart. He slipped into the space between your shaking legs. You felt him thrust into your body hard and sharp. Your hands reached out, dragging Miguel’s shoulders forward, clinging onto his body. 

It comes all at once, Miguel’s stuttering thrust forward, a deep groan filling the kitchen, his hand clasped onto your thigh so hard you know he’ll bruise it. You catch his moan in a kiss he doesn’t reciprocate, buried so deep in your body that all he can think to do is to force you to take all of it. He shakes himself free of the web of pleasure that he’s enveloped in, looking at you past the thin rivulets of sweat you wiped away with your loving thumbs. 

“I think there are better positions for baby making,” you lean in, kissing him gently. He returns the kiss this time, eyes light of the strain and stress of the last few days.  “Like… not this.” 

Miguel pulls back, his soft cock slipping free from your warm entrance. Miguel watches as his seed dribbles from your hole, grunting in acknowledgement. He swipes your mixed fluids and rolls it between his fingers. 

“I’m open to suggestions.” 

He loves his wife. More than anything. What he doesn’t love is how Peter seems to know that you’re trying for a baby.

The thing about having a woman from his same cultura was this: you loved to talk with your best friend. Who, just so happened to be Peter. He doesn’t even have to say anything, just staring at him with a quirk on his lip and a terrible glitter in his eye after he’s resolved another meeting.

“Hey, Miguel.” 

“Don’t start.” 

He’s crowded with work at his desk-- he has no time for Mayday’s curious little eyes to glitter at him, Peter to be doing that shit he did when he wanted to be helpful. He offered his hands up, shrugging. 

“I’m just saying! I’m a man, you’re a man,” he mumbles, inching a little closer and closer. “If you want a baby--” 

“Let me guess. She told you.” 

“Mayday could use a spider buddy,” he held Mayday up, out of her carrier. Miguel glanced down at her wild hair, exhaling air out of his nose with a little huff. “Sooner than later?” 

“I’ve done it before,” Miguel throws back. “I know how to knock up my own wife, Peter. I don’t need help.”  

Peter is offering help as if Miguel hadn’t tasted the changes in your body when he ate you out. Never mind that he saw you nauseated this morning, too sick to handle a call that Miguel promptly answered. He knew his seed had stuck-- you wouldn’t feel so miserable otherwise. It doesn’t matter, he’d answer them all if it meant another little one in his arms at the end of it all. Just so long as you and the baby were safe. 

“Are you sure? I know--” 

“I’m damn sure.” Miguel turned around, his head in his hand. “I’ve had enough of you. Why don’t you do something useful? Bring her something for her morning sickness.” 

“Oh,” realization fell over Peter like a hammer, looking down to Mayday who looked right back up to her father. For all that Peter knew about his love life, he was shocked that you hadn’t told him how awful the smell of breakfast meat made you feel. His hand fell away, a film of pride slipping from his practiced features when Peter spoke. “But... She’s already pregnant?” 

He leers. Peter scuttles away. 

Privacy is important to Miguel. You knew the damn rule. No telling Peter about the inner workings of your bedroom. For that, you were going to fucking get it. You likely knew you were going to get it-- even if you were likely already pregnant.

He can’t wait.

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[hedgehog-moss]

Pampérigouste escaped today and I almost didn't make a post about it because it's just more of the same isn't it? do people who read this blog really want to hear about yet another Pampe escape? Then I thought, that's like asking if people who read detective novels really want to hear about yet another mysterious murder. Probably yes. Also Pampe would have been offended to have such a successful escape go unreported.

I would like to say that my new fence is still fully Pampe-proof. She has not escaped a single time through breaking or outsmarting the fence, so now she does it by outsmarting me. Which doesn't happen all that often, because we are intellectual equals. But I let my guard down this morning—I'd just peeled some greenhouse carrots to make purée and I went into the pasture to distribute the peelings even though it was raining (see how I got punished for my selflessness?), and I left the gate open because I was right in front of it, obstructing it with my body.

Pampe dropped her carrot peelings and acted like she couldn't find them even though they were right under her feet, so I took pity on her and crouched down to gather them and offer them to her again (see how I'm getting punished for my compassion??) and she took advantage of this diversion. In the span of 0.2 seconds she slithered around me and she was out. It was a little bit beautiful. I don't know if you remember this photo of Pampe & Pyrgus, but it's a perfect illustration of what happened:

I sighed and ignored her and finished distributing the peelings to the other animals, and then went to the barn to get muesli to lure my nuisance back to her pasture. After escaping she initially ran towards the woods, but since I ignored her the whole time, she emerged from the woods when I returned, like, wait, did you notice I escaped? Behind your back, just earlier? Did you notice how I won and you lost?

It shouldn't have been difficult to get her back into the pasture with the help of her favourite snack; unfortunately Pampoldine is still a big baby who was distraught that her mum had left her behind yet again (she should be used to it, honestly, it's been like this since she was an infant), she started making these little panicky noises that Pampe has never paid any attention to—

—so when I propped the gate open with a branch to get Pampe back inside, Poldine hurried out instead. I wasn't expecting this, I thought it was clear that I had the situation under control and her mum would be back in 5 seconds. You could have just waited 5 seconds, Poldine.

Pampelune had no interest in escaping, but she's the matriarch and where her herd goes, she goes, so once the other two were out she barrelled past me as well. I opened the gate to bring 1 llama in and instead 2 llamas went out. Pirlouit besides me was like

For some reason the llamas galloped towards the road, instead of just hanging out in the woods where there's stuff to eat. Maybe because Pampe hadn't gone out in a long time and she wanted to be admired for her feat. Her wish was granted—2 cars stopped to say hi as I was miserably trotting after my llamas on the road in the rain. One of them was the post office lady who once herded my animals out of a pasture with her car, and she was like hop in, it'll be like old times!!!

The two people who stopped their car were enchanted with the encounter and they both told me that they missed the days when Pampe Sightings on this road were a regular thing. No one sides with my fence in the Pampe v. Fence conflict. I love the post office lady though, she had a Niagara song playing in her car when I got in and a minute later I muttered "I'll sell her to the butcher" and she started singing "Pampe ♪ Je vais devoir te vendre au boucher ♫" to the tune of that song. It fit the tune really well, too.

After we managed to get the llamas off the main road and back in the woods, she was like, godspeed, I wish I could continue chasing them with you but I have to go make lunch for my kids. I told her that now that the llamas were no longer on the road I'd just let them roam, they'll come home before night, no way I'm going to chase after them in the woods in this dog weather. So I went home and grumpily resumed peeling carrots and potatoes for my mash.

I sat in front of the window to do it so I could keep an eye on Pirlouit, who was wandering around the pasture like a cursed soul, drenched with rain, lonely and llamaforsaken. Sometimes he brayed to try and guide his friends back home, wherever they were, but he never brayed while I was filming. His braying is a poignant display of emotion and is not for public consumption.

I figured, if the llamas come back Pirou will spot them and perk up his immense ears, and I'll know to go out and open the gate. Instead at some point I looked up from my potatoes and saw my donkey finally at peace, grazing rather than pacing restlessly, and I went to look outside and his friends were back! And so was his appetite.

I had new peelings + some muesli to offer, but of course Pampe could tell this offering was a crude and blatant trap and refused to fall for it. Meanwhile her innocent daughter was like yay, snacks :) and followed me in the pasture, a llama entirely devoid of wiles.

After I got Poldine back inside I went like WELL since NOBODY else wants that delicious MUESLI I guess these deserving chickens can have it—and Pampe was here in the blink of an eye to shoo the hens away from her muesli.

She was grudgingly smiling about it, too. Like, point for you.

I love this pic where my chicken looks like she's herding the animals back in their pasture all by herself.

Everyone is home! Pampe and Pandolf are walking away in search of new adventures, Poldine follows her mum because of her abandonment issues, and Pirlouit is also following everyone very closely, like, I'm not getting left behind again.

I finally managed to cook my mashed carrots & potatoes (+ herbs from the greenhouse) and it's so nice to make food with nothing but ingredients you grew yourself! (To be completely honest I only managed to grow 3 carrots in the past few months but that's because I neglected them in pursuit of more flashy summer vegetables)

I also had an apple-plum compote for dessert made with my own fruit <3 Okay, the cheese course in between was store-bought. One of my friends really wants me to get goats and be self-sufficient in cheese and when I told her I would be constantly chasing my goats over hill and dale because they have a reputation to be insufferable escape artists she was like, what difference will it make to your life...

#crawling along #llama drama

[hoshigray]

idk if you’re taking in requests or thirsts but imagine giving toji a lap dance and even then he’s still the one who’s in charge and shiittt 😵‍💫

i want him so bad 😞

lol, why did I think of a stripper AU when I saw this? Also, this ask is like MONTHS old, I'm so sorry...also tysm for 4.9k guyssss, ur too kind

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Toji x stripper fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - sensual movements; lap dances + bumping and grinding - kisses (f! receiving) - clitoral stimulation - breast fondling + nipple play - biting/nibbling- pet names (angel, baby, sweetheart, sweetie) - no penetration, but things get steamy - cameos: Mei Mei, Nanami and Ino. 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.7k

You were Toji’s favorite stripper.

You, your coworkers, and all the clients who come to enjoy the show all know this as fact. 

It’s all fun and games that this is your job, and you must cater to all the other men and women who come to see you strut and work your stuff (or else your manager, Mei Mei, would have your head).

But this is something that should never be forgotten. When that raven-haired man with a scar on his lip walks into the premises, everyone has to act right: you’re off-limits because you are his girl. 

Tonight was one of those Friday nights; women gather around the bar top to gather their weekend drinks – and flirt with Kento Nanami, the part-time bartender. Men under the influence howl at the topless entertainers, allowing them to motorboat and stuff cash into their underwear. And Ino, the DJ, plays the tunes that set the mood and keep the place going. 

Toji walks past all of that — he’s not here for it. He strides up to the open area, where there are mini stages abided by booths, a pole for each that comes from the ceiling down. He comes to one of the stages, and a dancer stops midway through her routine to greet the man, ignoring the girls who whine from her mesmerizing dancing coming to a halt. “Toji~, it’s Friday already?” 

“Yup, good to see you, Roxy,” he flashes a quick smile at the named entertainer. “They here today?”

Roxy giggles. “Knew you were going to ask me that. They should be at that back one over there at the corner…Oh! There they are.” She points, and Toji follows her finger to the promised stage and booth at the corner. He grins and gives a curt nod to Roxy before going on his way. “Enjoy the show, Toji~”

At the club corner is a booth filled with tired businessmen who come to drink. But guessing from the grins on their faces, they’re too enamored by what’s in front of them to quench their first. On the pole, twirling around the metal bar, was you. Entertaining the men with the usual routine, a few tricks, and moves to wow the mix of young and old business clients. And they gasp and roar at you, splitting your legs during a high kick.

Unfortunately, though, this was the last of their fun with you. Because after you transition from the pole, taking a client’s hand to have them aid you down the stage, something – or someone – catches your attention from the corner of your eye. You turn and smile, “Hey there, big guy.”

“Hey,” he greets you with a smirk. The guys around the booth watch, most with expressions as if their hearts dropped. Minus one, a young man who felt he should question the man standing next to him. 

“Uhh, excuse me,” he says to the dark-haired, burly man. The other colleagues looked at him as if he lost his mind. “We got this table first, so go over somewhere with the other strippers and—“ 

He could not finish that sentence. Because Toji pulled the kid off his seat with one hand, the poor bastard squeaked at the sudden action. Piercing green eyes bore into his skull, his blood shifting to icy cold. “How ‘bout I have you go somewhere? Either in the trash or six feet under, whichever floats y’r boat.” 

The scared look on the poor kid’s face didn’t change Toji’s attitude. Not even the other guys who were pleading to him to let their friend go, that he didn’t know what he was doing. He did not come here to start something, not tonight. 

And for that, you were the only one who could calmly intervene, dissuading the situation by placing a hand on Toji’s shoulder. “It’s all right, Toji. I was giving these guys a little show before you came in. Now, please let him go, okay? I don’t think Mei Mei would want to deal with another broken arm situation.”

It was the safest option that you spoke to him, his little favorite. So, with a gruff scoff, Toji lets the guy go for him to land on the floor roughly. “You heard ‘em, fellas. Outta my spot.” The entrepreneurs get up and scram with no hesitation, grumbling at the younger colleague for causing such strife in the first place as they walk away somewhere, leaving you and Toji. 

He watches them leave, turning to you when they’re at a respectable distance. Here is when he properly gets a good look at you. God, he could never get enough of you. You were wearing a black laced, caged mesh bra that covered your breasts, matching with lacy bottoms that shaped your hips beautifully. The bra was covered in rhinestones that shined with the club lights, which partnered with the side of your bottoms. And to complete the look, over-the-knee heeled boots that sparkled. A new favorite, Toji thinks.

“Well, now that you’re done terrorizing my guests,” you giggle and gesture to the booth seat. “Ready for me to spoil you?”

“Heh, think that’s the other way ‘round, sweetheart.” Toji chuckles as he takes off his coat and sits down. He notes you staring at his bulky arms for a quick second. You were fast, but not fast enough for him to catch you. “I’m sure y’re ready to drain my wallet.”

You walk between him and the stage behind you, bewitching him with the twinge of your lips as you bring your face closer. “Would that be a bad thing?”

Toji’s hand goes to your cheek, “A pretty lil’ angel like you? I’d let you rob every cent of me.”

The jest does its job of making you laugh before you withdraw your face from his hold. “You know the rules.” 

The older man rolls his eyes but obliges, putting his hands behind his head and shifting comfortably. “I know, I know. No touchy.”

“No touchy.” You repeat, knowing he’s on the same page while you warm yourself up. 

You start with the usual — he likes it. You turn and spread your legs, bending down slowly before him so he can get a perfect view of your ass and underwear. And you take your time getting up, using your hands to entice him by grazing them around your asscheeks. Next, you face him, eyes locked with his emerald ones. Taking one foot after the other, you bend again and place your hands on his thighs, rubbing them while maintaining eye contact. “How was work? Tough as usual?” 

Now, while you have rules of your own, he also has things he can’t share — like the fact that his primary source of income comes from killing people. It’s why he’s always sure to clean himself up before coming here, spending his hard-earned cash to see you. But he humors you with tiny hints, “Mmm, as usual. Broken nose here, blood on knuckles there.” 

You straighten up, placing a heeled foot on his right thigh. “My my, not that you got hurt, right?” 

“Not a single scratch.”

You lift a brow before bringing your leg down to swiftly sit on his lap, snaking your hands up from his abdomen and chest to his strong shoulders. “You’re quite the dangerous one.”

“Sure,” He chortles smugly, “but y’re one to talk.”

You play along, forming a small “o” with your lips to display faux surprise. All the while bouncing on his lap. “Me? Dangerous?” 

“Oh yeah, sweetie.” His eyes never leave your face, even when you sway to the side to measure his attention. “Y’re quite the little minx yourself.” 

Your eyes narrow, inching your face closer, your noses practically touching. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Slow grinds to his groin, it makes him swallow. You close your eyes, lips drawing in with a whisper. “Is it?”

Toji closes his eyes as well, falling for your sensual spell. “Not at all…” But nothing comes of it, only a string of giggles as you remove your face from his, poking the tip of his nose with your finger to signal with awake before fully withdrawing your figure from him. He grins, shaking his head. “Fuckin’ tease.”

“I don’t see you complaining, sir.” You throw the title at him with a playful smirk, batting an eye before turning around with your back facing him. You gently sit on his lap and transition your services to that of a lap dance. 

With an arched back, you roll your hips and ride on his lap, your butt rubbing on his jean-clad thighs to create heated friction. And Toji’s eyes examine your figure, from the highlighted skin of your back to the sway of your hips. The view of your butt rubbing on him gets him going, trying to fight the urge to just fuck the rules and grab your ass to grind on himself. Every rasp to his groin tests him to breathe steadily. 

But then, you just had to look at him over your shoulder with that cute, complacent leer. “How ya feelin’ there, big guy? Dangerous enough for you yet?”

Yup, fuck it. Rules be damned, Toji grabs for your ass and brings it down flat on his groin. The action takes you aback – unconditionally out of the accustomed routine. Before you can question him, Toji’s scarred lips are already at your ear. “You tell me, princess. Teasin’ me like that is just askin’ for it.”

You hold back a whimper when he comes to your neck, biting your lips when his lips meet your skin. “Mmmm…whatever happened to no touchy? You could get into trouble—“

“Aww, are ya worrying f’r me?” He snickers to your ear again, listening to you gasp at the buck of his hips to your ass. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, just keep dancin’ f’r me, ‘kay? I’ll take care of you…”

Toji bites the helix of your ear, rolling his hips to hump you. With a shaky moan, you grind on him to match his cadence. You’re nervous; this is against the policy: guests are not supposed to touch the entertainers. And yet, now, with Toji’s firm hands holding onto you and him whispering to your ear, it somehow feels different — a lot more hedonistic. 

You decide to play along, throwing your head back to his shoulder to rest, which gives him more access to kiss your exposed skin. His lips peck down your neck, and quivering wails seep from your lips when he mischievously nibbles on it. Too distracted to detect a hand snake down to your covered chasm. 

Now would be the right time to say things are going too far. You bring a hand on top of his, a silent warning for him. But he chooses to ignore it, creeping the other hand under the hem of your top. “Relax, baby. Just focus on danicin’, yeah?” 

This was so different, having a guest take the rails — no, having Toji take control of you. And you don’t dislike it; far from it, actually. If anything, it’s oddly exciting — letting the older man please you as you service him. It’s new and dangerous, especially in your workplace. But, oh my God, you don’t want it to stop.

You wrap your arms around his neck while he puts his back to the booth, using this to change into a different move. With your torso lifted and using your legs to maintain balance, you move your abdomen up and down. While you’re ghosting his groin with wave-like motions, Toji uses his fingers to play with your body. His left middle and forefinger rubs on your cover folds, roughly pressing down on where your clitoris is. A choked sob leaves puffy lips, even when his right hand is in your bra to grope your breast, his thumb swiping on your nipple to harden. 

“Mmmph! Ahhaaa, Toji…”

“Yeah, just like that,” he reassures you. Another tweak to your nipple has you bite your lips with a hum. “Just like that—“

“Am I interrupting something?” 

It took you mere milliseconds to recognize the new voice that enters your space, abruptly interrupting your session with purpose. You’re off of Toji just like that, hurriedly fixing yourself in the presence of your manager. “H–Hello, Mei Mei.”

“Hello there, Y/n.” She says it sweetly, but her words carry a stern connotation. The pale-blue-haired woman has her hair up in a braided ponytail while wearing a simple black split-thigh cami dress with mesh sleeves, and her gold earrings and red lipstick contrast with her pale skin. “Ah, I expected to see you here, too, Mr. Fushiguro.”

Toji greets the women, standing up at his own pace. “It is a Friday, Lady Mei.”

She smiled at the use of her business name; it was appropriate for what she was about to say. “Indeed it is. I decided to come down to check on the place and see how the life of the party was going. And all my guests seemed to be having quite a good time…Minus this one guy, who told me about the ‘scary fucker with a scar on his lip’ who lifted him like a doll and scared him and his buddies to a different table.” 

Toji rubs the back of his neck, chortling with a smug grin. “Hmm, the guy must be some dick.”

“Must be...Now listen, Fushiguro, I know how much of a valuable customer you are, throwing good money at my girls — my girl.” Mei Mei walks to you and places her cold hands on your shoulders. “I’d find it hard to have you not come here anymore for not keeping your hands to yourself. On my customers and my entertainers.”

“That I understand, my Lady,” he sighs at your manager’s lecture and crosses his arms. “But you know how I roll. I just come here to see your girls—“ He stops to shift his gaze on you. “Your sweet girl.”

“And I see you care about them quite a lot, your hand up their bra and your lips on their skin.” 

He shrugs it off. “I’m guilty.”

Mei Mei walks up to the older guest, her light violet eyes locked with his dark jade orbs. “Fushiguro, I’m sorry, but I’m afraid my rules apply to everybody. No touching the dancers. This is a strip club, not a brothel.” 

“Yes, Mei,” He grasps every word thrown at him, his eyes not leaving her feline ones. “It’s just a shame that I’m willin’ to pay whatever to have Y/n privately for one night in those lil’ VIP rooms upstairs.” 

A silver brow is quirked. “Are you trying to throw more money at my face to change the rules for your own convenience?”

“I’m trying to talk business, from one loyal customer to a good businesswoman.” He says nonchalantly, pointing to you with his chin. “That is if they’re up for it.” Now, why did he have to single you out like that? Because your manager turns to you with a patient look, gauging where you stand in this situation. 

It’s a tricky thing to answer: do you want to have sex with your guest that made you feel good minutes ago? This job is supposed to be an easy one, coming here to dance and swing your ass off til the morning sun for good money. Now, on the one night when things get a little too heated – with your favorite customer, mind you – you’re in a conflict. And you have to thank God you didn’t kiss him on the lips! 

However, it’s not like you don’t trust Toji; it’s the opposite. Sure, he can be a cocky bastard; there’s been instances where he’s touched you, but never like tonight. And yet, you didn’t find any danger in it. You were relaxed atop of him, leaning more into his touches. So, the thought that more could come from it is new. Chilling, but thrilling.

Your manager can see the inner turmoil through your face, so she answers in your stead, “Give it some thought for tomorrow, Y/n. And you,” Mei Mei turns back to the man guilty of this predicament. “Learn to behave yourself ’til then.” 

“I will, Lady Mei,” Toji sneers, grabbing for his coat to put on and taking a few bands to give to you. “And I’ll be seein’ you tomorrow, baby.”

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – divideres from @/cafekitsune.

#𝑯𝒐𝒔𝒉𝒊 ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ 𝑾𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔: 𝑺𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒔 #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #toji x reader #toji smut #toji fushiguro x reader smut #toji fushiguro smut #toji x you #toji x y/n #fushiguro toji x reader #fushiguro toji x you #toji fanfic #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen fic #jjk imagines #toji imagine

[hellenhighwater]

Mildly weird question for story research purposes: when your cats ride on your shoulder, what does it feel like for you?

Context: My main character has a cat who likes to ride around on her shoulder, and since it's a thing that happens frequently, I'm trying to make sure I write about it well. And, unfortunately, I do not have a cat to even attempt to test it with, so I'm going to the one person I KNOW has experience with this situation.

Specific things that would be helpful to know:

Do you have to be careful not to upset their balance, or can you more or less walk normally once they're up there?

How are they keeping themselves up there? Are there claws involved? Or just good balance?

Where's most of their weight? I looked back at some pictures/vids, and it looks like they typically ride with their front paws on the shoulder and their back paws somewhere a bit below and beside your neck, but I could be wrong.

How long can they stay on your shoulder before one of you has to take a break? Is the weight of the cat tiring, or is it pretty easy to deal with?

Anything else I should be aware of regarding shoulder cats?

Thank you SO MUCH for your help!

Oh, I can definitely answer that! One: It's waaay easier to shoulder a small cat than a big one.

For the most part, they kind of drape themselves over the shoulder; this is specifically what I've trained them to do. Cats will also "shoulder" by draping across both shoulders/back of neck, but this forces your head forward to allow room for them, and it's not comfy. Hence the trained posture. (Malice, in the early days:)

I taught Mal to jump up when I bent forward for her, and circle to face front while I stood up. She can actually do that pretty quickly. Their weight is pretty evenly distributed across the top of the shoulder and down on the pectoral, not really on the back at all. Mal sometimes hooks her back claws into my shirt near the shoulderblade, which is more about balance than weight support. Nim, who was significantly smaller, actually kept her back feet tucked up so that her feet were on the top of my shoulder. This is a significantly more ready posture than Mal's--she would have to readjust for a better foothold to jump down; Nim could leap directly off at a moment's notice. Overall, Nim had far superior shouldering skills to Mal. Malice rides like the meatball she is; I'm hoping she'll learn with age. Here's some pictures of Nim:

To give them a stable position, I do keep my back straight and shoulders back; if I have to pick something up, I will crouch down instead of bending over. If I have to bend forwards, I will put my palm up flat so that they can stand with their front paws on it and keep their body on my shoulder. Generally, I can move, walk, and even work normally. I've cooked, painted, done chores, even run. Both hands are free to use, though generally you can't lift the arm the cat is on above a T position. They don't need to use their claws for balance unless I am doing something really active. I do shoulder almost exclusively on my left shoulder, so that my dominant hand is more free.

The weight is not significant--Nim was only about 8 lbs, Mal is about 11, and because there's no grip to maintain them and they're naturally situated on the shoulder, it's easy to carry them for a long time. I used to walk miles with Nim on my shoulder. It's actually more the heat--cats run hot, and it's a lot of fur on your neck and shoulder if it's warm out. Great in the winter, though!

Notable things you might not realize--their head is in front of yours, so you can still see ear positions, what they're looking at, etc. Nim's night vision/hearing/sense of smell was better than mine, so I could tell if we were sneaking on wildlife based on her reactions and responses to things. You can also feel them tense or adjust posture before they jump or try to get down, and you can feel their tail moving. You can also feel if they're growling or purring, even if you can't hear it. If you're used to paying attention to those cues, you'll notice them while just carrying the cat normally too--Nobody could sneak up behind me if I was carrying Nim facing over my shoulder to the back.

They can jump from shoulder height but it's a hard landing. Usually if I want them down, I just kneel with a knee up, or lift a leg flat while standing so they can jump to the top of my leg and then to the ground.

If I was in a fictional setting and traveling with them long term, I would be investing in a really weird piece of leather armor, that goes to the edge of the neck/crest of shoulder, and down past the bottom of the shoulderblade, with little easy-to-grip leather loops or chainmail on the back of the shoulder.

[luminiamore]

hiiii i really liked your suguru hoochie fic and i was wondering if you could do one with ony where she’s like a tomboy and she has a smart mouth and fights a lot but when she gets with ony he makes her chill out when she start to act up.

thank youuuuuu🫶🏾

best friend ony x black tomboy reader

warnings: a bit of angst in the beginning? fam issues, reader can throw hands, car sex, angry sex a little, overstimulation, best friends to lovers, a teensy bit of manipulation? if you squint

a/n: hope you enjoyyyyy :33

Second year, first semester. You honestly were starting to get tired of this hell people call college. You were drained, which was weird since you loved what you were there for. Fashion design has been your passion ever since you were a child. It was nothing out of the ordinary for anyone in your family to see you declare that as your major after being admitted to FIT, one of the best fashion schools in New York.

Your parents, comprising a lawyer and the top doctor in the city, fully supported you in pursuing your dreams. They were impressed by your decision to launch your own fashion line, and before you even reached your third year in college, you had already established your own business. 

The outcome was much more successful than anticipated, making your first $100k in less than 2 months. However, there are drawbacks to being raised in a traditional Haitian family. 

‘Tifi pa mete gwo pantalon konsa.’ Girls don’t wear big pants like that.

‘Buy that skirt. Ou bezwen abiye tankou yon dam.’ You need to dress like a lady.

It was a broken fucking record, and you were tired of hearing it. You would call them out on it, never being one to hold your tongue. Your parents scolded you for that, too, telling you that no one likes a lady who always has someone to say. You swear you would pop a blood vessel if you heard another one of their lectures.

Of course, you never wore the skirts or dresses they would waste their money on for you. Your family’s Christmas gifts would be just that now. You couldn’t help but want to hurl when you saw pastel-colored tops, the shortest skirts you’d ever seen, and dresses that made you shiver in discomfort.

They weren’t ugly. You recognized the beauty in them when other people wore them. But putting them on your body made you visibly uncomfortable. You always felt awkward in them, and you realized that while you loved your parents, you couldn’t change how they viewed things. 

So, you moved out. After six months of telling your parents you were leaving. They never believed you. On a warm summer evening, you packed all of your ‘ti gason’ clothes, as they like to call them, and made your way to the high-rise apartment that you paid a deposit on three weeks ago.

You were happy. I mean, you had no reason not to be. Your parents came around to you not being home anymore, your business was doing exceptionally well, and your best friend was taking you out to eat later tonight.

You were happy. 

So, why are you leaving room 109 on the verge of tears after being scolded by your Fashion Management professor for missing yet another assignment?

You were at your limit. You weren’t by any means sensitive, always known for being quick on your feet. Usually, when there is a problem, you are the first to fix it. You were smart, having a high 3.9 GPA, and are even on the principal’s honor roll. That didn’t stop you from getting into a few fights here and there. 

Now, you were by no means were you the type of bitch always looking for a fight. But the girls at your university were bullies, and unfortunately for them, you don’t take no bullshit. Not from your parents, and certainly not from them.

You should be a MMA fighter with how these women are left twitching after you’re done with them. And you probably should’ve been expelled, but you were one of the school’s head designers. It would look bad on their part if they let you go, which is why you’re still here. Utterly drained, hungry, and twisting your personal locker open.

“Yo!” 

You hear a loud shout from behind you. You take a pause from stacking your latest edition of the Vogue magazine, featuring your designs, in the plain navy blue locker. Nah, not me. You really weren’t in the mood today.

“Excuse you, miss. With the big ass pants,” You entirely stop all your movements and take a deep breath in. Not fucking today. 

The outfit you wore was cute, you looked adorable. Standing with a basketball jersey shirt you stumbled upon while thrifting a week ago and oversized jeans. Your new blue Balance 550s were free of scratches and fit perfectly with your mid-calf length socks. Your bohemian braids are tucked into a messy updo, and your vintage jewelry completes your look. You were bad, and no amount of bullying from insecure women could ever make you feel different.

You continue ignoring the person. Your best friend of five years, Ony, told you not to get into any more fights. He said you were too bright for that, that they only wanted a reaction out of you. On any other day, you would’ve taken his concerns into consideration. Today was absolutely not one of those days. Today was one of the days where if someone said the wrong thing, you wouldn’t flinch before knocking their head off their shoulders.

To be honest, he should’ve known better; you always had a short temper. 

Still, the whiny voice pesters you until they got right within your vicinity. “I know you hear me talking to you,” 

Your method of ignoring is futile now; the girl was so close you could smell the cheap Victoria’s Secret perfume she over-sprayed. You were forced to turn to your right and face the culprit, your sharp eyes squinting at the girl.

You notice you’ve never seen her before. She wasn’t drastically shorter than you, maybe an inch or two. Even you knew, though, you could spank her with no problem. She was pretty, but her style was the complete opposite of yours. Her brown skin was well-compensated by the short pleated cream skirt she wore, and the bow-shaped crop top caused you to look twice at her tits.

You would’ve forgotten that she approached you all hostile if she didn’t put her pink glossed lips together to say her following words.

“You fucking with my man?” Didn’t I mention that you have never seen this girl a day in your life? How the fuck were you supposed to know who her man was? You’re stuck in a dilemma, a mind fucking dilemma. 

Should you walk away and be the bigger person, or should you indulge in whatever this was and risk listening to what would be your second lecture of the day from Ony? You shiver at the thought alone. You don’t think you can take another earful. 

“Y’know what? I don’t even think it was right of me to ask,” Thank you. You internally think you wouldn’t feel bad for fucking up someone’s daughter today.

“Yeah, there’s no way Ony would go for someone like you,” 

Silence.

There was an apparent silence among the crowded halls, everyone stopping what they were doing to stare at the two of you. Damn, does no one mind their business?

You weren’t lying earlier. You really didn’t have an issue with people dressing in the opposite way of you. In 2024, you have a fondness for the way humans express themselves through their clothing. What you didn’t like was how girls with the most basic outfits known to man would think they were better than you.

And did this bitch just call Ony her man?

Your anger was rising slowly the more you thought about it, and you were bout ready to strangle this girl. 

“Excuse me?”

Your usual sweet tone sounded almost chilly amid the suffocating tension. Everyone around the school knew who you were; being a fashion designer made the public eye fixated on you. Your fights were a natural source of mass attention. That was what all of your 1 million fans on Instagram liked about you, the fact that you never lost.

She had the audacity to keep talking. “Yeah, I mean, look at you. You should dress more like a-”

It’s a shame, really. You really didn’t want to fight today. Your fist went swinging before your mind even processed what was happening. It was a little uncanny how you didn’t let the girl get any punches; it was simply hit after hit. Were you at 7 now? Or maybe it was 10? You couldn’t tell. 

This wasn’t because she was weak; it took about two solid punches to the face before she fell down. But you were just so heated. That comment made something snap in the deepest crevices of your bone. There was an intense sobbing from underneath you, and in the corner of your cloudy vision, you saw pecks of blood staining your knuckles. 

You didn’t get to finish your assault on the poor girl; in a split second, you felt an arm snatch you up from your stomach. You raise your head from what feels like someone’s shoulder- Why was everything upside down?

You heard a deep mumbling in the midst of the cheers coming from the hallway, something along the lines of “Never fucking listen,”

Ony?

It seems you voiced your thoughts out loud because the 6’3 man responds with a quick, “I don’t wanna hear shit till we get home.” 

Your thoughts were jumbled, and you didn’t have a clear head. You were angry. You were an angry black woman, and you had every right to be one. Ony is your best friend, not your father. So, you were stuck trying to figure out just who the fuck was he talking to?

In a hiss, your voice whispers by his diamond stud earring, “Who the fuck- Are you crazy? Fuck ass nigga, put me down!” you start sending harsh slaps on his back, the fabric of his white tee swaying. But he wasn’t budging; not a single hit swayed him.

Your words must have been a source of tension, causing him to finally put you down. The blood rushing from your body into your head makes your vision hazy, and as you look around, you realize you’re in the school parking lot. Alone. Alone with Ony.

He doesn’t let the thought simmer in your brain, not when you’re more concerned about the fact that he has a tatted hand on your throat and just pushed your body to the nearest concrete wall. 

“Watch that mouth. You should know better, Y/n.” 

His voice is more calm now, though you can hear the underlying irritation. You’re both glaring at each other, your breathing audibly heard amid the empty oversized garage. His grip on your throat is making you feel things, things you shouldn’t be feeling for a best friend. 

You were never intimidated by Ony, and he knew it when you continued glaring and uttered, “Get the fuck off of me,” You try grasping at his arm, but he’s quicker than you. Ony doesn’t hesitate to put your arms above your head, the scent of his YSL cologne filling your senses. 

Is he- Is he closer than before?

“Nah, you’re not getting out of this one.” He pressed into you harder, and it was getting a little difficult to breathe. His body heat somehow mixed in with yours, creating a heated symphony. You knew it was coming, another scolding. At this point, you were starting to think you’re 9 again.

“What did we talk about yesterday, ma?” His voice goes an octave lower, and you’re almost sure he’s doing this purposefully. You roll your eyes, refusing to let him see the effect he was beginning to have on you. You decide you don’t even want to let him hear your voice.

Ony doesn’t hear a peep out of you, and after 10 seconds, he loses his patience, “You deadass? Don’t make me fuck you up, Y/n.” You feel the hand on your throat squeeze tighter twice as if he’s warning you. Damp are the only words to describe what your panties are experiencing right now. 

Still, you keep up your facade. Ony can see right through you, though, you’ve never had someone put you in your place. You’ve never had someone match your energy like he did. It usually never got this bad; Ony never got upset with you after a fight he had to pull you from. A calm talk and a little praise got you to calm your nerves.

This was before you got the fame you have now. Ony thinks, no, he knows, that you’re going to be much bigger than you already are. And he doesn’t want you being held back by some petty fights. He always told you if you ever had a problem, go to him first, and he’ll always handle it. 

But you wanted to be stubborn. You weren’t used to someone taking care of you, relieving some weight off of your shoulders. Being the first-born daughter issued a connection with hyper-independence. And all Ony wants to do is engrave in your pretty little head that he’s got you. And he always will. He genuinely cannot understand why you make it so difficult for him.

“I’m not in the mood, Ony. Let me go-” He cuts you off, coming closer to your soft lips. 

“I don’t care, Y/n. Talk it out right now, or I swear we’re not leaving this parking lot.” He read you like a book; he knew you were trying to run away from him. To dismiss this and to never bring it up again. He was done doing that, and the attitude you’ve been giving him ended today. He’ll fix it for you by whatever means. 

You knew Ony meant his words in the least sexual way possible. Yet, you couldn’t stop your mind from wandering, why does he look so good? The thin gold chain you gave him for his birthday last year makes his brown skin stand out. Through your adrenaline haze, you didn’t even notice what he wearing. 

It’s sinful. How the outfit you know he barely put thought into putting on makes you want to pounce.

A white tee that alone made your breath stutter with the way his abs pressed through. You could make out the outline, damn. Black sweats that sit so low, the white Polo Ralph Lauren briefs he had on were teasing you. 

It wasn’t your first time having these thoughts, but moments with Ony made you think this way often. 

When you guys would smoke together, and Ony would feed you the blunts, his eyes would never leave your lips. When he would come over and cook with you, small brushes behind your hips. You would always brush it aside; that wouldn’t be appropriate for a best friend to think. You were just best friends, right?

You’re questioning everything because of this moment. This isn’t what best friends do. Why is his hand squeezing your throat? Why is he pressing his body flush against you? 

Most importantly, why aren’t you stopping him? Why is this making you so fucking wet? You know, if you told Ony you were uncomfortable, he would back off in a second. But you weren’t. The only thing making you uncomfortable is the slickness you can feel drip down the fat of your soft thighs. 

Your next words leave him stunned, “Well, I guess we’re not leaving then.” 

When your words register in Ony’s brain, he moves quickly. Whispering a stern, “Bet.” With a smile on his handsome face. As if he knows something you don’t. After grabbing you by the throat and letting go of your hands, he swiftly moves to his car, an all-black Scat Pack. 

This was honestly your fault. The position you were in, your back arching perfectly, and your slobbering pussy receiving the deepest back shots from Ony’s long dick. You were scrambling in his back seat. You’ve already came twice due to his fingers, and his precision in piercing your squishy spot would make you cum again. You weren’t even sure you could.

You tried running away from the pleasure, pleading for him in your shaky voice to just “G-give me a b-break! I can’t-” 

It wouldn’t be a punishment if he did, now would it? His hands would only grip the sides of your hips harder at your words; it would probably leave a dent mark. Ony was letting his dick stir up your insides because he needed to teach you a lesson. It seems this is the only way your mouth wouldn’t retort anything to him.

“Not happening, mama. All you needed was some dick, right?” Heavy pants fill the air, and you start seeing smoke fog up his tinted car windows. Ony was honestly losing himself with how tight your pussy was squeezing him. He doesn’t know why the fuck it took him so long to get you like this. It’s all he ever dreams about. 

Making you scream out his name, making you cream all over his dick as he makes you take what he knows nobody could ever give you. Fuck, he swears he’s in love with your fat cunt, with you. “Don’t it feel good when I fuck you like this?” 

The more he kept talking, the more you felt like you were losing your mind. You didn’t know if he wanted an answer. But you were already gone, high off the pleasure his fast pace was giving you. You had no control over your lips when they parted and screamed, “S-so good, Ony! Oh-fuck. It f-feels so-”

He went faster at your words, and your mouth was dripping with drool as your face pressed firmly against his leather seats. After the fifth attempt at pushing him away, he tied your hands behind your back with the durag he wore. You had nowhere to run. You were forced to take Ony’s mean pumps inside your folds.

He pulls you up by your hair, never stopping his assault on your battered pussy when he whispers, “I know, ma. I always make you feel good, yeah?” 

He slithers a hand to your throat and another down to your twitching clit. Rubbing so fast, your squirt was coming out in small streams. Your sinful sobs made his body shake while he was inside you. God, your pussy was so heavenly. So wet and perfect, he never wanted to pull out.

You squirm under him, “So good! Make me- Ouuuu shit- feels so f-fucking good,” Your body was shivering, you didn’t even realize you were coming. Your eyes rolled into the back of your skull as your stomach clenched so hard it hurt. Your pussy mirroring around his aching thrusts, you were fucking up his seats. He didn’t mind; he just wanted to make you forget everything that happened today.

You thought it was over; you thought he would stop or, at the very least, slow the fuck down. But he never let up on your poor pussy, he just kept feeding you his strokes, and he kept rubbing your puffy clit. “So, why don’t you fucking listen? Don’t you love me?”

The anger he felt earlier was coming back, and you could feel it with the way his fat dick was penetrating you so good, so deep. The tears falling down your cheeks came down ten times harder, your clit couldn’t take anymore. Why was he fucking you like this?

“I do! I- I love you- so much, Ony! I’ll listen- I swear! P-please just-”

Ony could feel his heavy balls twitching as he fucked up into you, he was going to cum. He knew you loved him, but hearing you say it. Saying those words in such an intimate position, he doesn’t think he can hold back anymore. He just wanted to dump his seed past your lower lips.

“Yeah? You’ll listen, t’me?” You nodded so quickly before your brain even registered his words. He was pushing you past your limit, your pussy being so overstimulated that your next orgasm was just seconds away from wetting his seats even more.

“Y-yes- Fuckkk! I’m coming.” That was his only warning before your pussy sprayed all over, and your sticky cream coated his dick. Ony groaned deeply in your ear, the hand on your throat giving one final squeeze before he came so deep you swear it was touching your womb. 

There was nothing in the air but heavy breathing. Your body, weak and unable to hold itself, fell back against him when Ony let you go. His following words break the silence, 

“I love you too, mama.” You feel your heart squeeze, but he doesn’t stop there. “I’m getting you some food before we get home, and allat’ best friend’ shit is dead, by the way. You’re mine now, okay?” 

He presses a chaste kiss to your wet cheeks as you lay against him. It was a trip. He fucked you all crazy like that but then spoke to you in the most gentle tone possible afterward. You couldn’t process it. You can’t do anything but nod, your mind still barely processing what he just did to your body, to you. 

What were you upset about again?

#onyankopon x black y/n #ony x black reader #onyankopon x black reader smut #aot onyankopon #18+ only #aot smut #aot x black reader #ony x y/n #onyankopon x reader #x black reader #x black reader smut #black y/n #black reader #lumiwrites

[luveline]

I read the Derek and Spencer fainting bit and now I want to complete it with Hotch :)))

If that’s alright of course…

thank you for your request ♡ fem!reader

Aaron knows you harbour more affection for him than anyone else on the team, which is a true compliment to him, as you adore Spencer. He can never tell if you're friendly or loving, if you want some or all or nothing, the line between you blurred. 

When Morgan and Garcia first began their flirtatious friendship, Aaron thought they were seeing each other on the sly for a whole fortnight. He's a profiler, but he doesn't know everything. 

He does, however, know that something is wrong with you today. Hand held up over your eyes, you squint out over the crime scene with a wrinkled nose. The lakeside smells as bad as it looks with gore blackening the surrounding grass. He's been telling you for months to get some shades. You've been ignoring his advice. 

Your disapproval of the smell is normal. Your unsure footing is not. You take his forearm when he offers it and step across the muddy bank to the body without audible complaint, though you give him a 'this fucking sucks' narrowing of the eyes when he gives you the time. 

"Agent Hotchner," a deputy greets, "Agent L/N. We found the second body here. Bystanders pulled the first out thinking she was still alive, but that was unfortunately not the case." 

You shift unprofessionally close to Aaron. He doesn't really care. The sheriff barely looks at you both, his attention on the corpse hidden between overgrown cattails. 

Aaron hates to admit that he gives you more of his attention than is helpful. You seem odd. Call it intuition, call it plain old profiling, Aaron reads the next minute of events in the smallest twitch of your finger.

You put your hand on his back and he doesn't think, he just grabs you. The sheriff deputy startles as you fold over Aaron's arm like a marionette with strings sliced, exhaling hard as your body does its best to hit the grass beneath your feet. 

"Agent L/N!" The deputy yelps. 

"I got her," Aaron says, easing you down to the ground. He keeps a hand behind your head to lay you down flat, the other quick to leap from your side to your cheek. You'll likely have bruises in the shape of his hands at your waist. "Y/N?" 

He rubs his thumb under your eye. Quick, he leans down with an ear to your lips and relaxes at the sound of your shallow breathing. He pulls away, resting a hand atop your chest. 

"Can you hear me?" he asks, conscious of and ignoring the copious pairs of eyes watching over you. 

You don't respond. Aaron goes into emergency mode, flagging down a cop who races for a paramedic, hands at your throat unbuttoning the first button on your blouse, the second in an overabundance of caution. 

"Y/N, if you can hear me, I need you to open your eyes. Can you do that?" His tone wavers somewhere between demanding and desperate. "Come on. Come on." 

Fainting is one thing. Fainting with no signs of dehydration and little sun exposure is another, especially considering you hadn't moved from one position to another. You've passed out with no obvious cause. Any number of things could be wrong. 

He doesn't slap you —it works in the movies and not often elsewhere. In fact, Aaron finds himself at the opposite end of the spectrum. Patient outwardly and insanely panicked on the inside, he holds your face in his hand and waits for someone to tell him you're alright. 

Your breath catches, your head lolling into his palm. He straightens it, weary of your airways. "Y/N? Tell me you can hear me." 

The whirlwind of your fall and the eternity of your recovery has him holding his breath. 

"I can hear you," you mumble, again attempting to turn your head. He lets you this time. He's so relieved, he'd let you do anything. 

He fights the urge to shout, Where's the medic? instead following your face, tilting his head to the side. "Open your eyes, honey," he murmurs, for your ears alone. 

Your lashes twitch against his pinky index finger. You frown as though you're in pain and finally rouse to attention. 

"What hurts?" he asks, brows furrowed.

"Nothing hurts…" Your frown worsens. "You look really unhappy." 

"I'm not ecstatic about this," he says. He gives in, shouting, "Where's the medic?"

"Oh, no, please," you say, trying to sit up, "that is so embarrassing."

Aaron pushes you flat to the grass beneath you. "Stop, you need to stay flat. You passed out. This is the solution–" He puts his hand flat over your chest as you put in some effort. "Hey, this is what you need to do. Listen to me, agent." 

"What happened to honey?" you ask quietly. 

"That's when you were doing what I wanted." 

You close your eyes in a faux strop. "I guess I'll have to do what you want more often, sir." 

"That's enough." He sounds fond. Why does he sound so fond? 

The deputy clears his throat. "Paramedics are here." 

You groan. Aaron hides a smile. Through everything, his hand has stayed on your cheek. He doesn't pull it away until he absolutely has to, and even then, he holds some part of you. Your elbow, your wrist. He has the sense to be sheepish about it when the paramedic ushers him back, but even then, he's thinking about when he'll get to touch you next; he needs the assurance that you're okay. 

He gets it a half hour later when you're sipping on a gatorade in the back of an SUV. 

"Do I still get paid for today?" you ask, smiling playfully. "Or is this a write off?" 

He wants to joke about it with you, but there's work to be done. He sends you back to the hotel with a frankly unprofessional hug and a demand to take it easy. He's sure you'll be back stepping on his heels by late afternoon. 

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble

[kiwi-bitchez]

Double Down, Triple Threat 

Summary: insecure!Eddie x bartender!Reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What's your drink?" he asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Whatever you were expecting, it wasn't that. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He understood, he hated how much he understood. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His morning voice was scratchy and barely above a whisper. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod with a “Please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Special enough for a fourth date?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

[spaghettiposts]

Unspoken Truths

Summery: You and Wanda have been friends for years, but never once has she showed up at your doorstep in this state. Pregnant, alone, and hurt. You take her in and you both dive into the difficulties of pregnancy, and hiding feelings.

Warnings: Pregnancy, Dickhead Vision, Friends to lovers, Attempts at comedy, Reader being a sweetheart like always, Mutual Pinning, Faint talks of Abortion, talks of nausea and vomiting.

Words: 4k

There was a knock at the door. Which was weird since it was- what time was it? 

Your arm reached for your phone resting on the bedside table. 2:04 am. Your brows furrowed in confusion, feeling discomfort. Who would be knocking at your door at 2 in the morning? Wiping your eyes you rose to your feet, questioning if this was really worth getting up for. 

Slowly you found your courage, and a baseball bat in your hands. You stumbled through the hallway, trying to wake yourself up to face the potential threat at your door. You felt like you were walking right into a classic horror scene, was it Ghostface maybe? Nah he’d call, you think. 

Through the peephole you saw the last person you’d ever expect at this ungodly hour.

“Wanda?” You yawned, hand still on the door. “It’s 2 in the morn- Woah.” You grunted in surprise as her arms wrapped around your waist, instinctively you wrapped your arms around her too. Your surprise quickly shifted into concern at her small sniffles, the brunette tightly gripping at your shirt. “Wanda? What’s wrong?”

The girl in your arms said nothing, merely shaking her head against your shirt. You took that as your cue to close the door behind you, leading Wanda inside. Not once did you separate from her, allowing her to cling onto you. Despite the circumstances you couldn’t help the blush from rising. 

Unfortunately you don’t dwell on how nice it feels to be hugging Wanda, not now, not when she’s still crying. Removing an arm around her, you place it on the small of her back. “Why don’t we go sit on the couch?” 

It’s then that Wanda realizes her current position, she takes a shuddering breath, agreeing with a nod of her head. You ignore the flutter in your chest from the way her grip tightened on your forearm as you lead the way. 

When you sit on the couch Wanda follows suit, sitting a safe distance away from you. You figure she’s composing her thoughts from the way she plays with the rings on her fingers. 

Without thinking you reach for her hand, missing the way her breath hitches from the contact. “What’s wrong Wanda? You can tell me.” 

The brunette looks up at you through tearful eyes, she only feels herself tear up further by the look you give her. An adoring look, a soft comforting smile. It hurts to look at, it hurts even more when your eyebrows furrow. 

“You don’t have to talk about it if it’s bothering you so much…” You add, she’s quick to wipe her eyes and take a deep breath.

“Y/n, I’m pregnant.” She sighs out, feeling some relief. She cringes at the way your eyes widen in surprise. Now you were certainly awake.

Out of all the things Wanda would say, that was certainly not one you would’ve predicted. Pregnant. Of course you could see Wanda being a mom but you recalled her mentioning how she’d like to finish college first.

Clearly…that didn’t happen.

“I just found out.” Wanda let out one of many sighs to come, rubbing her swollen eyes with her hoodie sleeves. She leaned back on the couch, giving you a forced smile.

You remained flabbergasted. Pregnant.

Wanda was pregnant. And came to you. For comfort? Advice? A secret revelation that your love for her was strong enough to get her pregnant? That last one was still part of your sleepy brain talking. 

You had many questions, the most important one was where was the father? You assumed Vision was the father, at least. Even if part of you didn’t like that idea so much. 

Taking in consideration how the brunette arrived at your house, with red bloodshot eyes, and tear stains on her cheeks from crying so much. You worded your next question carefully. “I’m assuming it’s bad?”

A watery laugh escapes her lips, she shakes her head in disbelief. “Bad is an understatement.” And although she’s laughing, her eyes continue to water until she’s tired of pretending everything’s going okay. Her crying turns to sobs, leaning against you for support again. This time you don’t disconnect, letting her rest her weight on you.

You stare up at the ceiling, Wanda laying on your chest having fallen fast asleep. The couch is comfortable enough to make you feel better, but not enough to silence your worries for the woman on top of you. Unsure of what to think you simply conclude it’s best if you don’t, not right now. 

Letting out a deep breath, you close your eyes, tightening your arms around the girl.

Tomorrow, tomorrow you could talk about it.

/-/

It was tomorrow, and you were dreading talking about it. It’s not even yours, chill out, you reminded yourself. First thing you woke up to was an empty couch, with just you laying on it. Where was Wanda?  Rubbing your eyes to wake up fully you noticed the small sticky note on your arm. 

Turning it around revealed Wanda’s whereabouts.

I wanted to make you breakfast, so I went to the market. Your pantry sucks ♥️ 

Okay, breakfast. You loved Wanda’s meals, you figured the least you could do was clean up the kitchen for her. Forcing yourself to get up you threw your arms over your head, letting your back pop. Looking towards the kitchen in all honesty it didn’t look too bad. 

Just some pots that needed to be cleaned, remove the grease. A bag of flour on the counter…you didn’t quite remember why and how that was there. And a sock on the stovetop, you held it up in disgust. When did that get there? 

Feeling embarrassed for yourself, you got to work. Quickly. Socks were placed in the hamper. Flour, back in the pantry in its designated compartment. Then you dropped some flour, falling all over yourself and the items around you.

“Great…” you muttered, eying all the powder on the floor. 

Sweeping it is. 

Aside from the mess, and making more of a mess things went quite smoothly. You were satisfied with your work, the kitchen looked like a kitchen again. However pots still remained, making quick work of them you rinsed them off. 

Not noticing how the front door opened and a certain brunette looked your way. She smiled fondly at the small cusses you let out, shaking your hand from the hot water. Carefully she placed down all the grocery bags, a little louder than she intended.

“Oh shit!” You gasped, dropping the pot. “Wanda! You scared me.” You chuckled, turning off the tap, you could finish washing that later.

“You bought a lot…” You pointed out, drying your hands. Six paper bags were on the table, you were very glad you took time to clean it. 

Wanda snorted, unloading the frozen products from one bag. “Y/n you didn’t even have tomatoes. Absolutely no produce.” 

You rolled your eyes. You never cooked much, tomatoes would’ve gone bad under your care. Wanda on the other hand lived for cooking. A perfect balance in your opinion, she could cook, and you could taste. You walked over, taking the frozen foods from her hands to put them away, ignoring the pointed look.

She muttered something about your organizational skills—lack of. Probably a complaint.

“How much was it?” You asked from the freezer.

Does cheese go in there?

“It’s on me.” She shrugged, opening the onions and placing them in the basket. Her nose crinkled watching you attempt to be useful, gently her fingers wrapped around your wrist, taking the cheese away and putting it in the fridge. 

You let out a shaky exhale from the contact, watching her walk away. Shaking off the feeling you remember her words, scrunching your face. “No Wanda, how much?”  Pulling out your wallet you handed her $120 “Here.”

Wanda laughed, pushing your hand away “No. It’s on me. For last night.”

“Seriously?” You scoffed not believing it, waving the money at her. If she wouldn’t take it you knew you’d have to put it in her purse when she wasn’t looking. Like usual. “Well at least let me cook if you’re not gonna take it.”

“I said I was making breakfast!” She whined. Cute.

You pouted at your friend, stuffing your hands in your pockets. “Yeah but I want to do something…”

Wanda smiled, placing a hand on your forearm. “You’ve done enough for me.” She said, leaning up to place a small peck on your cheek. “Thank you Y/n.”

Your breath caught in your throat, knowing you didn’t win this battle. Of course not, she cheated, but she didn’t know that. She’s with Vision, having no clue of the effects she has on you. You still felt hot on the inside, and were probably blushing on the outside too.

Damnit Y/n pull it together, she’s pregnant and needs your support. Not your gayness.

Once everything was put away, mainly Wanda doing the work and correcting whatever you did wrong. She pushed you down on the chair, telling you to sit while she cooked. Then you could talk, talk.

Right, the talk.

Fuck. 

You wondered why you were still so nervous. Around Wanda? Well that one was given. But a pregnant Wanda? That felt…odd. Nevertheless you gave her, her space not wanting to overwhelm the pregnant person. 

She didn’t look pregnant…obviously. She just found out…hasn't even been a month. God was it hot in this room? Or were you just sweating? Nervous. 

“It is Visions.” You turned your head to look at Wanda. She spoke calmly with a tense figure. She flipped the bacon, turning her eyes to you. “And- You know I didn’t want…kids right now but things happen. We’ve talked about it before and Vision said he’d love that.”

You tilted your head, knowing there was more to it.

She let out a shaky breath “After college, he's still building his business a-and he said he doesn’t have time to raise a family. He wants nothing to do with them but I-“

“Abortion isn’t…?”

“No.” She said firmly, turning off the stove, using her sleeves to wipe her blurred eyes. “Your bacon might be a little salty by the way.” She smiled sadly, handing you a plate with two pancakes.

Seeing past the smile, you squeezed her arm in understanding, grabbing the plate from her hands. She sat down across from you, eating from her own plate giving you the opportunity to do the same. 

“These are great Wands.” You mumbled after swallowing your food, wiping your mouth. “You’d be a good mom.” Digging your fork into the pancakes for more. They were truly delicious, you don’t think you’d ever get used to how spectacular she made them. 

Wanda gave you a scrunched look, a sheepish smile on her lips. “You’re just saying that.” She shrugged it off, ignoring the way it made her feel.

“I'm not though. You’re kind, patient, compassionate, giving, and understanding. Aren't those motherly qualities?” You teased, though your tone remained reassuring. 

Still Wanda remained in disbelief, shaking her head lightly letting out a breathy laugh “I’m just not sure where to go from here. I’m keeping them.” She stared at you, seriously, as if you would try to change her mind. 

“But that’s all I know.” She rubbed her head with her hands, feeling frustrated. She had no plan.

You reached over for Wanda’s hand, rubbing soft circles with your thumb. “It’s okay, we can figure it out together.”

Her mouth curved into a smile, looking at both of your hands. Together, that was a nice word. Then she took in what you said, her head tilting to the side. “We?”

Wanda’s smile turned into a teasing one, as you stammered over your words, tensing your hand from their ministrations. “Well yeah I mean since Vision isn’t really in the picture and you shared the apartment with him I’m assuming- offering if you wanted to stay with me.” You bit the inside of your cheek.

Smooth.  

“It was just a thought I had…” You finished, feeling intimidated by her gaze. Your heart pounded against your chest, waiting for her answer. You had basically just proposed she move in with you, with a kid. Like couples do. With a kid. 

The more you thought about it the more you wanted her to say yes. You wanted to care for her, god knows she needed it. An idea came into your head about rearranging the guest bedroom into Wanda’s, only if she said yes- god we’re getting ahead of ourselves what if she says n-

“Yes.” She blurted, squeezing your hand in excitement, a little harder than intended. 

“Wait- yes?”

“Yes! Oh my god yes,” She practically squealed, standing up from her seat to pace. “I mean I was also thinking about where I’d go…I’m not ready to tell my parents, you know how they feel about pregnancy before marriage, and Pietro already knows but he’s barely thriving.” She gestured with her hands, clasping them together and looking at you expectantly.

You nodded, growing even more excited with her. “Then it’s settled, you’ll stay here.” You beamed up at the brunette. She was quick to pull you out of your chair with a toothy grin, pulling you into a hug. 

You both sighed at the contact, holding each other tighter. 

“Thank you, again.” She mumbled, nuzzling further into your neck. You could only smile, what else could you do? This girl was amazing, you squeezed her back in response. 

“It’s no problem, I’d love having you here. And the kid, or kids? Wouldn’t it be crazy if you had twins- worse triplets.” You mumbled to yourself, Wanda giggled.

Maybe Wanda would need help moving in. Getting her stuff, avoiding Vision. You thought to yourself about skipping work for the day- maybe a week. The guest bedroom had the essentials, but not anything baby related…

As you continued rambling on about the move, Wanda sighed, tugging you closer with a loving smile on her face. Then it dawned on her, was she in love with her best friend? Her eyes widened at the realization, trying to bury her panic and listen to your voice instead. 

You raised a hand to your chin, not noticing how tense she had become. “I think I could skip work today and go to the hardware store. We might need a crib, the guest bedroom is yours but the baby gosh it needs its space too-“ 

/-/

The move had gone smoothly, a little too smoothly. Wanda insisted you stay outside the door to Visions apartment while she took care of things. Reluctantly you agreed standing outside waiting, only coming in when Wanda signaled for you to come in. 

His apartment was quite nice, you could see why Wanda liked it so much. Unsurprisingly his home was decorated with small luxuries, perks of being a Stark.

Boxes after boxes went by packed, you insisted Wanda do the lighter loads, not wanting her to hurt her back. And before noon all of Wanda’s stuff was ready to go, no Vision in sight. He must’ve been busy today, Wanda only muttering something about his Chess club. 

Not wanting to stay any longer you packed up the truck, heading to your place. So in short, yes, everything was going great. Wanda made herself an even more important figure in your life, you didn’t think that was possible. Although she had a way of proving you wrong.

She fell quickly into your daily routine, and so easily too. Every morning she’d make you coffee for work, and when she was feeling sick you made her breakfast in return. Wanda had been getting sick a lot more than usual, you assumed it was morning sickness. If only you had realized sooner how bad it had gotten. 

Wanda could not sleep.

There were days when she’d have nightmares as a kid that prevented her from sleeping, often nightmares of a bomb being dropped on her house. Nights waiting up for Vision where she couldn’t sleep in hopes he’d return soon. Many times in her life Wanda found it difficult to sleep, this time the horrors of pregnancy guiding her to insomnia.

Until she felt that familiar feeling again, nausea. Quickly she threw the covers off herself, booking it towards the bathroom. Wanda was so grateful your guest bedroom had a bathroom connected to it, it had given her more privacy and spared her the embarrassment.

Her fingertips barely grazed on the door to close it before she was kneeling on the floor by the toilet, emptying the compartments in her stomach.

Hunched over on the toilet she didn’t realize how much time had passed, time passed slowly for her during this part. All she remembered was the door creaking a little and her hair being collected into a ponytail.

Wanda swore she could hear your voice, she preferred to focus on how nice your hand felt rubbing on her back, how soothing it felt. Your touch brought her back, wiping the side of her lips she turned to meet your concerned eyes. 

Only turning more concerned by the look of exhaustion Wanda held. Words weren’t necessary to communicate where Wanda would be staying that night, or any other nights. Really, as Wanda was pulled up to her feet, and guided to your bedroom she found herself unwilling to care. You kissed her forehead so tenderly whispering goodnight that made Wanda realize it wasn’t so bad.

Sleeping in your arms was worth a little sickness. 

/-/

“Twins.” You heard Wanda mutter from beside, laying on the bed. You couldn’t quite decipher her tone, but her squeeze on your hand made you feel uneasy. Not wanting to overwhelm her, you decided to keep silent, biting the inside of your cheek. 

Weeks had flown by pretty fast, Wanda being on her 15th. Poor girl was already feeling the pain of carrying not one but two kids in her stomach. She’d often ask you to hold her stomach which you easily complied too. 

The doctor turned in his chair, away from the monitor looking at you both with a grin. “Yep! Looks like two healthy babies, would you like to know the gender?” He asked.

Your eyes glanced at Wanda, her face indifferent. Thankfully you caught the slight quiver of her lips letting you know all you needed to. 

“Uh no. Thank you Doctor Stephen but I think” She squeezed your hand again. “…we’re fine for now.” You mustered up a polite smile. 

He nodded his head, mirroring the same smile “Of course! I’ll just go put this in your file and clean things up then you’re good to go.” He tossed his gloves in the bin, finally leaving you two alone. 

You sucked your teeth, hearing the door click shut. Knowing Wanda, she was never used to change even though throughout her childhood all the brunette did was suffer through it. She liked to be in control, prepared for what to expect.

Now it seemed you were expecting two. 

You let out a small noise as your back hit the chair next to her side. Deciding to break the silence, you spoke calmly, “So twins, I guess that means we might need another crib.”

Her eyes only twitched in response, barely acknowledging the way you tried to subtly cheer her up. Make her feel this wasn’t a sudden change she wasn’t prepared for. The thought of another kid shook Wanda, it made her feel nervous. She fidgeted from her place, picking at the bedsheets.

Wanda shook her head, letting out a sigh. She took her hand off yours, using them to rub her temple. “God I- this wasn’t supposed to happen. Y/n I-“ Her throat closed up, she hated the way her immediate response was to cry, tears starting to prickle at her eyes. She hated even more how your face softened, “I can barely fathom one kid, now I’m supposed to mother two.” 

Her head hung lowly as small tears started to stream down her cheeks. Not wanting you to see her that way she tried her best to turn away only for you to grab her cheeks with both hands, thumbs rubbing soft circles against her skin. Wanda let out a choked sob, staring at you so hopelessly. The sight broke your heart.

“Wanda hey, it’s okay.” You whispered.

“No Y/n I just-  two. That’s two new people coming into your home, and me included- I can’t do this to you. You don’t deserve it.” She croaked out, sniffling between words.

You scrunch your face in protest, giving her a stern shake of your head. “Wanda you’ve always been welcome in my home, pregnant or not and it’s not just mine now it’s yours too. I want to help you.” You affirmed, moving your hands to wipe at her tears before coming down to hold her own.

“Why?” She asked.

“Because I care about you, and I love you.” You confessed, the words coming out with more meaning than you intended. Wanda stared up at you in adoration, her eyes crinkling, and a small blush dusting her cheeks. It was then you noticed how close you were, how close Wanda's face was to your own. Feeling overwhelmed by her stare, you looked away, taking a couple steps back. “And I love them too, whatever they are…”

Missing the disappointed look on her face.

Leaning back into the bed, Wanda turns her head to look at you, and if you were looking back you would’ve seen the loving look on her face “I really don’t deserve a friend like you.” She said softly, her voice so fragile.

Then you turned back this time, meeting her gaze, her words registering in your head. Quickly your face turned into a frown, “Don’t say that.”

Ignoring your words Wanda took a hold of your hand. A gesture that came so naturally now, both of you latching onto each other, wanting to feel one another. “I love you too, so much detka.” 

More than you realize.

/-/

“Y/n.” Wanda murmured hurriedly, shaking at your arm. “Detka, wake up.”

Letting out a snort, you woke up with a cough, turning away to cover yourself. Your eyes fluttered wide open, wrestling with the sheets in a panic, “Huh? Yeah- Wands? What's wrong, are they here?”

A small smile crept up her lips at the mention of the twins, “No silly, I'm just…hungry again.” She whispered, turning away from your gaze in embarrassment.

“Again?” You clarified.

“Yeah…sorry.” She chuckled awkwardly.

Leaning on your elbows for support you lifted yourself up, sitting up. Scratching the back of your head you turned to look at your clock. Naturally it was 2 am, usually the time when Wanda would get hungry. 

“No, no, that's fine.” You muttered hoarsely, clearing your throat. “I don’t mind, what are you craving?” 

“Steves burgers…” She beamed.

“Steves? Okay I’ll get you some, with onions or without?” You said as you walked towards the closet, shrugging on your jacket. 

“With, and grilled please.”

“Okay, yeah.” You hummed, slipping on your shoes. “I’ll uh be back try to get some sleep yeah? It's pretty late.” Kneeling up from the floor you reached for your wallet, stuffing it in your pockets. 

Wanda made a disagreeing grunt but pulled the sheets back on herself anyway. “I guess.”

You nodded, giving her a sheepish smile. Grabbing your keys from the nightstand you made your way to the door, a small tug on your jacket stopping you. Curiously you turned around to meet Wanda, tilting your head in question. Her hand traveled up your forearm, pulling you down to press a lingering kiss on your cheek.  

“Stay safe, and put on your glasses when you drive. Your astigmatism gets bad at this hour.” She husked out, letting you go. 

Your breath catches in your throat, not trusting your words you nod again. Stumbling through a few items you rush towards the door, leaving with a small goodbye unsure why Wanda was teasing you. What was that?

/-/

“Hey.” You said, a surprised look on your face as you closed the door behind you. Wanda gave a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes from the dimly lit dining room. She was sitting comfortably in the chair, wearing one of your hoodies.

“Hi.”

“What are you doing out of bed? You should be resting, it’s really late.” Checking at the clock once again you confirmed your suspicions, you assumed perhaps she’d enjoy her burger in bed like she always does. This time however Wanda had different plans, fiddling with her sleeves.

“You know I can’t sleep without you.” She retorted, gazing into your eyes “I like it when you’re here.” She confesses profoundly.

You give her a sheepish smile, unsure what to say. The look in her eyes does nothing but make you even more nervous, what was going on with her? “I like it when you’re here too. Is everything okay?” 

Wanda lets out a sigh, you choose to ignore it thinking she’s probably starving by now. You place the plastic bag on the table, taking out the bags and giving Wanda her burger. A number 2 with grilled onions, two pickles, and no cheese. “And I got you these.” You slide the container to her.

Wanda gives you a questioning look before opening it, she lets out a gasp when she does. Animal style fries. The annoyed quirk of her eyebrows long gone. Closing the lid she gives you a thankful pout, her eyes glossing.  “Thank you…”

“I got you a strawberry milkshake too since I know you like dipping them with the animal fries.” You chuckled, putting the glass on the table. 

That’s when Wanda wanted to cry, cry pathetically into her perfect burger brought by your perfect, kind, compassionate self. Instead she tossed the burger aside and pulled you in for a passionate kiss. Your eyes widened in surprise, but pressed back with the same intensity, quickly melting into the kiss. 

Wanda sighing against your lips easily became your new favorite sound, eager to get her to make more, your hands coming up to cup her face. Eventually you realize that this isn’t just any girl, but your best friend. Your best friend who you’d have been crushing on for years, your best friend who just kissed you.

She kissed you.

And you almost break the kiss by how much you’re smiling but Wanda beats you to it, leaving lingering kisses on your lips, slowing the pace until her forehead is against yours. “I’m in love with you Y/n.”

Your breath hitches “M-Me too.”

Wanda shakes her head, moving to nuzzle against your collarbone. “No detka, as in more than just a friend.” She says, reminded of your previous statements on what friends do. Fuck being friends, you wanted Wanda. Wanted to show her how good of a partner you could be.

“So you like me?” You asked shyly, still processing the revelation.

Wanda picked up her head from your shoulder, correcting you with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Love you.”

You swallowed dryly, feeling your heart race. “That's great- thats- I.”

“Just kiss me already.” She orders breathlessly, barely giving you time to mutter ‘okay’ before your lips are on hers again. 

It's not until the morning when you both come downstairs, lovesick smiles on your faces, that you realize the mess you left behind. Both burgers remain uneaten, but as your eyes glance down to yours and Wanda's intertwined fingers, you could care less. 

#wanda maximoff fluff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x you #wanda x reader #wanda x y/n #wlw post #wanda imagine #wanda my beloved #fluff #pregnancy #pregnant wanda maximoff

[equxvedits]

You Would Choose Me, Correct?

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Synopsis: When Jogo succeeds in resurrecting Sukuna, you are unfortunate enough to come across him. Dragging you into his domain, Sukuna fucks you into submission.

・❥・requests

WARNINGS: MDNI, 18+, Fem Reader, Smut, Non-Con/Dubious Consent, Slight Manipulation, Fingering, Sukuna Steps On The Reader, Oral Sex (f. receiving), Masturbation, Shoe-Licking, Doesn't Pull Out, Sukuna Has A Superiority Complex, Sukuna In His True Form, Mean Sukuna, Extremely Submissive Reader, Age Gap (reader is 18, sukuna is...old 💀)

・❥・wc: 4.0k words

・❥・masterlist

With two fingers pressed against your temple, you were gradually trying to form a connection with Yuji as you ran around the empty Shibuya station. 

You had been trying to connect your eyesight with Yuji's for the past 10 minutes but every attempt had been futile.

Your cursed technique allowed you to connect your mind with anyone you marked with your cursed energy. 

It had been a never-before-seen prowess that you could only have succeeded in controlling because of your teacher, Gojo Satoru.

Currently, you were the only third year from Tokyo Jujutsu High, your two classmates being unavailable due to their suspension.

Since you were everyone's senior you had been given the responsibility of looking after Yuji during Gojo's absence. 

Which you were failing miserably.

Not only had you lost sight of Yuji after being separated, but you also had been able to connect and look through his eyes, only to witness him fighting an enemy.

It was hard to pinpoint his location through the glimpses since the chaos was too distracting, but you still ran around the station to find him.

It wasn't until a few minutes ago that when you tried to connect your eyesight, you found nothing but darkness.

It could only be two things. He was unconscious, or he was dead. You could only pray to god that it wasn't the latter.

As you ran through another corridor you noticed two girls at the end of the hallway with some sort of fog or steam around them. 

The sight concerned you, seeing these two young girls in the middle of the battlefield.

"Hey, girls! Are you alright? Anyone injured?" Your jogging comes to a halt once you reach them. 

One of the girls gets defensive, holding up her phone to you as she holds the other girl close. 

"I'm not here to hurt you! You need to leave, it's getting dangerous here!" You raise your hands in surrender trying to give a reassuring smile, confused as to why she held up her phone.

The brunette girl looks back at you for a moment before her gaze shifts to something behind them. Only then had you noticed and realized the situation.

"Yuji-kun!" You shout in concern, dashing to attack the curse in front of him.

"Don't waste my time..." The blue curse demands but you freeze in your step as you notice his hand had been sliced clean off.

Your breath gets caught in your throat, skin perspiring at the sudden intensity of something dark.

"I'll give you one second. Move."

Your breathing gets quicker as a suffocating feeling overwhelms your being. The curse and the two girls dash back a few feet, further away from Yuji's body.

Yuji starts to stand up and walk towards the four of you. The other three stood a few feet behind you, and as much as you would like to get further away from the approaching male, your feet stayed planted.

This presence. It was no longer Yuji.

Sukuna.

You had witnessed Sukuna take over Yuji's body in the past before but it had been very obvious to you that something had changed.

He was intimidating back then but right now, he was terrifying.

It had been easier to stand your ground against him in the past, but it just seemed impossible this time.

Maybe you had grown too used to Gojo's protective presence that now that he wasn't here, the King of curses appeared even more menacing.

With every single step Sukuna took, it became obvious that Yuji now bore at least 3 times the fingers he originally had before coming here.

Your heart was beating at an abnormal rate. Your body started trembling the closer Sukuna got until you felt your legs buckle under the pressure.

You fell to your knees, head hanging low to avoid all eye contact with the curse. Your body instinctively closes in on itself to make yourself appear smaller. 

You wrapped your arms around yourself, hoping that somehow Sukuna would ignore your presence.

But sadly that wasn't the case. 

He stopped right beside you, feet next to your thighs as he started to speak.

"Holding your head a little too high, don't you think?"

If his voice hadn't terrified you then the sounds of blood splattering certainly did. Since you had your back to the other three you didn't know who had been hurt, and honestly a part of you was too petrified to turn around.

"You should learn from this brat." You felt a hand being placed on the top of your head. 

You knew who it was and had to desperately stop yourself from flinching away, too scared to accidentally offend him.

But as the hand smoothed over your head once, a small terrified whimper left your mouth. Your eyes were screwed shut to stop the tears pricking your eyes.

"You thought kneeling on just one knee would be enough?" He asks rhetorically as he continues to smooth his hand over your head.

"The boughs that bear the most hang lowest. But it seems your head doesn't bear much."

As he said that the hand resting atop your head abruptly shifts to the back of your neck. In less than a second you're standing upright staring right into Sukuna's eyes.

"You'll be useful later."

An impact on your jaw was all you felt before your vision faded to black.

"Master Sukuna..."

You slowly started to stir awake, hearing a few voices speaking in the background. Your entire body felt hot as if you were dipped in lava.

You only regain consciousness when you hear one of the voices raise their tone.

"Uraume?!"

You jolt awake at his voice, lifting your upper body to sit up. You look around to see Yuji standing a bit away from you with a monk-like person kneeling in front of him.

It took a moment before you remembered what had happened. 

Sukuna! He knocked you unconscious. 

You try to speak but feel your mouth hurt. You bring your hand up to stroke your jaw, realizing how it felt sore. You knew it was probably because Sukuna had punched you.

Only then had you noticed very small but numerous burns on your hand. You look around and find yourself scared and dumbfounded. 

You were sitting on the apex of destruction. The destruction that was no doubt caused by Sukuna.

"Master Sukuna?" You hear the monk address the King.

Noticing you to be awake, Sukuna spares you a glance before speaking.

"I have urgent business to deal with."

"...I see." The white and red-haired monk discreetly glances at you. You flinch when you make eye contact with the person named 'Uraume' but they only close their eyes, bowing lower to Sukuna.

"It won't be much longer until I'm completely free. Don't neglect your preparations." Sukuna walks towards you as he speaks. 

You try to move away from him but can't, your body is still weak from Sukuna's hit. He stood tall above you, a menacing smirk on his face.

"See you later, Urame...

...Domain Expansion: Malevelont Shrine."

Your surroundings change suddenly feeling cold. You see Sukuna standing exactly where he was, just now he adorned a light kimono with black accents and a dark scarf wrapped around his neck.

You look down to see yourself now sitting in what seemed like a shallow river of blood. Was it blood?

Just when you try to stand up, you halt your actions when Sukuna appears in front of you.

"Who permitted you to move?" He asks glaring down at you.

"I-...s-sorry." You let your head hang low.

"Don't speak. Your lips should be sealed until ordered otherwise." He demands as you nod wordlessly.

Internally you were screaming at yourself. Scolding how you shouldn't be submitting yourself to something you spent your life training to eradicate.

You tell yourself that if you die then it's because of your duty as a Jujutsu Sorcerer. No one will hold it against you if you lose against Sukuna.

You shout at yourself to fight back, that anything is better than bowing to a curse. But alas your body refused to listen to your brain.

It only listened to Sukuna now.

"Spread your legs." 

His tone was firm, making it obvious he expected complete obedience from you. And that is what he got.

Your legs move further away from each other a good distance till your uniform skirt allows you.

Sukuna clicks his tongue in annoyance.

"Lift your skirt, fucking dimwit." Your lips wobble at his harsh words but do not resist. Your hands work slowly to lift your skirt up so it is now inverted and covering your torso.

You slowly spread your legs further away, although there wasn't much to see due to you wearing leggings underneath.

As you slowly build up the courage to protest it is immediately shut down when Sukuna presses the sole of his shoes on your covered cunt.

You almost gasp out in shock but compose yourself, not ready to submit yourself yet.

"You really surprised me. You were so prepared to exorcise me when I first resurrected. Look at you now, so submissive. I did tell the Gojo Sorcerer that you'll be the first I'll take." 

He taunts you all the while continuing to put pressure on your folds. Watching you have no reactions he huffs in annoyance before finally removing his feet.

"This is boring. Stand up. Undress yourself completely and go sit over there." He says pointing towards the throne on the shrine.

You slowly stand up whilst fixing your skirt, finally having built up some courage to fight against him.

"I'm not doing anything, King of Curses. Sukuna!" You exclaim as anger builds in your chest. But all is lost in the blink of an eye.

Before you could have moved, Sukuna was behind you. His hand was on your chest before your uniform shirt had been ripped off of your body.

You shriek out of fear, hands moving to cover your chest. Sukuna uses his feet to kick your legs from underneath you.

Losing your balance you fall onto your hands and knees as he crouches down beside you. He once again lifts your skirt as the other brings down your leggings.

Taking your hands he holds them behind your back, keeping them in place. Due to this your face was on the floor, back arched, and ass up. 

His other hand starts to rub your cunt through your underwear, before sighing in disappointment.

"I need you wet." As he says that his fingers move around your bare chest to toy with your nipples. They would pinch and tug at your flesh making you whimper slightly.

That paired with the constant rubbing of your clit and the pressure of your hands being held tightly. You found it harder to resist it.

Due to the situation, it had taken you a moment to realize something. How was he doing that?

One of his hands was toying with your now bare clit, the other playing with your chest. But your hands were still being held in place.

You slightly move your head to look at Sukuna and find yourself staring at someone completely different. 

It was no longer Yuji, but rather someone who looked exactly how Sukuna's real form was described.

Two faces with four arms. 

In fact, his only vacant hand was near his mouth, covering two of his fingers in saliva as he later plunges the same fingers into your cunt.

This time you couldn't hold your moans back. Not only did his appearance change, his true form was larger as well. 

There might have been a feet or two difference in height but he was now prominently wider, making you feel even smaller.

His fingers brushed along your walls as you convulsed around him.

"P-please stop...stop!" 

You sob as you grow closer to your release. A second goes by when you suddenly felt empty, cunt pulsating around nothing as your head felt an immense force against it.

You soon realize that he held your head in his hand, bringing you closer to his body. Your face was soon in front of his.

"Don't order me, you pathetic woman. Now go do as I asked." He says with a chilling tone. You nod hastily.

He releases his hold on your face and you stand up and look around for a moment. Then you remembered he had told you to sit on the throne-like structure.

You had only moved a few small steps before being stopped once again.

"Stop. Take off everything you have on first." Sukuna demanded. You look back at him before looking down. Your leggings and underwear still clung onto your thighs and your skirt covered your torso.

You smoothly slip everything off before starting to walk once more, Sukuna right behind you.

It takes you less than a minute to climb up the stairs before reaching the throne. You turn around to settle yourself on the seat but are stopped by a sudden pressure around your neck.

"Who said you could sit there?" Sukuna tightens his grip on your neck and you struggle against him.

"Y-you said—"

"I told you to take a seat over here. It's obvious I meant the floor, do you think so highly of yourself to take a seat on my throne?"

His tone scared you so desperately denied.

"No! I'm sorry! I-I'm s-sorry! I mis-misunderstood! P-please forg-forgive me!" It was difficult for you to speak, barely getting any airflow along with the fear that clouded your veins. You couldn't do anything but plead for your life.

At your words he releases his hold on you, resulting in you landing on the floor breathing heavily.

While you composed yourself, Sukuna settled himself on his throne. 

"Come here. Look at me." The King demands making you turn your head to him. You saw him pat his thigh once expecting you to understand.

You didn't, but took your guess. Moving closer to him while also not leaving the floor, you hesitantly rested your head against his thigh.

He smirks down at you as his hand moves to pat your head.

"You finally understand your place, woman." He grins mischievously.

"During our time here, I'll ask you what want at any time once I'm satisfied, and I'll give it to you. All you need to do is obey me. Understood?"

You nod mindlessly.

"Good. Now, make yourself cum." He says in the most natural tone. You were caught off guard by this, not understanding.

"I don't-" Before you question further, one of Sukuna's arms had moved making you flinch and close your eyes out of instinct.

You only open them when you hear Sukuna laugh. You watch him use his fingers to open his kimono, revealing himself to be completely bare underneath. 

Although you tried to fight it, you did catch a glimpse of his girth that laid against his lap.

"Make yourself cum. Use anything here. Your fingers, the floor, my shoes, my cock, heck you can use one of those bones lying there as well. Just fuck yourself, and make it pretty."

You understood what he had asked of you, but your body didn't move. He only stared at you waiting.

"You have 10 seconds to start, otherwise the deal is off." He states, pressuring you.

You realized that this was the only way for you to see another day. So you decided to put aside your pride and dignity and comply.

"May I lick your shoes, Master Sukuna?"

Throughout the entire night, this was the first time Sukuna heard no jitters in your voice, so he only grew amused by your bold yet pathetic words.

"Do what you want."

With the confirmation, you move away slightly so you can bend lower. You shift your body to get on all fours, going lower till your face reaches Sukuna's shoes.

Slowly you began to lick against the material, soaking it in your saliva.

This was humiliating. But even as tears sprung to your eyes this was undoubtedly the best strategy. For someone as egoistical as Sukuna it would be hard to satisfy him with someone else's pleasure. 

So you had to make sure he felt like a true king. Knowing that something like a mere shoe of his could get you off would definitely win him over. 

You just had to endure.

Once the tip of his shoe was soaked, you moved away to sit up and lean back. Inserting two fingers in your mouth you drenched them in your saliva before spreading your legs.

Now that you were on complete display, your fingers moved to your already dripping cunt to massage through your folds.

You did that for a few seconds before moving closer to Sukuna's shoe, eventually pressing your slit against it.

You had initially planned to try and insert his shoe in you -even just barely- but decided against it when you felt the true size of it. So you resorted to just rubbing yourself against the material.

You moved forward to hug his leg, moving your hips to rub across the length of his shoe. You slowly opened your eyes to look at Sukuna, wanting to see if your display was affecting him at all.

And to your surprise, it was. His cock which was previously resting against his lap was now hard against his stomach.

But what caught you off guard wasn't the size of his girth, rather it was his stare. His red, venomous eyes bore into yours, the sight itself making you stumble over a few strokes.

Your cheeks flushed hot as you started to feel genuinely aroused by the situation. The roughness of his shoe becomes more apparent as you continue to rub yourself against the most pleasurable spot.

"Mmmh! So close..." 

Your mumbles come out soft as your brain slowly grows incoherent. 

Sukuna grinned cooly at the sight, amused that his original plan was working out as he had thought.

You weren't the best asset among all the other sorcerers he came across, but your cursed technique was valuable. 

Although he knew he wasn't really in need of your technique either, he was just curious about your ancestry. 

And if possible, he could use your body as a vessel for a stronger curse who could put use to your technique.

He just had to bring you to his side.

Sukuna abruptly rips away his feet, leaving you with nothing to rub against. You suppress a whine that builds at the back of your throat and just look up at him in confusion.

"You were good, but it's not enough. Come here, I want to taste you." He hooks his hand underneath your arm to lift you and make you straddle him.

He uses your shock as leverage to push the tip of his cock into your entrance. You jolt but don't complain, thighs still shaking from your ruined orgasm. 

He slowly pushes against your hips to bring you down on the rest of his length.

Your moan comes out strangled, vocal chords confused on whether to scream or moan.

Trying to ignore the stinging from the stretch, you slowly start to move as Sukuna's hands guide your movement a few times. 

You feel yourself stretch around him a few times before he lifts you a little too high, making him slip out of you.

"Master Sukuna...?"

"Don't move."

Two of his hands started to fiddle with your breast when you feel a wet muscle against your cunt. 

You look down to see a tongue sticking out of Sukuna's stomach that makes you want to screech. But your voice immediately dies when the same tongue slips into your walls.

Your lips part at the feeling, pussy clenching around his tongue out of reflex. Sukuna pulls you closer, moving you a bit up so your cunt was pressed flat against his stomach.

Losing balance you fall ahead slightly, hands on each side of his head against the throne as your head lulled forward, chin touching his hair. 

You suddenly felt a stinging on your ass, realizing Sukuna was digging his pricking his nails into your skin.

You felt a wave of fear rush to your head, wondering if he had gotten mad by you directly touching his throne.

You had only done that so you were not holding him instead. You almost shifted to move your arms but halted when you felt wet around your breasts.

Sukuna has encased a small portion of your right breast in his mouth -the one in its rightful place- tongue circling your nipple, canine digging into them slightly.

Without even realizing your hips were grinding against his stomach, the tongue inside your walls speeding up its ministrations.

Just when you felt your release snap, your ecstasy was shattered by Sukuna retracting both tongues from your body after he whispered 'delicious'. 

Moments later you were turned around, your back against his chest as you moved up and down on his cock.

His hands continued to stimulate your nipples, as you grew wetter and wetter with each thrust. Your eyes clouded with pleasure as you slowly forget your motive.

Everything below you was now drenched in your arousal, Sukuna reveling in every second of it. His other pair of hands remained on your hips, pressing down and making it harder for you to move.

Slowly you started to lose your control, eyes brimming with tears due to the frustration of not being able to move.

You were so close, your stomach growing heavy with your release.

So as your last resort, you start to beg.

"M-master Sukuna! I'm gonna cum! Gonna cum, please let me move!"

You wiggle against his hold not caring about how pathetic you looked. You continue to plead but he doesn't reply.

"Please! Please! I want to cum!"

"You have satisfied me. Tell me, how should I reward you?" He finally spoke making you pause your babbles.

"W-what? Please, just let me move, Master Sukuna!"

"I told you. I'll give you anything you want once I'm satisfied. Tell me, what do you want?"

"Nothing! P-please- please!" 

"Are you sure? Everyone wants something. Tell me, and I'll give it."

"Then! Please, fuck me! I'm s-so close, Master Sukuna! Please make me cum! That's what I want!"

Sukuna smirks in triumph. You had played right into his hands. He grinned against your nape, using his hands to push you forward off the seat and against the floor.

He got behind you and continued to thrust into you, ass rippling due to the force of his hips.

"There's your true nature. You could have used this opportunity to leave but you insisted on being a whore. That's alright, I like this look you."

You could only whine out in response to his words.

"Let's wait till the realization settles in, knowing you're milking your enemy's cock as your comrades walk to their deaths."

You had started crying, the pleasure overtaking all your emotions when his fingers rubbed harshly against your clit.

"Even then, you would choose me. Correct?" He asks, smirking when you nod dumbly as your lower abdomen grows tighter.

"Ahh~ I would choose you! So-ngh! Just- right there!" 

You let out a hoarse moan when the tension snaps, throwing your head back as you cream on his cock, some of your arousal spurting out and onto the floor.

Your orgasm came in waves, making you dizzy as his thrusts never stopped. He continued to fuck you through your release determined to build another one.

"You hear that, brat? She says she would choose me." Sukuna says in a taunting tone. You continue to pant heavily from your release but try to look back at him, confused by his words.

Only then did you notice a figure standing below at the end of the stairs.

"W-wait...stop..." You voice out, your voice trembling.

"Weren't you saying how much you looked up to your [name]-senpai? Well, I'm sure the truth is apparent to you." Sukuna continues to taunt the figure, not once halting his thrusts.

"NO! YUJI DON'T LOOK!" You screamed desperately, finally meeting the eyes of your junior classmate.

Your tears flowed freely, finally realizing Sukuna's actions. Was he trying to break Yuji's soul? 

From the look on Yuji's face, it was obvious that Sukuna was successful. And you had stupidly played into his hands. 

"LOOK AWAY YUJI! STOP RIGHT NOW SUKUNA! STOP IT!" You were glad that Yuji complied and looked away from you, but the heavy tears falling from his eyes only added to your guilt.

"Why would I stop? You're clenching. You're going to cum again." He states. And he was correct. 

His cock reached where you could never imagine, the pressure against your sensitive walls only brought you closer to another release.

"Pl-please, stop..."

You whimper-moan desperately, making sure that Yuji's gaze is nowhere near you.

"Don't order me around. This took a lot of effort, to bring you into my innate domain. You should be fucking honored."

"Cumming!"

You scream out without realizing, Sukuna following soon after to fill you up, not removing himself until every single drop was settled deep in you.

"I was going to kill you, to hurt the stupid brat. But this was way too much fun! I wonder how the Gojo Sorcerer would react seeing his student so dumb on my cock."

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #jjk x reader #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #sukuna x you #sukuna ryomen #jjk sukuna #sukuna x y/n #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #jjk smut #jjk fanfic #jjk imagine #jjk #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #yuji jjk #itadori #yuji itadori #jjk itadori #sukuna ryomen smut #ryomen x reader #jujutsu kaisen ryomen #jjk ryomen #mahoraga

[rogueddie]

There are a lot of rumors about Eddie Munson. From his sexuality, to his religion, to him being some sort of supernatural creature.

Steve doesn’t put a lot of merit in most of them. They’re usually just bullshit people make up to entertain themselves with whilst beating down on the weird kid. Steve thinks it’s boring… usually.

He’s seen enough weird things happen around Munson to know that something isn’t right. Something about him is unnatural. And Steve is staying clear out of the way of whatever the hell he is, or whatever the hell he’s messing with.

Unfortunately, his friends haven’t gotten the message.

“Do it at your own house!” Steve complains, though he makes no move to stop them. He’s sure it’s nothing, that it’ll only lead to an annoying clean-up job, but there’s a nagging sense of dread writhing in his gut. “This shit is bull anyway.”

“If it’s bull then what’s the problem?” Tommy counters.

“Because none of you dickheads are going to help clean this shit up!”

“I promise to help you clean up,” Carol says. “There. Problem solved. Right?”

"It's still stupid," Steve mutters, glaring at the janky make-shift pentagram they've made. "And a bad idea."

It's drawn on nine pieces of paper- they wanted to draw it big on the floor, but Steve had but his foot down. He lets them use some of his moms candles as a compromise.

With the lights off, sitting with the two of them in a circle, it suddenly feels too real. Even Carol looks suddenly nervous.

Tommy is the only one still smirking, though Steve is sure that it's forced. His voice shakes a little as he begins reading off the paper he'd torn out a library book. His Latin is clunky.

At first, nothing happens.

Long enough that Carol says, "did you even say it right?"

"Yes, it even has-" Tommy starts.

The candles all blow out, suddenly. The light Steve had left on in the kitchen flicks off too, plunging them into complete darkness.

After a horrible moment, where they're still and silent, Carol yelps.

"Don't grab me, Tommy, that's not funny!"

"I didn't grab you."

"Wh- Steve?"

"No," is all Steve can get out.

"I'm turning the lights on," Tommy says. "This is ridiculous."

Steve listens to his footsteps and, when he sounds like he's almost at the light switch, he yelps.

"Fuck this," he says.

"What the fuck, Tommy!" Carol yells when they both hear him running past them. She's up on her feet immediately, chasing after him.

He wants to scream after them, plead with them to come back, that they shouldn't be abandoning the circle.

But, the same gut instinct that insists he stay where he is, keeps his mouth shut. Everything in his being is telling him that if he leaves, if he speaks first, horrible things will happen to him.

Something tuts, like a parent admonishing a child.

The living room light flicks on, so bright that Steve has to blink a few times to clear away the white spots.

Eddie Munson sits in the space they left empty.

"Someone didn't read the terms and conditions," he snickers.

"What..." Steve pauses, clearing his throat. "What are the, uh... terms and conditions?"

"Oh, they're simple, really. Look," he holds up the page Tommy had read the incantations from, pointing to the little paragraph at the end. "They even translated it to English! But all you need to know, big boy, is that you are A-OK."

"And... Tommy and Carol?"

"Eh, they're fine. Lucky, really. I'm trying to relax up here. I'm only gonna pay them back with a minor curse or two. Nothing lethal."

"Fuck."

"We haven't even got to you yet!" He spins around so hes laying on his belly, resting his chin on his palm. "You didn't technically summon me so you can just tell me to leave... or."

"Or?"

"Deal with no consequence, baby. One wish, whatever you want, free of charge. Well... I'd want your silence about the whole... summoning thing. Let's consider that payment."

He doesn't need his gut or book to warn him that it's a bad idea. Munson could be lying, easily. There could be fine print. It's a bad, very bad idea.

"There's... definitely no consequences? I won't, like, go to hell for this?" Steve finally asks.

"Do some charity work for a week, you'll be fine," he says, waving his hand around. "What do you want, King Steve?"

"Could- could you make someone love me?"

"Oh, ho ho ho! Who's the unlucky lady who said no to you?"

"No, it... it's not like that. I mean, um... my mom."

Munsons smile drops. The temperature drops with it, making a chill run up Steves spine.

"Your mom," he repeats.

"They're busy like, all the time," Steve automatically defends. "And they're barely here so, uh... of course they wouldn't- I mean, it's normal, right? You can't love a stranger or... whatever. It's fine. It's just... I don't know."

"Steve..." Munson pauses.

He groans, throwing his head into his hands, dramatically. He almost immediately flings his head back up, hair flying everywhere, giving Steve wide and pleading eyes.

"I can't make people fall in love or any shit like that. I can make illusions, that's it. Love is, like... way out of my jurisdiction."

"I- I'm ok with an illusion. Like, just one day or something."

"Steve, baby, you're breaking my heart."

"Please?"

"Jesus- ok!" Grumbling, Munson shifts so he's kneeling. "And in return, you won't say shit about any of this. Deal?"

"Deal."

"Great. Ugh. This next part is... weird."

"What do you mean, weird?"

"It's weird, I don't know. Deals about, like, love are sealed with a kiss."

"You're joking."

"Nope, and that's not even the weird part. Now, come on and pucker up, let's get this over with." He gestures for Steve to shuffle closer, waiting until they're sat close enough that their knees almost bump together. "You can still change your mind. Anything at all, Steve. Anything."

"I thought you wanted to get this over with?"

"On your head..."

Munson leans forward, kissing him. It's just a peck, simple and easy. No big deal, right?

Steve feels possessed. It's like someone lit a match in his stomach, leaving him lightheaded and confused. He's not sure how he ends up in Eddie's lap, clutching onto his shoulders, desperately trying to lick into his mouth. He feels so-

He wakes up in his bed, the morning light blinding him.

"What the fuck..." he mutters to himself, grabbing at his throbbing head.

At first, he thinks he's hungover. That he'd just had a weird dream... but he's wearing the same clothes. And, sat on his stomach, is a guitar pic. It's got 'corroded coffin' written on it too- Eddie's band.

"Steve!" He hears his mom call. "Time to get up!"

He scrambles out of bed, dashing down the stairs.

She smiles when she spots him, so bright and warm. She even raises an arm, laughing when he practically throws himself into her side and hugging her tight.

"Morning, sweetheart. Good dreams?"

"Yeah. Yeah, great. But, uh... I feel sick."

"Oh no," she frowns. She puts her hand to his forehead, cooing when she brushes his hair out his face. "Is it your stomach?"

"Yeah. Just... might be better to stay home today. If that's ok?"

"Of course it is. I'm sure we can find something fun to do together, yeah? How about we get a vhs movie, hm?"

"I'd love that."

"Great. Well, if you're feeling up to it, I've made breakfast." She steps away, plating the food she's cooked up. "Oh, did I ever tell you about Paris? It was beautiful, you would have loved it. We should bring you, next time we go."

Steve can't stop smiling. He's sure that his cheeks will be aching by the end of the day.

He'll have to thank Eddie- as soon as he can even think about him without blushing. He'll need to ask if it's normal to still feel... affected, even after the deal is done.

Part of him knows it isn't the deal. Part of him is too curious about how Eddie will react.

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #ficlet #creaturefeature

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part eighteen —other parts

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader words: 3.3k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn’t here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival.

Over the next four days, you find yourself panting in exhilaration each morning you spar with Ghost. Every slam of your hand into his ribs feels strangely better than the last. He goes harder on you. He'd been holding back, too, apparently— an unfortunate fact for your ribs. The pain seems to motivate you more, even if he is still beating the shit out of you.

Blue also motivates you. "Hit his nose again!"

Of course, that is the one part of him you purposely avoid.

The sun returns and sweat glides down your face. You knee his stomach. It's less vulnerable than swinging a kick, but still, he attempts to grab you by the waist. You quickly skirt away, the ground firmer beneath your feet, only for his hand to latch onto one of your braids, instead. A sting pulses through your scalp as he tugs hard, wrenching your ear close to his mouth.

"Quicker. Good. But don't get too cocky."

"I thought you wanted me to be more confident," you retort between ragged breaths. 

"Yes, but you can't forget who has the advantage here." There is the slightest bit of arrogance in his voice that makes your teeth grit.

"How could I ever forget?" Your head tilts and he releases the braid. Suddenly, the thought of smacking his nose again doesn’t seem so bad.

His eyebrow quirks. "Get some water, Twix. You need it."

The water caresses your tongue as you gulp it down without abandon. Unsurprisingly, Blue has disappeared somewhere in the treetops. The lack of more broken bones has waned her interest.

When Ghost lifts his mask to drink, you steal a glance at his nose, noticing that the swelling has gone down significantly. The fact he is still wearing that thing with a broken nose upholds your theory that he is at least slightly insane— as if the fact that he once shoved a gun into your fresh wound wasn’t already evidence of that.

Out of nowhere, he materializes beside you and places a hand on your stomach. Your sore muscles spasm under the surprise of his touch, his long fingers stretching from one side of your ribs to the other.

"Your strength starts here,” he explains in a hoarse murmur. “Keep it tight and you will deliver more damage."

You purse your lips to hide a wince and tap your nose. "Don’t I already deliver enough damage?"

"The nose is fragile. You may be landing more hits on me, but I still hardly feel a thing from them."

He allows you to pry his hand off, but the pressure of it seems to linger. Ghost studies you in a way that turns you translucent before demanding, "Lift your shirt, Twix."

Exhaling through your nose, you hesitate before peeling it up, revealing the collection of bruises you have earned from him. A myriad of pink, purple, and yellow skin flares up under his gaze. They have been giving you a hard time lacing your boots and tying your hair in the morning, but once you get moving, the ache becomes easier to ignore.

He has already seen your stomach and more, yet, your skin itches from the exposure. You shove the shirt back down.

His expression shifts. "You should have said something."

"They're just bruises. I'm not bleeding or anything."

"Still."

"Still what?"

He looks irritated. "You need to fucking communicate."

"I don't see why it matters. No coddling, right?"

"That doesn't mean I'm interested in breaking you."

You jerk your chin up to meet his stare. “You won't."

Blue swings down from a tree, plopping between the two of you and unintentionally—thankfully—putting an end to the subject. "I'm glad you two are finally getting along. It's good for the team." She nudges her dad. "But are you done with her yet? You can't just hog Twix all to yourself."

He clears his throat and the air between your bodies breathes wider. "If you're getting bored maybe we need to find something for you to practice."

"Nope!" she says quickly. "Not bored at all." 

He nods to a tree. "Go on. Practice your knives. You haven't done that in a while. Then, you can have her."

With a groan, she trudges away. 

The sparring continues.

Ghost's fists soften by a smidge.

"He annoys the shit out of me sometimes."

Blue rips up a tuft of grass as you inch back to admire the swipe of color on her eyelids. It was her idea to use the bold-colored flowers for makeup— just like the models in her magazines. You did your best to mash the petals and mix them with some creekwater, but the result is kind of patchy and not nearly as smooth as the stuff you used to put on years ago. 

"Hold still. I'm doing your cheeks next."

The sun highlights the splash of freckles on her cheeks and you try to recall if Ghost had them. Her nose is nothing like his. A dainty button. Another trait she must've gotten from her mom. 

"Did you used to wear makeup?" she asks curiously, eyelashes fluttering down. 

"Sometimes. Especially when I went out."

"Went out where?"

Concentration nudges between your brows. "To clubs and stuff. It's where people would... dance."

Her lips spread as she cocks her head to the side in a manner that emulates her dad. You have to remind her again to stop moving. “Oh. Sorry. You danced?"

"I mean, not good dancing. Just dancing for fun,” you murmur, shrugging at the faint memories of being sandwiched between strangers, alcohol flowing through your veins rather than fear and adrenaline. Back then, mornings were spent nursing a hangover before class rather than earning bruises from an ex-lieutenant. 

Humor dances in her eyes when they reopen. "I don't think Ghost ever went to a club. I cannot imagine him dancing."

The images in your mind morph into something utterly laughable— him standing there like an immovable tank as people try to dance around him. "No, probably not."

"He never really tells me about his life before shit happened," she says thoughtfully. 

This piques your curiosity, but you keep your voice light. "No?"

"Well, he tells me the simple stuff. Mostly about his job. But never... never the small things, you know? Like I have no idea what he used to do for fun or what his life was like when he was a kid." She pauses a moment before adding, "He had a brother. That much I know."

You glance up. "Had?"

"He died before the virus. His mom and dad, too. But every time I ask how they died, he just says," she deepens her voice, "'Doesn't matter how, kid. Dead is dead.'"

"Oh, um, yeah, that sounds like something he would say." You tap your fingers under her chin. "I can put some on your lips, too."

Her eyes close again as she puckers her lips out. When you're done, she continues. "He also never talks about my mom." Her face twists. “I think he thinks talking about her will hurt my feelings."

For a few seconds, you struggle to find a response. The rare mention of her mom always makes your heart stutter, but this time, your broken, callused hand reaches out to brush a strand of hair behind her ear.

"It's okay to feel hurt, you know."

Blue shrugs and looks up at the cobalt sky. "I don't think I remember her enough to feel that hurt anymore. She feels so... far away. I remember small things, like the sound of her voice and her old apartment where I lived, but sometimes I wonder if I am making up those memories, you know what I mean?"

"Yeah, I know what you mean." A terrible urge sits on your tongue to ask her more about her mom, about what exactly her relationship was like with Ghost, but Blue changes the subject before you can.

"Does the makeup look good?" A shy blush clouds her cheeks.

You stand up with a faint smile. "I think I did pretty damn good. Come on. I want you to go look in the mirror."

Music.

It pounds so hard you feel it in your chest.

Neon walls enclose you as someone touches your backside, dancing against you. There is a man's voice in your ear that you think you recognize but it's hard to hear him through all the laughing and chatter. Your hair falls in loose curls down your back, free of braids, and you swipe it from your sweaty skin before excusing yourself to the bathroom.

You push through the people. The narrow hall is shrouded with different doors... so many doors. Where is the bathroom? It must be a Friday night on Oxford Street with how fucking crowded and stuffy this place is. Someone knocks into you roughly and your footsteps quicken. A sense of urgency drags you into the next door you come across, a large one made of grey oak.

The smell is horrendous but you feel relieved to see urinals and stalls. Immediately, you press into the granite counter and grip the edge as you catch your breath. The scratched, warped mirror houses a face covered in makeup. Youthful eyes. Flushed cheeks. How much have you had to drink? You need to go home. You will pee and then go home, you tell yourself. Over and over, you repeat this as you relieve yourself in one of the graffiti-doused stalls where condom and tampon wrappers crinkle beneath your heels.

When you're done, you try for the large door you came through, but it doesn't budge. The muffled music outside has faded. Panic sears your chest. You press your back against the door. The bathroom has changed. The stalls are gone. The walls feel like they are closing in, and the smell of piss turns into something even worse. You are alone. Where is the man you came with? You look down. Dead bodies. Strewn limbs. You're standing on a pile of them.

You start screaming. Banging on the door. Digging your fingers into the wood until the flesh rubs down to bone. 

It's not a room anymore, but a box. The fluorescent lights replaced by sheer darkness.

The edges of the door disappear.

A sickening silence replaces your screams.

And then—

"Twix."

You sit up, wild-eyed. You grip onto something—fabric—and a foul taste travels up your throat without warning. You heave several times, your entire body shuddering. 

When awareness settles in, you wipe your mouth and blink up. Ghost. He is... here. Hovering over you. His shirt is tightly bunched between your fingers and you have just vomited into it. The realization smacks you awake and you recoil sharply, staring at his moonlit mask with an expression that must be just short of mortified.

"I... Fuck. I am so sorry. I don't know why— I just..."

When you dare to look at the mess you've left on him, you nearly vomit again. Hands shaking, you rub at your clammy face and begin to ramble unthinkingly as his stare flickers between you and his soiled shirt.

"I've been trying so hard not to hold back like you said, but I think it is fucking me up a little and letting out some things— memories, I guess. I was pretty good about keeping it all in my box because I've been too tired to even think about it, but now I just..." You trail off, realizing your words must make little sense. 

"You've certainly let something out," he rasps.

Your hands drop against the sofa and you cringe. "I'll wash it for you. I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing."

You inhale. "I just fucking threw up on you."

"I'm aware."

Ghost straightens. He pinches the collar of his shirt and carefully hoists it over his head. Then, you're looking at his bare chest. Slivers of moonlight caress rigid brawn and mountainous scars that capture your gaze for a few heartbeats before you tear it away. 

"I'll, um, hang it outside and... wash it in the morning." 

Your legs are unnervingly steady when you stand up and take the shirt from him, carefully grabbing it by a dry spot. You are relieved to get away from him, draping it over the porch and swallowing gulps of fresh air before you go back inside, praying he's gone back to bed.

Luckily, he has. When the empty living room greets you, you sink to the sofa and palm your eyes. Then, you notice something left on the pillow. A cigarette. You pick it up and recall the few times you smoked whenever your friends offered one. The taste never sat well with you. 

You rummage for your lighter. The first inhale burns terribly, but you cough into the pillow and try again. It starts to calm you down after a few times, and only when you've gotten to the butt of it do you go back to sleep.

"No wonder you're not getting stronger if you throw up like that every night."

Not even five minutes into training the next morning he brings it up. The rest of your sleep ended abruptly when he got you up at an unearthly time, probably to avoid having Blue as an audience. You are too winded to even scowl, your fists held tight in front of your face as you try to predict where he will aim next.

"I told you. That was the first night in a while." 

"Right. Something about a box, huh?"

"Can we just forget about it, please?"

"Hard to forget when my shirt still smells."

"I washed it the best I could."

The next dodge has your head flying down fast enough to undo one of your braids. Hair slips over your face and you huff, holding your hand up. "Hold on. Give me a minute."

As you undo the other one and opt for shoving your hair into a tight bun instead, he watches you strangely. The feel of his stare ignites a spark of irritation and you flash him a sideways glance. "Look, thank you for the cigarette and everything else you have ever done for me, but you can stop looking at me like that. Like you... pity me. I'm not going to break, I'm not going to ask you to kill me again. Everyone left in this world has nightmares and mine probably aren't the worst of them."

"I don't pity you," he says. "I am just trying to understand you."

"Why?" You finish the bun and drop your arms awkwardly at your sides. 

"It's important to understand your ally."

"Oh. Is that what we are?"

His eyes narrow. "Obviously. I wouldn't bother wasting my time with this every day if we weren't."

"Good to know you aren't doing it because you owe me."

"You know what I mean, Twix," he growls. 

"No, I don't." You throw your arms up. "I don't know what you mean and I don't know why you never killed me because you had every reason to, and I definitely don't understand you, so I guess we make terrible allies, Ghost."

"What is with you?" He cocks his head to the side, tone mild with curiosity. "So talkative all of the sudden."

"I have no problem talking when the other person isn't blatantly ignoring me."

His brows lift. "Fair enough."

A deep inhale flares your nostrils before you spread your stance. "I'm ready now."

Despite your claim of readiness, he quickly backs you into a defensive position that has you frustrated once again. You don't understand why, but your progress slips. You keep having to adjust your stance and all of your attempts to hit him fail. It's not long before he locks you against a tree with a tattooed forearm against your neck. 

"You aren't focused today," he accuses.

"Damn, you're observant," you breathe out. 

"Jesus fucking Christ. If I wanted to listen to someone mouthing off, I'd get Blue out here." He presses a bit harder and your throat twitches. "I'm not going to threaten you anymore, but clearly, you think straighter when you channel your anger, so whatever you were dreaming about last night— get it out of your head."

He's right. You breathe deep and try sorting through everything in your head, focusing on just the anger, but it's like fishing in murky water. When he releases you, more of the same happens. This time, you end up on your butt. Ghost glares down at you, circling like a vulture.

"You were doing good the past few days. What the hell is this?"

"I told you," you say through your teeth, brushing off the dirt from your jeans. "Letting out my anger means letting everything else in the box out and it is... confusing me. Making my head fuzzy, I guess."

His chest expands with a deep breath and his pointed stare turns meticulous. "Explain this box to me."

You hesitate for a moment. "It's just... where I put away all of the shit that would otherwise make me insane."

"And what is wrong with being a little insane, Twix? This world is insane. Might as well match it."

Your mouth opens, then closes. You struggle for an answer and rub your temples. "I don't know. Being insane means losing myself completely. I mean, I have already changed so much in the past five years. Like I said, I was never meant to be this person."

"What person? A person who survives? A person who does what she has to?"

"A person who hurts others," you grit out. "A person who kills." 

"You've killed people, right?" he roughly asks and you nod. "Then you're a killer. You were always meant to be a killer. End of story." His words strike you, and you begin to shake your head defensively, but he continues before you can muster a reply. "The past five years haven't changed you, they have revealed who you are. Now—" he raises his fists, "—open the stupid box and turn everything you feel into anger. All of it. It is valuable fuel that will continue to keep you alive."

He swings.

A kaleidoscope of long-ignored memories flashes through your brain when he hits your sore stomach. Your family. Your friends. The life stolen from you. 

And then— you recover your footing and slam a boot into his knee. It loosens his stance just enough for you to throw yourself at him, effectively knocking him over. The ground welcomes your bodies again, but this time, you grip his shoulders and wind up on top, practically laying all of your weight on him. A few harsh breaths expel from your nose before you become fully aware of the position, the heat from his chest pressing into your breasts.

Quickly, you splay your hands flat against him and sit up straight, thighs spread over his narrow hips. Ghost could easily flip you over and pin you if he wanted. But instead, he crosses his arms behind his head. 

"Comfortable?" you ask him breathlessly, raising a brow.

"Quite. Though, if this were real, I suggest an elbow to the neck once you've got them down."

"So you admit it, then. I got you down."

"I allowed it."

"Sure." Your teeth snag on your lip and you lightly brush a finger over his masked nose, detecting a tick in the hinge of his jaw. "Then I will 'allow' you to keep this for now, but next time, I might do more than just break it."

His eyes widen imperceptibly before he quickly recovers. "Ah. So you are a person who hurts others, then. Someone was trying to tell me otherwise."

Your lips twitch at the corner on their own accord. "Shut the fuck up."

He simply stares at you for a pregnant pause before clearing his throat. "I did allow it, but that was good. You focused on the anger, didn't you?"

You nod. "Yeah, I did. Is that what you do all the time?" you ask curiously. "Just get angry and kill people?"

"Pretty much."

By the tone of his voice, a deep brass that reverberates through all the places your bodies touch, you are certain he's joking. Realizing that you are still on top of him, you push off his chest and swing a leg over, careful not to knee his face or let him see the deep flush that crawls over every inch of your skin. 

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #fanfiction #ghost #zombie apocolypse au

[eddiesxangel]

WILDFLOWER| Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Pop!Princess reader

Summary: Eddie has been out of the limelight for years; raising his daughter, Violet Rose, has been his entire world. He will do anything and everything for his little girl, so when the opportunity to see her favourite pop star when she comes to town, he can’t resist. However, it might not all be just for his daughter…

WC 37.2k

AN: I originally submitted this as an ask to @ceriseheaven and she added to the idea that it’s a fake dating scenario so I have to give her credit for it 🤗 I didn’t think it would ever develop into this but I spent so much time in it so thank you to whoever takes the time to read it 🫡🙏🏻😊

CW: NSFW 18+ ONLY MDNI. Modern day AU, non vecna/non upside down, single!dad/rockstar!Eddie, age gap romance, fake dating, fem Afab reader she/her pronouns, Angst, Fluff, SMUT and a lot of it, read with caution. Soft Dom Eddie x Sub reader, cheating(readers past), self-doubt, anxiety, language, parental abandonment, alcohol consumption, mentions of drug consumption, bad past relationships, no use of y/n, Eddie refers to the reader with pet names. I tried really hard to be conscious about not having any physical descriptions of the reader other than that they are girly and AFAB. The nameless freak's name is Felix bc he deserves a name, damn it!

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

Eddie woke up to the sweetest voice he’d ever heard blasting throughout the surround sound speakers of his house for what felt like the 100th day in a row. He had walked down the grand staircase of his Hollywood Hills mansion to see his sweet baby girl still in her pyjamas. Her usually perfect light chocolate curls now looked like a rat nest from her sleep as she jumped, danced, and sang along to her favourite Pop Star.

As Eddie suspected, you were gracing his TV screen as he turned the corner into the family room. He can’t help but stare as you are in a Barbie pink bathing suit, sitting in a pink polka dot pool floaty, singing along to the song in your latest music video.

Eddie’s first introduction to you was when his daughter asked him to help her put your poster on her bedroom wall when she was 9. Eddie’s throat got tight and dry at the sight of you, posing in a baby blue cardigan and a white tank top underneath paired with a blue miniskirt and knee-high socks; as his eyes skim over the poster, he sees your name scrawled on the bottom right corner like you had “signed” it.

“Who is this, cupcake?” Eddie cleared his throat. “She sings Angel, Duh!” telling him like he was the last person on the earth to find out who you are. He looks at his daughter, keeping his eyes off that little outfit, especially because it is showing off the bellybutton ring you wore, and it’s doing things to his body that he hasn’t felt in years. “That's who I’m forced to listen to 50 times a day?!” He asks eyes bug out of his skull. His daughter would not stop listening to the bubblegum pop song for the past 2 weeks. The first time they had heard it, he was driving her to school. She begged him to download your album, so he asked his assistant to download all your music that was out. Unfortunately for him, at that point, you’d only had out your one song, so he was stuck listening to it on repeat.

“Sweetheart, I know you’re having a good time, but please, can we turn it down.” Eddie was privy to loud music, especially his own. His band Corroded Coffin had been in the industry for almost 2 decades at this point, but now, being 39 and having taken a backseat to raise his 11-year-old, his ears haven’t been so forgiving. “Daddy!” she turned to him with the biggest smile, and his heart melted. She would be a teen soon, and he knew moments like these would be slim to none. Her tiny feet moved her to a running jump into Eddie's arms. Eddie could still lift her up, but she was getting so tall that he couldn’t hold her like this much longer. “Daddy! She is coming here next week can I PLEASE go to the concert? Pretty pretty, please! I’ll do all my chores and my homework, and you won't have to give me my allowance for it pleasepleasepleasepleas-” she begged.

“Alright, Cupcake, first of all, you’re already supposed to do these things regardless. Second, you don’t have to bargain. Was going to surprise you for your birthday!” Eddie smiled. “Oh, thank you, Daddy! thankyouthankyouthankyou!” She latched her arms tightly around his neck, giving him the tightest hug she could. Eddie didn’t disclose the backstage passes he got from his label. He wanted to do everything and anything to make his baby girl happy. He made that promise to her the day she was born.

The day Violet Rose came into the world, his ex told the Doctor to not give her the baby. She didn’t even look at her; she said, “Give it to Eddie.” The word “it” had a sour note that stuck in his memory, even until today. When the Doctor handed her to him, he looked at his cherub-faced angel and fell instantly in love. He would never admit it, but he did cry the first time he held her. She had his eyes and hair, but her nose, skin and lips were all her mother. Eddie was the type of father who would do anything and everything for his kid. He was granted full custody of his daughter and named her Violet Rose. Eddie was never married to his ex-Sarafina… technically. They were drunk and high one night, partying in Vegas when he was young and dumb. Corroded Coffin was in their heyday. He was truly living the rockstar lifestyle. The next week, they both finally sobered up and realized what a terrible mistake they had made and got the marriage annulled.

Months later Sarafina found out she was pregnant. She never wanted to have a baby, and by the time she realized she was pregnant, she was too far into term that she couldn’t do anything about it. She yelled and fought with Eddie, accusing him of "doing this to her” and “that he was the one who ruined her body.” She was a supermodel turned actress; she was career-driven but selfish. She told Eddie she would never be a mother, and either Eddie could take the baby or she would put the baby up for adoption. Eddie, without hesitation, said he would be there to take care of the baby, he would do everything, raise them, and love them no matter what. Even though he was alone and had no idea what parenting entailed, he would be there for his child.

Sarafina begged Eddie to keep the pregnancy hush hush because it would make her “look bad” in the tabloids that she was giving up her baby, so Eddie agreed. He never disclosed to Violet Rose who her mother was. Even to this day, they had no contact. He couldn’t and wouldn’t do that to his Cupcake. He never wanted to have her see the woman who berthed her everywhere in the media, reminding her she wasn’t wanted… just like his own parents did to him. Eddie swore he wouldn’t ever have his baby feel the way he still does; he would make sure of it.

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

As the warmer months rolled in, you had a really strong feeling that this would be your summer. You had just finished touring as an opening act with one of the most prominent girl groups from the U.K. this past New Year. You were still on the up and up, even though it’s been about two years since your first #1 hit single, Angel. You’d released your debut self-titled album six months after and recorded a few music videos that had been shown on MTV. This past tour broadened your fan base to help you go international. However, the tabloids were just not as interested in you as you hoped they would be by now. Even with your tour with one of the most prominent Pop groups at the moment, you still had a lot of competition. The pool was over-saturated, and your publicist needed a way for you to stand out of the crowd. Your publicist, Roger, suggested dating someone in the industry a few months after the tour hype had died down.

“But I won’t have time to date someone right now?” You huffed at the silly suggestion. Who would even want to date you? Sure, you got hit on, but no guys ever want to commit. Honestly, you haven’t been on a date in almost two and a half years. You had been so busy focusing on your career that your love life was on standby. You were in your twenties! Going on dates and having fun should have been on the agenda, but that had been set aside once you were signed to your label.

“We will make a deal with someone who also needs some media attention. It won’t be real. Sweetheart, relax. I’ll take care of everything.” Roger really was a good friend and employee. He was a few years older but had been in the industry forever. He has been with you from the start and would never steer you wrong. A publicity stunt meant that there weren’t actual feelings, no commitment; you could do that… Right? Roger explained to you that it would be a handful of public dates and parties, red carpets. No strings attached, no getting your heart broken again. That was months ago, and you soon forgot about the whole thing. You were too busy preparing for your solo North American tour.

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

The tour has been amazing; you were getting to see places you’ve never been to, filling out larger venues than you had in the past. Your agent claimed that soon enough, you could sell out arenas. The fantasy of performing to huge crowds flooded your mind with flashbacks from the tour with the band. You were snapped back into reality when the stage manager asked if you were okay through the megaphone. You were currently at your final rehearsals for tonight's gig. This was your last show and your biggest. Your six-week tour was finally heading to a close. Tickets for tonight's show had sold out for the original venue within half an hour, so your team decided to move to a larger space; you couldn’t believe it when they told you you felt like you were dreaming.

After rehearsals, your hair and makeup team and stylist worked until you looked like the definition of a ‘Pop Princess,’ not that it took much to begin with. You were a natural beauty. Your skin glowed and was clear from any blemishes. Your teeth had been through whiting and straightened by braces. Your hair was always styled perfectly, and your outfits were styled by only the best. Tonight, you were dressed in your stage outfit, a plaid baby pink miniskirt and a cropped white tube top that said “Angel” across your breast in pink rhinestones. You’d worn this outfit in every colour about 50 times over by now, but you still felt cute every time you put it on.

Before the show, you always did a meet and greet. A lottery of random tickets gets selected, so no one pays extra to meet you. Talking to the people who support you the most was the best part of touring; you loved seeing your fans. As the line of young fans moves forward, your heart swells as you’re reminded why you’re putting in all this work. You were told a super fan was coming in with a special guest; they were to come in last. As you waited for the super fan to arrive, you checked yourself once over in the mirror until you heard the undeniably excited scream coming from a little kid. “Oh my god! It’s really her!” You whip your head around with a genuine smile. A small force hits your body as the little girl runs to you and grips your waist in the tightest hug.

“Hey sweetie, you here all by yourself?” you question concerned. Distracted by the cutie gripping you, you don’t see the man walk into the room behind her. “You accusing me of being a bad father, Angel?” The sultry voice was familiar, but you couldn’t place it. Your head snapped up, and your eyes locked. At that moment, Eddie knew he was done for. Sure, he has a slight crush on you, but now, seeing you in person? He sees hearts surrounding your head, and you’re moving in slow motion; he swore he was struck by Cupid's arrow.

“Oh no, never! I was just worried she had run off with her parents.” You look up, and your heart flutters into your stomach at the sight of the man standing before you. Eddie Munson in the flesh.

Your parents had been huge fans of his band; you knew pretty much all his music from listening to it growing up. He was a musical legend, and not to mention the hottest DILF out there. His hair was still long even after all this time, just a little shorter and more tame than when you saw him on album covers. His broad shoulders filed out his black satin button-up. He styled it by rolling up the sleeves, and was only buttoned to his mid-chest. He showed so much skin that you could see his tattoos. Even the tops of his hands were inked with the signature purple roses he proudly displayed for his daughter. He paired his shirt with black slacks, a black and silver belt, and some boots. As you examined his face, you noticed he had laugh lines around his eyes and probably around his mouth, but it was covered by his short beard. It was hard not to check him out; he looked so damn good.

“I’m just teasing Sweetheart.” You felt the heat of your blood rush to your cheeks at the tone of his voice. “Thank you for coming; they told me I had a special guest but didn’t say who.” You switched your attention back to his daughter; you wanted to make her feel special like all the other fans. “What's your name, Sweetheart?” You ask. “Violet Rose,” She says proudly. “That is such a beautiful name! Your Mommy and Daddy picked a good one.” You smiled at her, but her smile dropped after you spoke. “I don’t have a Mommy.” She shifted her gaze towards her purple light-up sneakers.

Your heart sank because you shouldn’t have mentioned the parents. You knew Eddie was single but didn’t realize her mom wasn’t in the picture. You looked to Eddie, and he gave you an apologetic gaze. “Oh, I’m sorry, sweetheart; I’m sure you and your Daddy are the perfect team though, huh? He must be a great Dad to bring you here; I’m sure he isn’t into this kind of music.” You teased, giving Eddie a wink. That seemed to brighten her mood. “Yea! We always sing your songs in the car together on the way to school!” she bragged. That made Eddie blush, and you let out a giggle. The thought of the older metalhead singing along to your music? Priceless. “Oh really? THE Eddie Munson singing along to me? I would pay to see that.” You laugh.

“You know my Daddy?” She looks at you, confused. “Sweetheart, remember how I told you I used to do what this lovely little lady does?” he reminds his daughter. Eddie hadn’t released any new music since his daughter was a toddler, so her confusion wasn’t surprising.

“Ohhhh, you should do a song together! My Daddy sings all the time, and he plays guitar! He can make reallllly good songs,” She praised. “Oh no, Cupcake, I’m sure the Princess of Pop here doesn’t want some old man like me helping her out.” he laughs nervously. “I wouldn’t say old.” You bit your lip.

“5 minutes to curtal call, all performers to the stage.” The announcement over the speaker screeched.

“Sorry, cutie, I have to go, but maybe I’ll see you after the show? You and your Dad can come to the dressing room after OK?” You smiled at them and blew a kiss, aiming it at Eddie before walking out the door. Eddie was speechless. Were you flirting with him? He was at least ten years older or older. You couldn’t possibly be?

Eddie surprisingly enjoyed himself; he knew every song because of Violet Rose, so he ended up singing along to most of the show. Eddie also enjoyed how your body moved on stage; all of your cute little choreographed dances were turning him on the way more than they should. He had to remember that he was currently with his kid, but his thoughts betrayed him. You were always the star of his fantasies when he was alone in bed. Seeing you in person, live on stage, being able to smell your sweet perfume that smelled like cinnamon and vanilla, clinging to his shirt when you gave him a hug at the meet and greet. His thoughts morphed into how after the show, he would take you into your dressing room and bend you over the vanity, flip up your skirt and fuck your brains out.

He snapped out of his daydreams when he heard a blood-curdling scream from his child. She was having so much fun. He loved seeing his Cupcake having the time of her life and could not stop talking about how you’re meeting them again after the show.

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

A knock on the door came about 25 minutes after you got off stage, just enough time for you to quickly rinse off and change out of your sweaty stage clothes. “Hey, pretty girl! Hi handsome.” you open the door and greet Violet Rose, and Eddie. You usher them into the greenroom, and Violet asks you a million questions that you gladly answer.

“Vi, I think we should get going. We have more than over-welcomed our stay, and Angel here probably has a lot of people waiting on her.” Eddie checked his watch. A look of disappointment crossed your face. You haven’t even had much of a chance to talk to Eddie. Selfishly that’s why you invited them both back after the show. Your publicist said you should be dating; why not Eddie? He was charming and handsome. “Oh, I didn’t even realize the time, I do have an after-party I should attend, it is for me, after all… I would invite you, little miss, but it’s at a club, adults only.” You gave Eddie a sorry smile. “No, truly, you’ve done more than enough for Vi; we have taken more than enough of your time.” Eddie shook his head. “Ok, well, if you want to come, it’s—actually, here! Give me your phone.” You were never this bold, but you needed to do this for yourself, and what could it hurt? Eddie was hot, and you hadn’t gotten laid in so long.

“Uh, what?” He looked confused, “Trust me,” you gave him a flirtatious smile. He chuckled and handed you his phone. You texted yourself from his cellphone and saved your number in his contacts under Angel just because of what he called you earlier. “I’ll text you the address; feel free to come if you’re up to it; I’ll make sure you’re on the list.” You smile. “Oh, I’m always on the list, Baby.” He stepped closer to you. Eddie forgot where he was for a minute. The second the word baby slipped out of his mouth, he regretted it immediately. His daughter was right there; she had never seen him interact with a woman in any romantic capacity. He cleared his throat after realizing he had said a quick goodbye and dragged Violet Rose out.

Once Eddie pulled into the drive of his home, Violet Rose was already passed out in the car's back seat. He had carried her up to her room, gently placed her on the bed, picked out a pair of her pyjamas, gently woke her up and told her to get changed and into bed. He left hoping she would at least get out of her concert outfit, but he would remind the maid to wash her sheets in the morning just to be safe.

Eddie was so wound up from meeting you tonight he couldn’t go to sleep. He couldn’t go to the club because there was no one to look after Vi. He was so tempted but couldn’t leave her; she was too little. He looked through his phone and remembered you gave him your number. Maybe you were flirting with him? Back in his day, that was definitely a way to tell if a girl liked you. But you were what? At least 21, you could get into a club, and he was 39 and a Dad. He fought back and forth with himself until his phone dinged, grabbing his attention. The name Angel popped up, and he was confused at first, then remembered you had used his phone to get his number.

Angel: Too bad you couldn’t make it tonight, but I understand! Maybe we can meet up some other time?🥰 Angel: Just the two of us…

Eddie was shocked, you were forward and for sure flirting with him and he liked it. You were extremely nervous sending the text.

You were out at the club, tipsy, and your friends had convinced you to send the first text, then one of them grabbed your phone and sent the second one, just to be clear for good measure. While you waited for his reply that felt like a thousand years, you took another tequila shot. Why were you so nervous about his reply? This night was about you! You were supposed to be celebrating your highly successful tour, but the second your phone vibrated, you were unlocking it to see.

Eddie: Thank you so much for making Vi’s night so special, let me take you to dinner as a thank you? 😁

Oh my god, did he asked you out?

Angel: It was my pleasure, but I’ll never pass up the chance for free food😉 Eddie: I’ll call you tomorrow and we can work out the details, have fun and don’t do anything I would do😏

Eddie didn’t text you for the rest of the night, but it was already 1:45 a.m., and you were busy partying.

Eddie did not go to sleep right away after he sent that text. He was like a lovesick teenager while looking through your social media, your Instagram and TikTok. He couldn’t stop looking at the picture the three of you took at the meet and greet. You had looked so cute, the way your outfit clung to your body, showing off all the right places… It was ingrained in his brain. He allowed his mind to drift to dirty thoughts about you again. You were his favourite fantasy.

His hand traced his stomach down further until his fingers traced the tip of his cock. He had been so worked up all night he had to touch himself. His red tip aching to be enveloped by your sweet little cunt. He imagined how your voice would be begging him to fuck you while he stroked his cock; he thought about what you would look like bouncing up and down, swallowing him whole, how soft your boobs would be in his mouth, how you would scream for him. Oh yeah, baby, such a good girl. Taking me so well, you’re a dirty girl, wanting me to fill you. Do you like that? Taking all of it, letting me use you, beg for it, baby. He gripped his fist tighter around himself, aching for release. A loud primal groan left Eddie’s mouth as he came. He knew he was in big trouble. That was one of the hardest times he’d cum in a while. His undeniable crush on you was growing, and he wasn’t sure he could control it.

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

The following day, you woke up with a nasty hangover and an early morning call from your publicity team. They asked you to meet with them at noon in the office. Worry filled you; what had you done last night? Were you messy? Did someone leak a video of you partying? Your fans were young and impressionable. You had to keep your image somewhat clean. As you showered, getting ready for the day, memories of meeting and texting Eddie flooded your mind. Oh my god, you’d hit on Eddie Munson, and he’d asked you out! That put a little bit more pep in your step.

As you enter the office, you don’t pay much attention to the people surrounding you as you stalk Roger’s office. Looking down at your phone as you open the solid oak door, you almost crash into someone built like a brick wall. Your short stature couldn’t see over their broad shoulders blocking the entrance. You let out a little yelp as you almost spilled the coffee to help your hangover all over your baby blue silk power suit.

“Shit,” you whisper under your breath. The person whips their head around at the sudden admission. You’re still looking at your outfit to see if you’d spill anything on yourself when you hear him.“Fancy meeting you here, Angel.” Your head shoots up; Eddie is the brick wall blocking your way. You try and come up with something witty, but you’re off your game this morning. Why would he be here? Did your texts leak? What is going on?.

“Hello lovely, have a seat. We will get right to it.” You hear Rogers's voice come from behind Eddie and his team. You take a seat at his desk with Eddie sitting beside you. “What's going on?” you ask no one in particular. “We came up with a plan for more publicity, Sweetheart.” Roger smiles. His nicknames never bothered you; he was kind and caring, never talking down to you, and you knew he always had your best interests at heart. “Oh?” You looked to Eddie because why would he be here as well? Roger starts talking, and your attention goes back to him. “You see, Corroded Coffin is coming back from hiatus! A new album will be released in a few months, and they’re going on tour.”

Oh wow! This was so exciting for them! You couldn’t wait to tell your parents the news. Maybe you could get tickets for them as an anniversary gift?

You turn your head back to Eddie with a smile. He’s not looking at you, but the desk held his gaze. There was a look in his eyes like he wasn't listening... like he was off in another world. Did he not like the idea? He asked you out only last night. Maybe he knew before you? Maybe that was why he asked you out?

"Since you and the band are signed to the same label, and Eddie is the band's frontman, we thought this could be a good match. Lord knows the band needs some good publicity since it’s been about 8 years since anything has been released.” Roger explained.

Oh, you see…this was all for show, he must have known before you did. That’s the only reason he asked you out... Your heart sank a little bit knowing now that it was all a part of the plan; but why wouldn’t he tell you? “What do you think darling?” Roger asked. “Well I mean, I guess why not?” What could it hurt? You got along, he was hot, and you knew you wanted no strings attached. No more hurt, not again. “Eddie, how about you?” Eddie snapped out of his trace at the sound of his name. “Uh yeah. Sure, whatever works.” He brushed it off. Eddie hardly looked at you for the rest of the meeting. “Great your people and my people will set up the contract and you can both sign it. Thanks for coming in, we will send it to you by 4:00pm. The both of you have a lovely afternoon.” Roger dismissed you.

Eddie did not pay attention during that entire meeting nor the time he spent signing the contract. He was too in his head about the situation. He was now obligated to date you. He didn’t care that it was all for show because, through his eyes, any time Eddie was to spend with you was precious.

After signing the contract, Eddie started thinking of dates to bring you on because he didn’t read the part where it said the dates would be scheduled and planned by your teams accordingly. They would be strategically coordinated so there would always be paparazzi. He didn’t pay attention to any of the contractual obligations, especially the fine print. He was excited he got to show you off as his girl.

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

A few days after the meeting between your team and Eddie's, you received a call from none other than Eddie himself. He called you asking you to come over for dinner, which surprised you even though he said he would. You were nervous because you still had a growing crush on Eddie and wanted to look extra good for him. A million questions ran through your head while deciding on what to wear. Would his daughter be there? You needed to dress cute but casually; it was only at his house, after all… Maybe it was a get-to-know-you-better kind of thing? To get your stories straight? How you had met, how you had “fallen in love,” that sort of thing?

You did your signature soft girl makeup and pulled your hair into a half-up, half-down look to keep your hair out of your eyes. You dressed in your high-waisted light wash Levi jeans that made your ass look out of this world and paired it with a cropped white baby tee and a sage green cropped knit cardigan. You did another spritz for your favourite perfume for good measure. You glanced at yourself one more time in the mirror. Casual, simple, not too much, right? You decided if you didn’t leave right now, you never would.

Eddie opened the door to his mansion seconds after the bell rang. He was already alerted by the gate buzzer, so he had time to get to the door. You nervously wait for him to open up the 10ft door that looks like it could swallow you whole. “Hi Princes-Is that seriously your car?” He chuckled. You turn your head to look behind you to see your baby pink G wagon sitting in the driveway. You shrug your shoulders as your cheeks heat and blush at his teasing. “It was a gift from the label for hitting platinum on my first album.” You shrugged. This version of you seemed to be a lot more shy than the first time Eddie met you.

Eddie thought you were adorable, and you thought he looked like a Greek god standing there in the doorway. “Can I come in?” You asked, reaching to nervously twirl the bottom of your hair with both hands. “Shit, sorry, where are my manners? It’s been a long time since I’ve done this.” He scolded himself after it came out of his mouth. Real fucking smooth, Munson. You giggled at his omission and stepped into his home. You looked around, seeing that it was exactly as you would picture it. The walls were painted dark, warm charcoal accented with gold features, platinum and gold records and Grammy awards mounted to the walls. You were memorized by the things that were distinctly Eddie, but it could use a feminine touch, in your opinion. How did a girly girl like Violet Rose grow up in a place like this?

He led you to the kitchen as he continued the home tour. The kitchen was grand and lush with dark emerald green cabinets, the same charcoal grey walls and brassy gold appliances and hardware. The smell that wafted through your nose as Eddie led you into the room was the best thing you’d smelt in a while. Sure, you can cook for yourself, but who has the time? As you take in the delicious smell, you hum automatically. “It smells so good! What are you making?” You ask, sitting on the brass bar stool. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” He gave you a toothy smile and a wink. That made your whole body flutter, heart, stomach…pussy. He was too charming for his own good. You were screwed and not in the way you wanted to be.

He automatically poured you a glass of white wine and said it would 'pair nicely' with whatever he was cooking for the two of you. “So where is Violet Rose?” You asked, taking a sip. “Sleepover with the Kardashians, they live just up the street.” He shrugged. You choke on the wine; he said it so casually, like they weren’t the most famous family in the world. This world was still very new to you. You hardly had three years under your belt, and he had decades on you. “Oh god! Are you okay?” he rushed to your aid, his large hand spaying over your back, circling it gently. “Yeah, just um, went down the wrong way.” You choked embarrasly as you caught your breath. Eddie squeezed your bicep and returned to the stove to serve the food. “Don’t choke on this, okay? The last thing I need is a headline that says Freak, Eddie Munson kills Beautiful Pop Princess. He placed it before you, and you laughed at his lame joke. Still a bit embarrassed, but that all went away when you saw what he put down in front of you. “Are you some sort of Houdini? Or did you know this was my favourite?” You raised a brow.

Oh, Eddie had known; he saw you post about it when he was stalking your Instagram a few nights prior. He was determined to get it right; he practiced making it a few times for Vi before your date. So much so that she got sick of it and begged him to make her boxed mac and cheese instead.

“A magician never tells his secrets.” He winked at you, sitting right beside you at the kitchen island. Having him this close to you made everything flutter again. You took your first bite, and your initial reaction was to moan at how good it tasted. Your eyes close as your head falls back, enjoying every bite. Eddies cock twitched the second you let out that moan. His breath hitched; he knew your moans would be sweet, but his imagination could not conjure up the sweetness that left your throat. Eddie knew if it was this easy to get you to make that sweet sound in the kitchen, he could just as easily get them out of you in the bedroom as well.

“Eddie this is sooooo good!” you compliment him.

He smiled shyly and thanked you. You sat in a comfortable silence as you enjoyed your homemade dinner. “I was surprised you asked me to your house.” You openly admitted, looking over at him.

“Really? He asked as he took a sip of wine. You watched his tattooed-clad hand grip the glass as he brought the honey-coloured liquid to his plump lips and watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “Um, yeah, I guess I was wondering why?” You shook your head out of your daze. “Can’t a man ask a pretty girl on a date?” He teased.

“So this is a date? You asked, confirming. “Why wouldn’t it be?” He asked. “What about the contract?” You asked, fully knowing all dates were to be set up by your two teams and were to be in public. “What about it?” He asked. “I guess I’m surprised you wanted to be alone with me, is all?” You shrugged. “Any man would be stupid to not want you alone, Angel.” His voice deepened.

Your breath hitched, and you took the last sip of your wine. Eddie got up to pour you another glass. As he walked back, he stood behind you, and as he reached over you, you could feel his chest brush up against your back. He let a ringed hand fall on your shoulder for balance as he leaned over to pour you a glass from behind. He smelled intoxicating. His cologne was obviously expensive, rich and all man.

“We should get to know one another better,” He said while subtly moving his stool closer to you. “Oh, ok, what did you want to know?” Your head was still spinning from his scent that lingered in the air around you. “Everything.” His voice was so sultry it hypnotized you. “You’re going to have to be more specific,” you giggle. That second glass of wine was quickly lifting your inhibitions.

“Ok, how about we start with why you’re agreeing to be with an old guy like me when you could have any guy in the world, Sweetheart.” He raised his brows to you. “I wouldn’t call you old.” You admit to him. “I’m turning 40 next year, baby... and you’re what? 21? I could be your father." he begrudgingly admitted.

You laugh again; what the hell was in this wine? “I’m 25, thank you very much, turning 26 next month.” You smiled. “Oh, so you’re a Gemini.” He was quick with his answer. “So I am… and to answer your question, I don’t have time for dating, and the last time I was in a relationship was so long ago. He didn’t respect me or my dreams and said I wasn’t good enough to make it. And to top it all, he went and fucked everyone who wasn’t me…” You looked down at your fork, pushing around with the bits of food still left on your plate.

“Sounds like a little bitch… Pardon my French. I think that you need a real man, someone to take care of you.” A hesitant hand had reached to hold yours that was resting on the black marble countertop, but he backed out and rested it very close beside it. “Or I don’t need a man; I can take care of myself just fine.” Your posture stiffened, still jaded by what your ex had done to you. You had a hard time trusting people who want to get close. Especially now when you can always do something for them, whether that be money, fifteen minutes of fame, or exposure. It all came down to people leeching off one another in this world. Another reason you were hesitant to come tonight was because you knew that Eddie and you had done this deal to do just that for one another. Only this time, it was a mutual agreement; you both know what you’re getting into, so why did it bother you?

“Everyone needs someone, Angel. You can’t be alone forever; humans don’t work that way. We are social creatures we need affection...intimacy.” His tone was strong as he lifted your chin gently in his hand to make you look him in the eyes.

“What about you? You’re a catch; why are you single?” You break your gaze. “Well darlin’, I’m now a full-time dad slash ex-party boy, my reputation precedes me and honestly nobody wants all the baggage that comes with being with me.” He sighs

“Baggage?” You question why a furrowed brow. “You are way too young to know about the things I used to get up to back when I was your age… god that makes me sound old.” He chuckles.

“I think you’re being too hard of yourself; you’re so handsome and charming and a great cook. You, Mr. Munson, are a catch” You smile, reaching to touch his bicep. His eyes flick down to your hand and back up your eyes. He may have been out of the dating scene for almost a decade, but he knew when a girl was flirting with him.

“You trying to butter me up, sweetheart?” He moved closer to you so your noses were almost touching. “What if I am?” Your voice is more than a whisper. “I think we should practice some of our chemistry... we will need to be pretty convincing for the cameras.” you continued.

Eddie didn’t need any more confirmation. He closed the small gap; his plush lips were so gentle, your mouths moved in sync, and his hands moved up to cup your cheeks. You moved so yours rested on the back of his neck.

Kissing Eddie made your head spin; he was firm and in control, but he was so soft, nothing was rushed, and you were both soaking up the moment. You both felt the spark, but neither would care to admit it. This was supposed to be just business, wasn’t it? This didn’t feel like just business. No, this was unbridled attraction. Eddie was the first to pull away. If he hadn’t, another side of him that hadn’t come out in a very long time would be unleashed. He cleared his throat, trying to distract himself from the blood rushing to his cock. You were sad when he pulled away, your head was spinning and you cursed yourself for wanting more. It was only your first date. “I ummm, I guess we can say we have some chemistry?” You scolded yourself. That sounded so lame!

Eddie laughed, “Yeah babe I guess you could say that, but I want to make sure…” He leaned in for another kiss, he was insatiable, it had been years since he’d kissed a woman he cared about, and your mouth was so sweet, your lipgloss tasted like peaches. He got brave, slipped in his tongue, and gripped your waist this time, pulling you closer. The screech of the metal stool being dragged across the hardwood floors was startling, but neither of you reacted. You moaned when his hands gripped the sliver of skin that separated your pants from your top. You placed your hands where they rested before on his neck so you were able to hug yourself closer into him.

“I would definitely say there is some chemistry, Angel.” He pulled away begrudgingly once again. He really needed to stop himself. He could not scare you off, especially on the first date. “You’re a good kisser.” You sigh, eyes still closed, soaking up everything that is Eddie. It made you think about all the other things that Eddie would be good at. Eddie moaned, knowing he could fucking rock your world, but he would have to be patient, he would have to wait.

The rest of the night went smoothly. You had a great time getting to know one another better. You’d learned how he was such a reckless party boy until Vi was born. You bonded on how you both loved to be on stage, how he cannot wait to get back out there but is nervous about releasing new stuff because what if his fans had moved on? You got to know a side of Eddie that the public didn’t ever get a glimpse of.

He glanced at his watch and noticed that it was already 11:30 p.m. You had only gotten there around 7:00 p.m; he didn’t want the night to end but hadn’t an early morning in the studio with the band. He didn’t let you leave without a kiss goodbye. You had melted at his touch, what was supposed to be a quick goodnight kiss turned into a mini make-out session, leaving you with soaked panties to deal with on your drive back to your condo.

As you lay in bed that night, you scroll through your phone, looking at the pictures you took from that night. Roger suggested getting some pictures, putting them on socials, and tagging Eddie in them to get the ball rolling. Your first “date” with Eddie would be set up for next week, and a little bit of gossip never hurt anyone. You look to find the perfect picture to post to your Instagram story. It was a picture of your food, wine, and Eddie's tattooed hand on the counter beside you. His unmistakable purple rose tattoo was in the frame, but you still tagged him just to be safe.

You captioned to picture “Get you a man who can cook just as well as he can sing 😉 @MonsterMunson” That was cute? Right? Oh well too late. You closed your eyes and clicked the post.

A few minutes later you receive a text

Eddie: So I’m your man huh? 😏 Angel: Technically yes, you signed the contact soooo… legally you’re mine lol Eddie: I’m only kidding, Princess Angel: You sure like to tease me a lot😢 Eddie: You will know when I am teasing you, Angel.

It had been about fifteen minutes since Eddie texted you, and he was worried he had crossed a line. Was his flirting too much? Coming on too strong? Maybe this was all contractual to you. Were you calling your publicist to rip up the contact? His thoughts were running wild until he heard his phone go off. He reached for it as it sat facedown on the coffee table. It was a text from you.

Angel: Sorry my phone crashed from all the notifications I’ve been getting about posting the story. Seems like the plan is working!

Maybe this all was just contractual to you after all? But what about that kiss? Eddie was conflicted, fighting with himself, and he was too stubborn to outright ask you. He finally decided to reply 20 minutes later to not look desperate.

Eddie: Great.

When you looked at the reply he seemed off. He used a period. Why was he being dry? He’s old, maybe he thinks punctuation is necessary? You told yourself not to read into it as much.

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

You haven’t heard much from Eddie since your first date, which was disappointing, but you kept telling yourself it's because he’s older, he’s busy, he was a single dad, and you understood his hectic lifestyle. He would still text you good morning and good night, but he’d only text you one-word answers; he said he prefers calls over texts. So why hasn’t he called you? Screw it, your first public date was coming up, and you wanted his attention. He was probably in the studio today, so you didn’t want to call him. So you texted him first instead.

Angel: Hi handsome 🥰

An hour had passed, and still no reply. Little did you know that every time you texted Eddie, butterflies would erupt in his stomach, but he had to play it cool. You were doing this all for the show, he thought. After an hour of impatient waiting, you decided to be bold. You needed to get his attention, and an idea struck you. You crossed the room to your walk-in closet and started searching. Eddie saw your contact on his phone screen again as he waited his turn outside the sound booth with Jeff and Felix to get into the booth to do the background vocals while Gareth was perfecting his drum solo.

Your contact name lingered there on the lock screen, taunting him. He shoved his phone back on the table and tried to ignore the incessant need to talk to you. “What's up, man?” Jeff asked Eddie, as he was clearly bothered. “Who’s Angel?” Felix leaned over, looking at Eddied's phone, which lit up again when it was thrown on the coffee table in front of them. The band did not know about the arrangement between you and Eddie. “No one, man, mind your business.” Eddie huffed. “You gotta girl we don’t know about?” Felix laughed. “Maybe it’s his daughter?” Jeff suggested. “Oh, it’s definitely not his daughter.” Felix had Eddie’s phone unlocked in his hand.

“What do you mea- give me that!” Eddie snatched the phone out of Felix’s hands and looked down at a picture of you laying in bed wearing a tight red mini cocktail dress. Most of your face was cut out, but he could see you seductively bite your index finger. Eddie's eyes bulged out of his head. He read the text underneath it.

Angel: “This look ok for our date on Friday?” 🤭

Eddie still hadn’t replied. His brain was too busy short-circuiting. It had been an whole hour and ten minutes of him not answering you, and you were getting annoyed and needy. You sent another text, praying it would finally get his attention. Jeff grabbed the phone from Eddie before he could think.

“Damn, Eddie, you are one lucky man, who is she” Jeff smirked. Before Eddie could get his phone back, your text went through, and Jeff read it out loud.

“From Angel: Maybe it’s too much? I wouldn’t be able to wear any underwear with it… can’t have panty lines showing. Winking face,” Jeff finished and looked at Felix with a smirk. “My man! Still have some game after all this time.” Felix laughed. “When was the last time you were even with a girl?” Jeff asked. Eddie grabbed his phone out of Jeffs's hands, ignoring the question and stormed out of the room.

It was now an hour and fifteen minutes since you triple-texted Eddie... This was pathetic. Just as you were about to wallow in self-pity, your phone started to ring. It was Eddie, your heart leapt into your throat, you answered it on the fourth ring.

“Hey, hot stuff,” You greeted him. “What do you think you’re doing?” Eddie’s voice was stern and hushed like he didn’t want anyone to hear him. “What do you mean?” You tried to play dumb. “Oh, you know exactly what I mean,” he chuckled darkly. “You didn’t like my dress?” you kept your voice sickly sweet and way too innocent. “You’re a little minx, you know that?” Eddie growled through the phone. Your body reacted to his voice so easily, a shiver ran up your spine.“I-I didn’t do anything?” You still played dumb. “You better wear that on Friday, sweetheart, but I’ll need to know if you decide to not wear your panties,” he whispered. “Why?” you were not letting go of this act. “Fuck sweetheart, you’re making me want to do bad things to you.” He sighed. He heard you giggle softly on the other end of the call. “Have I been a bad girl?” the flirting came so naturally when it came to Eddie. “You really know how to wind a man up.” He shook his head. This was all for the show; this wasn’t supposed to be real. Then why were you playing him like it was? “If I was there right now, you have no idea what I wou-”

“Ed! Let’s go, we need you, man!” Gareth cut off Eddie from behind a closed studio door. “Fuck, I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later. No more pictures, ok? The guys damn well near had a heart attack.” And with that, Eddie hung up. So he was at the studio, and you had worked him up. Your plan was working.

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

The rest of the week flew by, and Friday seemed to sneak up on you. Working in the studio, writing and recording some demos took up much of your time. Eddie was gradually getting better with texting you, but you understood that he was in the same boat as you.

You look at the clock and see it is time to prepare for your date! You take a shower, exfoliating and shaving everywhere because you never know. When you get out, you pour yourself a little glass to loosen. You apply your makeup as you let your hair sit in a towel on top of your head. Your drink was two-thirds gone by the time you dried and styled it. It has been a few hours, and you finally slipped on your tight little dress. You paired it with some black strappy heels and your Armani clutch, and you were ready to go. You gave yourself a once over in the mirror, spritzed some last-minute perfume because you had forgotten, triple-checked you had applied deodorant, applied one last layer of lipgloss, and had to remind yourself less is more. You forced yourself out of the bathroom, or you would keep adding to your ensemble.

Walking out of your bathroom, you hear the apartment buzzer going off. Eddie was to pick you up at 6:00 p.m., and you glanced at your phone to see it was 6:01 p.m. “Hey, sweet girl, buzz me up?” You hear over the intercom. Butterflies erupt in your stomach when you hear his voice. “No need. I’m coming down!” You reassured him. “How can I be a gentleman and pick you up if you won’t let me in?” He laughed.

“Fine, come on up.” You playfully roll your eyes and hold the buzzer for him. You pace your foyer for about 5 minutes, but it feels like forever. You hear a quick knock on the door, and you whip it open so quick your hair blows in its wake. You’re stunned by the man standing before you. Eddie looks delicious. His hair was neatly pulled back in a low bun; he probably put some product in it to keep the frizz away. His all-black suit was tailored for him exactly. His crisp white button-up wasn't done up all the way, showing off his chest tattoos. Eddie lets out a whistle when he sees you; the bouquet of flowers he is holding drops down as he itches his brow with his thumb. “You’re making it awfully hard to be a gentleman, baby… Give me a spin. Let me see you.” he lifts your hand to turn you slowly. Baby. It makes your head spin, or was that because he was literally spinning you? “Beautiful.” He half says under his breath. The hallway was quiet, so you managed to hear whether he intended for you to or not. “We should get going,” You say as you’re about to lock the door. “Wait! Here.” He shoved the flowers into your hands, which you both almost forgot about. The bouquet was a mix of different flowers of all shades of pink, white, and green. A huge smile broke on your face. You weren’t used to this, men opening doors for you, bringing you flowers.

You invited him in, wanting to put them in water before you left. You bent over to find a vase in your bottom cabinets. “No panty lines, I see.” You heard the smugness in his voice. “So you openly admit that you’re checking me out?” you ask, your back still turned to him as you fill the glass with water. You turn to see a smug smile on his face and playfully roll your eyes in return. “We should get going, or else I don’t think I'll be able to leave; you make that dress look criminal.” He sighs." Keep it professional, Mr. Munson. We are on duty tonight.” You giggle as you lock your door. Eddie rests his hand on the small of your back as you walk to the elevator. He opens the car door for you, and you try to cover up your excited smile.

Roger told you the paparazzi will be tipped off and will capture the both of you after you leave. They booked you a table at this new hot spot restaurant called Enzo’s. The food was supposed to be incredible; you were excited about getting a table there.

The walk into the restaurant wasn’t very outrageous. The hostess showed you two your table, a booth seated next to a smaller window… very subtle, Roger. “So what’s your favourite Italian meal?” You asked Eddie, picking up the menu. “Anything when I’m actually in Italy,” He said casually. “Okay, Mr. Hotshot, what about when you’re not in Italy.” You picked up a breadstick, nibbling on the end. “Rissoto alla Milanese,” He says in a flawless accent. “Don’t tell me you speak Italian,” You accuse. The waiter comes to take your drink orders, and Eddie continues on. “Corroded Coffin has a big Italian demographic, surprisingly. We spend a lot of time touring there. This Café in Amalfi has the best pastries you’ll ever taste! I’ll have to take you some time.” He smiles.

The waiter returned with your drinks, but you waited a little longer to order because you still needed to look at the menu. “Oh, you wanna take me to Italy?” you ask while sipping your red wine. “Name a place and time, baby. I’ll fire up the jet.” He sips his amaretto. “You have a jet?” You choke out. You truly forgot how big of a star Eddie Munson is. He is an A list, while you’re more likely on the C list. How is it that he agreed to do this contract with you? “Of course I do.” He said nonchalantly.

After finishing one of the best meals you ever had, a flash of light filters through the window. “And so it starts,” Eddie sighs. Honestly, you had forgotten that this night wasn’t supposed to be an authentic date. You’re supposed to not have any strings attached, no feeling, no commitment, no attraction! Then tell that to your vagina...

“Can I get you anything for dessert?” The waiter asks. “I guess we have to milk it a little longer?” you half-whisper. Eddie orders you a tiramisu to share. “I am having a lot of fun tonight.” Eddie admits, “Me too.” you bite your lip. A few minutes later, your cake is presented on the table. You cheers your silver teaspoons and dig in. You let your senses take over as you put the sweet cake and cream in your mouth. You let out an audible moan as your head falls back. Just like how you did for the meal Eddie Cooked You.

Eddie’s eyes go dark as he hears the moan leave your mouth, forgetting where he is and what he is meant to be doing. “You really know how to tease me, Princess.” Your head snaps back up at Eddie's omission. “I thought you were supposed to be the expert tease?” You place another piece of cake in your mouth and slowly slide the spoon down your lips. Eddie looked at you like he would devour you, and you were willing to let him. Another flash brought the both of you back into reality. Letting out a sigh, you both decided to wrap up the date. Eddie paid and grabbed your hand to help you out of the booth. “Ready for this shit show, Princess?” He wrapped a protective arm around your shoulder. “Ready as I’ll ever be.” You said while peering into his beautiful brown eyes.

Eddie opened the doors of Enzo’s, and it was like walking into a circus. There were what looked like 15 Paps, all surrounding the doors, the bright flashes, the yelling of your names, so many voices telling you where to look. You smiled slightly and watched where your and Eddie's feet took you.

You suddenly felt someone grab the back of your dress, making you let out a small yelp. Eddie asks you what’s wrong. You tell him someone grabbed you, and something switches within Eddie. “Who put their hands on my girl?” Eddie was seeing red. You begged Eddie to get you to the car before a fight broke out. He saw the fear in your eyes, pushed your way through the sea of cameras, and safely made it to the car. “You okay, Angel?” Eddie asked once he was in the driver's seat. “Yeah, I think so. That was really scary,” you say while steadying your breath. “First time?” He asks you while resting his hand on the back of my head for comfort. “That obvious?” You say with a shaky laugh. “I’ve been doing this for ten-plus years, Angel. It never gets any easier.” He shook his head.

“Thank you for standing up for me.” You go to grab his other hand that was resting on the console, and you give it a light squeeze. The moment was so intimate you were dying to kiss him. His lips were stained red from the tomato sauce, and his cologne was so intoxicating. To just lean in a little bit more...

The cameras were still flashing, and Eddie needed to get the both of you out of there, “They’ve had their fair share of pictures.” He whispers as he leans back. He wants to kiss you; he so wants to kiss you at this moment, but he doesn’t want to kiss you just for cameras. He wants that between the two of you, away from the public. But you didn’t know that. You think it’s hit him that this is all for the show, that he is just doing this for the contract. You are so far into your head the rest of the way home. You’re very quiet compared to when you were at dinner with Eddie.

“Everything okay, Baby?” Eddie asks as he pulls into your building's visitor parking spot. “Yeah, just a crazy night… Well, thank you for dinner. I believe we pulled it off, um, goodnight.” You shake it off and go to open the passenger door.

“Woah woah woah, slow down, let me.” He reaches out to stop you, and you roll your eyes at his need to be gentlemanly. You see him scurry around the front of the car. He swings the door open and holds out his hand to help you out of the car. “M’lady” slips out as he helps you stand.

“Thank you, kind sir.” You give a small curtsy. “I’ll walk you to your apartment. Make sure you get home safe.” He guides you to the elevators. Hand resting on your back the whole way up, you were so tempted to lean your head on his shoulder, but you had to remind yourself this was all an act even though you wanted it to be more.

“Well... this is me.” You say as you get to your front door. An internal cringe runs through your body. Of course, he knows this is you. He picked you up from here mere hours ago. “So it is,” Eddie says, hoping you invite him in. “Um, well, thanks for dinner, goodnight.” You turn to unlock the door, but Eddie stops you by placing his hand on your hand with the keys. “Woah, hold on, Sweetheart, you’re not getting away that easy. What’s going on in that pretty head of yours? Hm, you’ve been quiet since the car?” He lifted your chin up to look at him. “This is all so new for me. I guess I’m overwhelmed.” It wasn’t a lie; it was overwhelming this new life you made for yourself. “I know, Angel, this world is crazy, but you have me, okay? You don’t have anything to be afraid of.” He reassured you, but it didn’t help. You had lots to be afraid of. You were scared of your feelings for Eddie; you’re scared he doesn’t feel the same way.

Eddie saw the look on your face; your thoughts were spinning, and he saw the wheels in your head turning. He wanted to make it all go away. He needed to make you feel better, to turn off all your thoughts. Eddie did what he knew best; he leaned in to kiss you. It was unexpected. It caught you off guard but brought you back to reality. Eddie was soft and gentle. A peck was all it was, but it was more than that underneath. You two had something special, it was undeniable that you both felt it but were too chicken to admit it.

Eddie was the first to pull away once again, and you hated that he did. “Do you want to come inside?” You don’t know where that offer came from. This was not how the night was to end up. “Are you sure, Angel? You were ready to shoo me off your doorstep a minute ago.” He chuckled. “Do you want some coffee?” You started to unlock your door.

“I don’t think coffee is what I want to consume if I join because of how you’re wearing that dress…” He has that look again like he could eat you. A shiver runs down your spine. “I thought you were trying to be a gentleman? Am I not a Lady.” You turn in your doorway. “Yes, and a Lady she shall stay…for now.” He leaned in to give you one last head-spinning kiss. “Goodnight, Baby.” He takes your hand and raises it to his mouth. “Let me know when you get home safe.” You hum. Eddie has you hypnotized.

After seeing him get into the elevator, you lock your door and start to get unready. You plop down on your bed, makeup wipe in hand, feeling conflicted. On one hand, you have Eddie at your fingertips; on the other, you have your entire career to worry about. You ultimately decide that not sleeping with Eddie was the best choice. It keeps things simple and sure your pussy throbs whenever he kisses or touches you, but that would go away… right? You haven’t been touched in a while.…that’s all it is, so why can’t you help yourself from reaching down further until you feel your wet folds? You had no panties on; it wasn’t a lie on your part. You could feel your slick coating the tops of your inner thighs. You were so wet. How had you just noticed now? Your pussy was begging for attention. You had to give in.

You stripped off your dress you were laying there naked in your bed. You thought about how Eddie’s lips felt against yours, how his big hands felt when he rested them on your back and thigh while driving. You thought about what his skilled mouth was capable of. Your clit was screaming at you for relief as you teased yourself getting ready. You couldn’t take it anymore. You gave yourself the relief you needed, circling your clit with just the right amount of pressure. Your other hand explored your breasts, toying with each nipple that sent a sensation of pleasure straight to your pussy. You kept thinking about Eddie dominating you, how he would use such filthy words. Do you like being such a dirty little girl for me? Letting me use you as my little fuck toy? Such a good girl for me.

You imagined Eddie’s voice repeating those words repeatedly until your head was spinning, the coil in your lower belly was tightening, it was about to snap, so close, you curled harder and harder. You’re lost in the feeling; you don’t even realize your phone is ringing… until you do. It broke you out of the almost orgasm. Fuck you lost it.

You angrily look to see who is calling; your mood switches when you see the man of your fantasy face timing you, so you answer, not thinking about how you're naked. “Hey, pretty girl, made it home.” He smiled. It looked like he was sitting in his bed. “You made good time,” You say, panting, slowly regaining your breath. “Are you naked?!” Eddie's eyes bulge out of his head.

“Who is that, Daddy?” you both hear a small voice coming from Eddie’s end. “Shit,” he said under his breath before he continued, “Cupcake, go back to bed. It’s midnight, way past your bedtime!” He’s talking to his daughter, and you scramble to put on the old t-shirt you had lying on your bed from getting ready earlier.

“Is that Poppy?” You can hear the excitement in her voice. Who is Poppy? Did he have another girl around he didn’t tell you about? “Poppy? Who’s Poppy?” Eddie asks Violet Rose, confused. “POPPY! like Princess of POP!” She explains that he’s a moron. Eddie still doesn’t understand, so she continues, “You call her Angle; I call her Poppy because a Poppy is also a flower, just like me! VIOLET ROSE and POPPY” She spells it out for him. Your heart swells that they both have nicknames to use for you. “I like that, Vi. We can be flower power buddies.” You giggle at the nickname.

The padding of her feet sped up like she was running at the sound of your voice. Eddie shook on the screen before you, and he let out an “oof” sound. “Violet Rose, do not make me ask you again,” his voice was stern. “But Daddy, pleeeeeeease, I just want to say hi, and I’ll go to bed! I pinky promise!” You see her milk chocolate curls pop into view.

“Hiiiiiiiiiiii Poppy! You should come over to our house now you and Daddy are friends! You can come to my pool party! ” She is such a sweet kid. “Hi, cutie, I’ll have to ensure that’s okay with your Dad.” You reply, looking at him. Eddie’s brows furrow, thinking about if that’s a good idea or not?

“Cupcake, you said hello now go to bed,” Eddie chides. “Fine… byeeee!” She waves furiously at the phone camera and slumps off the bed out of view. “Sorry about her; she is very excitable when it comes to you. She hasn’t stopped talking about the concert,” he apologized. “It’s okay, baby; she’s adorable and a really sweet kid.” Baby, it just slipped out. You try and play it off like nothing happened, but Eddie couldn’t allow that.

“Baby, huh? I thought we were off duty?” He slides down his pillows, resting a hand behind his head, propping his head up. You can see the swell of his bicep flexing behind his head, and you blush at the accusation. “Off the clock or not, there is no denying you’re a babe. Some may even say DILF,” What had gotten into you?! Maybe it was all that fancy Italian wine from the restaurant; that was it, definitely. “DILF, huh? What exactly were you doing when I called?” his tone changed. It was sultry and deep, and it shot right through to your core. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” Two can play at this game. “Where you touching yourself, Angel?” He questioned. “Mr. Munson, I have never!” You throw your hand up to your chest dramatically. This made Eddie laugh, so you loved the sound of his laugh and the way his eyes crinkled, making his crow's feet even more pronounced.

“Please, Sweetheart, Mr. Munson is my uncle, don’t make me feel that old.” He shook his head. “Do you think I was touching myself to the thought of you? You dirty old man?” You couldn’t keep a straight face. You let out a barked laugh and apologized. “I’m sorry,” you say between giggles. “I’ll never say that again! I think it’s the wine; my head feels loopy.” You slunk back into your pillows and rested your head. Eddie just laughed in return but thought you were cute and funny. You were easy to talk to. “You look awfully comfortable, Princess.” He wished he was lying beside you. “Wish you were joining me,” you half whispered while fighting to keep your eyes open. “Yeah, me too. Sweet dreams, Angel." Eddie whispers in return. You think you’re dreaming it as you drift off.

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

The next morning, Roger called to give you an update. “You guys sure sold it last night, let me tell ya! You sure you don’t want to go into acting?” He questioned, “Oh Rog, come on, I’m not that good of an actor,” you brush off. “Sweetheart, please, I saw the video on TMZ, the way Eddie blew up at that pap for bumping into you? Genius!” He exclaimed.

“It wasn’t just a bump, they grabbed me.” You huffed. “Well, whatever happened, I’m glad you’re okay, and you have everyone talking about the both of you!” The plan truly was working, so why did you feel so shitty? “Does the contract say anything about restrictions about when we see one another?” you ask, biting your perfectly manicured thumb. “No, why do you ask?” Roger asks, confused. “Well, his daughter invited me to her pool party, and I was thinking about going?” You had to play this off right; you can’t let Roger know your true feelings and call the whole thing off. “Can’t see anything wrong with that, I suppose? It will make it look more real if you’re seen going over to his house, if anything! Give me a time and address, and I’ll set it up.” He chimed.

Shit, this is not what you wanted.

“Uh, I’m not sure I want the paps around because of his kid; it doesn’t feel right. What if I just do more social media postings?” You rush out. “Fine, but send it to me first; I must approve everything.” Roger commanded.“Ok, thanks, Rog,” you sighed with relief. “Bye, sweetheart.” He hung up.

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

A week later, you arrive at Eddie’s house around 1:00 p.m. and hear your song blasting from the speakers, which you presume are in the backyard. You make your way around to the side gate Eddie said for you to come through since that’s where all of them were. You walk around the garden to see 7 little girls splashing in the swimming pool and poor Eddie looking so stressed about being the only supervisor. You let out a soft giggle to yourself when you take him in. He was such a girl dad; you could see he had bright pink and blue nail polish that was clearly done by a child. His hair was up in a high ponytail with different butterfly clips pinning his bangs back, glitter in his beard, and he had on purple eyeshadow that matched the glittery purple feather boa wrapped around his neck. It was a great contrast to the all-black ensemble he was sporting. It made your heart melt to see him being such a good sport about all of this. You could tell he literally would do anything to make his child happy.

“I see you are testing out a new stage look.” You motion up and down. Eddie doesn’t care; he immediately embraces you in a tight hug. “Thank god you’re here!” You can feel the stress in his body melt away when you hug him back. “Of course, I’ll do anything for Vi.” You smiled up at him, making the butterflies in his stomach come to life. Eddie was simp, and he knew it. You’re everything he has ever wanted; he just had to convince you he was what you needed. “That bad, huh?” You cock your head to the side. Eddie could kiss you, and he would if his daughter wasn’t five feet away from him. “You know, I thought I would be okay. I’ve done this before, but now she is twelve and a preteen, and I don’t know what I am doing anymore. Soon, she will be a teenager, and I’m going to be the guy she won’t come to for advice, and she will be drinking and partying and the BOYS! Oh god, the boys! Or girls, you never know? I don’t care, but I can’t deal with anyone breaking her heart and-” “Eddie, breathe.” You touch his biceps, rubbing your hands up and down, grounding him back to reality. “I can handle this; why don’t you go have a smoke, take a breather, grab some water or maybe something stronger, and I’ll be right here watching them, okay?” Your vanilla cinnamon perfume is wafting his senses, calming him down. You were grounding him, letting him know you’re here for him. He didn’t think he could fall for you any harder, but here you are, showing up for him and his baby girl.

Eddie returned back to the yard about twenty minutes later. In all honesty, he had needed two cigarettes to calm himself. When he finished his smoke break, he grabbed a tray and brought out glasses of lemonade for everyone. He walked back out and was stopped in his tracks; he was taking you in for the first time that day. The sight of you in your Barbie pink bathing suit, the same one from that music video. You have all the girls lined up, teaching them some choreography you learned from the same music video. You were so patient and kind and looked so good in that bathing suit. Eddie forgot where he was for a moment; his mind flashed to him between your legs, shifting that small piece of nylon to the side so he could ravish you.

“Dad, look what we learned!” His thoughts were cut off by the sweet voice of his daughter. Fucking hell, Munson get it together, he scolded himself. You were like a damn succubus pulling him into a dirty world he never wanted to escape from. “Looking good, ladies.” He couldn’t peel his eyes away from you; the way your hips shifted side to side, it was all innocent, of course, but that didn’t change the fact that Eddie couldn’t help himself.

“Daddy, is Poppy your girlfriend?” Eddie's head snapped up from the conversation he was having with you at the head of the table while the rest of the girls were having their sandwiches. His head snaps back to you, then back to Violet Rose, “Well-” he clears his throat, thinking about his options. He could tell Vi and the rest of her friends the truth and have to risk them blabbing to their parents and getting the story leaked, or he could lie to his daughter…

Eddie grabs your hand. “You see, Vi, Angel is very special to me.” Not a lie. “So she and I have gone out on some dates.” This is also not a lie. “So, yes, she is my girlfriend.” Also, not technically a lie? “Why is she your girlfriend?” This was Violet Roses's first experience with her father dating someone and, on top of that, dating someone so publicly, but this was not a question Eddie was prepared for. “Um, well, Cupcake,” Eddie was now looking you dead in the eyes. “When you find someone that makes you happy, you want to be with that person… commit to that person. She is kind, she is funny and easy to talk to. She understands what it’s like to be in this crazy world we call Hollywood. She knows how to make me feel cared for and respected. When you find someone like that, you never want to let them go, so you ask them to be with you… that’s why she is my-my girlfriend.” The words spewed out of Eddie like word vomit.

He admitted to many preteen girls his admiration for you and felt his cheeks turning bright red. He will blame the sun. A bunch of “awwwwwes” escaped the table, even if you looked at him like he just gave you the world.

“Who wants ice cream?” He shot up from the table and started walking inside.

“Wow, you almost convinced me you really meant what you were saying.” Eddie jumped, not thinking you had followed him back into the house. “Uhhh yeah- totally.” He cleared his throat. “You really had me going there; you sure you’re also not an actor?” You giggle a little bit uncomfortably. You had wished his words were sincere. He shook his head no and went to the freezer to get the ice cream to make milkshakes. “um, so anyways…Roger said we needed to take pictures together and post them.” You changed the subject. “Oh, um, okay, I guess yeah, why not?” Eddie was visibly frazzled, and you still think it’s because of the party.

“Here, let me get this for them? You go get freshened up, and we can take some pictures, okay?” you give him a soft smile. “What, I look that bad, Princess? Don’t want to be seen with an old man?” He scoffs. “Oh, um, I mean, if you want the whole world to see badass Eddie Munson looking like Violet Rose’s personal Barbie Styling Head, then by all means,” You giggle. Eddie had totally forgotten about the little makeover the girls gave him this entire time.“Shit,” he ran to the bathroom to fix himself.

“She going to be my mom”

“You’re so lucky! I wish she would be my mom!”

“You already have a mom. And I don't! ”

Those are the words you overhear when you go back outside with the assortment of different flavour milkshakes. Oh fuck.

“Who wants ice cream?” You ask in a sing-song voice, changing the subject immediately.

Eddie returned about ten minutes later to take an assortment of pictures and send them to Roger for approval. Roger sends you back the ones you can post on your main feed and your stories. He assigned you and Eddie each your own ones to post.

The one of you standing by Eddie's side and him kissing your cheek and Violet Rose with the biggest smile on her face in front of the both of you was your favourite. You got to post that one, and Eddie got to post the one of you and Violet Rose holding hands and dancing. The internet went wild. Everyone was saying how you were such a cute family, how everyone shipped the two of you. It seemed like your perfect little world wasn’t so fake after all? Maybe it could be real?

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

Being Eddie Munson's fake girlfriend was a dream. He took you out on dates; most were planned by the publicity team, but he would ask you to see him without them knowing because he “wanted to see one another without paparazzi.” He pampered you like no other man had in the past, and he wasn’t even your real boyfriend. He likes to buy you things, little things he sees that remind him of you. The last thing he got you were matching bunny slippers with Violet Rose because “you’re just so cute.”

Things between the two of you were becoming routine. You would go over to his house after long studio sessions. You would hang out with Violet Rose even if Eddie wasn’t home yet. You were becoming very attached to her. She would always be able to bring your mood up no matter how you were feeling. Around 4:30p.m, you’d gotten a call from Eddie, who was panicked. “I’m so sorry. I hate to ask this of you, but the nanny had a family emergency, and I won’t be home until I don’t even know when? I didn’t have anyone else to call, and I trust you with her, so can you stay with VR until I get home?” He was frantic. Your heart fluttered that he trusted you enough to watch over Vi. “Eddie, it’s okay, I’m free to watch her- Oh! We can have a pyjama party! We can paint our nails, do some face masks, eat junk food, and watch movies! Oh, it will be so fun!” You hear Eddie release the breath that he was holding.“Thank you so much. You truly are my Angel. You’re sure you’re okay with this?” you can hear the worry in his voice, so you reassure him that it will only be a few hours and everything will be okay.

“Baby Munson?! Your dad is running late, so it’s just us girls for now; you okay with that?” you smiled at her after the Nanny let you in as she was dashing out the door. “OH EM GEEEEEEE!” She jumped up and down with excitement. You had packed your bag with all the essentials for the ultimate slumber party. You had stopped at the store to get sheet masks, candies and chips, and some teen magazines with those fun quizzes. “Go put in your pyjamas. We are having a slumber party!” You told her and went to the bathroom to change into yours, only you realize that you had forgotten the most important part of the pyjama party, the pyjamas. Shit

You exit the bathroom still in your jeans and t-shirt as Violet storms down the stairs, sounding like a herd of Elephants. “Where are your pj’s?” she asks. “Silly me was too excited about getting all the supplies. I forgot to pack them,” You admit. “That's okay, you can wear my dad’s! He lets me sleep in his old t-shirts all the time!” She tugs your hand before you can protest and drags you to his room.

“Violet, are you sure it’s okay for me to be in here?” You take in Eddie’s bedroom. It seems very intimate to be inside someone's personal space. Violet Rose rifles through Eddie’s armour and passes you a faded Corroded Coffin tour shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants.

“Are you sure this is okay?” You ask her again. “Yeah, you’re his girlfriend? Why wouldn’t it be?” She quizzes you. She makes a very good point. You huff in defeat and walk to the bathroom to change.

As you exit, Vi has a hoard of blankets in her hands that you can only see her feet and the top of her head.

“Let's make a fort!” you hear her muffled cheers. “Ok, you get started, I’ll order pizza.” You smile.

You walk into the living room to tell her that the pizza should arrive soon. “You look cozy,” She says as you enter the family room. Violet runs and jumps into your arms, giving you a big hug. “So do you, baby Munson.” You giggle. After the fort was constructed and too many slices of pizza were consumed, you start painting one another nails. Violet Rose chose her favourite colour for you, purple, not surprisingly… and you chose pink for her. “I’m really happy you’re my dad's girlfriend.” She says while stuffing her face with a brownie. “I am, too.” you try not to blush. “He is a lot happier now you’re here.” She spews out nonchalantly. “What makes you say that?” You question. “He is always humming now; sometimes, I’ll catch him humming your songs. And he is playing the guitar more and writing love songs.” She shrugs her shoulders. “How would you know he is writing love songs?” You look at her quizzically. “I went into his music room and saw them on the table! One of them was titled Forever My Angel! Wanna see!” her eyes go wide god, they are just like her father's. “No, sweetheart, I wouldn’t want to see something he isn’t ready to show me.” You continue to paint her other hand even though you're screaming at yourself for not peaking. “Oh, and he lets me get away with not doing my chores as much, annnnnd he told me a secret. Oh no! I wasn’t supposed to tell you that! Oops!” she covered her mouth with both hands, making the nail brush paint across her fingers. “A secret, huh? Your Daddy talking about me when I’m not around?” Your heart swelled at the thought.

The lines of what was real and what was fake were becoming extremely blurred. Violet Rose nodded hesitantly. “It’s okay, don’t tell me, if it is supposed to be a secret, then it will stay a secret.” You wipe off the excess polish off of her fingers.

The rest of the night was filled with Disney princess movies, more junk food, and pre-teen romance quizzes; according to yours, you were destined to be with Harry Styles, and Violet was most compatible with Ross Lynch. Time flew by with Violet; after you cleaned up your mess, you snuggled back into the fort with her to put on the next movie. She chose the Disney movie Brave and said it was one of her favourites. You haven’t even noticed the time when you put on the movie; it was already quarter to midnight, and Eddie still wasn’t home.

Eddie walked into his house at 12:49 p.m. He had a whole speech prepared about how sorry he was, that they were on a roll and couldn’t stop recording until it was perfection. Eddie followed the sound of the TV calling your name a few times, but with no luck, you didn’t answer. Eddie rounded the corner to see the tented blankets and the couch cushions disassembled. He skimmed to himself and walked around to see if you guys were still in there. Sure enough, he sees both of you tucked up into one another, sleeping. Eddie’s heart swelled; he couldn’t picture a more perfect thing to come home to. It also didn’t escape him that you had on that old Corroded Coffin shirt, their first-ever tour merchandise. Eddie wanted to crawl in and be there with the two of you, but he thought better than to disrupt you. You were probably exhausted. You looked so peaceful he didn’t want to wake you, so he let you sleep.

You wake up the following day to the smell of pancakes and a massive crick in your neck. You open your eyes to a sheet suspended above your head. What the? The reality of where you are hits you. As your bones and joints start popping and cracking, you slowly shuffle out of the fort and make your way to the kitchen.

You could hear Eddie and Violet Rose singing Sweet Caroline. When you rounded the corridor, you saw Eddie had a wooden mixing spoon aimed at Violet like a microphone. You take in the sight and let out a small giggle.

“Good morning, Sunshine.” Eddie grinned at you.“Good morning,” you replied sheepishly. Was he annoyed you spent the night?

“Vi, go brush your teeth before you eat,” Eddie insisted.

He was plating the pancakes, and you glued over the counter it looked like an assortment of plain, chocolate chip, and blueberry.

“I’ll bet ten grand that kid didn’t brush them last night.” He winked at you over his shoulder. “Sorry,” You nervously bit your thumbnail and sat on the barstool. “I am only teasing you, Angel; I’m very grateful you watched over her last night.” He slid a pancake on your plate.

“I’m sorry for spending the night. I didn’t plan on it. You should have woken me up.” You fiddled with the hem of Eddie’s shirt you borrowed. “Nah, doll face, couldn’t do that to you; you were a literal Angel sleeping in my clothes…” Eddie bit his lip, eyeing you up and down.

“I’m sorry, out of all the things I forgot to pack for a slumber party, and Vi said it was okay, especially because I’m your “girlfriend,” You air quoted. “Mi casa es tu casa.” Eddie leaned back on the counter, spreading his arms wide and showing you his home.

“Well, um, thank you.” you tuck a piece of tussled hair behind your ear. “I should be the one thanking you, sweetheart. Truly owe you one, big time.” He sat down on the stool beside you. “It was my pleasure. Turns out being your fake girlfriend is more fun than I thought,” you said in a hushed tone, just in case Violet Rose had already come back down the stairs.

Eddie cleared his throat. He hated that this was all still supposed to be fake when he was catching feelings. He was one big fat simp for you. The guys don’t let him forget it. He talks about you when he is with them; he’s even writing songs about you. You’ve become his muse, saving grace, and Angel and he will eventually win you over. He had to, or else it would kill him if he didn’t…

“I, uh, shit… I couldn't have asked for a better person to be my fake girlfriend.” He shook his head. Way to play it cool, Munson.

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

It’s been over 4 months since your deal with Eddie was signed, and nothing has died down. Both you and Eddie are being individually followed by the paparazzi when you’re out doing regular things, like when you’re running errands or when he is picking up Vi from school.

"Roger suggested we go on a shopping date together. Can you help me pick an outfit for Corroded Coffin's album release party this weekend?" You convince Eddie to go out shopping with you. Anyone who is anyone will be there. The guest list is star-studded, and it was a crucial night, not only to solidify your “relationship” with the public as you would be showing your support for your man but also to Eddie. He was very nervous about what everyone would think was the first new music they released in almost a decade. You being there for him meant everything.

Walking down the streets of Hollywood hand in hand, not missing the distinct clicks of the cameras, you enter the designer boutique. “So what’s the vibe for the party?” you question, skimming some dresses hanging on the wall. “Hmmm, I guess, metal…obviously. Dark, electric, sexy.” He hummed into your ear. An electric current coursed through your veins and down your spine. “Ok, not usually my go-to look, but I can make it work.” You whisper.

“You can make anything work.” Eddie slid a finger around your shoulder, moving your hair out of the way and down your back, stopping to rest it on your tailbone. “Hi, how can I help you today?” the salesperson greets the two of you. “We are here to find my girl an outfit for this weekend,” Eddie quickly replies. The way he says my girl shouldn’t get you as worked up as it does. You knew he was just putting it on. “Brilliant! what’s the occasion?” They ask with a smile. You rest your hand on Eddie’s chest, and you can feel his heart racing. “This sexy guy's album release party, have to look extra good to let him know how proud I am.” You look up to Eddie, staring down at you with a smile plastered to his face. After telling them more about the event, the floor worker shows you around and helps pick a few options. Eddie is sat by the changing rooms, champagne in hand, waiting for your little fashion show. You show him outfit after outfit, but none of them are working you like you wanted, until the last one.

You looked at yourself in the changing room mirror. You wore a Dolce and Gabbana sheer black lace corset that was practically lingerie and a tight black leather mini skirt that showed off all the right curves paired with thigh-high shiny black stiletto boots. This was 100% the winner, and you wanted it to surprise Eddie. “You coming out, Princess or do you need my help?” Eddie giggled into his champagne glass.

“Nope, you’re not seeing this until Saturday.” You stared to undress. “What, that’s not fair.” You could hear the pout in his voice. “I promise it will be Corroded Coffin approved.” You swing open the curtain, showing you are back in your back dressed in your signature pastel-coloured pallet. “I think I should at least get to see what I’m buying for you,” Eddie’s hand resting on the small of your back, leading you to the checkout counter. “You’re not paying for it?” You question him, confused. “Yes, I am.” He stops at the counter.

You place your clothes down and reach for your wallet, but Eddie is already handing over his black card before you can even unzip it. You open your mouth to protest, but Eddie is giving you that don’t be a brat look. “Thank you, but you didn’t have to do this.” You sigh. “Just want to take care of my girl.” He places a kiss on the top of your head.

There he goes again with those words that make your knees feel like jello. “The both of you are seriously so cute; thank you for shopping; enjoy the party!” The sales clerk waves you goodbye, and you do your best not to wobble with your Bambi knees.

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

The Party is in full swing by 9:30 p.m., and you’re running a bit late due to your hair and makeup stylists; you have texted Eddie an apology, and he tells you not to stress. You leave the car at 9:55 p.m. and into the event with no issues. The paparazzi cameras flash, and you smile and give your name to the doorman.

“Ah yes, here you are, our special guests plus one. Go right on in. I’m sure it won’t be hard to find them.” He gave you a wink as you passed by.

Inside, it looked like a vampire's nightclub. All black, everything with gold and red accents, the lights were dim and moody. You definitely dressed the part. You had on the outfit you bought at the boutique, matched with a matte smoked-out dark eyeshadow with a glossy red lip and a slicked-back updo. You clutched your bag, grabbed a glass of whatever the servers were handing out on the silver trays and scanned the room for your date. Like the doorman said, you spotted him instantly. He was on an elevated platform with the rest of the band, mingling with the other VIP guests.

You approached the roped-off area, and the big security guard asked for your name. “No need, she’s with me.” Eddie let him know and stepped aside. Eddie took your hand to help you up the stairs. His eyes scanned you, and he subconsciously licked his lips as he blatantly checked you out. “I’m not even mad that you’re late, you look… wow… delicious, shit-no-I mean, incredible.” Eddie scolds himself. “Thank you, handsome; you look delicious yourself.” You kiss his cheek and give a one-arm hug hello.

“You think I’m joking, Princess? I’m not.” He whispers in your ear, making the chills come back to your skin. “Come, I want you to meet the band.” He guides you to sit with the rest of them. “Angel, this is Gareth, Jeff and Felix” You give a small wave, awestruck at who you’re meeting. “It’s so nice to meet you guys. My parents are huge fans, I grew up with your music in the house practically 24/7.”

“Way to make us feel old Angel.” Eddie leaned in and stroked your back. “I really don’t mean to.” You pout, not thinking. Eddie wants to kiss the pout right off your face, but not now; you will have lots of time for that later. “It’s nice to meet you, Angel,” Felix smiles.

You thought of correcting him and giving him your actual name, but you liked this newfound name Eddie has given you; it’s cute and makes you think of him whenever you hear the word. “So, how did you and Eddie meet?” Jeff asks, sitting back on the black velvet booth bench. You didn’t know if they knew or not? Did he tell them this was fake? You stutter a bit before Eddie takes over. “We met at her meet and greet when I took Violet Rose to her concert.” Simple, and the truth. “Your concert? So you some kind of singer,” Gareth questioned.

You weren’t offended, you didn’t expect them to know who you were, hell, you didn’t expect someone like Eddie to know who you were either. “Hey man, don’t be a dick” Eddie tightened his grip around your waist, his fingers buried into the soft flesh that made your skin tingle.

“Baby, it’s fine! They aren’t really my demographic.” You giggle, finally taking a sip of what seemed to be champagne in the black glass flute. Eddie's eyes blow wide open at the pet name, not very subtle Munson.

You continue speaking after your first sip. “Yeah, I’m a singer; I just finished my first headliner tour.” You smile, proud of your accomplishment.

“Angel here has the most beautiful voice you’ve ever heard, give them a few bars .” Eddie was proud and not a fake proud. He wanted to show you off and stake his claim. This feeling was so new to him, in his younger days he would just be with another pretty face but none of them ever made him feel like you do. When you were near, he always wanted to be touching you, never wanting to let you out of his sight, not in a creepy overbearing way but in a way that he was proud to be seen with you.

“Never seen you this smitten before, Munson did not think I would see the day.” Felix chimed in. “I really thought you were catfishing this poor ol’man. Nice to see you’re actually real. I couldn’t believe it when he told us he was dating someone. It's been years since Sarafina!” Gareth laughs. You snap your head to look at Eddie beside you and back at Gareth. “Did you just say Sarafina?” Your eyes bug out of your skull. Sarafina as in superstar runway model, academy award-winning actress Sarafina?! “What the fuck, Gareth!” Eddie scolds along with the other two bandmates.

“Oops,” Gareth shrinks back into his chair. “No more drinks for you, man.” Jeff takes away his glass of whiskey. “Is that Violet Rose’s mom?!” It's all clicking for you, of course; that gorgeous little girl’s mother is the most beautiful woman on the planet; she looks just like her!

Eddie can see the wheels in your head spinning. “She doesn’t know who her mom is, so please don’t say anything to her.” Eddie pleads. “Of course.” You grab Eddie’s hand and give it a squeeze. “Thank you.” He gives a small smile. “You dated Sarafina?” you half-whisper. “It was a long time ago. We were young and so dumb. We were partying so much I hardly even remember that week. Vi wasn’t planned. Sara didn’t want a kid, so she asked me to keep it hush-hush so she could live normally after the baby was born. No one knows except our inner circle.” Eddie sighed. You were surprised he was divulging all of this to you. Was it to make you feel better? Or was it to protect Vi? Probably the latter.

“Your secret is safe with me; I would do anything to protect that little pumpkin.” You smiled. Eddie felt his heart swell at the way you spoke about his baby girl; she is the light of his whole life, and for you to protect her made Eddie’s admiration for you grow tenfold. “Looks like you got yourself a keeper, Eds.” Jeff smiles at you and his best friend. “Yeah, I picked a good one.” He kisses your cheek, and you can’t help but feel butterflies.

As the night went on, several more drinks were had, and more dancing was done, more so you than Eddie. He mostly sat back and watched you sway your hips in that tiny dress that hardly covered your ass and those heels that made your legs look long and mouthwatering. He had to keep conscious not to pop a boner in the club, his unforgiving leather pants would not aid him.

You can feel Eddie eye fucking you as you dance the night away. The music was blasting, the alcohol was flowing, not enough to where you were drunk but enough to have a nice buzz that your inhibitions were slowly lifting, giving you the confidence to pull Eddie up to dance with you. “No, no, no, Sweetheart, I am excellent right here.” Eddie shakes his head.

“Eddie pleeeeeeease, I have no one else to dance with” You gave Eddie that little pout he cannot seem to resist. He throws his head back in defiance and gives in you your request letting you pull him out of the padded booth and into your arms. You start off slow to ease him into it. He is awkward and stiff. You see why he didn’t want to get up. A small giggle leaves your lips, and Eddie groans. “This is why I don’t dance, I don’t know how” He pinches his brows looking down at you.

“Come on, baby, you’re musically inclined; just find the beat and move your hips with mine.” You spin around so your ass is to his crotch, grab both hands and pin them to your hips so he can follow along. Eddie is stiffer than a board. He needed to loosen up, but how can he when you’re pressed up to him so close like this? He was struggling not to pop a boner just watching you. He can feel your cheeks pressed up against his shaft. He can smell your strawberry shampoo mixed with your vanilla cinnamon perfume, tingling his senses. He is snapped out of his trance when he feels your ass is sweeping across his dick.

“Eddie, you need to follow my lead. Move your hips.” You look over your shoulder to see his jaw clenched, eyes black with lust. Your hips slow down, dipping from side to side until Eddie starts to follow along. You smile up at him when he finally gets a feel for it. You grid your ass into the partial hard-on you can feel him sporting. You bring an arm up to rest on the back of his neck, and you can feel a brave hand run up from your hip to your middle and back down again. Eddie is feeling more confident. He can’t believe he is in a club grinding with you at his age, but hell, this is Corroded Coffin’s night, and he will live it up.

The song went on, and Eddie's semi didn’t take long to become a full-fledged chubby. “I don’t think you understand your power over me, Angel.” You can feel Eddie’s head dipped lower, his hot breath masking your ear. The heat rose to your cheeks as he dug his hips into the flesh of your ass, really showing you what he means. Your head is spinning too much to think of a witty comeback, so you rest your head on his shoulder, pushing your hips further into Eddie's crotch.

“Do you realize what you’re doing to me, little one?” His breath is hot on your neck; you feel his lips graze over that sensitive spot, and you moan. Eddie doesn’t hear it over the loud base but knows he is riling you up. You quickly turn around to face him, surprising him with your sudden movement. You gently graze your hand up Eddie’s inner thigh to his stomach, grazing his hard cock.

“I think I have a big idea of what I’m doing to you.” It wasn’t hard to miss. You could feel how big he was through his pants. Your mouth watered at the thought of what he could do with it. Eddie pinned your hands against him.. “There you go again, teasing me.” He growled through gritted teeth. “My mouth can do a better job of teasing you than my words can.” You speak into the crook of his neck, testing the waters, and you give a small nibble, leaving a lipstick stain.

Before you knew what was happening, Eddie was pulling you back to the VIP section; tossed you your purse and pulled you out of the club doors. His grip is strong not enough to hurt but it is firm. Not another word had been spoken as you exit through the back. A black car pulls up and Eddie opens the door for you and guides you into the back seat. Dread starts to fill you, you’ve gone too far, and he wants you to leave. Why can’t you just stick to the stupid contract?

“Where, too?” the driver asks as you get in. Eddie gives the man your address, and your heart sinks; you feel the tears well in your eyes. You feel stupid for ever thinking this was more than a contractual obligation for him. Fuck, you think back about earlier in the night and remember that he had arguably the most beautiful woman on the planet before you, so why would he ever settle for you? The car door shuts like it is the final nail in the coffin. Ironic, isn’t it?

You’re so distracted, eyes blurry from fighting back tears, that you don’t see Eddie run around the other side of the car and let himself in. Your trance is broken when you hear a second door close, and you snap your head up. “What are you doing?” You try and calm your voice, not to let him see your tremble. His hands are clenched in a fist. “Taking you home.” Your shoulders sank, and not another word was said for the rest of the way home.

You get out of the car before Eddie can run around the side to open it for you; when you turn, he rolls his eyes, and your heart sinks even lower than you thought possible.

The walk from the parking lot to the elevator to your front door was dead silent. Eddie shifted uncomfortably from side to side, fist still balled up as you rode up to the 16th floor. You unlock your door, step in, and whisper a quick thank you and goodnight before Eddie stops you. “What are you doing?” He asks.

“I-well-umm-” “Don’t think you’re getting off that easy, sweetheart,” He whispers, tucking a piece of fallen hair behind your ear. It makes a shiver run down your spine. He was so close, close enough to kiss. “I’m sorry I’ve taken things too far. I overstepped your boundaries. I understand we can stop pretending now. There aren’t any more cameras.” You hold back a sniffle. “Does this feel like I’m pretending?” He glides your hand down his middle over his pants to the hard bulge between his legs; a soft gasp leaves your throat when Eddie waists no time melting his lips onto yours. He continues to kiss you as he walks you back into your apartment. He kicks the door shut and fiddles with the lock behind his back until he hears a click, not breaking contact with your lips the entire time. You melted into his touch; the taste of his lips was addicting, and you never wanted to stop kissing this man. “Eddie, what is happening?” You ask as he breaks the contact and starts to kiss down your neck, hitting that spot that made your knees buckle so hard he has to catch you. “What is happening, little one, is that you’re going to take me to your bedroom, and I will show you how you’ve been making me feel for the last five months. What will happen is that I will have my way with you, understood?” Your heart flutters. You dumbly nod your head. The moment you’ve been hoping for is finally coming to fruition.

“Now go into the room and get ready for me, I’ll be there in just a minute.” You turn and walk into your room and throw all of your clothes left out from getting ready into your closet not caring they’re tossed haphazardly, that will be a tomorrow problem. You check yourself out in your floor-length mirror and fix your hair and lift up your boobs in to corset before Eddie walks back in. You turn and think of where to go? Stay standing in the room? No, that’s awkward. Should you sit on the bed? Do you lay down? Kneel? Yes, kneel. You want to show him how good you are at listening to him.

You get down on the floor at the foot of your bed facing the door, and Eddie walks in a few seconds later, looking like the definition of sex. You can smell his intoxicating cologne as he gets closer. He’s pulled back his hair into a low bun at the nape of his neck. His button-up shirt is now unbuttoned and untucked from his tight black slacks. Your mouth waters at the signs of Eddie’s skin being exposed to you. His “dad bod,” which wasn’t really a “dad bod,” was still quite fit, not as fit was when he was in his 20s, but it was doing it for you. You notice how his chest and shoulders were filled out when he stepped closer to you, letting the shirt fall to the floor behind him. “Ohhh oh oh- Look at you, such a good girl for me,” he praised as he took a few steps closer to you. You subconsciously wiggled your hips when you heard him continue to speak. “You want to be a good girl for me, don't you?” The back of Eddie’s hand gently stroked your cheek as he looked down at you. You could see the hunger in his eyes as you looked up at him. He wants this just as much as you do, maybe even more. “Answer me, Angel.” he tilted your chin up towards him. “Yes,” you answer. “Yes, what?” His tone was firm, and it made your pussy tingle. “Yes…Sir?” You tested the waters.

“Pretty and smart.” he bends down and brings your face up to meet him halfway to kiss you; you can’t help but moan into his mouth. “Tell me you want this as much as I do; I need to know.” His chest heaved up and down with anticipation. “I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want you in the moment,” you admit. He lets go of your face, and you sink back to your kneeling position. “Let’s see if you were all talk earlier, hmm? I’m going to put that mouth to good use.” He unbuttons and unzips his pants tantalizingly slow. You raise to your knees and pull his pants out of the way, and he lets you this time.

“You want to be my good girl, don't you?” He stroked your cheek and bit your lip. “Yes, that’s all I want.” You lean into his touch.

“Then show me, Angel” Eddie takes his throbbing cock out of his briefs, and your eyes go wide at the sight of him. What first caught your attention was that he is pierced. The silver ball sticking out of the tip was the first thing that caught your eye, not the fact that he was big, long, thick and veiny. The red tip leaking pre cum, just begging for attention. Intimidating was one way to put it. You hadn’t been with anyone in a few years. A hesitant hand gently grips his thick shaft; your hand looks tiny compared to his size, “Don’t be scared, little one. I won’t hurt you.” He looks down at you, stroking your cheek.

You tentatively kiss the tip with your glossy, red lips. Your lips catch the silver ball, and you twirl it around on your tongue. Eddie, let’s put a moan of pleasure, and it entices you to keep going. You swirl your tongue over the tip even more, taking in the metallic, briny, salty taste that was wholly Eddie. You bob your head lower to take in more of him, enjoying the weight of him on your tongue. You can feel the vein under his shaft brush against your wet lip as you slowly drag your head back. Eddie places a hand on the back of your head, and you look up at him. His eyes were glazed over with lust. Eddie could not believe he was here with you right now. “Fucking hell, Princess, you’re taking me so well.” Eddie praised. Your siren eyes looked up at him as your plump red lips swallowed him even further.

How he looks down at you makes you want to do so well for him, to be his good girl. You take him as far as your throat will let you. You breathe through it, using your hand to grip the rest of the exposed shaft. Your hand and head moved in tandem; it was messy and hot. Your smudged lipstick rubbed off on him, only making the tip look more angry.

“I need you. Bed. Now.” Eddie's strong arms lift you up by your armpits, and he tosses you onto the bed. You giggle when you land with a soft thump on your hands and knees. A strong hand grazes down your back, unzipping the designer corset top. You shimmy the straps down and top it haphazardly into the room. Eddie’s hand traces down your back to the curve of your ass. A small slap echos the quiet room, your back arches into his hand, and you let out a mmmpf. Eddie smirks as he kicks off his pants so he’s fully naked. You turn over, propping yourself on your elbows as your eyes rake him in in his entirety. His thick muscles made you feel tiny in his presence but also made you feel protected and safe with him here in front of you. You were drinking in his tattoos covering his chest and arms; he has a large snake running down his rib cage around his abs, ending just below his happy trail, which you now see for the first time.

“Take a picture, sweet thing. It'll last longer.” He smirked before crawling over you, and you rolled your eyes in return. He placed both hands beside your head as he leaned in to kiss your mouth, then moved to kiss down your neck, hitting that same spot again, making you sigh with pleasure. “Let me hear you, sweetheart,” he coos into your ear. That oh-so-familiar feeling of your throbbing in your core sends you into a frenzy. You moan out his name as he slithers down your chest.

“Prettiest set of tits I’ve ever seen,” he mumbles into the swell of your breast. You arch your back into Eddie’s mouth as his hot tongue flicks your nipple. Eddie loves that you’re so reactive to him. He latched onto your second nipple, swirling his tongue around until the little peak formed. He continued kissing down your stomach, kissing every inch until he found the hem of your skirt. “You’ve been teasing me with this all night, Angel.” He tucks his thick-ringed fingers around your skirt's waistband and rips it down your legs, taking your panties with it. You let out a small yelp at the speed at which you’re now naked.

He finally reaches where you’ve been neglected the most. He kisses your mound softly before he sits back on his heels to take you all in. “I knew you would have such a pretty little pussy. Open up for me, baby. Let me see.” His eyes felt like they were burning into your soul. You couldn’t look away as you slowly obeyed his request. You slid your knees apart, opening up for Eddie. It is like he has you in a trace; you want to do everything and anything he asks of you.

“Oh Angel, Look how beautiful you look, all spread out and ready for me. You’re such a good girl getting so wet just for me. You're all mine, aren't you?” Eddie kissed down your inner thigh, agonizingly slow until he broke contact just as he reached your dripping core. “Don’t make me ask you again, Princess. You won’t like what happens if I have to ask you again.” He warns. You rush out your answer to his question.

“Yes, Edd-” He gives you a look of warning. “Yes, Sir-” you correct yourself. “-it’s only for you OH ooooh,” Eddie latches his mouth onto your cunt without hesitation. He is a man starved, starved for 6 years, but who’s counting? It’s hard to date, never mind sleep with people as a single Dad with a younger child.

“That’s it, baby, let me hear you scream my name.” Eddie slips a thick finger into your dripping hole. “OH! Eddie! Baby, yes, just like that!” He grazes your velvety walls in a spot you didn’t know existed until this moment. Eddie continuously pumps his fingers in and out, making your eyes roll back into your head. You feel Eddie moan into your pussy. The vibrations from his mouth on your clit send you over the edge, your walls clench around his fingers, and the rush in your pussy consumes your body as all your muscles tense.

“That's it, little one, that's it, just let go, let yourself feel good.” You felt so taken care of; this is all new for you. Your past partners never looked after you like Eddie is doing. They always chased after their own orgasms, leaving you feeling used. Overwhelmed by the feeling of being taken care of, a tear escapes your lashes, and you quickly wipe it away, embarrassed that you’re crying during sex with someone for the first time. Eddie slithers his way back up to kiss you. “Don’t worry, baby, I got you,” He stroked your cheek, leaning in and giving you a head-spinning kiss. “I don’t even know why I’m crying. I liked it, I liked it a lot,” You choke back.

“You want to stop?” He cocks his head, his big brown eyes looking down at you with concern. You shake your head no. God no. “I need you to say it, baby.” He strokes a piece of hair behind your ear. “I need you, Eddie, I’ve waited so long.” You grind your hips into Eddie, and his head falls back with a groan. “You have a condom?” He asks.

You sit up and dig through your nightstand. You swore there were a few left in there somewhere. “I have an IUD,” you mention while rifling through the messy drawer. The thought of fucking you raw makes Eddie’s head spin. The feel of your velvety walls clenching down on him almost made him say fuck it. Then, reality slams on the brakes hard because the last time he did that, he ended up a single dad with no idea how to raise a kid.

“Ah ha!” your voice snaps him back from his thoughts, and he sees you wave the wrapped condom by your head. He snatches it from your hand and puts it on himself. “I’m going to make you feel so good,” He growls in your ear. “Please, Sir, I need it, I need you.” You beg as he runs his tip through your folds; the ridged metal of his cockring makes your body jerk into him. “You’re being such a good girl for me, using your words.” Eddie slowly breaks through your barrier and slides the tip into your tight hole. The burn made you tense; it had been so long, and he was much bigger than you were used to. He was halfway in, and you felt full already. Your grip on his biceps was so tight that your nails created half-moon indents in his skin. “I need you to relax, Angel. I’ll take care of you” You tried to loosen your vice grip on Eddie’s cock.

“I’m so proud of you for taking me so well, such a good girl,” Eddie spoke when he finally bottomed out. He felt you clench down on him when he spoke. He started to move his hips slowly, building up speed with each thrust, bottoming out each time.

“You like it when I talk to you, Angel? I can feel it.” You nod your head, so consumed by the feeling of Eddie taking over your whole body that you can’t speak. “Oh, what’s this? My baby can’t talk anymore? I haven’t even gotten started, and you’re already been fucked dumb, huh?” He chides.

“Please- I- keep going.” The speed at which Eddie was thrusting into you was astronomical. The hollow sound of skin slapping skin filled the emptiness of your quiet apartment. Hands latching on to one another, Eddie pins your arms above your head, lips bruising, teeth clashing, tongues at war. Legs hiked, skin hot and slick with sweat. “Your fucking cunt was made for me, fuck, you’re perfect,” Eddie praised.

There was no one else that existed at this point in time, it was you and Eddie together as one. The mind-numbing pleasure the two of you gave each other devoured your minds. He was pussy drunk, consumed by lust, want, and need. Eddie was close to his breaking point, but he had to get you there first. “You take my cock so well, Angel. Give me one more, just for me; you're doing such a good job.” Eddie praised, and once again, he could feel you clamp down on his cock. “More, please I can’t”

“Yes, you can.” Eddie flips you onto your hands and knees and thrusts back into you, once again hitting that spot you didn’t know existed. “Oh. fuck. Me. yes!” You cry out with each thrust. You could feel the build with each thrust. Eddie's hands tightly gripped your ass, bringing it down on his cock, using you to fuck him as he chased his pleaser along with yours. “Give it to me, baby I know you can tell me what you need,” Eddie gritted out.

“Touch me!” You cry. Eddie wraps a hand around your tummy and down to your clit. The connection of his rough, calloused fingers lit the string of white-hot pleasure that fuelled your body. “I can’t, it’s too much,” you cry. Your hands were gripping the bed sheets so hard your knuckles were hurting. The vibrations pulsed through you, and you had to scream into the pillow to muffle the sounds. Eddie grips your hair into his fist to pull your head back. “Don’t shy away from me now. Let me hear you.” His thrust became deeper; you didn’t even think it was possible.

“Please, please, please!” You could feel the sensation building and building, and it wasn’t going away. Eddie let go of your hair, and your head fell into the mattress. Eddie's fingers dug into your left hip so hard you’re sure there will be bruises where his fingers are. His right hand never left your clit.

“DON’T STOP PLEASE,” you beg him. He didn’t slow down. He kept pounding into you. The feeling was building more and more. It was so good that you couldn’t help it. “Come on baby, I can feel it; you’re getting tighter, cum for me.” His words broke your dam, a silent scream was caught in your throat. Your body trembled beneath him. Spasming under him as he road out your orgasm, not stopping. The feeling was so intense. You’ve never cum this hard before. It was becoming so intense that you were starting to become overstimulated. You reach back for Eddie to grab onto something, anything. You find his wrist and beg him to stop. It was too good, “please, I can’t,” you gasped. “oh, little baby, can’t take anymore. You were begging for more, and I’m giving you more.” he kept pounding into you until your third orgasm built up again. You cried out from the pleasure again as tears streamed down your face. The feeling he was giving you was so intense, so overwhelming. He finally released his fingers from your clit, and noticed it was so hot to the touch. You felt Eddie’s thrusts become more and more uneven as he shot his load into the condom.

After a few minutes of silent recovery, only the sounds of both your heavy panting and slight sniffles of you trying your best to pull yourself together, Eddie was the one who broke the silence. “Holy shit, I hope that wasn’t too much, I’m sorry if it was. I get carried away. That side of me has been locked away for so long that I- are you crying?! No baby, please. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Eddie was frantic. You cut him off mid-apology with a kiss to let him know they were good tears.

“Eddie stop I’m okay, I’m not hurt, I’m not upset, I just- fuck this is so embarrassing.” You hurried your face into his hard chest. “Tell me, Angel, it’s only me.” He stroked the back of your head. You let out a deep sigh and let out your confession. “No one has ever taken care of me like you did, and I don’t know what came over me. I never felt so cared for, and it was really nice. I don’t know.” Your mind was racing; this wasn’t supposed to be like this. This wasn’t supposed to be real, but it sure as hell felt real. “I’ll always be here to take care of you. That’s my job.” He kissed the top of your head. “You’re just saying that under contractual obligation.” You half joke, breaking your own heart. “Don’t say that.” Eddie pulled out from under him to look you in the eyes. “This has nothing to do with that piece of paper we signed.” He pointed between the two of you.

Your heart fluttered with anticipation. “What do you mean?” you wiped away the tear stains from your eyes. “My feelings for you were never fake, Angel.” He sighs. “What?” You sit up to get a better look at him. “Contract be damned, I care for you. I want to be with you for real.” He took your hand. “When did your feelings for me become real?” You asked. “The night we first met.” He moved in closer, noses touching. “I don’t think I can fake being in a relationship with you anymore…” Eddie's heart sank into his stomach. He knew this was taking it too far. “Somewhere along the way, my fake feelings became real for you. I want to be with you for real,” you finish.

Eddie can’t believe the words coming out of your mouth, the relief he feels, the way his heart dropped into his stomach at the thought of losing you. The thought of losing him was at the back of your mind, too; only a few more months and the contract would be up. You had to focus on your career; that was the whole point, but he made you feel like no one had ever been able to. You feel Eddie shift, and it breaks you out of your spiral.

“I’m crazy for you” Kissing you quickly before getting up, he let you know he was going to get a wet cloth to help clean the both of you up. When he padded back into the room, he not only had the towel but also brought your makeup wipes and your moisturizer from the bathroom, your heart fluttered that he remembered your conversation about how you told him to never sleep with makeup on, and no matter how drunk you’d get you always took your makeup off before bed.

“Thank you, Eddie, for everything,” you sighed. “Of course, Angel. I’ll do anything and everything for you.” he nuzzled his head into your neck, and you giggled softly as the scruff of his beard tickled you. You yawned, “Get some sleep, Baby.” he stroked your hair, and you fell asleep within seconds.

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

“Things seem to be heating up between music royalty’s hottest new couple”

*scroll*

“Corroded Coffin’s front man-”

*scroll*

Videos of you and Eddie dancing not so PG were swarming the internet, TikTok, Instagram, and Twitter. You couldn’t escape it. In retrospect, the plan was working. However, all the attention the two of you have been receiving can’t all be positive. You had Facebook moms coming after you saying you were a slut, and a bad influence on your younger audience; you had to be a role model and not slut yourself out like some whore.

You come across more headlines: Things look more than cozy for Corroded Coffin’s notorious Eddie Munson and the up-and-coming Princess of Pop!

You huff, and a large hand emerges from under the tangled sheets and grabs your phone. “Hey!” You huff. “It’s too early for that bullshit,” he grumbles, pulling you closer.

Waking up next to Eddie made you feel safe like nothing could no longer hurt you. Neither the words nor the Karen’s of the internet could dull the light growing between you and Eddie. “Good morning to you, too,” you mumble into the crook of his neck. You left soft kisses that turned into more heated kisses on his thick neck. He let you keep going, sucking harder. You left a purple bruise in your wake. You pulled away with a not-so-convincing “oops.”

“You trying to mark me, baby, make sure everyone knows I’m taken?” Eddie rolls you on your back, and you sink into the mountain of pillows and blankets that dawn your king-size bed. You hum in agreement while nodding, “Can’t have anyone else hitting on my man.” You strain your neck up to kiss him; morning breath be damned, you need to feel his mouth on you once more. Eddie’s heart fluttered at your words. He finally had you, truly had you, and you weren’t going anywhere, contract be damned. “You’re insatiable” Eddie pulled away, cock already standing proudly; you can feel it dig into your thigh.

“I’d say you are the insatiable one, Sir” You ground your lower half up into him to create some more friction. “Ohhh you have no idea what you’ve just done little one. Eddie used his skilled hands to spread around your arousal, finding your clit in seconds. You arched into his touch

“Fuck you- you’re so good at this.” You sucked in a breathy moan. Eddie laughed to himself “Is that right baby? Is the next thing you’re going to post, get you a man who can finger pussy as good as he plays guitar” he slips his thick fingers in and curled them up hitting that spot. “EDDIE!” You half scolded him, half moaned from the feeling.

“That’s it, say my name, let the whole building know who’s fucking you” his hands were pumping in and of you at such a speed, your pussy clenched before you even knew what was happening. Eddie pulled out completely.

“Baby, no, please I was-” “Did I say you could cum” Eddie interrupted you. “No, Sir,” you shake your head. “You cum when I tell you to, got it?” “Yes, Sir,” you pout. “Don’t be a brat, wipe that pout from your face” This side of Eddie was making your pussy ache. He was so sexy, so dominant, you wanted him to take control. You needed him to take control,

“Sorry, Sir,” you apologized. “That’s better.” Eddie reached over to the bedside drawer, pulling out the last condom you had stored away. “remind me, I need to be getting about 30 more boxes of these,” he teased. Your eyes go wide at his suggestion. “I don’t think I can even walk now after last night. You’re going to have to carry me everywhere,” you laugh. “That’s the plan, Angel.” He spoke as he sunk back into you.

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

A month into being Eddie Munson's real girlfriend, Corroded Coffin’s North American tour was starting. They have been slaving away with promotional photoshoots, rehearsals, and pushing their newest album. The feedback from their fans had been really positive; it still sounded like them but ultimately a bit more modern. They were accumulating younger fans as well. Their demographic had grown with this new release; more and more people were talking about them on social media, and videos of old shows had popped up on your feed. You were going down the rabbit hole; you couldn’t peel your eyes off all the videos of your boyfriend while on stage. The way he commanded the crowd, the way women would sneak past security and grab onto him… and he liked it. He would play into it, kissing them with full tongue, and jealousy was brewing within you, but you had to remember you were a child when all of the concert footage was taken.

Sure it happened all those years ago… but what about now? What would happen when he leaves you for the tour for the next 3 months? Long distance has not been your thing; paired with your trust issues in men, your mental state was frantic. Your past relationships were not ones to brag about.

Your Ex Charlie chipped away at your self-esteem; he had broken down your self-worth, gaslit the fuck out of you to the point that you believed in your heart of hearts that you would never be good enough to make it. You used to stay in bed for days when it was awful. The abuse you had gone through was something that you never spoke about in detail to anyone. The embarrassment you felt looking back at how much he was in control of you made you sick to your stomach.

Your internal monologue was running rampant. You had to turn it off before it was too late. You were almost in tears continuing to watch these videos of women throwing themselves at Eddie. You couldn't look away no matter how hard you tried. The way Eddie would entertain them, you dove in even further, googling old articles, old TMZ footage of him out with so many girls. There seemed to be a different one every month. The articles would explain how he was a womanizer and a playboy. He partied too much; his coke addiction was also the main topic of these articles. One he never disclosed to you.

This was bad; you were not okay. The first show is tonight. It’s kicking off in New York at MSG. You weren’t going to be there. You couldn’t handle the unknown of what he would do. Will he go back to his old ways when he is out touring again? It is so easy to fall back into old habits. Of course, women will still be throwing themselves at him, and nothing has been confirmed about your relationship in the media. He is a signalman, according to anyone who is concerned. Sure, you would be spotted together numerous times, but the paps never saw you kissing. The social media posts helped initially, but it’s been so long since you’ve posted anything, and the most the public had gotten were the videos of the two of you dancing. They probably thought you were just his little fuck-toy.

As you kept spiralling in deeper, you found that people were starting to speculate it was all a setup. You couldn’t stop the tears from welling in your eyes. The deeper you dug, the more you found. Newer articles would pop up throughout the weeks, and pictures of Eddie being spotted with a woman you did not recognize only sent you further into your spiral. You avoided his calls. You were in your head so much that you could no longer decipher reality from your own delusions about who she was and what they were doing.

Communication with Eddie over the past few weeks has been rough. He wasn't good with his phone as it is, and it wasn't aiding your intrusive demons scratching at your mind about the what-ifs?

Eddie could tell something wasn't right, that you had become distant from him. He just didn't have the time and energy. His age was catching up to him; performing and being on the road for weeks was not kind to Eddie. From all the Hotels to going back on the tour buses and staying up late, it was catching up to him. Even the band's personal trainer was having a hard time with Eddie. His health and the band members' health was her top priority. She was on top of everything they did. She was having them eat better and work out more to keep up the demanding schedule, but it was still gruelling to keep up with.

After each show, the adrenaline from the crowd died off as soon as Eddie the showers. In his heyday, he would stay up until five o'clock in the morning after some shows because he was so hyped by the crowd, or maybe that was the drugs? Whatever it was it was no longer the same for Eddie now. Exhaustion took over his body. He would sleep late, perform late and then repeat it all the next day. He missed you and Violet Rose more than anything. Life on the road can be lonely, and he would call VR every night before going on stage, no matter where he was.

Tonight was no different; they were in Montreal, Canada, about to head out when he FaceTime’d her and was really surprised to see you in the background cooking.

"Hi, Cupcake." You hear his hard voice rasp through the phone speaker. You freeze at the sound of his voice. You haven’t told him you've been coming over here every day to be with Vi. "Hi, Angel” You hear your name in a way that soothes you. You haven't had time to speak to him on the phone in a few days.

Your anxiety was consuming you. Not knowing what could be happening, you avoided speaking to him, afraid of a confession of him hooking up with a groupie or that woman you didn’t know. You were obsessed; you would scour all social media fields to find anything incriminating about him, but nothing ever came to light because nothing was happening. Eddie was swatting women and men off of him left and right; he wasn't even interested in them because they weren't you. He hasn't even had a chance to admit his feelings about missing you, but tonight, he would ensure it. He has been putting it off for too long; he needed you; he needed to speak with you. No more of this texting bullshit because that wasn't real to him.

"I'm going to call you after the show tonight, Angel." You hear him address you again. "Okay, Eds." The butterflies erupted in your stomach; you missed him so much it was starting to physically hurt, yet you were so scared of the unknown.

Unbeknownst to Eddie, you were spending the night at his house because Vi had begged you for another sleepover, and you wanted an excuse to sleep in Eddie's bed. You gave her nanny the night off when you arrived at the Munsons household. Around 10:00 p.m, you put Violet Rose to bed and ensured she brushed her teeth this time. There was a three-hour time difference between California and Montreal.

You were already tucked into his bed by 10:45 p.m. when Eddie called you your time. "Hi handsome," you answer the face time, it looks like he is lying in a hotel bed. "Hi, Sweetheart, it's so good to hear your voice." He sighed. Your worries melt the second you hear his voice. It's raspier than the hours previous; the shows were taking a toll on his vocal cords. "You should be on a vocal rest," you joke, "It's that bad, huh? You really don't want me talking to you?" He laughs. “I miss you,” it just slips out, you can’t keep the feeling down any longer, even with all of the doubts swimming in your mind because you knew in your heart that he wasn't like your ex in any capacity. You knew you were acting unhinged, you didn't want to scare him away. “I fucking miss you so much, Angel, it hurts to breathe. To know that you’re not in the crowd, that you won’t be waiting for me when I get off stage. I think I’m losing my mind.” He rubs his large hand down his face in frustration.

“I wish I was with you” You shuffle your bare arms out from under the covers “Are you in my bed?” A shit-eating grin forms on his face. “Maybe… Vi wanted to have another sleepover, who am I to deny that sweetheart?” you chide as wiggle your arms out of the covers.

“You’re killing me here, baby” he replied. “I might be naked too” It has been so long since you and Eddie last had sex. You were like rabbits when you were alone together. You had so much time to make up for, your sex life was not one to be denied.

An animalistic groan fell out of Eddie’s mouth. He was already shimming out of his pyjama pants before you could reply. “I can’t wait to have my way with you Little One.” Eddie props the phone on his nightstand and sits up to position himself in front of the phone. He is sitting there fully naked for you, his cock becoming stiffer by the second as he roughly tugs on it will one hand. “You’re so mean, teasing me like this. I want you in my mouth so bad.” You pout for him. “Fuck what a perfect pout you have, baby girl.” Eddie’s hand has slowed down, but it hasn’t stopped. His thick fingers were teasing himself in front of you and you.

“Come on baby, don’t hide from me, be a good girl. Show me.” You slowly lift the dark grey comforter off your chest, exposing yourself fully to Eddie. Your nipples were already peaked, and your pussy was already getting wet watching Eddie touch himself for you. “That’s my girl, touch yourself for me. Let me see.” You move your phone down lower so he can see you spread open for him.

You slowly work yourself up, lightly touching your clit; you dip your index and middle finger between your lips to gather up the slick to massage your precious bud. “You are already so wet for me, baby. I bet you could easily slip in your fingers for me.” Eddie’s grip never faltered. You could hear the smacking of wet skin coming from his end. “Fuck I wish you were here with me. It’s not the same. My fingers aren’t big enough.” you moan in frustration. “What are you saying, baby? No one can fuck you as good as I can? Not even yourself?” He smirks.

“Yes,” you whine out. “I’ll walk you through it. You want me to help you?” He asks. “Yes, Sir” You bite your lip. “You’re going to need both of your hands, so lean the phone on the nightstand baby.” You mimic his setup and sit on the edge of the bedside table for him. “Sucha a good girl. Now spread your legs for me, let me see all of you.” He pants. A shiver runs through you, straight to your clit when he speaks to you like this.

“First you’re going to tease yourself, I know you’re very good at that” He scoffs. “Asshole” you mumble under your breath “I know you’re not back talking me Princess.” His voice is clear and firm. “No Sir” you were being cheeky, and only because he wasn’t there to punish you. “Don’t smart mouth me” he warns. “No sir, I would never,” You say sarcastically, running your hands all over your body, showing Eddie exactly what he has been missing out on. “Fuck Angel, I thought I was supposed too in control.” He breaks for a moment.

“That’s what I want you to think, but the thing is baby… the woman is always in control” You slid one finger into your tight hole for Eddie. “Tell me, Sir, am I doing the right?” you pump your finger in and out a few times before adding a second. “Fu-uuck baby, a very good job.” Eddie gripped his cock with both hands now pumping himself, he needed to slow down if he wanted to last, but it just felt so good and you were being so so dirty for him. “You like it when I play with myself for you?” you ask moving your other hand so you could rub your clit, grinding your hips into nothing as you do so.

It dosn't take much, as a rush of pleasure rips through your body. You let a moan slip out, you were conscience that Violet Rose was just sleeping down the hall. “Yes pretty girl, let me hear those pretty sounds” He grits through his teeth. You can see one hand has moved down to play with his balls to mimic how you sucked on them. “Baby please, I want you so bad, ahhhh Eddie-fuck I-I-Eddie!” a wave of pleasure washed over your whole being, you’re coming whether Eddie allowed it or not. You collapse on your back as your body tense, forgetting for a second that you are still on the phone with Eddie.

“No, no, no baby girl come back, I need to see that pretty face, you have such a pretty face, let me see you please, I’m so close, come to me Angel” Your fog lifts slowly at the sound of Eddie’s voice begging you, calling out your name. You slowly sit back up to see and hear Eddie cuming in his hands. “Shit shit yes, take it, you’re such a good girl for me Angel” His chest heaves as he slowly comes down from his high. It is silent for a moment, to collect yourselves, before Eddie broke it.

“Why didn’t we do that sooner? The only thing I’ve been working within that picture you sent me of you in that fucking red dress” Eddie admitted. “You know porn exists…for free” You giggle. “Come on, baby! Give me a break here I’m trying to be romantic.” he wines. “There was nothing romantic about what came out of that filthy mouth of yours, rockstar” You laugh.

“Shut up” he laughs. “Maybe I can send you some more stuff to work with, and keep you tied over for the next few months.” The realization hits Eddie that he won’t be seeing you for a long time. Relationships were so hard to do while on tour but he will do everything in his power to keep you. He creates a self-reminder to send you flowers in the morning, he has been neglecting you, he knows. He needs to do better no matter how tired he is.

“Yea Angel that would be nice” He sighs. “I miss you,” you say as you snuggle back into his cozy bed. “I miss you more, I’m sorry I’ve been distant, that’s not fair to you.” He lays back down on the bed.

Those were the exact words you needed to hear from Eddie to put your mind to rest. “Yeah, I’ve been kinda driving myself insane if we are being honest.” You admit to him. “What do you mean Angel?” He questions. “Well I may have taken a deep dive into old footage of what Corroded Coffin used to get up to when you guys were on tour back in the day, and I saw some paparazzi pictures of you with that girl and I…” You avoid Edd’s eyes as you trail off.

“Oh baby, is that why you have been off? You don’t have to worry about that, I am not that guy anymore. I’ve grown up a lot since then, I don’t do drugs, I don’t party, I definitely don’t do random hookups because I’m a dad now, and I lo-like you more than you know.” he sighed.

“I’m sorry Eddie I didn’t mean to accuse you do anything, I get into my own head sometimes and my ex use to gaslight the fuck out of me to the point where I knew he was cheating but made me feel like I was going crazy. Having a healthy relationship is a new thing for me but I am working on myself, I promise.”

“I’ll do everything in my power to keep you Angel”

“Who was the girl Eddie?” you question.

“What girl?”

“She was tall, dark skin, beautiful, long curly hair, you were walking outside with her, she had a blue workout set on you were opening a door for her…”

“OH, that’s just Terra” He confirms

“Who’s Terra?” you question.

“She’s our personal trainer, we were walking into a gym with the guys. Honestly baby you have nothing to worry about, I would never cheat on you and to be honest she can be scary.”

His words were helping you settle down about everything.

“I believe you Eddie, Sweet dreams”

“Sweet dreams Angel”

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

Corroded Coffin was in Las Vegas tonight on one of their last stops for the tour scheduled to wrap up this week. It had been a month since you admitted to Eddie your doubts, and things have been much better since that phone call. So you devised a plan to surprise Eddie by attending tonight's show. You arranged it with the rest of the band, and they were just as stoked about the surprise as much as you were!

You’d flown out mid-afternoon, and the tour manager had let you into Eddie’s hotel room to put away your stuff and get ready. His manager assured you he would be at the venue for the rest of the day until the show. You decided to show your support by wearing custom red panties with Corroded Coffin printed on the front. You slipped on the same leather skirt from the album release party and paired it with your most recent purchase of Corroded Coffin merch. The T-shirt was a little oversized, so you cropped it yourself.

After you were done getting ready, you got a ride to the venue around 6:30 p.m. so you would arrive during soundcheck. You had been escorted by the security team to the green room to wait for the band to finish. You texted your little group chat that excluded Eddie to let them know you were in place.

About fifteen minutes later, you heard footsteps approaching the door, and the butterflies in your stomach came back to life. The anticipation building and building, 3 months of not being together physically, was tough, but you both managed to make it work. Especially when Eddie started getting really into sexting. He loved sending you before pictures of his stiff cock and after pictures of himself when he finished. He loved how riled up he got you over just his words and the little videos you would send for his eyes only. He begged you to send him one of you getting off; that was his favourite to hold him over.

You could hear the starting act over the intercom speakers in the room as the latch of the doorknob clicked and the muffled voices became more precise.

“I think tonight’s crowd will be really rowdy. I just have this feeling,” Eddie says to the guys while looking over his shoulder and walking into the green room.

“Well, at least one person in the crowd will be.” You speak, and Eddie’s head whips forward. There you are standing before him, looking like his perfect little groupie. (in the best way possible)

“Angel?” He stopped in his tracks. He was in shock.

“Hi baby” you speed walk toward him, closing the gap.

Your bodies collide as you give him the biggest hug you can. Your arms wrapped around his neck, and he finally snapped out of it.

“Holy shit” he screamed with joy spinning you around

“Surprise,” you gave him a small peck.

“What are you doing here?” He puts you down.

“I came to surprise my man.” You look up at him, not wanting to let go.

“Why are you holding out on me? Gimme some sugar.” He leans in to kiss you, and you melt into him.

“Hi, Angel!” You hear Jeff greet you.

“Hey guys! Thanks for all your help. I brought you some donuts as a thank you.” You pull away from Eddie, giggling, pointing to the table.

“Fuck yea!” Felix cheered.

“Don’t tell Terra she doesn’t allow us to have sugar,” Gareth whispers.

“You guys knew?” Eddie asks

“Of course we knew; how else could she get in here?” Jeff laughs

“Enough chitchat, wanna show me your dressing room?” you whisper into his ear.

Eddie has never moved so quickly in his life. Tangled fingers lead you down the hallways into the small room designated for him and him alone. The door slam startled you as he kicked it in behind him.

Eddie didn’t spare a minute. He had you pressed against the door, kissing you deeply. Curious hands explored your body, and you gripped at his t-shirt. You kissed for what felt like an eternity. So much lost time needed to be made up for. Eddie pressed you harder into the door. He had your hands pinned above your head, his hips mindlessly grinding into you.

“This reminds me of the first time we met, Angel… how I wanted to bend you over and claim you as mine when we were in that dressing room. You were such a little tease wearing that tiny little skirt, just like this one. I could almost see your panties when you were doing those sexy dances on stage.” You moaned at his words, and he latched into your neck. His kisses were rough; you knew he would break some blood vessels. You have been so touch-starved that you managed to wiggle your hands out of his grip, begging to feel him. Your hands land on his sculpted chest as your fingers moulded into the stiff muscles, as Eddie simultaneously slips his hands lower down your body and back up to your bare thighs. His touch was leaving an electrical current as the rough calluses of his fingertips scratched your supple skin. They slowly made their way up, up, up, grazing over your dampened panties. The pool of arousal that had collected was being smeared over your lips as Eddie's four fingers ran back and forth through your folds.

"You're soaked for me, Babygirl. You got my fingers all pruned up." He pulls his hand away, and you whine at the loss of contact. You can see your arousal coating his fingers as he spreads them apart, showing your sticky liquid caught between his digits.

"I think we need to get rid of these '' Eddie takes a step back to hook his fingers on the waistband of your panties and pulls them down your legs, and you step out of them without hesitation.

A mischievous grin appeared on Eddie's face as he popped back up, holding out the sopping material before him so he could read. Corroded Coffin printed right on top of your cunt like you belonged to him.

"Oh, hohhh, hohhhh," He laughed, shaking his head, shoving them into his pocket for later. Eddie dropped to his knees before you could say anything more, his plush lips latched into your soaking cunt.

Sounds of muffled moans and grunts could be heard from the hallway behind the door, but there wasn't a care in the world for that. You both were too distracted by the fading of the music over the speakers to notice that the opening act was over.

"Yes, right there, Eddie, baby, I am so close; please, please, please don't stop," you panted as your hand gripped his hair like your life depended on it.

Just as you were about to come, the loudest bang from the other side of the door startled you so much that you let out a yelp of fright.

The vibrations of Eddie's mouth were no longer the only vibrations running throughout your body. You felt the reverberation of the door through your back as the person on the opposite side of the door pounded their fist against it.

"Come on, man, it's showtime. We have stalled enough," Gareth yelled.

With an unsatisfied sigh, you hoisted Eddied onto his feet and pulled your skirt back down.

"Sorry baby, I'll meet you after the show," he readjusted himself in his tight pants. He kissed you one last time before another startling knock rattled the door.

"I'm coming!" Eddie belted out, obviously annoyed.

“At least one of us is.” You mumbled under your breath, following.

_

Eddie had you situated front and centre so he could keep his eyes on you. The shows could get wild, and he knew mosh pits were always possible. He assigned Craig, the most oversized security guard they had, to pull you up and over the barricade should one break out.

It was nice being on this side of the stage for once. You'd forgotten what it was like, the anticipation of the stage lights coming to life at any minute, the strum of the guitar to warn everyone that the show was beginning.

The crowd lit up the second it happened. You cheered your little heart out as the man you adored rose from under the stage, looking like an adonis.

A single spotlight cast down on the band as the dry ice travelled across the stage. His shirtless chest adorned the strap of his beloved Warlock that has seen better days.

You noticed something tied to the end as you scanned the beloved guitar. The red fabric dangled as he strummed the first notes to the old song. Your eyes bulge as you realize what is precisely attached to the end of his guitar... Your panties, the ones you completely forgot you were no longer wearing, were upfront and centre like Eddie's little trophy, showing them off to a crowd of 40,000 people.

Eddie strutted forward to the mic; the confidence that executed off him was the sexist thing you've seen. Seeing Eddie like this in his element, you were willing to jump over the barricade and bone him right then and there.

Halfway through the show, your thighs were slick with your own arousal. Watching how his nimble fingers moved over the fret, how his body became shiny with sweat. The way Eddie commanded the crowd and the stage, he was made for this. It boggles your mind how he could leave this behind for so long. No wonder women were flinging themselves at him in the past. He looked like a god onstage, and you were ready to worship him, sacrifice your body to him.

You were so wrapped up in your thoughts that you failed to realize that the crowd around you was getting louder, girls screaming, men head banging, and people pushing because your boyfriend hopped off the stage. Someone from behind jolted you forward, and you snapped out of your daydreams. In front of you was Eddie propped up on the barricade. His guitar was behind his back, only a mic in one hand and another hand holding him up. You lock in on his sweaty abs centimetres away from your face. You didn’t think twice when you stuck your tongue out to lick them. The salty taste of sweat coats your tongue. Eddie gazed down at you with a look in his eyes that was maddening, but he kept on performing, feeding into the crowd's energy.

The lights lowered, the song got louder, and the crowd was at its peak; Eddie leaned in with all the adrenaline pumping in his veins. He didn't think twice when he bent down, gripped your chin, forced your mouth open and licked into your mouth. Then something wet and hot hit the back of your throat. A needy moan left your mouth as Eddie put the mic to your lips so the crowd could hear how he controlled you. It was the hottest thing he has done to you yet, still in your little Eddie paradise, unbeknownst to you, the whole thing was caught on the big screens. The crowd's roar grew louder as the whole scene of Eddie spitting into your mouth played out for them.

You could feel everyone's phones pointed at the two of you in your vicinity, but you didn’t care. This was your Eddie’s time to shine.

Eddie motioned for Craig to help you over the barricade; you shook your head no because, for one thing, you would flash the entire crowd, and for two, you wanted to keep watching. However, Craig did as he was told and lifted you from your armpits over his head up and over the fence and back down again before you knew what was happening. He took you and led you to the dressing room.

“Ed said that the show only has two more songs, and he didn’t want you to deal with the madness of the after-show.” He explained when opening the door for you. “Oh, thanks, Craig.” You smiled, and he closed the door behind you. He was right. There were only about 15 minutes left of the show. Disappointed that you didn’t get to see it, but you could still hear it.

To kill ten minutes, you scroll on your phone, seeing that you’ve been tagged in so many videos of Eddie eating your face in front of the thousands of people in the crowd. If anyone had doubts about the two of you before, they definitely wouldn’t anymore. Watching the video over and over again only made your pussy throb more than it had been when it actually what happening.

Another five minutes pass, and you hear the roar of the crowd die down; you decide to not waste any more time and strip down into nothing for Eddie. The seconds tick by, and your anticipation gets the best of you; you sit on the couch with a throw pillow to cover yourself just in case he isn’t alone.

The door clicked open, and your heart fluttered; Eddie walked in, alone, thankfully, and locked the door behind him. He was glowing from the sweat that clung to his body, but that didn’t bother you. You were feral, and the instinctive need for him was taking over.

Eddie stalked towards you as you stood up, removing the pillow. “Fuck baby, such a good girl already ready for me.” Eddie gripped the back of your head and pulled you into the sloppiest kiss. Your hands gripped anywhere there was skin; you needed to feel him after what seemed like the most prolonged foreplay ever. Eddie bent lower into you to deepen the kiss, but the tightness in his back says otherwise.

“Ah- fuck ow” he pops back up and grips his lower back.

“Baby what’s wrong?! You as in a panic. You asked in a panic.

“Fuck, it’s my back, babe, I went too hard on the closing number,” He winced and shook his head.

As he hobbled to the couch, you helped ease him down so he was propped up with a pillow behind him to support his back.

“I’m sorry, baby, I was really going to rock your world.” He sighed, tracing his hands up and down your outer thighs.

“Oh, that’s too bad. I’ll just have to rock yours then.” You unzip his pants and shimmy them down his legs as he winced at the jerky moment his leather pants were jostled from his sticky skin. After what seemed like an eternity, you managed to get his cock out of the tight confines of his pants. Mumbling a sorry when you heard him curse under his breath.

You place your knees on the couch straddling his lap and grip his hardened cock in your hands as you run his tip through your pussy folds. You let your head fall back at the feeling of Eddie connected to you before you skink down on his cock. He slid in easily; you've been ready for him since you stepped off the plane.

The feeling of him bare for the first time against your wet walls was intoxicating.

“Fuck me, baby, you’re so tight” Eddie was so drunk off your pussy already. He didn’t even realize this would be your first time having sex without a condom.

“Uh, you feel so good, Eds” You rode his cock up and down, building speed as the tip of his cock hit your g spot with every bounce.

Eddie took one of your hardened nipples into his mouth, sending waves of pleasure to your clit.

“You like riding my dick baby?” Eddie looks up at you as you continue bouncing like his little feral bunny.

“Yes, Sir! Feels so good,” You cry.

The feeling in your lower stomach was building, but you needed more.

“You're a greedy bunny, aren’t ya? He nips at your perked bud again, making you yell out from the sting.

“Answer me, little one.” he slaps the top of your breast, only making you grind your hips harder and faster. Your fingertips gripped his shoulders as you tried to come up with words. You feel another slap but this time on your ass.

“Yes Sir! I’m so greedy for you” You pant, your legs becoming numb, Eddie’s hands circled your plump cheeks, then gripped onto them, and he pumped you up and down on his thick cock.

“Yes! Baby, yes!” You praise.

“Fuck Angel, this tight pussy was made for me… mmpff” he threw his head back against the couch cushions.

“Baby, I’m so close.” you wine

“Fuck me too, bunny. Seeing you bounce on my big cock with your tits bouncing in my face got me feeling like a teenager, going to bust right now” his hands gripes into you tighter.

“Me too, just a little longer.” You lean your head down to kiss his mouth, then his jaw and then that place on his neck, making him thrust his hips faster and harder. The incessant smacking off skin to skin filled the empty room; Eddie moaned as he came quicker than he thought he would; he usually lasts longer than this. You kept bouncing on his cock, pumping his cum into yourself further up up up until Eddie pulled out of you and lifted your body so your dripping pussy was eye level to his face. He latched his mouth onto your clit, as you hiked one leg onto the couch's armrest so Eddie could access your sticky cunt. Your fingers only dug into Eddie’s muscular shoulders more as he played with your swollen bud. The coil was tightening, and you wanted to let go and let the euphoria wash over you.

“Baby more please” You whimpered.

Eddie’s thick fingers broke through your cum coated entrance, you could feel it dripping down your leg. That's when Eddie realized in his post-nut clarity that he came inside you for the first time. Not caring about the consequences, he just wanted to make you feel good. He could see in your face you were close; he replaced his tongue with his thumb to talk you through it. He knew you loved his mouth in more ways than one.

“Come on, pretty girl, I know you can do it. Come for me, come for your Eddie. Fuck you’re so fucking sexy. Yeah, that’s it, that’s my pretty girl. You’re getting tighter; I can feel it. I won’t let any more of this come slip out of you until you finish. “ Eddie’s magic fingers brought you to the brink, and his words made you spill over. The euphoric feeling washed over your body as you spasmed in Eddie’s lap. Your body shook like it was possessed, and you clenched your jaw so tight that not even a sound left your body as your orgasm washed through you. “Fuck baby, that must have been a big one” Eddie stroked your hair as you collapsed onto his body. “Yeah, I don’t think I've ever come that hard before,” You panted.

Eddie patted himself on the back, and you gave him a look that said what the fuck. “What?” Eddie laughed. “I did all the work!” You got up onto wobbly legs.“Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be? I swear if my back was right, you’d be over my knee, young lady.” he pointed a finger at you. “Oh, I’m soooo scared,” you laughed as you went to get a towel from the bathroom clean up. “Just because I can’t move at the moment doesn’t give you the right to act like a brat.” You could hear the amusement in Edie’s voice. “Oh yeah, come and get me, old man.” You stood a few inches out of his reach. “Not fair, babe.” He pouted and crossed his arms against his bare chest. You giggled at the sight in front of you. “Oh my poor baby,” you gave in; you would be soulless to not give into those big brown puppy dog eyes. “Yes, your poor baby!” He dramatically flung his arms around you as that was the part of his body that didn’t hurt. Laughing at his dramatics, you wrap yourself back into his lap. “You were incredible tonight, baby; I almost forgot to tell you.” You kissed his cheek. “Really? Lil old me?” He batted his eyes. “Yes, baby, I’m serious! Your stage presence, you command the crowd, you were made for this baby. I’m so happy you and the band are back doing what you should be,” you smiled. “Thank you, baby.” Eddie’s head swelled at your praises. You were everything to him, and hearing you say those words only made the love he has yet to confess to you grow stronger.

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

The tour wrapped up just in time for the winter holidays. Your time off was split between your family on the East Coast and the Munsons on the West Coast. Your family was disappointed that you couldn't bring around your new man, but they understood the circumstances of the relationship. It was only supposed to be business as far as they knew. One night at your parent's house, cozied up by the fire, you were having a nightcap with your mom after your dad went to bed. You confided in your mom your true feelings for one another. The age gap worried her like it would any mother, but you did your best to share how much Eddie meant to you, and he meant a lot to you. The L word was looming. You tip-toed around it, trying so very hard not to admit it out loud because the consequences were disastrous. It had been on the tip of your tongue, but you suppressed those feelings because you knew in your heart things would have to end eventually, and you had to protect yourself.

New Year's Eve was spent with Eddie; he threw a party every year, and this year was the first time Violet Rose managed to stay up for the stroke of Midnight. She fought back her heavy lids and managed to make it to 12:15 a.m. before sleep took over.

The new year was filled with writing, recording, and performing music. You were asked to perform at the Grammys this year, as you were nominated as Best New Artist.

Eddie and you pulled up to the Red Carpet of the Grammys as your first official outing as a couple. It has been eight months since the contract was signed and 4 months since you and Eddie confessed your feelings for one another. Tonight was a bit nerve-racking, seeing as though this was your first red carpet, your first time being nominated, your first time being invited to the Grammys, your first time performing at the Grammys and your first official public appearance with Eddie. You stepped out of the limo after Eddie. He helped you out of the car, holding your hand the entire time. He was always dressed in black, and you wore a strapless lilac Oscar de la Renta gown that you tried so hard not to trip over.

"I got you, Angel. No need to cut off the blood flow to my hand," Eddie chuckled.

"What?- Oh, sorry" You hadn't noticed how hard you were squeezing him until you looked at both of your hands intertwined, and Eddie's fingertips were bright red from the blood pooled there.

"Breath, Angel." Eddie wrapped an arm around your waist, guiding you to the row of paparazzi lined up. Your name and his name are yelled from every direction, the flashes of light temporarily blinding you. You went through the motions as your heart rate went up, playing off your nerves to the camera as Eddie talked you down, whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

You had made it to the primary carpet all the interviewers had been at. Eddie guided you to a lady with one of the biggest smiles on her face. "Oh my god, I can't believe I have Hollywood's hottest couple here with me tonight!" She cheered. You and Eddie both said hello. "So it really is official? The dating rumours seem to be going on for months, with you two being very sneaky with no confirmation, but by the looks of it, tonight, this is the big reveal!" She pointed the mic to Eddie.

"Yeah, I can't believe I managed to swing this one, she sure is something to be putting up with me," Eddie laughed. He was such a natural at this with all his years in the limelight under his belt.

"So you are performing tonight. Has your man given you any words of wisdom, seeing as though he is an OG?" She directed the question at you.

"Well, he has definitely calmed my nerves, that's for sure. This is my first big event like this, and I'm really glad he is by my side for it. I don’t think I’d be able to be here if I was on my own.” You look up at him and continue, "He has all the confidence in me that is enough for the both of us, so having him here with me tonight makes it extra special."

"Oh em gee, love is in the air tonight! The way he is looking at you, how can you not swoon?" she flutters her hand over her face. "haha yeah..." you laugh awkwardly. That dreaded L word brought up when you and Eddie had never discussed it makes you overthink what you were doing again. "Don't make me do another one of those. I don't think I’ll survive," You whisper to Eddie as you walk away from the interviewer. Eddie barked out a laugh that caught everyone's attention. You could hear another interviewer you were walking towards. "Seems as though Hollywood's newest couple is enjoying themselves this evening. Maybe we can get a word or two?" "Come on, baby, I'll do all the talking. You just stand there and look pretty, okay?" Eddie kissed the side of your head and guided you along.

The rest of the night was a blur; your performance had gone perfectly, according to your manager, but you blacked out from all the stress of the night. You were relieved when you didn't win Best New Artist because you didn't have to go up and talk in front of everyone all over again.

Thankfully, the only thing after the show was the afterparty, and you and Eddie stayed briefly. About an hour and a half was spent mingling, and Eddie introduced you to everyone at the party, and your social battery was fried.

When you and Eddie got home, well to Eddie's home, you couldn't wait to crawl into his bed. The place you felt the safest and calmed you, the place that consumed you by all things, Eddie.

You asked Eddie to unzip your dress. It was the first thing you said to him since you got into the limo. Tonight had knocked everything out of you, and Eddie sensed something was off.

"I'm sorry again, baby, that you didn't win; let me make you feel better." He kissed across your bare shoulder and up your neck. "Baby... is it okay if we maybe don't tonight?" you turn to face him, holding your dress to your chest so it doesn't fall. "Yeah, baby? are you feeling okay?" He puts a hand on your forehead to check your temperature. "I'm fine, Eds." You giggle. "Well, something must be bothering you if you don't want any of this." He swings his hips around, pretending to thrust into you, making you laugh more. "Baby, I'm just exhausted. I promise I'm okay about not winning; I just want you to hold me?" you look up at him with that look he cannot resist. "Of course, Angel." He wraps you into his chest and kisses the top of your head. "I'm going to get out of this thing before I ruin it, and I'll be right there." You motion to the dress that was worth thousands. You crawled into bed with Eddie, fresh-faced in one of Eddie's shirts. You snuggle your head into His bare chest, and he smooths down your hair.

"You were amazing tonight, I am so proud of you. Did I tell you that?" He mumbles. "I don't remember? I blacked out for half the night." You laugh. That makes Eddie jerk up so he can look down at you. "I knew there was something off about you tonight, baby. I'm sorry" He pulled you in tighter. "I'll be ok, Eds, now that I am here with you." You drift off. "God, I love you," Eddie says under his breath as he kisses the top of your head just as sleep takes over you....

Eddie’s confession had gone unnoticed by you. The following day, he was anxious and jittery, but he blamed it on not getting a good night's sleep because his back was acting up again.

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

Weeks passed, and Eddie never bought it up again, scared that you’re pretending you didn’t hear him to spare his feelings, but honestly, you did not hear his declaration.

Eddie planned an extravagant getaway for the two of you since your one-year mark of the contract was approaching, and he wanted to celebrate what brought the both of you together.

You were sitting in your condo’s living room watching TV with Eddie when he cleared his voice. “So, what do you say about joining me on Thursday for breakfast on the Amalfi Coast?.” He cocks his head like a curious puppy. “Ha, good one babe!” You laugh at the thought. It was already Tuesday evening. “I’m serious!” He laughs back. “Babe, what do you mean? We can’t just up and leave?” You question. “Why not? You have any major plans I don’t know about?” Eddie was getting kind of nervous that you did because if so, it would ruin everything. “Well..” You think, no, you really didn’t have anything booked, studio time, no interviews or photoshoots. In fact, your manager had called to tell you a bunch of stuff had been pushed back until the 20th… did Eddie?

“What did you do?” You look at him suspiciously. “I don’t know what you’re talking about?” He gave you a smile like the Cheshire Cat while pulling you into his lap. “Babe,” you warn him. “Angel, I took care of everything because you and I are going on a little getaway alone.” He nibbled under your ear. “Oh my god, I have to pack!” You jump up and run to your closet for your suitcases. You can hear Eddie chuckle as he follows behind you.

_

“Babe, can you at least let me pay you back for the ticket?” You ask as you pull into the grounds of the airport. “No, can do, babe, I didn’t buy a ticket,” he laughed. “But how are we?- Shut up!” It suddenly hit you that Eddie once told you on your first date that he has a private jet, one you haven’t seen until now. As you stare out the car window, the plane is coming into view.

The car had parked on the runway right beside his jet; Eddie jumped out first to open the door for you, a custom you have gotten used to, so you just let it happen.

“After you m’lady.” He bowed and gestured to the plane beside you.

A slight “wow” left your lips as you looked at it in awe. You climbed the steps with Eddie getting the best view of your ass as he tailed right behind you.

You walked in, and your jaw dropped. There was a cream leather couch just as you walked in by the door, another that mirrored another sofa on the opposite side, with four matching leather swivel chairs up at the front of the plane. There were cream carpets that ran throughout the interior adorned with accented black lacquered wood that ran up the walls of the plane, and across the front of the cabin was a soundproof divider that separated you from the caption and the one steward that was to travel with you.

Eddie introduced you to Charles the captain, an older gentleman probably in his mind 50’s, and Paulina, the air hostess, who was way too pretty to not be a model in your opinion.

“Mr. Munson, a pleasure as always,” she greets him, ignoring you. Oh, so that’s how it was going to be? “Paulina, was it?” You turn back to her, and you set your purse down.

She gives you a tempered smile

“How about you get us some Champagne? We are celebrating.” You wrap your hands around Eddie's waist protectively, and Eddie senses your threat. He rolls his eyes and shakes his head at your ridiculousness. “Of course.” She nods her head and walks away.

“You, Little One, have nothing to worry about.” He boops your nose before he plops down, pulling you down with him. “So you and her never?” You pout. “Never. Ever.” He nuzzles his head into the cook of your neck.

Paulina walks in and sets the tray with the champagne flutes on the crystal coffee table before you.

“Is there anything else I can get for you?” She asks cordially. “No, I don’t think we will need much this trip. I’ll ring the call bell if anything, but it should be relaxing for you.” Eddie charms her. “Sounds good, Mr. Munson.” She turns and closes the cabin door.

About half an hour into the flight, you and Eddie could take off your seatbelts, and you and Eddie got comfortable. He asked Paulina to help him make up the sofa that turned out to be a daybed and then put on a movie for the two of you to watch and have background noise while you talk.

“I was thinking… I can get you into this club I know of while on this trip… if you want.” Eddie trailed his index finger dawned with a ring with a dragon's head up your thigh. “Oh, what kind of club?” You ask with genuine curiosity. “Very exclusive; only people who are very high up get to be a part of it.” Eddie holds back a giggle. “Oh? Would this club be called the Mile High Club?” You giggle as you feel the third glass of champagne take over. “God, you’re so smart.” Eddie leaned in and kissed your lips. It was sloppy due to the alcohol so early in the morning, but you were on vacation.

Eddie pulled you into his lap so you could straddle him. He pressed his already hard length up into you and loudly moaned. “Shhhh, Baby, they will hear you.” You look over to the cabin door. “No, they won’t. It’s soundproofed; we can be as loud as we want, Baby, and I want you loud.” he kissed the column of your neck as you leaned your head back in pleasure.

“Now, be my good girl and tell me what you want? Hmm?”

“I want you to do whatever you want to me,” you breathed into his mouth, asking for another searing kiss.

Eddie placed a hand on the back of your head and guided you down so he was hovering over you as you lay on the pullout couch.

The leather squeaked beneath you as he adjusts your bodies.

“I’m going to undress you, then I’m going to kiss every inch of your body, and you are going to let me. You’re not going to rush me or beg or pout. You’re going to let me worship you. Understood?” He started by taking off your shoes.

“Yes, Sir,” you nod your head.

“Good girl,” he smiles. You feel a rush in your pussy at his words. How he looks at you, how he wants to please you, and not because you asked him to but because he wants to, is making your head spin. Never has any other man you’ve been with been this attentive to your needs.

He had you down to your underwear, the plane was cool, and goosebumps spread across your skin.

“Don’t worry, Baby. I’ll have you warmed up in no time. He grabbed an ankle and started kissing around your perfectly manicured foot. He wasn’t playing around when he said he would kiss every inch of you. He was going at an agonizingly slow pace. He made his way down your leg to your inner thigh and took off your panties. He breezed over your mound; your hips jerked up, and Eddie gave you a look of warning. “Don’t disobey me, Angel”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to; it’s just what you do to me, Baby.” You looked up at him with sorry eyes.

Eddie threw his head back and groaned. You were his succubus, his own personal vixen. He continued kissing across your other thigh, down your leg to your other ankle. The feeling of his beard and soft lips made you shiver. He tried kissing your feet, but you begged him not to because you’re so ticklish and didn’t want to accidentally kick him in the face.

“I can’t ruin that smile, Baby.” Eddie’s heart fluttered when you called him your little pet names. He leaned forward after gently putting your leg down. He kissed you from your forehead across both cheeks, getting copious giggles out of you. Your giggles subsided when he moved lower, down your neck, across your chest. He kissed over your baby pink lace bra that didn’t hide your perked nipples. You lifted your back so he could unhook your bra, and you shimmied your shoulders so you could release your arms out of the straps. Eddie looked down at you like you could give him the world. The words were on the tip of his tongue, but you pulled him by the back of the neck to kiss him, not caring about the consequences. The way he looked at you made your stomach flip. Eddie cascaded his tongue over your bottom lip, pushing his way into your mouth. Your tongues danced as his hands trailed down your body, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Lower and lower until they reach your silky folds.

“You wanna know something, Angel?” Eddie pulls back, slowly brushing over your

“What, that handsome?”

“You have the perfect lips for kissing”

“Then come back here.” You reach up to grab him, but he stops you.

“Those weren’t the lips I was talking about” He gives you a cheeky grin and then slides down your body until he is face to face with your needy cunt.

This man was too smooth with his words; you didn't need any more foreplay. He could slide in right now, and nothing would be blocking his way. You felt your wetness drip down your leg as Eddie spread you open, leaving one kiss on your pussy before he flips you onto all fours.

“Babyyyyyy” you whine while wiggling your ass in the air.

“I told you, Little One, I am kissing every inch of your body, and you’re going to take it.” He whispered in your ear, hunching over you.

He made his way up your arm, across your shoulders, and down the other arm. The goosebumps came back as he continued down your spine and across every inch of your back. You swore he’d given you 100 kisses by now, but that didn’t stop him.

“Arch for me baby, let me see you” You couldn’t see Eddie’s face, but the tone in his voice the was it went active lower letting you know he was no longer playing around.

“Yes, sir.” You arched your back and sped your legs wider so he could see, just like he had asked.

“Fuck look at you,” He whispered under his breath, and you felt his warm lips come in contact with your cool skin. You felt his soft lips kiss from the top of your tailbone and down to the fat of your ass. His teeth scraped the large muscle, and his mouth left rings of saliva that became cold once he lifted his lips from your skin. You felt his mouth moving closer to your centre, lower until you felt his two hands spread your cheeks open, giving him a small yelp, not being ready to be so exposed, especially in this well-lit plane. His warm mouth fell onto the inside of your cheek, and you gave out another yelp. No one had been so close, so intimate with you like this before.

“I told you, baby, I’m worshipping every inch” You didn’t have time to think before you felt his mouth on your puckered hole.

“Oh my god” you gasped as arousal shot through you.

“Anyone ever plays with this little hole” Eddie kissed you again before a strong hand came down on your ass cheek, making you moan.

“No, Sir” you sucked in a breath.

“What a shame, she’s real pretty” he circled a wet finger around your asshole and your pussy cliched around nothing.

“Would you like me to continue?” He whispered in your ear.

“I did tell you to do whatever you want to me,” you countered back.

“But do you want it?” Eddie grabbed your chin and made you look up as he hovered behind you.

“Yes!” You cry

“Yes. What?” He gritted through his teeth because you should know better.

“Yes, sir, play with my asshole.”

“God, I love when you talk dirty” Eddie slid down your body and licked a long wet strip from your clit to your second hole. A breathy sound of pleasure rips from your lungs, one so loud you even startled yourself. “That's it, baby, let me hear you.” Eddie lapped and circled you so good your eyes were rolling into the back of your head. You never thought you would be into this, but it was Eddie; he made you feel safe, and you liked it when he showed you new things in the bedroom.

His tongue glided across and around your tight hole, as his thick fingers penetrated your pussy. “Doing alright, sweetheart?” He checked in, but you were too zoned out, lost in your own pleasure, you didn’t hear him. Moan after moan left your mouth, not even able to form words.

“I’ll take that as a yes” He smirked before he dove back in, this time his tongue broke its way through your tight walls. Before you knew it, you were coming. The combination of Eddie's fingers and tongue fucking you made your walls tighten, and a roar came from your lungs. “That's it, Princess.” Eddie removed his wet fingers covered with your spend and circled them around your other hole.

“Hollyshit” you breathed out.

“I’m not finished with you yet.” Eddie pulled you back by your hair, sticking his tongue in your mouth. By far the filthiest thing he’s ever done to you, but you were already begging him to do it again. “Please, please, give it to me.” he drops your head from his hand, and your face softly falls onto the cushion. “Such a filthily girl. You want me to split open your pussy with my cock while I finger fuck your ass?” He spoke while taking off the rest of his clothing.

“Please,” you begged.

“My girl is greedy, but what my girl wants, she gets” You felt the couch shift as he knelt down to align himself with your needy pussy. He spreads your lips to get a full view of himself slowly entering your wet hole.

Eddie pumped into you slowly, picking up the pace with each stroke. He spread your ass cheeks open to expose your two holes. You hear him spit as hot saliva cascades down your hole.

“You sure you want this sweetheart?” He grazed his finger over your hole, getting it ready for him. “God! Yes, Eddie! Please!” His cock was hitting your G spot perfectly; with each stroke, you could feel the hot metal of his piercing rubbing your inner walls but needed something more to get you to the edge.

Eddie let it slide that you didn’t call him Sir because he was too damn excited that you let him play with your ass. “Fuck yea, Princess.” He slips his wet thumb into your puckered hole. It surprisingly felt good. Honestly, you were prepared for it to hurt, but the added pressure made your head spin.

“Who does this ass being too?” He gritted, slapping his hips into you, his cock so deep inside that you see stars. If you turned your head to look over your shoulder, you would have seen Eddie’s body glow with sweat, flushed face and a look in his eye that would’ve convinced you he was so madly in love with you. But you never did, too consumed by how Eddie made you feel. The way he fed you the pleasure you always craved, the pleasure you always needed but never received until now.

More moans filled the room, unable to answer. All of your senses were on overdrive. “Huh, baby girl? I didn’t quite hear you?” he slowed down, making you feel every inch of him leave your body and then slammed back into you. “You! Oh god, my body is yours!” You bury your face into the couch cushion. “That's right, Little One, you’re mine.” Eddie pulls you back up with one strong arm and fixes your body to parallel his.

“But if you’re mine. Then I am yours. Tell me I’m yours,” he panted.

“Fuck Eddie, you’re all mine, mine, mine, mine,” you chant your mantra until your walls spasm around his cock, your orgasm cascading through your whole body, your limbs struggle to hold you up as you try to hold yourself up. Eddie continues to thrust into your throbbing cunt until he is so close he pulls out again, being reckless and “forgetting” to put on a condom. He pulls out, and you hear the lewd sound of wet skin smacking as pumped his load on your ass. You feel the hot streams of cum coat your skin.

“Shit, that’s a pretty picture. Don’t you dare move” Eddie grabs his phone off the table and snaps a picture of you with your ass in the air, fucked out of your mind with his cum running down your crack.

“This is going to hold me over for a long time” Eddie laughs

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

The car pulled up to a villa right on the edge of the water. You could hear the crystal blue sea water splashing the rocky coastal line. You could smell the salt in the air, the sea breeze was cool on your skin, and the hot sun beamed down in the cloudless sky. The concrete building was painted a terracotta that was slowly failing but only added to the vintage flair.

“Welcome home, Baby” Eddie kissed the top of your head and led you inside.

The large wooden door creaked open, and you entered the most beautiful home you’ve ever seen. “This house is yours?” You asked, “No baby, ours,” he corrects. “Not what I meant, Eddie; I meant you own this place?” You reiterated. “Yes, Angel.” he pulled you in closer, put your bags down and kissed you.

You didn’t even get a chance to look around before you and Eddie jump one another’s bones again… On the sofa, the porch daybed, the kitchen counter, the shower, and the bedroom. It was a miracle you convinced Eddie to get out of bed and show you around. Wrapped up in the crisp sheets, which remained black even in this home with this distinctly Italian decor.

You reminded him he promised to take you to that Café on your first date. “Eddie, you promised me the best pastry in the whole world, we have been here 34 hours, and I still haven’t experienced it” you pout.

Eddie’s propped up on an elbow, giving you a look.

“What?” You ask innocently.

“Just looking at you makes me so horny” Eddie leans into you, pushing you into the plush pillows that adorn the bed, he was an addict, and you were the fix, the only one that could cure his hunger.

Eventually, you had gotten Eddie out of bed and into the Italian streets. Your days were filled with walking hand in hand. He took you to the Café first. They did, in fact, have the best croissant you had ever tasted and the best Caffe latte you ever had. Eddie and you strolled through every shop you said you wanted to go into, buying a bunch of trinkets and gelato. He took you to the beach the next day, and the day after that, you toured around the city some more; he booked a cooking class where you were taught how to make homemade pasta. The next day, you went on a winery tour. There was so much to discover and so much history to see; the week was jam-packed with things to do, and you never felt so free. Being here with Eddie in another country where no paparazzi was hounding you every moment of every day. You kept your socials quiet, not wanting to tell anyone where you were. Having it just be you and Eddie was a dream. Not that you didn’t miss Vi, but the break was needed.

_

You only had 2 days left of your trip. Tonight, Eddie cooked for you. It was one of the most romantic evenings you two shared. He had put out candles on the dining room table, had music on in the background, and asked you to dance with him on the balcony under the stars, and now you were standing in a moonlit room in front of a floor-length mirror, naked.

Still fully clothed, Eddie walked up behind you, and his hand slowly grazed your shoulder, up across your collarbone, and then he teasingly wrapped one finger at a time around your throat. He jerks your head to the side so he can speak to you. You can feel his hot breath on your ear as he says, “Look at you. America, Sweetheart, getting all wet and sticky just for me. Are you going to let me touch you, Princess? fuck that sweet little cunt of yours?” You desperately try and nod your head, but Eddie’s grip is firm. “Use your words,” he growls in your ear.

“Yes Sir” you sighed.

“God, no one makes me as horny as you do,” he growls in your ear.

Eddie leans closer, his other hand not on your throat, wraps around your waist, pulling you into him as he pushes his stiff cock into your lower back. He moves in to kiss you, and goosebumps appear all over your body as his lips connect to the supple skin of your neck. It’s more gentle than what you're expecting. His hand slides down from your waist, leaving your throat to cup your breast.

“Look at yourself while I touch you,” Eddie whispers. You don’t dare disobey his orders tonight; something about tonight is different: you want to be good for him no matter what. He has been so good to you. All you want is to be that for him in return. So you turn your head and look at where his fingers connect with your skin. His calloused tips are rough on your breast's soft, delicate skin. The pads of his fingers cascade through your wet folds, and you try so hard for your knees not to buckle at the sight you’re witnessing.

“That’s my pretty girl. You’re so good to me.” He slowly circled your clit as you continued to watch. You tried so hard to not fall to your knees. Your hands find his muscular thighs, and you drip onto them for dear life. You let out a breathy moan as Eddie sucked on your neck, hitting that sweet spot he is good at locating on the first try. You finally broke and turned so you could be face to face. You needed to kiss him like you needed air to breathe.

Eddie grabbed onto your bare ass and hoisted you up. You wrapped your legs around his thick torso, and he walked the two of you over to the bed as you left a trail of kisses down his neck.

Eddie ever so gently laid you down on the bed like you were made of glass. You watched him from the bed as he stripped down into nothing, missing his touch the entire time he was away. “Baby I need you,” reach out for him.

“I know Angel, I’m right here. I gotcha.” he crawled on top of you.

You were right; something about tonight was different between the both of you; the dynamic wasn’t raw and animalistic. It was soft and delicate. Eddie crawled on top of you and slowly slid himself into you. The execution was effortless. Your slick canal was more than ready to take him. He kissed you and kissed you, and kissed you. Eddie kissed you all over. No words were being spoken. The only sound that filled the room was the sound of skin-on-skin and illegible moans of pleasure. No words needed to be spoken, not anymore. Not tonight. You and Eddie both knew that tonight was about making love. He was soft and gentle, 180 from where you two usually went in the bedroom, but this is what you needed, the missing puzzle piece finally being found. Eddie’s hands intertwined with your own; considering all of the intimate things you had done thus far, this moment takes the cake. He was gazing into your eyes, and his cock brushed the walls of your pussy. Each thrust had meaning behind it. Each time he leaned in to kiss, you meant something, something more than you would ever have the pleasure of knowing. You felt love, even if he hadn’t said anything; you knew deep, deep down this was his way of showing you how much you meant to him. To take care of you, to be there for you… and the same goes for him, even if you don’t know it. You being there for Violet Rose and being there for Eddie also made you the missing puzzle piece to his life.

“Eddie, baby, I’m close” You broke the silence and tucked his wild main behind his ears.

Eddie smiled and brought his hand down between your bodies so he could massage your clit, knowing how much you loved when he played with the bundle of nerves. Only a few circles do it for you until your body is jerking under Eddie’s.

“That’s my girl, fuck yes, that’s it. Just like that, come for me, Angel.” he kept thrusting as the orgasm took over your body.

The feeling of his head hitting the top of your cunt as your pussy clamps down on his cock like a vice has Eddie following not far behind. He tried to pull out before he came, but when you begged him to come inside you. Who was he to deny the women he loves? He’s only but a man, a man blinded by your magical pussy that was sucking him back in.

“Fuck baby, you want my babies, you want me to get you all round and pregnant. You want my cum that bad.” He whispered.

All you could do was nod and pull his body closer to you, not ever wanting him to leave.

“Fuck” Eddies thrusts became less uniform and sloppy as he came, releasing his seed inside you.

Eddie pulled out a few seconds later. you were at a loss, but you had to clean yourself up, so you tried getting up, but Eddie stopped you.

“Where are you going?”

“To the bathroom, I have to you know” suddenly feeling shy.

“No, you stay here. I’ll go.”

“But I feel it leaking already” you giggle

Eddie hopped out of bed and ran to the master bathroom; you couldn’t help but check out his little tush as it glowed in the moonlight.

Not even 30 seconds later he was back with a damp towel helping you clean up. “I, um, I hope you know about the baby thing… It was just um, I uh.” He cleared his throat.

“It’s okay, I have an IUD remember.” You roll over to face him. “Okay, good, right. But never can be too careful,” he clarified.

“It was um in the moment, I liked it” You shuffle your body so you're resting your head on his bare chest.

“I’m always careful, but somehow, you know how to make my brain mush.” He laughs.

“I guess I have that effect on people.” You tilt your head up to kiss his neck.

“Fuck Angel, I don’t know if I can go again,” he sighed.

“ M’sorry baby, you’re just so sexy” You hum in his ear.

Eddie turned his head and lifted your chin so he could kiss you. You melted back into the bedsheets, feeling the best you’d ever felt.

“We should go to sleep, baby. I have a big have a big day planned for us tomorrow."

“Okay, goodnight baby” you sigh as he gives you one last goodnight kiss.

_

The following day, you woke up with dread coursing through your veins. Wide awake, laying in bed, your head cleared, you realized the mistake you had made last night. The bond between you and Eddie was too woven, too tight. It will kill you to break it, but you had to, and now you ruined everything.

You were spaced out the rest of the day; you hardly realized you had been outside walking by the water. "I have something special planned for us." Eddie took your hand as you walked through the ancient cobblestone streets, snapping you out of your daze.

Your heart sank, this was all becoming too much, but you played it off, not wanting to crush Eddie's heart, so you sucked it up and gave him a smile.

You could see a single yacht docked at the end as you approached the water's edge. As you approached, it was lit with hundreds of tiny fairy lights. You could see red and white balloons and many flowers. Assorted wildflowers mixed with purple roses and... poppies. A nod to the nickname his daughter gave you. Your heart was racing; you couldn't bear to do this to him. You couldn't let him go through with whatever romantic gesture he had planned. Halfway up the ramp, you stopped, and Eddie had tugged on your arm, thinking you were still trekking along behind him.

"What is it, Angel? Are you scared of boats?" He looked concerned, not thinking about that option when he had planned that night.

"No, uh, it isn't that." You fought back the crack in your voice.

"Then come on, I have to show you something." He said with a smile tugging your arm again, but your feet were planted. Refusing to go any further.

"Eddie. I can't," you whisper.

"Sure, you can come on." He was oblivious to your inner turmoil.

"I can't do this," you shook your head, fighting back the tears.

Eddie's face went from happy school boy to concerned father instantly.

"Baby, what's wrong? Talk to me." he rested both hands on your shoulders, looking down at you with a furrowed brow.

"I need to go. I can't be here." The panic in your voice broke.

"You're scaring me angel, what is wrong?” you didn't think the look of concern could get any more profound, but it did.

You didn't answer him; you turned and walked off the ramp and back down the dock onto the cobbled streets.

Eddie chased after you, not letting you go by yourself in an unfamiliar city alone at night.

"Baby, wait!" you didn't look back. You just kept running. You no longer were able to hold back your tears. The crying turned into sobs. You could hardly see where you had been going before Eddie caught up with you, placing a hand on your shoulder to bring you around to face him.

Your sobs mixed with your panting from running, made you need to catch your breath before you could speak.

"Don't make me do this," You sobbed into him.

Eddie stroked the back of your head, trying to console you; he was confused but more frightened than anything. He didn't understand what made you run? What had he done wrong? Was it the boat?

"Let's get you inside" He guided you down a few more streets, and you caught your breath as you approached the doors to Eddie's home.

Eddie sat you down and went to fetch you a glass of water

"You need to talk to me, Angel. What is going on?" He squatted in front of you, placing both hands on each knee for you to look at him.

"Eddie, we can't do this, this is too real! We took things too far. I don't know what to do? How can we keep doing this when we know how this will end?" you rambled.

"Angel, who says it has to end?" He needed clarification.

"We both signed that contract. You know we can't keep this up forever. We only have one week left before this is all over!" You raised your voice because now you were frustrated. What was he not understanding?

"Who cares about the contract?!" he yelled back, now frustrated.

Eddie had never yelled at you before; never once had he raised his voice at you in the past year.

“I care! My whole career depended on this stupid arrangement!” You yell.

“Oh, that's really all this was to you?! A Stupid arrangement? I’m just a way to get you to the top, huh?” Eddie was hurt. His words came out laced with venom.

“Fuck! No, not anymore! That isn’t want I meant!” You reach your hands out to Eddie, but he flinches away.

“But it's what you said!” He pointed.

“God, Eddie! That’s not what I meant! How we feel no longer matters; we can’t go on!” You cried.

“How could it not matter?!” He stood up and started pacing.

“Because it just can’t! You screamed.

“Yes, I can because guess what? I AM IN LOVE WITH YOU!” Eddie shouts back.

Your heart stops beating, your head starts spinning. Eddie loves you. That's what this date was about; he would profess his love for you...but it’s too late. All of this is too much. You should have kept things professional. It was supposed to be easy. No heartbreaks, no feelings, no getting attached. Simple. It was supposed to be simple!

“None of that matters...” you whisper with a solemn sniffle.

“Doesn’t matter?! How could this not matter?! You’re my world!” your real name fell out of his mouth. Not once in this year had Eddie even muttered your actual name. Your heart breaks into a million shards of glass ripping through your chest. He fell to his knees, kneeling in front of you.

“We can’t be together! This wasn’t supposed to happen!” you stand up off the couch and continue, “We can’t be together, okay! What don’t you understand? We HAVE to break up, Eddie. The contract is over; it's finished. We are finished.” you started pacing the room, you can't look at him, you refuse to look at him. You think you'll be sick if you glance in his direction.

Eddie’s heart was literally cracking into two pieces, how could you be saying these things to him? Why was this happening now? He was going to ask you tonight, he had everything planned… and now you’re breaking up with him? Because of a contract?

“How can you say that? After everything we have been through!” he belted, feeling betrayed.

“The contract says so! My career says so.” You were beyond frustrated and hurt, but this had to be done because legally, it needed to happen.

“Angel, please.” He took a step towards you with his arms reaching out.

“Eddie. Don’t.” you took a step back. Eddie winced as if he had physically been burned.

“I can’t believe you’re throwing all we had away.” He shook his head, refusing to look at you. “There is nothing we can do! We both signed the contract. You knew this day was coming! I don’t understand why I’m the bad guy?!” you pleaded.

“You think I gave two shits about what that piece of paper says? Do you think I read anything it said when I had a dream girl placed in my lap! Do you think I read that?! NO, I didn’t, not when I would be with you!" He tested the waters, taking another step forward, but you took another step back.

“Eddie, please, no. Tell me you knew that we had to break up… please.” you cried.

“Of course not! I don’t care about it. I love you, why don't you understand?!” He pleaded.

“I care! I can’t fuck up my career, don’t you get that?!” You could pull your hair out.

"So that's it? Just like that, we are done? You stand there, and you can look me in the eye and say your career is more important to you than our relationship? That's what all of this is about for you this whole time? I know you love me, and you won't say it back!" Eddie threw his pointer finger at you.

"That's not what I'm saying. You mean everything to me!" Your nose was running, and the streams of mascara and eyeliner cascaded down your cheeks.

"Then why are we fighting?!" Eddie's voice carried more than he knew. You winced at his tone.

You can't handle it when people yell at you. It only makes you cry more.

"Because I can't allow myself to love you." You shake your head in defeat.

"Baby, please don't do this to us. I can't live without you; Violet Rose needs you. I can't picture a life without you in it.” That little red velvet box felt like fifty pounds in his jacket pocket right now.

“So because you say so, that's it? This is the end?" Eddie pinched his brow bone.

“It's not me who decides, Eddie... We both signed a deal..." you seethed.

"Fine," just like that, he turned and stormed out of the front door.

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

You stood in the grand room with nothing but regret and sorrow to keep you company. You didn't eat, and you didn't sleep much over the next twenty-four hours.

You don't know how long you stood there before your body collapsed from exhaustion. You didn't know your catatonic state would last you a few days. You didn't know how you ended up at the airport, and you don't know how you got on the airplane back to L.A.

You didn't know that that would be your last time seeing Eddie.

You needed to fix this. You called Roger when you finally snapped out of the trance a few days later, but it was too late.

"The story is already out to Princess. It is being streamed on TMZ, People Magazine, and ETalk... There isn't anything we can do. Why do you want to keep it going?" He asked, confused. Knowing he would have cut it shorter, you never disclosed the truth to Roger.

“Never mind, Roger, I guess that’s it then.” You hung up without saying goodbye, no longer able to fight back your sobs.

That was it; the story was out, and you were curled up in bed for days. When the crying finally stopped you were more like a zombie, sleeping, waking up, then sleeping again. Anything to avoid life, you did. You just went through the motions.

Your phone and TV had been off after your phone call with Roger. You decided to turn your phone back on, with the thought of your mom freaking out from not hearing from you in a few days crossed your mind.

The first notification you get as soon as it turns on…“Hollywood's most beloved couple call it quits.”

The reality of your actions came crashing into you like a Mack Truck. You would never hear his laugh, never be able to hold him, never be able to help VR with her homework again. You would never be able to feel complete. So that was it; what’s done is done. You could do nothing to reverse the damage you brought to Eddie’s life. You just hoped that one day he would have it in his heart to forgive you, to understand why you did what you did… because you are in love with him, and you always will be.

~end~

Read part 2 here

Thank you for taking the time to read 💜 comments, reblogs and likes are always appreciated and encouraged ! 🫶🏻

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#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #rockstar!eddie x reader #rockstar!eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #older!eddie munson x reader #rockstar!eddiemunson #older!eddie munson #eddie munson x female reader #older!eddie x reader #modern!eddie munson #modern!eddie x reader #eddie munson fanfic #moder!eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #rockstar!eddie x pop!princess reader #Eddie munson x popstar!reader #rockstar!eddie x pop!princess #dad!eddie munson #dad!eddie munson x reader #single!dad eddie munson x reader #dad!eddie x mom!reader #joseph quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn #joe quinn

[lowkeyerror]

The Family Business Ch. 9

WandaNat x Reader

Word count: 2.5k

Ch.Notes: emotional turmoil, jealousy

Summary: After last night's events things only grow more complicated between Wanda, Natasha, and the reader.

An: So... I have blown through all of the pre-drafted parts I have for this and am now writing in real time the goal is to do post every monday but bare with me if I slip up.

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

The smell of coffee is the first thing to enter your sense as you stir from your place in the bed. You can't move much as your legs are tangled with someone else’s. You can feel soft breaths tickling your face. Your brow creases, but you make no other movements.

There’s a slight shift in the bed, and that's when you begin to feel a finger dragging itself along your collarbone. It’s gentle as it draws patterns lightly tracing up your neck and jaw. A thumb ghosts over your lips, but you stay still.

“Even after this life has been so cruel to you, and you've grown this hard outer shell; your skin feels so soft. So pretty under my touch.”

You are fully awake, but something stops you from opening your eyes. Instead you scoot closer to the woman and pull her body closer to yours. Your arm flexes as you hold her in place.

“Enjoying the cuddling?” Natasha’s voice enters the room.

“She’s so peaceful like this, I don’t want to wake her,” Wanda shifts in your hold.

She maneuvers so that she's sitting up right in the bed. Your head falls into her lap, and her hands start running through your hair.

“We have to, I’ve heard from Pietro that people are already being made aware of the oil spill. They’re scrambling, he’s already at the office with Kate taking orders.”

You hear Wanda sigh, “This is nice, it almost feels domestic.”

Natasha laughs lightly, “Yes, having your wife bring you and your lover coffee, screams domestic.”

“She’s not my lover, Natasha,” Wanda’s voice sounds harsh.

It takes everything to keep your body from tensing as you listen into this conversation you aren't directly involved in.

“It’s a joke baby,” you can almost hear the smirk on the woman’s face.

“Jokes are supposed to be funny Natasha,” she deadpans.

“I agree there's nothing funny about you being in love with Y/n.”

You hear shuffling and then a quick thud as Wanda throws something at Natasha. By her exasperated sigh you can tell Natasha caught it.

“Can we save this discussion for… I don’t know, when Y/n isn’t laying in my lap,” Wanda says defensively.

“Fine, but the last thing I’m going to say is your taste in women is 10 out of 10,” Natasha chuckles.

“Fuck you,” Wanda can’t help but laugh as her wife exits the room.

Wanda refocus her attention back to you, “We have a big day ahead of us little krolik and unfortunately it starts now.”

She shakes you gently and calls your name a few times. You pretend to wake up. The sight of Wanda in the morning is something entirely ethereal. You can’t help but stare at the woman. Especially after what you heard this morning.

Your intense gaze makes the woman shift and clear her throat, “Natasha made coffee for us.”

You laugh a little, your voice groggy from sleep, “Sounds like a good thing to wake up too.”

“It can’t hurt, we have a busy day ahead of us,” she says getting out of the bed.

“Your bed is like 10 times more comfortable than mine,” you sink further into the mattress.

Natasha enters the room, “Glad to hear you slept well.”

There’s something grateful about the look you give the spy, “Thank you for that. Both of you.”

“The door is always open for you lisichka,” Natasha smiles warmly back.

With much reluctance you get out of the bed. Your feet shuffle across the bedroom floor and you scratch your head, suddenly becoming more aware of the fact that you aren’t in your home.

“I guess I should go get ready at my place,” you say stretching.

“We’ll meet you over there and head to work together, ok?”

You agree to these terms and make your way home. When you get there the composure that you usually carry yourself with slips.

The brief conversation that played out between the married couple echoed in the walls of your mind. It was a joke, that’s what Natasha said in the beginning. However after claiming Wanda was in love with you, it didn't sound like a joke anymore.

Wanda is a married woman. You know this and you’d feel confident in saying that the marriage is a happy one. Natasha is good for her, better than you could ever be. Wanda being in love with you wouldn’t make sense.

As you get ready for work it’s nearly all you can think about. Every moment where you hugged each other for too long, where her hand would find it’s way in yours, where the two of refused to break eye contact was now floating in your head.

It was hard not to romanticize it, you had feelings for Wanda since you were a teenager, and now you are being told she feels the same.

It's a heavy feeling that sits in your stomach. Every part of your being wishes it could be joy, but it’s sorrow and dread. The other accompanying thought with this revelation is, Natasha.

The woman was amazing in her own right. She deserves the same love, attention, and kindness that Wanda does. You refuse to be a home wrecker. Their love it’s organic, it’s feels true. It was enough for Wanda to bring home a wife, knowing her family wouldn’t approve. There wasn’t a reality where you’d let her throw that away.

Your thoughts don’t get to consume you any longer when the doorbell rings. You put on a face of determination as you leave your home with Wanda and Natasha.

Once you’re at the office everything seems more hectic than usual. The three of you are all whisked away in different directions, answering to the influx of calls.

The sheer volume of people you have on your line, startles you a bit as initially you thought this would be enhance the unlawful business practices, but it has also benefited the business used as a front.

This might’ve been a million dollar move. However, it truly wasn’t about the money. The supply for the family was endless. It was to regain control of the city and to assure them whether Dragos was in charge or not the Maximoff’s would be running this city.

The victory is bittersweet as thoughts of Dragos invade your mind. He should be here celebrating with you all yet he lay still in a hospital bed, using machines you couldn’t name to help him breathe. With Flora likely sitting there with him, tremendous sorrow on her shoulders and the wish that he would wake up so she could scold him.

There were bigger things to worry about aside from what you had heard this morning. The health of your father figure, the health of the business, preparing for a war, there was no room for your feelings right now and you accepted it.

“Alright, it’s time for you to go on break,” Kate knocks on your office door before allowing herself in.

“Too busy,” you mumble typing away at your computer.

“I brought you lunch, meaning you have to atop working to eat it,” Kate plops down a bag on your desk.

The smell fills your nose, making your mouth water and stomach growl. You sigh moving your keyboard out of the way to open the bag of food.

“Thanks Katie,” you say before munching on a french-fry.

“No problem, how are you holding up?”

You stretch a bit, “It’s been nonstop in both businesses. I’ve got to be careful not to mix them up as I write the orders. I’m a bit stressed, but I think this is a good stress.”

“And outside of work?”

Your face drops, “I’m barely holding on to be honest. Constantly worried about Dragos, but not just him; Flora, Wanda, Pietro, all of them. I feel so helpless, I haven’t felt this way since I was a child.”

“Y/n-”

“I feel like I’m failing, Kate. We’re fighting against a war, but it’s inevitable at this point. There’s no way Kingpin is going to take this lying down. We can’t afford to lose, but I don’t think any of us are prepared to fight.”

Kate takes your hand in hers causing you to gaze into her eyes. There’s a fire there, one that you forgotten lived inside the assistant.

“Y/n, whatever happens this family will not fall. Others might have alliances, weapons, and political power, but what every single one of them lacks is loyalty. We have people on the outside switch sides, but everyone in this building is here for the long haul. We stand by each other no matter how hard it gets. Maybe you’re right, we’re not prepared for a war right now, but we will be. You aren’t alone in this Y/n, you have a family… thee family backing you.”

She’s right and you know it. It’s a hard a reality to swallow in the sense that with or with Dragos the Maximoff’s don’t have a choice but to win. They will win, but what will be lost on the way to victory. The longer you’re in the position you understand what they mean when they say heavy is the head that wears the crown.

“Something else is bothering you. I can tell,” Kate’s voice is soft when she speaks, snapping you from your thoughts.

You can feel the tip of your ears heat at her question, but you try to play it safe, “It isn’t important and I don’t think it will ever be. We have bigger things to worry about.”

Kate rolls her eyes at you, “You’re right about having bigger things to worry about. Things that you are clearly being distracted from by what’s on your mind. So as your best friend it’s my job to sit here and press you for answers until you tell me.”

It's your turn to roll your eyes, “Can we just drop this, my food is getting cold?”

“There’s a microwave somewhere in this building,” Kate took a seat at the edge of your desk, her hand still in yours.

“You aren't going to let this go are you?”

She shakes her head a little, “Nope.”

You take your free hand and place it over your face, “I heard Natasha say that Wanda is in love with me.”

“Oh my god. Y/n that’s- what’re you going to do?”

“Nothing, I’m not going to do anything.”

Kate’s eyes widen, “Why would she say that? Did she sound mad? How did you hear this? What if she is in love with you? How would you-”

“Enough!” You raise you voice at the girl and she stops.

“Sorry, but this is crazy.”

You sigh, “I know.”

“Do you love her?”

Your eye hit the floor immediately, “I’ve had a crush on Wanda for as long as I can remember. She’s seen me at my lowest, but found value in me nonetheless. Even after all these years she just makes me feel safe and I would do anything for her.”

“But…”

“But she's married to one of the most intriguing women that I've ever met. Someone I know who feels like I do. Someone who takes good care of her and can be there for her in ways that I can’t. They’re the perfect couple. They both truly deserve each other and I refuse to put myself between them.”

It is fully intended to sound strong, but by the end of it you can feel your eyes start to water. You do your best to hold it in but tears start to fall.

“Fuck,” you attempt to cover your face but Kate just pulls you to her by your office chair.

Her hands rests on your face wiping at the tears. You lean into her touch as she begins to rub your back.

“It’s alright, you’re alright,” Kate speak gently.

There’s a soft knock on your office door that gets you to straighten up. The walls are glass so you’re aware that they could see what was transpiring.

“Is everything ok in here?” Natasha let’s herself in, knowing the answer to her question.

You look to Kate, who then looks to Natasha, “Do you want to take over?”

Natasha gives a curt nod. You watch Kate walk out of the office closing the curtains on the way out so no one could see inside. She tells you to call her at the end of your day and you make a mental note to do so.

“Lisichka, talk to me,” she takes Kates previous position. She reaches to wipe the tears from your eyes, but you flinch away.

“I’m fine,” your voice dies as you speak.

“I think we both know that’s not true.”

You glare at her, but then your eyes soften, “I’m just overwhelmed Nat.”

“Maybe it's your turn to go home early n" she suggest.

“I have to stop by the hospital before I go home.”

Natasha hesitates, “I don't think you're in the right space to be there.”

“Someone has to go check on Flora and Dragos,” you stand firm.

“Wanda and I will go,” Natasha says.

You debate for a second on telling Natasha what you heard. You wonder how she would react. However you could never do that to her , not like when she’s looking at you like this. This is the second time in 24 hours that Natasha has been there for you in a time of need.

“Lisichka?”

“I- I’ll see if Kate can take me home,” you abruptly stand from your desk.

You don’t get far before Natasha is wrapping you up in her arms. You melt in her hold, she smells good, her arms are strong. She kisses the top of your head.

“Let me know when you’re home safe, ok? We’ve got everything under control here.”

You nod before heading off in the direction of Kate’s office. When you get to her door she’s on call and you debate leaving, but when she sees you she ends the call.

“Y/n-"

“Can you take me home, please. I know I could ask Clint, but I just-”

Kate cuts you off, “Of course, let’s go.”

You stay close to Kate as you leave the office. Unbeknownst to you, Wanda watches the two of you exit. She heads to your office to find her wife in your chair.

“What happened to Y/n?”

Natasha sighs, “I don't know she wouldn't tell me. I saw Kate sitting on the desk and wiping her tears away so I stepped in. She said she was overwhelmed, but there had to be more to it. I told her to go home.”

“I just saw her leaving with Kate,” Wanda adds.

“She said she’d ask Kate to take her,” Natasha explains.

“I could've taken her,” Wanda says with worry in her voice.

Natasha shakes her head, “You have a business to run and I promised Y/n we’d stop by the hospital after work.”

“I wish she would’ve seen me before she left,” Wanda’s upset, but she contains it well.

“Jealous of Kate?” Natasha tries to tease, but there’s something in her tone that Wanda detects.

“Are you jealous of Kate?” Wanda throws the question back at her wife.

Natasha gaze lingers on her hands, “What if I was?”

Wanda carefully straddles Natasha’ lap in the work chair. She buries her head into the crook of Natasha’s neck before mumbling into the soft skin.

“Then we’d both be jealous.”

Taglist: @natashaswife4125 @autorasexy @alexawynters @blkmxrvel @toouncreativeforausername @likemick @sgm616 @bstvst @dorabledewdroop @sapphic-simp4015 @natty-taffy @justarandomreaderxoxo @mmmmokdok @tarathia @bgwlsmahf25

#lowkeyerror #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #wandanat x reader #kate bishop

[star-sim]

supermassive blackhole ☆ jay park pt. 2

☆ non-idol!jay x fem!reader

☆ summary: You and Jay Park couldn't stand each other. But after a drunk makeout session at your university's annual soccer mixer, combined with Jay's secret identity as the city's friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, the two of you are pushed closer to each other than ever, challenging your long-time status as 'enemies.'

☆genre: enemies to lovers, suggestive but no nsfw/smut, angst, fluff, spiderman! au, college! au, so incredibly american HELP, reader has glasses bc it's cute and jay has a lip piercing bc i said so

☆ warning(s) ? many mentions and instances of alcohol (all characters are of age), this is very suggestive but there is no smut

☆ word count:  16.7k ☆ tag list: @sophiko22 @yenqa @kwiwin @okikinshasthehiccups @lovelickies @siyen @blackhairandbangs @pjjongsaeng @chkltmlk

part 1

The next day, exactly one week before finals week officially began, you and your friends decided to have a beach picnic to de-stress from the impending doom that was semester finals. It was your meeting place, ever since high school. Clad in a pretty yellow sundress, you entertained yourself with a sand-castle building contest between you and a few friends. Unfortunately for them, a course in urban design (which you shared with Jay Park) equipped you with just enough knowledge on how to build a killer sand-castle.

“Woah!” Isa, the one that you helped get with Jay’s friend all those years ago, exclaimed. You were crouched right next to her in the sand, using silicone molds to make sand seashells. Since junior year of high school, you and Isa have grown apart. It wasn’t the break up rift that caused the distance. In fact, you got closer because of the break up. People just grew on their own, and sometimes that growth was in opposite directions. Now that you were at the same university, you were still friends, but not as close as you used to be. “Specky, you’re really good.”

You grinned to yourself, melding the wet sand into a pillar. “I know.”

Even when your friendship thinned, there was one thing that made Isa distinct: the fact that she called you “Specky,” (short for “spectacles,” since you wore glasses) and no one else did.

“It’s what a course in urban planning and design gets ya,” you quipped, poking your friend with a sand-covered finger.

There were some things that you two disagreed about.

Like when Isa picked her major to be fashion design and apparel construction. Not the most useful or appealing to most employers unless she made it big, which was why you were so vehemently against it. Between the required courses in fashion design and political science (your own major), you argued that the latter would be much more useful. 

But that was two years ago, and now you joke about it.

“Yeah?” Isa cocked a brow. “But can you make leopard print look good?”

You smiled. “No, but I know how to pass a law that makes leopard print illegal.”

Isa nudged you playfully. It was supposed to be a light nudge, and it was. Except, your heads bumped together. After a bit of laughing and a few ‘sorry’s’ Isa stopped in her tracks, nose scrunching.

You glanced at her curiously.

Isa didn’t say anything, only leaning closer to you. This time, she pressed the tip of her nose against your exposed shoulder.

“Are you sniffing me?”

Isa only laughed before pulling back. You shot your friend a suspicious look. 

“You smell like someone.”

“Don’t I always smell like someone?” you molded the sand in your palm. “Like.. I dunno, myself?”

“Yes, but-” Isa leaned into you again. “You don’t smell like yourself.”

Before you could question her further, Isa called over a few more friends.

“Jake! Kazuha! Come smell Little Miss Specky!”

After having five whole people smell you, they all agreed that you smelled “un-[Name]-like” (whatever that meant).

Isa frowned, placing a thinking hand on her chin. “A-Ha!”

You watched amused as the woman jumped to her feet.

“I know who you smell like!” 

Isa threw an accusatory finger your way. 

“You smell like Jay!”

Jay Park knew there was something wrong when his toaster broke that morning. 

Him and his (your) friends were having a beach get-together, but you went first. He told you that he “had something to do for his job.” Probably easy to guess what he was actually doing.

He arrived at the outing an hour after you did. 

And the moment he stepped out of his taxi, there was an entire group of grown adults (read: his friends) charging at him. It wasn’t unnatural for this to happen, but it was what they were screaming and the person they were dragging along with them– You.

Except, when he made eye contact with her ,you looked away embarrassed.

And that was when he remembered the worst slip-up of his life.

“Yeah, I think Jay Park is in love with you. He tells me all about he’s liked you since freshman year and–”

Lying to you while being Spider-Man…. About how he, in his civilian form, liked you.

In his defense– he was panicking, okay? He didn’t know what to say! And he didn’t want to make it awkward either– ew, that would be so icky. 

Apparently making his enemy think that he was madly in love with her better than making the atmosphere awkward. When he went home yesterday night (that is, after dropping you back at his place and then making another round around the city so that you wouldn't suspect him), he almost jumped off a building without shooting a web to suspend himself. 

He chewed on the inside of his bottom lip.

Jay couldn’t make out any words they were shouting at him, other than your name, “fucking,” and “smell.”

“Okay, okay, shut the fuck up!” Jay finally yelled back at them. “All of you. Let me sit down first.”

When they got back to where all their other friends were, his friends sat him down, looking very serious, as if he was their teenage son who they caught drinking, or something.

“Why are you guys so serious?” he questioned suspiciously. 

“You know why!” one of his friends chided.

Jay really didn’t.

In the corner of his eye, he could see another one of his friends dragging you toward them. 

Dread. 

He could not face you after what happened yesterday.

Eyes narrowing, he turned back to them. “What is this about?”

“How ‘bout you tell us what you’re about?” one of them quipped. “Why does [Name] smell so much like you?”

What.

“Wait, what?” Jay’s lips curled. “What do you mean?”

“Let go of me, Jake!” Jake Sim finally managed to get you, who was kicking and screaming, to come over to where Jay was. You struggled out of his grasp. “Dude, I just want to build my sand-castle, Jesus fuck-”

When your eyes met with Jay’s again, instead of a glare or disgusted expression, you simply looked away awkwardly.

“[Name] [Last Name]!” Isa proclaimed. “Are ya gonna tell us why you smell like your sworn enemy?”

“I don’t know!” you shot your friends a glare. “What do I even smell like normally?”

“Sweet, kinda like an orange,” Jake answered matter-of-factly, smiling.

I would know that, thought Jay.

“And what does Jay smell like normally?” 

When Jay and you locked eyes, you knew the answer exactly. You both knew why you smelled like him, and it was an answer that was more complicated-sounding than it should be. 

You slept in his bed. Not because you slept together on his bed, but because he also used to sleep in that bed, so it was only natural that his scent wore off on you. You also used his shampoo and body wash. Not because you showered together (ew!), but because you lived in his house.

But if you told them that, there was no way in hell anyone would believe that there wasn’t some sort of relationship between you two.

“He smells like wood, but like, mixed with Axe body spray.”

“I do not!”

It was a silent agreement between Jay and you.

Act stupid.

“I literally have no idea what you’re talking about,” Jay grumbled.

You crossed your arms over your chest. “I knew you guys were stupid but I didn’t think you were that stupid.”

Jake and Isa sent each other suspicious looks, reconvening before a large grin spread across both of their faces. 

“I knew it,” Jake murmured. He got louder. “I knew it!”

Everyone looked at him curiously.

“What are you talking about–”

Swinging an imperious finger at Jay and you, Jake announced loud enough for surrounding people to hear and turn their heads. “These two are fucking!”

.

.

.

What?

The uproar that that single statement caused was uncontrollable. In your group of friends, it was common knowledge that Jay Park and [Name] [Last Name] had nothing to do with each other. If Jay was on one end of the spectrum, you would be on the other. Even suggesting that there may be anything more than simply hate was outrageous.

“No way, man….”

“That’s insane.”

“Impossible!”

When Jay looked over at you, ready to deny everything that they were saying, instead of your characteristic scrunched nose and curled lips in disapproval, your face was plastered with nothing but an awkward and almost embarrassed expression. 

“Y’know what?” one of their friends spoke up. “I saw Jay and [Name] kissing at the hockey mixer last week!”

You were completely out of commission, and uncharacteristically so, with a panicked and flustered face. Everyone else was consumed in such clamor. So Jay would have to take everything into his own hands. Taking a deep breath, he waited (while showing great disapproval) for everyone to shut up.

It wasn’t like they’d believe him if he explained the truth. 

“Are you guys done…?” he finally spoke, clear dissatisfaction in his voice. 

Everyone shut up. 

Jay Park was generally an easygoing guy. He didn’t snap at people, and if anything, he was often the butt of jokes. Not that he minded. He was hot-headed and an asshole, but he was probably one of the easiest people to joke with.

However, his censure was not something to mess with.

He was an older brother. He was a STEM major, which was already a rigorous department to go into, no less civil and urban engineering. He was the top of his class in high school (after a certain someone, of course), and ostensibly worked, like, three jobs.

If there was anyone who was normally very patient and smart, it was him. If he’s annoyed, probably shut the fuck up.

Plus, there was nothing like pissing off a tired college student a week before finals.

Jay wet his lips. “You guys are making [Name] uncomfortable. Look at her.”

It was true. You were literally cowering into yourself, frowning deeply and playing with the hem of your yellow sundress.

“Look, I get that you’re our friends, or whatever,” Jay huffed, folding his arms. “But maybe there’s a reason that we don’t tell you certain things. Maybe because everything gets so blown out of proportion and you guys assume the worst.”

He turned over to Jake. The scariest thing about Jay was that even if he was hotheaded most of the time, he was incredibly calm and laid-back when confrontational. “You– You especially. You constantly force [Name] and I together. Some people don’t get along, and that’s okay. Stop trying to force people who don’t want to be forced together.”

Jay wasn’t angry. He wasn’t even annoyed. Just trying to set things straight. When he was done, he looked at his friends expectantly. One by one, they apologized awkwardly.

There was no real resolution, just Jay saying, “Cool,” and walking away to talk to his other friends.

To say that you felt awkward would be an understatement, and to say that you were comfortable with the fact that you were feeling awkward would be a lie.

There was a lot to unpack.

Everyone was trying to suggest that you and Jay had some sort of sexual relationship. People always joked about it, sure, but for an entire group to accuse you of it was beyond disorienting. Now sitting under the parasol with a floral-print towel beneath your sundress, drawing shapes on the sand that had gotten onto the towel, you wished you could have said something. Sure, they were probably being light-hearted, and you knew your friends had no intention to make you feel uncomfortable, but there was something else they didn’t know.

That the number one source of your discomfort was directly from Jay.

When Spider-Man detailed everything that Jay had apparently told him about you, you didn't know how to feel.

According to Spider-Man, Jay Park has had a thing for you since freshman year of high school, and he keeps the hero up until early hours of the day just talking about you. Initially, you were horrified. Could Spider-Man be messing with you? There was no way that Jay Park– the bitch-faced, uncouth, uncivilized, villain that was Jay Park– liked you.

Just the thought that someone like him saw you in a different light made you uneasy.

On the other hand, you were a bit flattered. As Spider-Man explained it, Jay had a thing for you but not necessarily a crush. Rather, he found you attractive. 

“And he still does,” the hero had added. “He still thinks you’re attractive, even if he argues with you.”

Jay was the victim of some of your worst moments. You’ve screamed bloody murder at him, shed hot tears, and shrieked so hard that you’d lost your voice. He’d point out your major flaws and insecurities, ones that you didn’t even know that you had. He’d seen your true destructive, tyrannical, and malicious self.

But he still found you attractive? 

That was terrifying.

Has he ever seen you with your friends? How you were you soft and kind, all affectionate and tender? How you’d take care of them, how you’d pet their heads and listen to them cry?

How could he ever find you attractive if he’d never seen you be a good person, when he’d only seen the monstrous side of you?

How could anyone find you attractive?

You got positive comments about your appearance many times before, but they were always followed up by comments about your character

You were snapped out of your thoughts when a familiar dark head of hair passed through your line of vision. You never took the time to observe what he was wearing: basketball shorts and a hoodie. It seemed like he could never dress for the occasion, regardless of where he was.

He had his earbuds jammed into his ears, an irritated expression on his face. 

After years of purposefully trying to make his life miserable, you could read his face easily

Jay was hot. Physically– Wait no. 

Jay was hot, as in ‘affected by the scalding weather.’ His brows always scrunched up with his bottom lip jutting out when he was feeling especially warm. 

Maybe if he took off that hoodie of his for once.

You looked down at your hands.

You were under a parasol. 

Which gave shade. 

Which would make someone feel less ‘affected by the scalding weather.’

“Park!”

You never really thought that you would be the one to invite Jay Park to sit under a parasol with you. Especially after such events that transpired earlier.

It was silent.

Awkward.

Usually, you’d be able to look him straight in the eye, but now equipped with the knowledge that he may or may not have been attracted to you this entire time, you felt queasy.

Maybe this was a bad idea.

He had his eyes glued to the book that he was reading. Upon closer inspection, you knew that book. In fact, you had it.

It was Design of Cities: Revised Edition by Edmund Bacon. The textbook for your urban design course.

And he had the audacity to call you nerdo freak all this time! 

He only looked away from his book to glance at his phone. 

To change the song that he was listening to.

When you peeked at his phone screen, you noticed a familiar album cover playing.

Bright orange and blue, four men gathered around the table.

Then you noticed the white text right below it.

Supermassive Blackhole.

Before your mind could even think, your mouth moved for you.

“You listen to Muse?”

Jay took his earbud out of his ear, looking up at you slowly with a questioning look.

.

.

.

This scene has happened before.

“You asked me that already,” Jay said simply. 

“I-I know.” Why were you stammering? “Summer of freshman year. We were at the beach then, too.”

He cocked a brow at you, and just as he was turning back to his textbook, you continued, voice meeker than usual. “I asked you if you listened to Muse because I also listen to them. But you.. You thought I was making fun of you.”

Jay looked at you slowly.

Why were you shy?

He fingered the earbud that he had removed. You seemed to notice, bracing yourself for the slight embarrassment that would come with his shoving that thing back into his ear. Except, he didn’t. Instead, he presented it in his palm before you.

Was he… offering it to you?

“If you’re just going to stare at it–”

You snatched the bud from his palm, prodding it into your ear.

When the music played, you were met with Matt Bellamy vocalizing into your ear and that iconic, yet rough, guitar rift. Weird that the very song that you listened to when working out was the one that Jay used to study urban planning and design.

You watched Jay’s focused face. The scar on his nose got lost in the divots on his skin when he scrunched his nose, presumably in reaction to something he had read. You never really noticed the birthmark on his neck either.

The next song played, but before it did, Jay paused it.

“What are you looking at?”

You recoiled.

“You were looking at me,” Jay remarked. “Is there something on my face?”

“No, there’s nothing.”

“Okay.”

He caught a glimpse of the song playing before pressing ‘play.’

“You must love this song,” he muttered.

You couldn’t tell if he was being serious or not, until you were met with a distinct drum, rugged bassline, and the 4-on-the-floor beat.

Exo-Politics.

That was the name of the song. 

The song that was playing was called Exo-Politics.

You were a political science major.

Was he trying to joke with you?

Was the Jay Park attempting to joke with you?

In the corner of your eye, you could see some children building sand-castles, just like you had been doing earlier. You then peered at the textbook he was reading.

Design of Cities: Revised Edition by Edmund Bacon.

You bit your lip.

“Do you…” you began. “Do you want to see who can build a better sand-castle?”

A civil and urban engineering major and a political science major. 

Both were taking the same urban planning and design college course.

Who would build a better sand-city?

“What the fuck is that?”

“I’m going for a high-rise look!”

Maybe it wasn’t the greatest idea. 

Especially when it was two ‘nerdo freaks’ trying to out-wit each other.

“The housing density is insane.”

“That settlement looks squatter.”

“That looks unsustainable.”

“That neighborhood is just looking to get gentrified.”

At that comment, you, who were only a few feet away from Jay, grabbed a handful of semi-wet sand and hurled it at the man. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Hey!” The glob of sand had landed on one of his ‘high-rise’ buildings. “I’m trying to say that your neighborhoods look poor.”

“Poor?!”

You went for a more sustainable look. Geometric layouts, charmingly sinuous roads, mid-height buildings with only a few clustered high-rise ones, concise zones of income, and clumps of wet sand littered all across the sand-city, imitating trees.

“Is that… New Urbanism?”

You patted your hands off. “Glad that you can recognize it, Park.”

The detail really was something to marvel at. Each building had a indents into their surface to imitate windows, the sandy ‘roads’ were strategically carved with a sharp fingernail to replicate the different uses of land, and even the globs of sand that represented trees were fluffed up to look like actual trees rather than miscellaneous globs.

Jay rolled his eyes, going back to shaping the pointed tip of his building.

Whereas your city was terribly idealistic, he went for a more true-to-life replica. After all, it was his job to study and create infrastructural pieces for real-life cities. High-rise buildings, strong geometric structures, high-density housing, narrow spaces between structures, and little open space. They were built with incredible precision: all the lines were perfectly straight, all the shapes were beautifully even on all sides, and it genuinely looked true-to-life.

“Your city looks like something that would need protection from Spider-Man.”

Ironic.

Jay sighed to hide the slightly-amused grin that you had elicited from him.

“You like Spider-Man?” 

Your face contorted, eyes squinting. “In what way?”

“Whaddya mean ‘in what way’?”

You frowned. “I mean, economically and politically speaking, he’s kind of a disturbance, dontcha think?”

Do you even like Spider-Man? Has Jay been misconstruing everything?

Did he technically kidnap you?

“He’s, like, more effective than other law enforcement, but that’s really a testament to him as a protector and how shit current law enforcement is,” you thought aloud. “I think he’s good.”

“Just good?

You frowned again. 

“Aren’t you his friend?” you changed the subject. Even in your strange uneasiness, you didn’t find it hard to maintain steady eye-contact with the man. Given the fact that you’d cussed him out using all swears under the sun while looking him straight in the eye.

Jay feigned surprise. “Yeah, he is. How do you know that?”

The man watched as your bottom lip was taken under your teeth. “He came by last night.”

Jay quirked a brow.

There was a pulse of silence between you two.

Not quite comfortable, but not exactly hostile.

Other than the sound of soft breathing, seagulls squawking and people laughing in the distance, and sea waves crashing against the sandy shore, it was completely silent. 

Dare Jay say, a nice moment.

“Jay, come play football with us!”

That’s right. 

Every time they’d go to the beach, Jay would play football with the boys. 

He wanted to play. 

But he also wanted to show you up in your sand-city competition. 

As he constructed another sand skyscraper, Jay slowly looked up. His eyes met with yours. You gave him a sharp nod, as if to say, ‘Go ahead.’

The man sighed.

Dusting his sandy hands off, Jay rose to his feet.

“I’m not done here, by the way,” he remarked as he passed your crouched form. “I can still make a better city than you.”

Jay felt a glob of sand flicked at his leg, he knew that the feeling was mutual.

Jay lost control of his spider-like abilities sometimes.

His fingers would stick implacably to papers if he wasn’t careful, he’d turn a door handle mindlessly and break it with his inhuman strength, or be acutely aware of the most miniscule of all dust specks flying close to someone’s face.

Sometimes, he’d use those abilities to his advantage.

Like right now.

Jay wasn’t cheating!

Just making use of what his body can do.

Fast reflexes to dodge those that would charge at him head-on, incredible (in a human way) running speed, and probably the greatest throws, like, ever.

When Jake Sim passed the red-brown ball in his direction, who was he to not use those spider reflexes and catch it with larger-than-life precision? As his eyes scoped around for who to pass to, he found the perfect person. Preparing, he raised his arm, squinting for accuracy. At once, he hurled the football.

Except, he found that he’d lost control of just how much strength he was putting into the throw. 

At top speed, it began shooting through the air, its pointed tip charging like a missile. As if it was in slow motion, gravity dragged the leathery ball toward the sandy ground. Like a rocket torpedo, the football flung straight into the elaborate city of sand sculpted by your very hands.

If it was any normal, human-strength throw, only a portion of the sand-city would be destroyed.

But because Jay had an obscene amount of strength, the ball not only destroyed the entire city, but dug so harshly into the sand that it exploded it– debris-like chunks of sand just bursting everywhere. And especially all over you and your pretty yellow sundress.

The earth must have stopped spinning, the sun shedding a single ray like a stagelight in a theater over your now frozen figure.  It wasn’t just Jay’s super hearing senses. It was like all sound at this bustling beach died out in an instant, zeroing in you.

You turned your head slowly. Your expression was completely vacant, but that spoke volumes. There was sand all over your face, so with a willful arm, you wiped all of it in a sharp swipe.

Even though he was several meters away from you across the beach, and even though there was no way of telling who threw the ball, Jay could feel your stone gaze right at him. You took a deep breath.

Jay ran to you.

“I’m so sorry,” he breathed, swiping his tongue over his bottom lip. “I didn’t realize that it– the ball– was going your way– I–”

Everyone was ready to hear you shout your lungs out at Jay. In fact, Jay braced himself for the onslaught of profanities and obscenities that would be rightfully spewed at him.

But there was no yelling.

You breathed through your nose before rising to your feet and dusting off your sandy dress.

You looked at him.

“Thanks a lot, Jay.” There was a sliver of a smile spreading on your lips, but the way your teeth so clearly clenched together told a different story. You squeezed your eyes shut to conceal your bubbling anger, but you simply couldn’t take it. “It always seems like you ‘didn’t realize’ something all the time. But I’m not really surprised anymore.”

With that, flicked a piece of sand off your shoulder before snatching up your tote bag that was perched against the parasol and turning on your heel.

All Jay could do was watch your retreating back, football in hand, as you walked in the opposite direction away from him to the parking lot. 

He dug his nails into the leathery ball. Tearing his eyes away from you, Jay was about to turn back to his friends. 

Except, a massive crash erupted through the air.

With his spider-like reflexes, Jay snapped his head up. From behind the high-rise buildings and tall structures emerged a giant shadow. 

Almost immediately, in the distance, Jay heard cars honking, wheels screeching against the road, and screaming. There were mini fires in the distance from cars crashing.

As people scurried for their lives, the car smoke cleared, revealing a greater shadow in the distance. 

Six claws, seemingly mechanical and woven together with many tiny wires. Two antennas extending from the crown of the figure. Metallic body, with red and flashing accents.

Shit. 

He knew exactly who that was.

Doctor Discotheque.

Didn’t he fight him a week ago?

“Where’s Spider-Man?!”

Jay clenched his fist. 

He had to find a way to get into his hero suit without anyone seeing. Speaking of…

The man whipped his head around to where his friends were. Like everyone else, they were running for their lives. At least they were going in the opposite direction.

Clenching his fist again, Jay was ready to charge straight up to the supervillain, but his dark eyes incidentally caught onto the frozen figure of none other than you. You were completely frozen in your spot, unmoving as you gawked at the incredible size of the villain.

Damnit, [Name], Jay sucked in a sharp breath. It wasn’t abnormal for people to freeze in the face of danger, but he never thought it would be you. 

Shooting a web from his wrist, Jay retrieved a stray towel. In what was only a fraction of a second, he threw the towel over him before he changed into his Spider-Man suit. Fixing his mask, he discarded the towel.

The ground rumbled under his feet as Doctor Discotheque’s gigantic body terrorized the streets.

Jay’s feet immediately began moving, running toward your direction. As he approached her, he shot a sticky white web, sticking to your clothes back and effectively yanking you right into him. The hero threw you over his shoulder with an arm around your waist, and began running the other direction.

When you didn’t react, Jay gave a pat to your ass, the way a parent would do to their infant.

“Oi, [Name]!” Jay propelled himself off the sandy ground, discharging a few webs to allow him to swing. 

“S-Spider-Man?!” Finally, you snapped out of your dazed state. “What’s– What was that?!”

Jay tightened his grasp around you as he began climbing up a building. By now, he was far from where Doctor Discotheque was. Good for your safety, but not good for his own crime-fighting. 

“What, that big thing?” He felt you nod. “That’s just my good pal Doctor Discotheque.”

His tone was far too easygoing, and you audibly gulped.

“Relaaaaax, Angel,” Jay swung to another building. “He’s just a little villain. I beat him twice already. Nothin’ for ya to worry yer pretty head about about.”

“But he’s huge! And, you’re–”

Jay gave your ass another pat. “Just trust me on this, Baby.”

Finally, you reached the destination Jay had planned for you– the underground subway station. It was far enough from all the commotion for it to be calm, but just safe enough.

Jay placed you down. Despite all his reassurance, your face was twisted with concern.

You squeezed his shoulder, lips jutting out into a frown.

“I told ya already,” Jay knocked on your head. “Don’t worry about me.”

When you wouldn’t stop frowning, Jay flexed his bicep, placing your hand on it. With his hand over you, he squeezed his firm bicep.

“Ya feel that muscle?” you nodded slowly. “I’m strong. Spider-Man is strong.”

You stared at him.

“So you don’t hafta worry about me.”

Granted, Jay was talking to you the same way that he would talk to a crying six-year-old, but hey, it’s the principle of it!

“Just…” you took a deep breath. “Be careful.”

Jay unknowingly grinned. “Yeah, yeah.”

There was a pulse of silence between you two.

You looked up at him, with nearly glossy and wide eyes. You bit your lip.

“Before you go…” you murmured something under your breath. Abruptly, you grabbed Jay’s masked face, bringing it down so that he was eye-level to you. You pressed a quick peck to his cheek, before pulling back immediately. “Just…  Don’t do anything dumb.”

Jay stared at you, blinking a few times to absorb everything. He swallowed on his dry throat, licking his lips. Another wide grin spread over his face. 

“Of course, Gorgeous.”

Okkkayyy….

So maybe Jay was a bit of a liar.

According to the supervillain himself, Doctor Discotheque got access to some high-tech science shit and now had this supermassive mechanical body to control.

Just great.

Spider-Man was no wimp. He fought with all his might and was actually quite effective. Effective enough to damage Doctor Discotheque to the point that he ran away and yelled, “Damn you, Spider-Man!”

The only issue was that Doctor Discotheque was a little too strong for Jay to handle unprepared. 

The night was completely silent now. That is, if you didn’t count the police sirens and helicopters flying overhead, reporting on the incident.

There was an undoubted hush that fell over the city. The supervillain hadn’t done anything that was crisis-causing, but he was an unequivocal threat. According to the police reports, three people had died, while an entire block and a half of important infrastructure, including parts of the beach, had been subject to damage. The news, after collecting data, reported that quantitatively, 67% of citizens felt unsafe and were fearful of what was to come. Indeed, there was a threat.

And even worse, Spider-Man was injured.

Doctor Discotheque wasn’t lying when he said that he had “some high-tech science shit,” because one of his tentacle-like claws managed to stab Jay’s thigh. It was nothing fatal, but it was certainly debilitating.

“Ah– Shit.” Jay had to resort to climbing the walls instead of swinging around buildings. Before he entered his apartment complex, he made sure to tie a piece of cloth around his bleeding wound and change back to his civilian clothes.

When he cracked open his apartment door, he was surprised when you bombarded him with questions.

“Where the hell were you?” The you that Spider-Man knew was vastly different from the you that Jay Park knew. “We were all so worried– Shit– No one saw you, like, at all, at the beach– and you weren’t responding to any texts or calls– and–”

Jay blinked. 

“What were you doing all this time? You could have been killed, or injured!-- or– It doesn’t matter– Where have you been all this time and why haven’t you been responding to any of us, or–”

You dug your teeth into your bottom lip. “Look! Even your brother’s worried sick!” 

Jay looked over at Wonnie, who was eating chips (and getting crumbs all over) and watching TV, completely unbothered.

“I, um,” Jay stared at you. Quick! How was he going to get out of this one? “I was– I was at my internship. We.. uh, We were studying infrastructure… as a result of the… Incident.”

You eyed him suspiciously. “Was the studying so interesting that you couldn’t respond to any texts or calls?”

Jay fumbled with his phone that was deeply squashed in his pants pocket. “It was dead.”

It was now that he noticed the way that you were circling him, inspecting him like a hawk. It was a good thing that he changed into his civilian-wear, or else you'd see the cuts and bruises all over his arms, as well as the dirt and debris that had gotten into and onto his hero suit. 

“Oh my god, are you bleeding?!”

Jay looked down, and lo and behold, there’s blood dripping down his thigh, creating a puddle of dark red below him.

Maybe next time, he shouldn’t use a tiny piece of cloth to tie up such an absurd wound like that.

“Oh. I am.”

“?!”

And that’s how Jay found himself sprawled across the bathroom floor with one ear pressed against the bathroom door, listening to your voice on the other side.

“Is it bad?”

“Yeah, there’s blood everywhere.”

“?!”

He finally fessed up and admitted that he got stabbed in the thigh (with an appropriate excuse, of course). You were just going to leave it at that, snarkily saying, “Hope you know how to fix up a stab wound,” but when he responded with, “I don’t,” you grumbled under your breath and forced him to take a shower. You weren't exactly excited to see him naked and so bare (his thigh!) and neither was he, so your direction was all told behind a bathroom door.

It was a tedious task having to listen to you. 

But you were a tedious person.

Look for things in the wound like glass shards, disinfect it with alcohol, patch it up.

Except he couldn’t get past the second step.

“Shit, shit, shiiiiit,” Jay hissed. Rubbing alcohol burned.

“Park?” your voice resounded behind the bathroom door. “Are you okay in there?”

He fumbled with the various medical equipment. “Y-Yeah– It just kinda hurts.”

There was a silence.

“I’m fine.”

Behind the door, he heard you sigh.

“Put on some clothes, Park.”

“W-What?”

“You’re so fuckin’ incompetent that I need to help you. Put on some clothes so I can get in there, will ya?”

Now the two of you were sitting on the floor.

“Ow! That really hur–”

“Stay still then!” “I can’t when it’s burni– Ah.. Agh! It hurts!”

The wound was a lot worse than you had thought. Jay said that one of the interns dropped a saw knife on his lap, causing it to stab him. Honestly, you did not buy that story but it was the best he had so you just accepted it.

Unfortunately, this stab wound looked a lot worse than someone just accidentally dropping a sharp object onto his lap.

The two of you were now sitting on the cold bathroom floor, you in between his legs. Jay had shorts rolled all the way up, revealing his injured thigh. Other than the occasional hiss of pain, annoyed murmur, and sound of Wonnie’s TV channel in the background, it was completely silent. The early-summer night was only beginning to darken. If the night of the party was discounted, then this may have been the closest that you two have ever been.

Your delicate fingers against his skin, Jay sunk his teeth into his lip. Your glasses were at the very tip of your nose, almost falling off your face. He wanted to push them up badly, but decided against it. After all, you and him were not friends. Barely even acquaintances.

Well, you and him, a.k.a.  you and his civilian form, a.k.a. you Jay Park.

You and Spider-Man seemed to be great friends.

He wondered why you hated him so much. You got along well with Spider-Man just fine, and Spider-Man was probably the most free version of Jay there was. Was it just the very essence of Jay Park?

Thinking back to what happened earlier at the subway station, you were sweet. Too sweet. The sweetest that he’d ever seen.

Jay never thought that he’d look into your eyes and see genuine worry, concern.

The way you held onto him, those pouty lips, gleaming eyes that looked up at him like he was some god.

Jay’s lips parted unconsciously as he watched the way you were currently working between his legs. 

It would be a lie to say that Jay wasn’t, to some degree, attracted to you. He’s always been. Your [H/C] hair, those glasses that would delicately lay on your nose. Your mean words, nasty glares, critical eyes, and most strikingly, your wicked intelligence– they should have made him completely terrified of you, but for some reason, it only made him more attracted to you. 

Too many guilty nights were spent thinking about you, contemplating what he should say to you the next day to elicit a reaction.

Sometimes, at night, his mind would wander about what would have happened that night at the soccer mixer if Wonnie hadn’t called him. What would have happened between him and you? 

And when you kissed him earlier, he felt like a little schoolboy talking to a girl for the first time. Why was he so giddy?

He bit his tongue as you finished off your bandaging job.

He was going crazy.

Yes, you did indeed need to ask Jay Park for help again. Normally that would be embarrassing enough. But now it was another level of embarrassment.

A few days had passed since the incident at the beach, and someone had the wonderful idea to have a frat party. In the middle of the week. Which was what you (and by association, Jay) were getting ready for.

You and Jay agreed that you both would be taking your car to the party, but under the condition that you went in at appropriately-spaced times to avoid misunderstandings.

Jay’s version of “getting ready” was literally nothing. He wore what he always wore to parties. On the other hand, you actually dressed up.

The only issue was you didn’t have your friends with you, who would usually help you get ready.

Which was why you were now embarrassingly asking Jay Park to zip up your tiny red dress.

“C-Can you– just–” you had to cross your arms to keep the thin spaghetti straps from falling off your shoulders. Even so, in front of him, you felt like you were practically spilling out of the dress. “Can you just zip up my dress?”

How embarrassing.

Jay agreed to it with a silent nod, but you could feel his judgment boring into the back of your head. 

You felt his large hands ghost over your lower back before stopping.

“Move your hair.”

When you didn’t respond, Jay repeated himself. “Move your hair. I can’t zip it up if your hair’s in the way.”

“O-Oh.”

How embarrassing.

When he was done, you instinctively turned around to face him. When you were with your friends and they zipped up your dress, you’d turn around and ask, “How do I look?”

Unfortunately, Jay wasn’t one of those friends.

Your cheeks burned in embarrassment when Jay gave a questioning look, ready to turn around and scurry off. However, you couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes clung to your dress-clad body, and especially the way that he gulped harshly, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

You couldn’t stop the self-satisfied curve forming on your lips.

“What?!” was the simultaneous reaction of Jay and you.

Inevitably, when you arrived at the party, you parted ways to go to your own friends.

“I don’t know how you could hate him,” a friend chuckled into your ear as you hung out in the billiard area, drinks in hand.

“Hate who?”

Another friend nudged you. “Y’know.. Jay.”

You grimaced. “What about him?”

The friend laughed. “Have you seen his arms?”

“No, I haven’t.” You frowned. 

Your friends shrieked, giving you a slap on the arm. “Christ, he’s, like, fine as fuck– oh my god, the lip piercing–”

The bespectacled you frowned again, taking a sip of your canned beer. “If you like him so much, you should tell him. His big ass head might like the attention.”

Your friends exchanged looks.

“Nah, I can’t do that.”

At that point, you weren't even paying attention, too focused on the pool game happening in the room. “Why not?”

“Because everyone knows that Jay Park is yours.”

.

.

.

“WHAT?”

Jay Park?

Yours?

?????

“He’s not-”

Your friend threw an arm around your shoulder. “Look, babe, we all understand. It’s pretty much an unwritten rule that Jay Park is reserved for you and you are reserved for Jay Park.”

You scowled, taking another long sip of your beer, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Your neck felt uncharacteristically warm. “But, we’ve never even shown interest in each other!”

Another friend put a hand on your shoulder. “Everyone sees the way he looks at you.”

“But that’s just him!” you crossed your arms. “I do not like him!”

There’s cheering in the other room, which you momentarily poked your head out of the room to take a look at. Meanwhile, your friends shared a look.

“[Name], Sweetie,” they smiled when you came back. “Remember when he got his first girlfriend? You were glaring daggers at her.”

“Because she was an objectively bad person!”

“Then why were you crying into my shoulder for hours because you randomly ‘felt sad’?”

“Because I was randomly feeling sad!”

“Right…”

Your friend sighed. “You guys are crazily oblivious.”

You spluttered.

Likewise, Jay was having a similar dilemma.

“Dude, I don’t care if you think [Name] is hot,” the dark-haired man crossed his arms.

His friends stared at him. “Uh. I think you do.”

Jay’s nose scrunched. “I don’t.”

“She always looks like she’s gonna eat you up–”

Jay leaned back on the sofa, throwing an arm over his eyes. “Yeah, which is why–”

“And you always look like you want her to eat you up.”

.

.

.

“That’s not true.” Okay, so maybe Jay Park knew that it was true. When you called him stupid or cursed at him, it may or may not have been a turn-on. He’s not weird. “She doesn’t even call me by my name.”

“Right, [Name] exclusively calls you Park.”

Another friend chimed in. “She wants your last name!”

“Wha–”

Another one spoke up. “She calls you by your last name because she’s waayy into taking it.”

“Okay, okay,” Jay muttered. “But even if I did like her, I don’t think she’s like me back.”

“We never said anything about you liking her…”

.

.

.

“I’m leaving.”

He didn’t end up leaving. In fact, he and his friends ended up in the hallway bedroom along with an entire group of other people. Including you and your own friends.

“Let’s play truth or dare!”

The moment that that fuck-faced, son of a bitch Jake Sim reached for the glass Heineken bottle and gave it a spin, Jay knew he was doomed. Because the bottle landed on you yourself. And the mischievous look on his face told the room everything they had to know.

“[Name], I dare you to play 7 Minutes in Heaven with Jay!”

That’s how Jay Park found himself sitting face-to-face with you in a stuffy closet. 

Awkward.

Outside, you could hear the muffled voices of your friends, giggling amongst themselves. It was deathly silent in the closet, so quiet that Jay’s ears rung with static. Despite this, your eyes were not shy; steady and unwavering eye-contact was always the way for Jay and you, no matter the situation.

“Are they gonna kiss?!” someone whispered not-so-loudly on the other side of the door. You, staring dead into his eyes, cocked a brow, your lip twitching. 

“Six minutes!” someone shouted outside.

Jay was uncomfortable. You probably were, too.

How could he lighten up the mood?

Well, he’s comfortable with you when he’s Spider-Man, and vice versa. What’s something Spider-Man would say?

“You look great tonight.”

Good one, Spider-Man.

Your brows furrowed together, your entire face scrunching. Just as Jay was about to pray to the sky for the ground to swallow him up, you opened your mouth. 

“Thank you,” you said quietly, and for the first time since you got into the closet, averted your gaze from his. Your eyes dropped, before using your foot to nudge him. “Nice socks, Park.”

That’s right, tonight he was wearing… Spider-Man socks.

Oh man, he looked like a weirdo.

Jay chewed on his bottom lip. 

When he glanced over at you, for the first time ever, instead of feeling indignation or irritation, he felt something adjacent to admiration. 

Jay had seen you for every one of your embarrassing phases. And when he looked at you now, those dark and curly mascara-laden lashes, glossy pink lips, and shimmery eyeshadow lining your eyes, he only realized then how gorgeous you were. You had always been attractive to him, and he’d always known that. But now you were seriously beautiful. 

There was no doubt that you put effort into your appearance. He was stupid, and he knew he was, to indulge in the idea that, perhaps, you dressed up for him.

On your end, your heart was hammering in your chest. Which was weird. Because that only happened when you were nervous. And what was there to be nervous about when it came to Jay Park?

“Five minutes!”

Your friends’ words rang in your head.

Was Jay Park really that attractive?

He had honey-gold skin, strong and sharp features, tousled dark hair, and a pierced lip. If you looked past his smug expression when he got what he wanted or that slightly-pathetic look in his eyes when he didn’t, you supposed that he could be attractive. 

You glanced at him. His distracted gaze, pointed at the carpeted floor below their feet, was almost daunting.

Was there something between you and Jay, something that neither of you knew about?

If someone asked you that question years ago, you would have punched them square in the face for asking such a dumb question.

But now you didn’t know.

You would be lying if you said that you never thought of Jay Park in a different light. As much as you hated to admit it, there were times where you questioned your attraction to him. It wasn’t like he was going around charming you with physical affection. 

Instead, it was small actions.

Rolling his sleeves up, his large hands littered with rings, the bruises along his knuckles and splinters and cuts along his fingers because of his engineering workshops, licking his lips, that little side smirk he’d do when satisfied with himself, when he’d quirk his brow at you, when he’d correct people, when he’d speak academically, when he’d help people in class.

You were so immersed in thoughts that you didn't notice the way Jay was outright staring at you. 

You were only pulled out of it when you felt a finger push up your glasses.

Surprised, you jerked back, eyes looking up at a just-as-surprised Jay.

“I’m sorry,” Jay blurted almost immediately. “Your glasses– they were falling down your nose, so I–”

You bit the inside of your cheek, feeling your ears prickle with heat. Sheepishly, you pushed up your glasses, holding onto the rims as a way to hide your embarrassed face.

“I’m so sorry,” Jay rambled. “That’s so weird and I shouldn’t have and–”

“It’s okay,” you interrupted. You pushed up your glasses again.

Another silence fell over you, this time, even more tense. Until Jay broke the silence.

“How did we even start hating each other?” 

You cracked a small smile. “You don’t remember?

“No, I do,” Jay said. “I just feel like there were so many opportunities for us to become friends. We just never did.”

“I guess.”

There’s another pulse of silence.

“I don’t hate you, by the way,” you mumbled. 

“You don’t?”

“I mean, at least I don’t think so.”

“Then I don’t think I hate you either.”

“Thanks.”

Jay almost laughed. “‘Thanks?’”

You shrugged.

Your eyes met, staring into each other’s eyes for a few moments before a bashful expression spread across Jay’s face. “Y’know, I stopped talking to Taehyun after you yelled at me.”

Your lips parted. “Why?”

Jay scoffed, his brows knitting together in an attempt to explain himself. 

“I dunno. I guess you..” he trailed off. Again, those wide and glossy eyes that looked at him. This time, though, instead of gazing at him as if he was some god, you watched him as if he was a book, trying to read him. “You beat some sense into me.”

“Three minutes!” someone shouted. From outside, there were giggling and fake kissing noises.

You two shared a small laugh at your friends.

The remaining 3 minutes were quiet.

College student stress was no joke. That coupled with a pinch of sexual and housing frustration, and the result is a drunk you.

You really didn’t mean to drink so much tonight, but everything seemed to become a much bigger problem when on a dance floor next to a whole bunch of sweaty bodies, so why not drink your problems away?

Currently, you were on top of a guy, who was equally as drunk as you, in the guest bedroom of the frat house. Tangling your hands in his hair, you smashed your lips against his. Whoever you were kissing was a messy kisser– He shoved his tongue into your mouth, aggressively exploring every crevice. His kisses left your lips swollen and pouty, pink lip gloss leaving pretty residue at the corner of his lips. Cold metal pressed into your bottom lip– it must have been a piercing. It should have hurt, and it did, but the foreign and cold pain only made the kiss even better.

Meanwhile, his hands roamed.

Would it be a good time now to mention that the guy was Jay Park-- just that both of you were too drunk to even notice each other? For the second time.

Jay's large, ring-covered fingers gripped your hips, hard enough to leave bruises. With each passionate kiss, he pulled your hips against his, before sliding his hands down to your ass and giving it a squeeze, earning a squeal from you. 

You finally pulled away from each other only to catch a breath of air. You, with puffy lips and blown-out eyes, shifted in the man’s lap; you shoved your knee between his thighs, while your hands grasped his hair to tilt his head, giving you access to his neck.

Pressing wet kisses along his honey-gold skin, you took in his woody scent. Your fingers, laced harshly in his soft locks, pulled on his hair.

“Fuuuuuck,” Jay groaned. 

You gave his hair another harsh tug, pressing your lip directly against his neck– right at the crook where his jaw met his neck. You swiped your tongue over his skin. Grinning to yourself, you graze your teeth against him, before sinking them in and giving his plush skin a soft suck. He gasped.

“You like that?” you breathed in his ear. He shuddered, nodding quickly. 

Unsatisfied, you sank your teeth into his skin again, sucking harshly this time. “I wanna hear you fuckin’ say it.”

“Yes– shiiit–” your lips moved to the crook of his neck. Jay threw his head back, sighing loudly. “Fuck, I like that.”

Even under the dim bedroom light, when you pulled away,you could admire the red-purple marks left on his skin, along with the slight shimmery sheen of lip gloss left. Just when he thought it was over, you ran your tongue along the bruises that you left, pressing the sensitive skin. 

You ran a pedicured hand up his chest, before pushing him down so that he was lying flat on the soft bed. Currently, you were completely straddling his thigh, so you threw a leg around him so that you would be straddling his hips.

In your drunken stupor, you couldn't make out his features, other than a sharp nose and dark hair. Jay's hands came up to grip your hips once again, rocking yours against his just slightly and letting out a desperate cry.

You ran your nail along Jay's neck, admiring the marks you left.  You grasped his chin, shaking it side-to-side. “Uh-uh. Not until I say so.”

Yanking the hem of his hoodie, you pulled it up, revealing a toned and tanned stomach. You graze your nails against his skin, biting your lip.

“Raise your arms,” you slurred. He sat up and complied, so you pulled his hoodie over his head. With him still sat up, you pulled Jay close so that your chests were pressed right against each other.

Once again, you smashed your lips against his, engaging in another heated make-out session. Your nails dug into Jay's biceps, while his hands roamed your body– squeezing your ass, grazing your thighs, and tugging at the thin spaghetti straps of your dress.

“Take it off,” he whined against your lips, pawing at your dress. “Take it off, please.”

You chuckled, amused. You grabbed his chin. “What did I say earlier?”

“Please, please, please,” he begged, completely ignoring what you said.

You slammed your lips against each other, pulling him by his face. The room was filled with the sound of lips colliding with one another, and occasional whines and pleas.

Both far too intoxicated to focus on anything other than your desire, you didn’t notice the sound of footsteps and laughter approaching the guest bedroom.

“And I was like–” the door clicked open. “OH MY GOD–”

Why does this keep happening? 

The last time Jay went to a frat party, he nearly hooked up with you and got cockblocked one way or another. Last time, it was his kid brother. And now his friends.

As he ran out of the frat house (of course grabbing a water bottle and chugging it to sober up), searching for you, Jay couldn’t help but feel a harboring sense of disappointment and shame. His cheeks burned against the cool night air, his eyes glossy and watery with the initial surprise and now, shame. He tried to blink back the tears that were beginning to line his eyes, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood.

When two of your friends bursted through the doorway, the two of you were completely frozen. Jay was too drunk to even comprehend what was happening, but when he heard “[Name],” everything came back to him.

You didn’t seem to realize it was him either until you heard his name.

And the moment that you did, your face grew red, morphing and twisting. As crystal tears began to fill your eyes, you began hitting and punching Jay. Maybe he was too drunk to understand, or you were too drunk to generate coherent words. But he couldn’t understand anything that you said.

Not until you let out a loud sob, yelling, “I hate you, Jay Park.”

You jumped off of him, running out of the room, pushing past the group of friends that had formed a mini-crowd around the doorway. 

You must be disgusted with him. He was a fool to think that he could even have a chance with you.

Humiliated and disgusted with himself, Jay watched as you ran off into the night. His heart sank to his knees, an uneasy and nauseating feeling settling in his stomach. As his heart calmed down, Jay lowered his head in humiliation, unable to even face himself.

You said that you didn't hate him, but you surely must now.

Just as he was about to run back into that frat house and drink himself dead, he realized one very crucial thing: where the fuck was you going?

You were drunk. And crying. Even if you hailed a taxi, there was no way of knowing that you'll be safe.

Sucking in a sharp breath from his heavy breath, Jay looked down at his hands.

God, he was so ashamed of himself. He would love– and truly, love– to go drink until he was shitfaced drunk again. There’s no way that he could look anyone, and especially you, in the eye after this. He felt disgusting. Nasty. He must be a repulsive person.

But there was no way in hell that he was going to let a drunk and vulnerable woman run around the city late at night.

Which was why Jay found himself pulling the very woman that crushed his soul close under a street lamp. 

Of course, as Spider-Man. 

Luckily, you hadn’t gotten in a taxi yet. He found you sitting under a street light, crying. His heart ached, wrenching in his chest. 

Standing over you, he extended a hand.

“Let me take you home, Angel.”

Even with all the shame that befell over him, Jay was gentle with you. Even though you were the source of all his troubles, he couldn’t bring himself to treat you as anything less. In his heart, you were still the you that he knew (and loved).

Crouching down, he pushed your hair out of your face, running a thumb over your wet cheek to wipe away your tears. Patting your head, he couldn’t help but coo at your pouty face. 

He didn’t like to see you cry like this.

When Jay cupped your face, you grabbed his wrist, nuzzling your cheek into his warm palm.

“Please,” you whispered.

And who was he to refuse you?

You cried into his neck the whole way home. In a way, Jay felt like a fraud. The same person that ran you away from was the one holding you. If you knew who Spider-Man was, you’d run, too. 

“Don’t wanna go inside,” you murmured into his ear once they arrived at his apartment.

Jay stroked your hair gently. “Why not?”

“Because,” you sobbed. “Because— it’ll r-remind me of him.”

The hero frowned. “Of who?”

You cried harder. “Jay—“ you stopped yourself, only holding onto him tighter. 

“[Name],” Jay whispered against the shell of your ear. “How ‘bout I stay with you out here?”

You sniffled, glassy eyes shining in the bluish moonlight. You nodded your head profusely. Much to your surprise, Jay launched the two of you up onto the roof of the apartment complex. When you looked at him sheepishly, he simply muttered, “I go here when I want to clear my head.”

Ten minutes later, all of which were just filled with you sobbing in your drunken glory, neither of you wanted to leave your current position: Jay sitting cross-legged and you on his thigh so that he could see your face. The whole time, as you cried, Jay stroked your hair, occasionally whispering a few words of reassurance in your ear.

As you calmed down, Jay cupped your cheek. You must have been beginning to sober up, because you resisted his touch, pulling away to hide your face. 

“[Name],” he said against the shell of your ear, delicate fingers grasping your chin. “[Name], look at me.”

Rich from someone who could barely look you in the eyes right now.

“Nooo,” you whined, bringing a stray strand of hair to cover your eyes. “It’s embarrassing.”

Jay cracked a grin under his mask. “What’s there to be embarrassed about?” you didn't respond. “Yer embarrassed about crying in front of Spider-Man?”

“Am not!” you shot at him, but the way you continued to hide your face told Jay everything he had to know. “H-Hey!”

Jay forced your face to turn to his. He ran his thumb across your cheek, caressing your puffy and tear-stained skin. “Talk to me, Gorgeous.” Your lips pursed into a pout. “What happened? Did someone do something to make you cry? Do I gotta fight someone?”

Yeah, yourself.

He knew the answer to that.you were going to cry again, wail about how much you hated Jay Park, how disgusted and horrified you were with Jay Park, how it was him, that bastard of a man, that made you cry. Jay knew he wasn’t emotionally prepared for what you were going to say, but he wanted to hear it from your lips for some reason. He would at least gain some closure, even if it meant rubbing salt into the wound before he was going to inevitably beat himself up over it later.

But to his surprise, you shook your head. 

“No one did anything,” you sniffled.

“B-But–”

You looked down at your hands sadly. “It was my fault.”

How could it be your fault? Jay was certain that it was his.

“I’m such a bitch,” you breathed. “He… H-He didn’t even do anything– I– I wanted him– so bad– But I pushed him away…”

Jay tightened his hold around you. “What… What are you talking about?”

“If I talk about it, I’ll start crying again,” you murmured. When Jay gave your head a soft pat, whispering, “I won’t make fun of ya if you do,” into your ear, you took a deep breath. You turned over your shoulder to gaze at him. “But you have to promise not to tell anyone though.”

It wasn’t like Jay heard you say that though.

Because he might have been too fucking enraptured by you.

The yellow-marble moon shone behind her, giving you an ethereal backlit glow. Even so, the lights of the bustling city reflected off the sparkling luster of tears collecting in your wide eyes. Your hair was endearingly disheveled, and your nose and ears were getting sensitive from the cold night air. You were probably the loveliest person he ever-

No. He should stop.

Jay extended a pinky finger. “Promise.”

You sucked in another deep breath, fiddling with the hem of your dress. 

“Me and Park… We got drunk and almost…” you trailed off, hoping that he would get what you were trying to say. He hummed, signaling that he did. You opened your mouth to continue, but frustrated, shove your face into your hands, letting out a whimper. “And then… our friends walked in on us– And– I just– Felt so embarrassed.”

Embarrassed.

That word stung.

Your eyes began to quell, and the wet sniffles started again. “I got angry, I got so– Fucking angry– and I just began yelling and h-hitting him–” you cut yourself off with a sob, to which Jay squeezed your hand.

He let you cry into his shoulder.

“He– He–” you sobbed. “He looked so hur– hurt. A-And that’s why I-I’m crying!”

Jay sunk his teeth into his bottom lip. He urged you on, rubbing circles on your back. 

You used the back of your hand to wipe your tears. “J-Jay–” His ears perked up at the sound of his name. You almost never called him by his first name. “Jay-fucking-Park makes me feel so-”

Jay braced himself.

“-weird. I-I thought I hated him… B-But–” you squeezed Jay’s hand– “I…. I think I.. I…Ugh!”

You smashed your wet face into Jay’s shoulder in frustration. In his complete and utter bewilderment (you truly didn’t hate him?) Jay let out an airy chuckle. Feeling his chest rumble, you groaned, giving him a smack.

“Y-You said you wouldn’t l-laugh!”

Jay stopped, giving your head another pat. “Sorry, sorry. Ya said that Jay makes you feel weird? Whaddya mean by that?”

You ran a hand through your hair. “Tha- That’s the problem: I don’t know!”

You looked up at him helplessly, grappling onto his wrist. “Help me, Spider-Man!”

Jay let out another airy chuckle. “I mean, how do ya feel around him?”

You glared at him incredulously. “H-He– I normally d-don’t feel anything!-- But re-recently I feel… Hot.”

“Hot?”

“Like, like I’m about to b-burst!”

Jay studied your face. “Do… Do you just hate him?”

“I-It’s not hate!”

“Then I don’t know!”

“Spiiiider-Maaaan!”

He didn’t want to say it. Even suggesting it was probably too emotionally-wrecking for the two of you.

“Do you… have a crush on him then?”

You flopped over him.

“?!”

With your body thrown over his shoulder, you shoved your face into your hands, letting out a drawn-out groan. There’s a pulse of silence. 

Jay clenched his fists. There was a lot to take in. It could be the alcohol lingering in his system, or the overwhelming emotions he felt, but he genuinely could not process anything right now. He’ll sleep on it. All he knew was that he was on-edge.

You responded to his question with an inaudible, muffled, mumble. 

From the way that you stilled against him, not even uttering a sound, it must have been an utterance to yourself, something that he wasn’t supposed to hear.

You clearly didn’t want to confront it, so he won’t force you to.

With little thought, Jay frowned while he traced shapes against your thigh, while you were still sniffling away. You two sat in a comfortable silence, soaking in the moonlight.

“Did you just draw a poop?” you blurted.

“Yeah,” Jay replied. His gloved finger, laced with mischief, traced another figure– consisting of two circles and a long tube.

“I don’t even want to say what you just drew!”

Jay snorted. Wrapping his arms around your hips, the hero hoisted you up momentarily, before lifting you off his shoulder and onto his lap. It was only when you let out a short squeak when he realized that your legs were now draped on either side of his hips.

He deadpanned.

This scene has happened before.

But instead of you pushing him away and punching his chest, you simply giggled, cold hands coming up to grab his masked face. Jay was startled when you pulled his face closer to yours.

“[Na–”

You tried to squeeze his cheek under the mask. When you felt plush, warm skin, your face lit up. “Woahhh!”

“Why’re you so surprised?”

You squished his masked cheek again. “You’re real!”

Another thing about you that enamored him: your naïvete and nearly innocent nature (but only sometimes, when you weren’t trying to kick his ass).

Jay chuckled. “Of course I am. Didja think that I was fake?”

You hummed. Then ,you cupped his cheek, before pedicured fingers slithered toward the juncture between his ear and neck. You fingered the cloth there. Jay’s breath caught in his throat.

“I’ve always wondered who’s behind this mask,” you thought aloud, caressing his neck. Your voice was low and light, like a whisper.

Jay felt like a middle school boy; he was getting nervous just by how close you were to him. He could smell your perfume, and even your breath against his neck. His heart hammered in his chest.

“You…” he rasped, voice deep. “You don’t wanna know.”

“But I do!” you giggled. “Do I know you in real life?”

“Err… I can’t answer that.”

“Awwww.”

You stared at him, before cracking another grin. “I don’t care who you are in real life. I’d still be your friend.”

Jay quirked a brow. He slunk his arm back around your waist, pulling you in closer. 

“What if I was someone you hated?” he murmured. His dark eyes locked onto yours. Such an indulgent question. He was opening himself up to get hurt, but for some reason, he didn’t care.

“I wouldn’t care,” you breathed. “I’d love you either way.”

He knew that was a lie.

That night, you fell asleep in his arms up on the rooftop.

When he snuck back into his apartment, he placed you down on his bed, tucked you in, and whispered, “Good night, Pretty.”

The moment that he shut that bedroom door, Jay felt weak to his knees. His heart rate was picking up, nose suddenly becoming runny. He was in the middle of chanting, “Don’t cry,” to himself when the first tear rolled down his face.

A hand reached up to clasp his mouth tightly as he squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn’t wake you or Wonnie up.

Jay didn’t know how long he cried sitting with his back against the bedroom door, but when he was done, he felt dizzy.

Jay went on an early morning patrol.

He didn’t get much sleep, but that sleep was indeed helpful in clearing his mind.

As he swung from building to building, occasionally scaring off criminals and sketchy people alike, his mind was occupied with thoughts about last night. It was hard to rationalize last night, and while it still was hard, the cool morning air kissed his cheeks just enough to give him the calm to think.

Okay, so, she doesn't think I’m disgusting, I didn’t actually do anything wrong, she was just embarrassed. I make her feel weird, and she might actually hate me. She says that she would still love me if I was… me, but like, “me” as in “Spider-Man” and the other “me” as me, Jay Park, and–

God, this was frustrating.

Even if you didn’t blame him, there was no way he could face you or any of your friends as Jay. His friends were blabbermouths. Everyone and their mothers probably knew by now the events that transpired.

His anguish built up. So much so that even when Jay was disarming a knife-bearing mugger, he couldn’t bring himself to make a few snarky remarks. His body was moving on its own, jumping around and soaring through the air. His mind was in a world of its own, running and drilling with little break, just mulling over all the possibilities.

He didn’t notice the time (three hours later) until all the delis and flower stores began opening up for the day. Plopping down onto one of the hedges on top of a building, Jay only realized how out-of-it he was; his legs were plagued with an abnormal ache, and his chest pushed out air using labored lungs.

Jay pulled off his mask, letting the cool air hit his face. He took a deep breath, peering down at the quiet bustle beginning to spread throughout the city.

He was about to sit there and contemplate, probably reflect on himself or simply relax. 

However, an ear-splitting ringing sound cut through the air.

Beep beep!

“Shit,” he muttered, slipping his phone out of the seamless pocket attached to his suit’s leg. “Whaddya need, Wonnie?”

“Mayday, mayday!” his brother whisper-yelled into his ear.  “Code red! I repeat: code red!”

“Why’re you whispering?” Jay jumped to his feet. He sensed the urgency in Wonnie’s voice on the other line, slipping back into his mask. “What happened?”

“I’m at school right now,” Wonnie hissed. “It’s your girlfriend!”

The man prepared for mobility, rubbing his wrists. “I don’t have a girlfrie– And why are you calling me at school right now?”

“Aghh!” Wonnie cried. “It’s [Name]!”

“Did something happen to her?” Jay’s voice immediately switched to a serious tone. He flexed his muscles, suddenly becoming hyper-alert of his surroundings. His eyes scanned the surrounding area. 

Jay heard fumbling on the other side of the phone, presumably Wonnie almost getting caught by a teacher or something. “Okay, okay. Downtown– the skyscraper along the greenbelt– yes, that one! Doctor Discotheque; I think he’s hanging her!”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Jay grumbled. 

He was on top of a retail store. If Jay’s urban design professor was correct, then there should be a big stretch of apartments in the next few hundred kilometers. In the center should be the CBD. The only issue was that those apartments were dense. If he wants to drill past them in time, then he would need to be quick.

With just his enhanced spider-sight, Jay could see all those hundred kilometers ahead, straight to the central business district. Doctor Discotheque was standing at the top of the downtown skyscraper, and apparently he ditched the massive mechanical body that the “high-tech science shit” gifted him. Instead, the supervillain wore a sleek spandex suit. Doctor Discotheque was laughing villainously, because next to him was a crane hanging right at the edge of the building. The silhouette that was dangling from the crane was you yourself.

Jay heaved. 

Let’s fucking do this.

“Spider-Man did it better, by the way.”

“If you keep talking, I will drop you off the side of this building.”

You couldn’t even be surprised anymore. Somehow getting kidnapped by a supervillain was less outlandish than making out with you enemy twice.

This morning, when you were just starting to leave for class, the window shot open, revealing a goofy-looking villain in purple spandex that he totally didn’t rip off of Spider-Man. Seriously, it was the tackiest outfit ever. He had a sparkly panel as a recurring design motif and it seriously was not good.

Nowy ou were suspended 400 meters in the air, with your feet fastened to the lift of a construction crane. You crossed your arms over your chest. 

You should be scared. You really should. For God’s sake, you were dangling upside down over a busy road from an unsteady crane on top of a building that was 400 meters tall. 

But the sight of a supervillain wearing a sparkly suit was too unserious. If there was anything to be afraid of, it would be Doctor Discotheque’s little villain costume.

“Nice outfit, Sparkle Boy.”

And besides, you knew that Spider-Man would save you.

Doctor Discotheque ignored your not-so-subtle jab at his suit, too busy scanning the sky for a certain red and blue - clad superhero.

In fact, that really pissed you off.

How dare he, a sloppily-dressed, dilapidated-looking, old geezer, kidnap you and threaten your life? And when you tried to talk to him, he just ignored you? Such a poorly-designed supervillain. 2/10 from you.

“Hey!” you yelled from where you were dangling. “Hey, you! Purple Wurple!”

Doctor Discotheque ignored you again.

You huffed. “You motherfucker! How dare you ignore me!”

Nothing from him.

“Hey, answer me! Doctor Disgusting!”

Finally, the supervillain snapped his head at you.

“It’s Doctor Discotheque, not Doctor Disgusting,” he spat.

You snorted. “It’s a good thing you became a supervillain, and not a villain-namer, because wow, ‘Doctor Discotheque’ might be the worst deed you’ve ever committed.”

Doctor Discotheque narrowed his eyes at you, before a wide smirk spread across his face. “I had higher standards for Spider-Man.”

When you glared at him, he continued.

“I can’t believe he could date such a wretched person like you.”

“Date?”

“You seem more surprised at that than me kidnapping you,” Doctor Discotheque muttered. He observed your scrunched expression, his grin widening. “I saw you and Spider-Man getting cozy last night on the rooftop. Never knew that he would go for a woman as insufferable as you.”

“Hey, we’re not–”

“And, if you don’t shut your mouth,” the villain spoke through tight lips, “I’ll throw you off this building.”

Before you could retort, the man’s hand reached for the remote console that controlled the crane. Gloved hand palming the joystick, Doctor Discotheque let out a low chuckle, before giving it an experimental pull. Immediately, the lift of the crane shakily lowered.

“H-Hey–!”

He played around with the controls, philandering around as if it was some kind of children’s toy.

“You– You little bitch!” you, though shaky from the mobility, yelled. “F-Fuck you and your sp–sparkly spandex!

Doctor Discotheque let out another low chuckle, before pressing a button. You weren't sure about the mechanics of a crane remote console, but it started shaking the lift from side to side. The crane must have been old, because the parts were moving so shakily. The lift was quite literally rocking in the sky, swinging you around slowly.

“One more word from you, and I’ll be releasing you,” Doctor Discotheque mused. “And by the way, it’s not spandex. It’s lycra.”

You were seriously considering shutting up. Your stomach did flips now that you looked down at the vast expanse of the city below you. The sound of cars rushing across the road, as well as the distressed crowd that was now gathering under the skyscraper, police cars with their loud sirens, and camera shutters did not calm you in the slightest. It was a miracle that your glasses were still intact at this point.

And still, Spider-Man was nowhere in sight.

Wait.

Spider-Man.

Your eyes flickered toward the villain.

There must be a reason that Doctor Discotheque kidnapped you. Other than the fact that he was, in fact, a supervillain, there must be another reason for his evildoing.

Why would someone want to kidnap a broke college student, unless there was something to gain from it?

There truly was only one thing notable about Doctor Discotheque, other than his horrible costume. And it was that he had major beef with Spider-Man. Unfortunately for him, Doctor Discotheque let it slip that he thought you and Spider-Man were dating. 

It was a perfect plan.

Use Spider-Man’s girlfriend against him.

The only issue was that Spider-Man had not yet arrived on the scene yet. Heck, no one even knew if he knew of the situation yet.

Doctor Discotheque wasn’t going to do anything to you. Not until Spider-Man made an appearance.

“Y’know, Doctor Disgusting,” you shouted. “You suck!”

Doctor Discotheque deadpanned. “Foolish woman! Did you not hear what I just said–”

“Drop me,” you demanded. You thrashed around, flailing your arms so that the rope fastening you to the lift shook. “Drop me, you fucking bitch! I dare you!”

Doctor Discotheque stilled. He said nothing, just simply grumbling something under his breath and dropping the remote control to the concrete ground.

You watched him, proud of yourself.

But there were bigger problems up ahead now.

Spider-Man was nowhere in sight. This maniac might actually do something to you if Spider-Man didn’t show up on time. With the size of this commotion– road blocks, traffic issues, a giant crowd pooling at the base of the skyscraper– it was no doubt that the spider-like hero should be on his way.

“Hey, fuckface!” 

A familiar confident and charming voice cut through the air suddenly.

Lo and behold, it was the great Spider-Man.

“Spider-Man-!” you blurted, relief washing over you.

Doctor Discotheque let out a laugh. That laugh became a cackle, before he was howling. Except, it wasn’t really laughing out of amusement, but him pushing air from his chest to create a sound. 

“So you’ve decided to show yourself, Spider-Man,” Doctor Discotheque rasped. He snatched the crane remote control off the ground, and fiddled with the controls just enough to shake you. You let out a small shriek. “One wrong move and this little girlfriend of yours will be dropped.”

Spider-Man clenched his fists.

“So choose wisely,” the villain furbished the remote with his fingers. “Or you'll be toppling to your death in no-time.”

Jay had to be quick with this. 

All eyes were on him, and you were genuinely endangered.

Doctor Discotheque’s main goal was and had always been to humiliate Spider-Man. Jay had no idea what types of things he had hidden up his sleeve, but if he was going far enough to endanger a civilian, it must be bad. 

Like his name would imply, Doctor Discotheque had the ability to generate sounds that transpired the ordinary human sonic level. A.K.A. Doctor Discotheque had a loud voice.

An ability like that would be extremely dangerous, considering that large sound waves are capable of killing people. Except, Jay had a crucial piece of information, thanks to the invaluable research of Wonnie: Doctor Discotheque’s body was not suited for his own ability.

While Doctor Discotheque was capable of pushing air from his diaphragm and vibrating his vocal cords, his own ears could not take it. Usually, those with superhuman abilities would have different bodily functions to accommodate the harm that the abilities would have. For example, those with fire abilities would have cooler and fire-resistant bodies in order to sustain the aptitude. Unfortunately, Doctor Discotheque did not have that.

That meant that while Doctor Discotheque could do basically anything with his voice, he wouldn’t, because that would bring physical harm to his own self, too.

The only issue: if defeated, Doctor Discotheque might take on a “if I die, I’ll take everyone with me” attitude.

Jay had to be strategic.

“If you don’t attack, Spider-Man,” Doctor Discotheque started. The villain sucked in a large breath, “I’ll destroy your eardrums!”

That last part was at least 90 decibels. Jay could tell by the way that Doctor Discotheque himself winced at the sound.

What a dumbass.

“I can’t believe I have to deal with you again, man.”

Jay shot a web to the water tanks behind Doctor Discotheque, thrusting him across the rooftop, which allowed him to extend his right leg in order to land a kick at the villain. The villain dodged his kick by stepping to the side. However, Jay’s lightning-fast reflexes saw that one coming, so he swerved his body to the right to attempt another kick. His elevated heel succeeded in scraping the crown of Doctor Discotheque’s head.

The villain stumbled backward, but continued to evade Jay. Shooting a web, the hero attempted to bring Doctor Discotheque to him, but he dodged it once again. Jay had to give him credit: he had pretty good reflexes.

Jay shot a web to the hedge the villain was next to, hoping to launch himself at him, but before he could, Doctor Discotheque landed a punch square on Jay’s nose.

“Ow! What the fuck, man?” Jay’s eyes watered at the impact. How embarrassing.

Jay continued his venture to wrap this guy in his webs, shooting multiple webs at once. A few of them landed, but Doctor Discotheque was able to dodge them.

“Come on, old man!” Jay grumbled. Finally, one of his webs effectively landed on the villain’s shoulder, allowing for Jay to grapple him toward him. Before Doctor Discotheque could react, the masked hero blasted him with a bunch of more webs, slathering him in those sticky white strings. 

The supervillain struggled against Spider-Man’s iron grip. Even with the tight webs binding him, Jay could feel him suck in a deep breath, an indicator that he was about to utilize that loud voice of his.

If Jay didn’t move now, his eardrums might actually get bursted.

Jay jumped away from Doctor Discotheque, except he kept his webs attached to him so that his previous binding work would not be rendered useless. Jay whipped his head around, eyeing your dangling figure.

“Cover your ears!” he shouted, before doing so himself. Doctor Discotheque let out a shrill screech, and although the sound was only large enough to send a vibration through Jay’s body, that was because Jay had the aid of superhuman abilities.

Everything else around them? Absolutely not.

The glass of surrounding buildings shattered, while the metal crane that was dangling you shook profusely. You screamed.

Shit, shit, shit.

While Jay was distracted, Doctor Discotheque squirmed free of the webs, crawling to the remote console he dropped to the ground earlier.

“Let’s play with your girlfriend,” the villain glowered. With that, he began tinkering with the controls of the console, shaking you around on the lift. This time, though, he was literally pressing all the buttons, giving you little time to anticipate what was coming next. The movement of the crane was unadulterated, so you shrieked in fear. 

“Are you gonna save her, Spider-Man?” Doctor Discotheque mocked.

Jay clenched his fists. It was a lot more important to save you before anything else. He could deal with this maniac later.

“Don’t you fucking dare, Spider-Man!” Much to his surprise, it was you yelling at him. “Don’t worry about me, just kick this lunatic’s ass!”

“How adorable!” Doctor Discotheque cooed. 

Jay wasn’t about to let a civilian, much less you, be in a position of severe danger. But Doctor Discotheque has been getting too confident and talking out of his ass too much.

Maybe he could do both.

If Jay could debilitate Doctor Discotheque, he could take the remote control. If he takes the remote control, he could easily save you.

When Jay started toward Doctor Discotheque, the villain let out a laugh. “You’re just going to ignore your little girlfriend like tha–”

“Shut– up!” Jay knocked him down with a kick to the cheek. 

When Doctor Discotheque was knocked to the ground, he dropped the remote control, too. However, the remote dropped face-down, so with the impact of its collision, it bursted and shattered into several pieces. The crane began to malfunction, waving around its lift erratically. The excessive movement made the ear-splitting sound of rust rubbing against itself. 

Not good. 

The head of the engineering department at the university always warned them about rusty construction tools. 

Oh, not good at all.

You screamed. Still pinning Doctor Discotheque’s hands to his sides, Jay grunted, snapping his head to you.

“Don- Don’t– Ah!-” you breathed. “Don’t worry about me!”

Jay clenched his jaw.

“I-I’m serious!” you squeezed your eyes shut. “I’m not sc-scared, or anything!”

No. That wasn’t true.

All those times that he carried you through the sky.

“Stop making fun of me, Spider-Man!” you lightly slapped his chest. “I’m just…– Eep!--” you squeezed his bicep again– “Scared of heights.”

The crane squeaked, as its spasms slowed. Except, its slowing down meant nothing. It only continued creaking. It was unstable, and by the looks of it, even Jay couldn’t guarantee that it wouldn’t snap off.

Doctor Discotheque threw his head back against the concrete ground, letting out another chortle. Before he could say anything, Jay raised his fist and punched him straight in the diaphragm. The villain groaned in pain, and before he could recover, Jay planted another punch in the abdomen, and another one square in the nose.

A punch in the diaphragm should debilitate him for just enough time to save you.

Jay swung toward the lift of the crane.

You were tied to it by the feet. The only way to get you to the roof was to operate the crane so that it was hanging over the building, or untie you. The former was impossible now, so the second option was the only option.

“I-I told you to–!” 

“[Name], you yell a lot.” Jay didn’t realize how out-of-character it was for Spider-Man to say that, but currently, he was plagued with urgency. He had to be serious.

You shut your mouth immediately.

“[Name], I’m going to untie you,” Jay instructed. “You are going to fall.”

“Wh-What?”

Jay was already untying the ropes. Which was oddly easy. 

Why were the ropes so loosely tied? 

He clenched his teeth.

He was going to destroy that maniac for putting you in harm’s way.

“When I untie your feet, you’re going to fall,” Jay asserted. When he heard your breath hitch, he sighed. His gaze on you softened. “Don’t worry, Pretty. I’ll catch you.”

There was one loop left to unknot. Your eyes widened as you felt your feet slowly slip.

“You ready?” Jay stared into your eyes. 

“Y-Yeah.”

He sensed the fear in your voice. “I got you, Baby.”

He untied the last knot. Immediately, you began falling down multiple stories. Your arms thrashed, and your eyes squeezed shut. You let out a loud, yet strained scream.

But then you stopped. Because you felt strong arms grip your waist.

“Spider-Man!” you cried, pressing your face into his neck, holding him tighter than you ever had before. Your eyes were watery with fear.

“What did I say, Angel?” You could hear the grin in his voice. “I got you.”

Jay swung the two of you up to the top of the skyscraper. He let you down at a roof-like structure at the very back of the roof.

“Stay here.”

“But you–”

“[Name], I need you to stay here,” Jay said, squeezing your arm. “Please.”

You sighed. “Fine.”

With that, he swung back to the front to fight Doctor Discotheque.

At that point, Doctor Discotheque was still coughing and heaving from the punch to the diaphragm, but was able to stand.

“I’m surprised you could still stand, you old geezer,” Jay mocked.

Now that you were safe, he regained his humor.

“Spider-Man, you may have beaten me three times, but not a fourth ti– AGH!”

Jay punched him. “Shut up!”

Then, Doctor Discotheque kicked Jay in the stomach. From there, they engaged in hand-to-hand combat. It was a shaky fight: Doctor Discotheque had decent strength, so his punches were indeed strong, but Jay had lightning reflexes that allowed him to dodge. Soon, Doctor Discotheque backed the hero up against the electricity pole. 

“Little punks like you–” Doctor Discotheque, finally, landed a successful punch to Jay’s cheek, eliciting a groan- “Need to know your place.”

Doctor Discotheque took a deep breath.

Fuck.

He was going to scream.

He couldn’t scream loud enough to kill or severely harm Jay because he would be inflicting that same pain to himself as well. But he could definitely debilitate him with a single scream.

Doctor Discotheque opened his mouth, his chest rising and falling to widen his vocal cords. 

Just as the villain was going to scream Jay deaf, he freed his hand from Doctor Discotheque’s grip. Jay punched the villain’s mouth. More specifically, he shoved his fist in his mouth.

Doctor Discotheque sunk his teeth into Jay’s fists, but he just ignored him. Instead, Jay pushed his fist deeper into his mouth, further lodging it in.

With the agility of a spider, he attached a web to the villain. With nimble, yet confident, fingers, Jay spurted webs to bind his hands and feet together. In between, he landed punch after punch and kick after kick at the man.

“Just” punch “go” punch “away” punch “already!”

The villain was now biting into Jay’s fist so hard now that he was sure the fabric was ripping. 

“Fuck!” Jay kicked him square in the abdomen, sending him flying across the rooftop. When he looked at his fist, it was bleeding with teeth marks. Whatever.

Jay approached Doctor Discotheque’s keeling figure. The villain coughed blood, hair frazzled with sweat and sticking to his forehead. The superhero stood over him.

Then, Doctor Discotheque started sobbing.

?!

“I… I did it all for my son,” the villain quivered, tears streaming down his cheeks. “My son… My beautiful son…”

Son.

Jay never had a father. The only person closest to a father was his uncle, who already died, leaving him to take care of his kid brother. 

“My– My so-son,” Doctor Discotheque sobbed. “He– He always wanted a c-cool dad.”

???

“I th-thought if I fought you… he would th-think his dad w-was cool!”

Jay took a deep breath. “And you can be a cool dad. If you just spent time with him instead of fighting me.”

“N-No,” Doctor Discotheque sniffled. “H-He’s obs–  obsessed with Spider-Ma-Man.”

Jay sighed. He crouched down beside the man. 

“Doctor Discotheque,” he began. “I didn’t have a father. I’d do anything to just spend time with him. Your son will love you ten times more if you were just there for him.”

“R-Really?” Doctor Discotheque looked up at him with watery eyes.

“Yes.”

There was a pulse of silence. Doctor Discotheque stared at Jay, before his fingers twitched. Before he could do anything, a loud clang! rang through the air.

“[Name]…!”

You, with a metal rod, wacked Doctor Discotheque in the back of his head, sending him forward.

“I don’t fucking care!” you spat at him. You were breathing heavily, before your eyes met Jay’s.

“[Name]... what are you–”

You dropped the metal rod. You grabbed the villain’s face, slapping him. 

“I don’t fucking care about you and your son!” Slap. “You wreak havoc on this city and you expect us to forgive you because you have a tragic sob story?!” Slap.“You almost killed me!” Slap.  “You’re wearing sparkly spandex!” Slap. “No wonder your son doesn’t think you’re cool!” Slap. “You bitch!”

“[Name], that’s enough…!”

The aftermath of the incident was nothing to sneeze at.

Your face, as well as Doctor Discotheque, was plastered all over the news. Speaking of which, Doctor Discotheque was revealed to be some middle-aged professor, and was taken into custody for a court hearing.

It had only been a few hours ago since Spider-Man dropped you home. Meanwhile, he said that he had some “business” to attend to. Probably interviews and reporters.

It was the middle of the afternoon by now. The apartment was completely silent. Wonnie was still at school. And… Jay. 

You bit your lip as you remembered what happened the night before. 

You felt your neck and cheeks heat up. You really kissed him, touched him, whispered lewd words into his ear– Oh my god, you had to apologize to him! 

You brought two fingers to your lip.

His lips were chapped and the lip-piercing pressed against your lip in a way that was almost painful, but for some reason, the thought just sent butterflies in your stomach. His hands were so big, holding onto you with a desperate grip.

You shoved your face into your hands, squeezing your eyes shut.

How embarrassing!

How were you going to face Jay Park? 

Why were you worried?

“Do you… have a crush on him then?” Spider-Man’s words echoed through your mind.

Did you?

It would make a great deal of sense. 

Why you were feeling this way, why you got so angry last night, why you’d  been thinking about him at night for the past five years. 

Your heart began speeding up at the thought of having a crush on Jay Park. Not just the absurdity of the idea, but because you felt so childish. You were an adult now. How could you have such a petulant crush?

But then again, Jay Park made you feel childish. Like you were some middle schooler, all immature and giggly.

Before you could dig yourself further into a hole, a tapping came from the window. Stalking over to the sill, you spotted a red-and-blue-clad hero. 

He was lowering himself upside-down in his iconic stance, hanging onto a single spider web.

“Spider-Man!” you exclaimed.

“Hey there, Angel,” the hero grinned behind the mask when you opened the window. He was about to climb through when the unexpected happened. “H-Hey, what are you–!”

You grasped his upside-down face. You tore down his mask just enough to reveal the bottom half of his face, and pressed your lips onto his.

It was a chaste kiss, not meant to be sexual. Simply innocent.

Except, it felt familiar.

It was a soft kiss, but you could feel the hero’s lips. They were chapped, and there was a cold piece of metal on his lip. Like a lip-piercing.

When you pulled away, you gazed at Spider-Man’s half-exposed face, which wore an awkward, boxy smile.

“That’s what you get for saving me all those times,” you breathed.

Spider-Man’s lips curved. “What are you, a fairytale princess?”

You grinned. “You saved me like I was one.”

“Just my duty, Gorgeous.”

You caressed Spider-Man’s skin. Just like you expected, he had a strong jaw and sharp nose. His cheeks were a honey-tan color, with a twinge of red. 

And most notably, his lips.

Chapped, pink, but plump.

And pierced.

Her thumb pressed onto the piercing. 

His breath hitched.

You've seen that lip-piercing before.

You've stared at a certain somebody’s lips for long enough to recognize it.

No. It can’t be.

You touched his face, tracing his features slowly. 

“Spider-Man,” you drew out your syllables. “Can you stand up normally? I want to check something.”

The hero silently complied, climbing through the window sill. When he stood in front of you, swiping a tongue over his pierced bottom lip, you swallowed down hard.

Please.

In one, quick movement, you pushed Spider-Man against the wall, sliding your hands up his chest. Your hands slithered to his toned arms, grappling onto his wrists to pin above his head.

Your heart was about to fall out of yourc hest. You were breathless, eyes trained onto the hero’s lips.

A pedicured hand came up to grasp his chin.

“Are you Park?” you asked in a near-whisper. “Please. Please tell me. Are you Jay Park?”

Spider-Man stilled in your hold. He sucked in a sharp breath, taking his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Please,” you whispered.

As you gazed at him with wide, pleading eyes, Spider-Man was able to free one of his hands. Slowly, he grasped the tight material of his mask. He pulled the fabric up and over his eyes, before freeing his entire head and face.

What was revealed?

Dark hair. Dark eyes. Tan skin. A sharp nose. And that goddamn lip piercing.

Jay Park.

You audibly gasped. Your hold on his one wrist weakened, dropping all the way when you brought both hands up to clasp your gaping mouth.

Jay looked at you with an ashamed expression, yet his eyes were locked onto yours. He parted his lips to say something, but no sound came out.

This entire time… it was him?

Your body moved on its own.

You grabbed his face, and smashed your lips against his.

At first, Jay was completely still. 

But after a few seconds, he let out a low grunt against your lips, slithering his arms around your waist. That earned a small squeal from you, giving him the opportunity to shove his tongue in your mouth. Your hands roamed, sliding up and down his chest before resting in his hair. When you pulled on his dark locks, he groaned softly, allowing you to push his tongue out and put yours into his mouth.

Jay gave your waist a warning squeeze, as if to say, “Don’t try that on me.” But you only smirked against his lips, sliding your hand up his head to grab a fistful of his hair and pulling it.

When you pulled away from each other, you were breathless, both flushed in the face with blown-out, desire-filled eyes. You stared into each other’s eyes for what felt like an eternity.

“You…” you blinked. Then, your face contorted. With a fist, you began hitting his chest. “It was you this whole time? It was… It was you who carried me home, who took me out, who saved me, who– who comforted me when I cried!

“Why didn’t you listen to me when I told you to not worry about me?!” you continued pounding his chest. “And why the fuck would you try to sympathize with that lunatic?! You could have been hurt– He might have pulled out a knife, or something! I was so worried that he’d pull a fast one and try to stab you, you stupid, stupid, stupid–!”

It was Jay’s turn to smash his lips against yours.

Almost immediately, you stopped all of your movement, melting into the kiss.

“You’re-” Jay mumbled against your lips- “You’re always such a fucking brat.”

He laced his fingers with hers, holding your hands tightly. "Always givin' me hell, you know that?"

He was rough, a lot more rough than you imagined, but it wasn't like you were opposed to it. You tried to say something, squeezing his hands. You got a few sounds out, but they were all muffled by his kissing.

“Shut up,” Jay breathed against your lips. “Just shut the fuck up and let me kiss you.”

You whined, causing him to smirk.

This kiss was much more heated than any previous ones you’ve had with him. And also much messier.

When you finally pulled away, your lips were swollen, connected by a single string of spit.

“Oh my god,” you mewled, gripping onto Jay’s bicep. “Fuck, please, Jay.”

Jay swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. You never called him by his name like this. “‘Please’ what, Angel?”

“I want you,” you looked up at him with wide and glassy eyes, the same ones that he’s seen in his guiltiest dreams. “Oh my god, please, I want you so bad, Jay.”

“Are you gonna yell and hit me like last time?” he teased, hands already sliding down to grip your hips.

You pressed a wet kiss to his jaw. “Only if you won’t leave me in the middle of a hallway drunk like last time.”

You both stared at each other for a few moments, with cocked brows and narrowed eyes, neither of you wanting to relent your pride. Then, at the same time, broke out into a fit of laughter.

“I have high expectations for you, Park.”

“I won’t disappoint you, you fuckin’ nerdo freak.”

FIN.

part 1 here

#enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen fic #park jay #jay x reader #jay enhypen x reader #jay fluff #enhypen smut #park jongseong fluff #park jongseong x reader #star-sim #vanya-writes

[villainousauthor]

Hero continues to rock the wailing infant, trying to shush her. It's been hours, and still they haven't been able to get her to calm down. Nothing has worked, not a bottle, a diaper change, nothing.

Hero places their hand against her small forehead, checking for a fever, maybe. They feel so beyond their depth right now. Hero's barely slept the past day, and they're dead on their feet, eyes barely staying open.

"I wish you could just tell me what's wrong. This is so frustrating." Hero whines, still bouncing the crying infant.

"It's unfortunate, most babies can't talk." The familiar voice comes from behind, and Hero whirls around defensively to see Villain standing in the doorway of the nursery.

"What are you doing here?" Hero demands, clutching their child closer.

"You haven't come to fight me in months. I've sent out clear messages-"

"You mean constantly blowing up buildings and taking people hostage?" Hero interrupts, still holding their baby close to their chest.

"-but you never came. I was starting to think you died," Villain finishes eloquently. "I can see now that you've been a bit busy." They take a step closer, and Hero takes another step back, trying to keep distance.

This was bad. Hero very much intended that no one would know about their child, enemies especially. They could feel anxiety rising in their chest, clawing at their throat.

Villain eyes their movement before speaking again. "Shame, I would have sent a gift if I'd known. Who's the other parent?" Their eyes shoot back up to Hero's as they ask.

"No one. She's mine, her other parent is irrelevant." Hero says defensively. The baby continues to cry, face red.

Villain looks over the both of them, humming as they consider this. "So you're doing this alone. How long have you been up for?"

The question seems harmless, and yet Hero hesitates, still not trusting Villain. The way they ask though, seems simply curious.

"...A few hours now. I can't get her to sleep." Hero finally says quietly.

Villain steps closer again, this time slowly, as if to not worry Hero. "I can tell," They snort, but the words are soft, "You look completely exhausted."

"Jeez thanks-"

"May I try?" Villain asks, voice gentle. Hero looks at them like they've grown three heads. The very idea that Hero would hand their child over to Villain is so beyond ridiculous, that they can't believe they asked.

Vilain sees their expression and rolls their eyes. "I'm not going to do anything to harm her. I know you'd kick my ass if I even tried. I'm good with kids, and you look like you're going to fall over any minute."

They step even closer and lift a finger to the small baby, which she grabs with her chubby little hand. Villain chuckles at the sight.

Hero watches, eyes fighting to stay open. Villain is right, they do feel like they're on the verge of collapse any moment. Arms are heavy from continuously rocking the baby, legs feel like jello.

"Okay, you can hold her for a moment. But I swear to everything that if you do anything to harm her, your body will end scattered in tiny pieces across the country." Hero warns, their voice more deadly than it's ever been with Villain.

Villain simply smiles as they reach out for the baby. "I wouldn't expect anything less." They take her in their arms, holding her comfortably. Hero immediately collapses down into the nearby rocking chair.

They rock her in their arms like it's the most natural thing in the world. Hero watches on in surprise as she starts to calm down somewhat, though she's still fussy. The lack of wailing level crying is a godsend though.

"How in the world.." Hero asks, amazed at the sight.

Villain grabs a pacifier off the near by changing table, giving it to the infant. She accepts it easily and finally settles down.

"I told you I'm really good with kids. Plus babies just like me," They say as they look down at the infant in their arms with the most genuine smile Hero has ever seen, "Also have you considered that she might be teething?"

Hero raises an eyebrow before yawning suddenly. "Ah..no I haven't. I'm new to this, and I feel like I'm learning as I go along..."

"It probably doesn't help that you don't have any help either. Why don't you rest for a bit while I hold her?" Villain suggests, noticing how on the verge of falling asleep they are. "I promise I'll stay right here, and she'll be okay. You should get some sleep."

"I'm not so sure about that..." Hero replies, though their head is already starting to sag. "How'd you get so good with kids anyways?" They ask, their eyes beginning to flutter.

Villain chuckles quietly. "You don't get to unlock my tragic back story that easily." But Hero is already asleep, passed out over in the chair. Villain continues to hold the baby as they drap a small blanket over Hero.

#hero x villain #prompts #dialogue prompt #hero prompt #hero #original writing #villain #villain prompt #villain x hero #superhero #domestic fluff #fluff #cute #writeblr #writers on tumblr

[cheesiedomino]

Second chances ꙳ ੭ * ‧

synopsis: your old situationship from many years ago just moved back in town and of course, he has to text you. but it’s not just any normal text — he’s asking you out on a proper date this time. will you give a second chance to Cupid? or will you be left here feeling stupid?

genre: lee minho x fem!reader | exes (??) to lovers wc: 4.6k tags/warnings: fluff, some light angst, slightly suggestive but nothing srs, mild cursing, kissing, small mentions of crying T-T

now playing 🎧: from the start by laufey

[this is part of my valentine’s series where i write a short story for each member surrounding themes of love, newfound romance, relationship hardships & more.]

“Why don’t you give Tinder a try already? I’m sick of hearing you nagging all day about being lonely!” Areum abruptly suggests mid-convo , resting her palm on the side of her face.

As you both casually wait for the food to arrive, you end up on the dreadful topic of dating again. You got into a real heated discussion with her, sitting in a booth at this new restaurant one of your coworker’s recommended. It wasn’t super well known but they wouldn’t stop raving about how delicious their breadsticks were. The place wasn’t too jam packed but definitely had a decent amount of people. What you weren’t anticipating on was seeing dozens of couples here, it kind of threw your whole vibe off since it only reminded you of your current sad relationship status. Maybe you were putting far too much thought into it but everything seemed so highly unfair. Glaring in envy while they all happily rub in your face that they’ve found their forever companion.

Life really can be cruel at times.

“You can’t be for real right now..” you instantly side eye your friend from across the table. Feeling personally triggered whenever she mentions online dating. You refuse to try it, never wanting to partake in such a vain concept where you swipe left and right based solely on looks. “That’s not the same as real romance. I want to meet someone naturally, wanna tell my kids when they grow up how I met their dreamy, hunk of a father in aisle 39 at Whole Foods.”

One could say it’s almost pathetic in a way— this burning desire you harbor within, longing for a pure, quaint, and beautiful love. Constantly catching yourself daydreaming about finding your life partner, the person you’re going to marry and possibly create an eternal family with. That day has yet to come unfortunately, but you still hold onto the thought of you someday meeting the one.

You thought you found them before, but thou shalt not speak thy names out into existence.

“Well, good luck finding ‘real romance’ in the big age of 2024-” Areum snorts in amusement, taking a pause to sip on her mango strawberry lemonade. “I need whatever drugs you’re on that’s making you this delulu so I can fantasize about my knight and shining armor that’s never coming!”

God you hate that word. Delulu. Why are you suddenly “delusional” for wanting a picture perfect romance? It doesn’t need to be perfect per se, but you want to feel adored, swept off your feet and embraced like the true queen you are. Was that too much to ask? Considering the current state of dating in this day and age, it might just be.

“I mean, let’s face it girl. You literally don’t know the first thing about love ___, it’s not all sunshine and rainbows like in the K-dramas y’know! Haven’t you only had like one boyfriend in high school? You barely even dated that guy for a month-”

“That’s because he dumped me to go move to LA and become a dumb YouTuber!” You snapped back, cutting her off to get all the facts straight.

It was hard not to grimace while thinking of such old memories. Dating a Minecraft streamer definitely had to be one of the most embarrassingly cringe choices you’ve ever made.

“Whatever that’s beside the point. What I’m trying to get at here is you don’t have the best track record when it comes to men. Remember that other guy you were seeing before we graduated? I thought y’all would’ve dated for sure but he turned out to be a dickhole just like the rest of ‘em…” Areum shakes her head in disbelief, recalling all those times you’d call in a frenzied panic about things not working out.

“What was his name again? Min… Minwoo? No, that’s not it.. it was definitely Min something.” She attempts on remembering but keeps drawing a blank.

“Minho.” You answer almost instantaneously. His name still rolled off the tongue smooth as velvet.

It felt weird though. Saying it out loud after so many years of blocking it from your immediate vocabulary. A name you thought would never escape your lips again.

“Damn, you really still think about him don’t you?” She dares to ask, knowing how difficult it is for you to even talk about this anymore.

You only respond by nodding slowly, unable to bring yourself to look at her. It was far too intense; bearing the emotions of hurt and guilt from a past fling that meant more to you but nothing to the other. That’s how most of your tragic stories end— always too overly into them while they barely reciprocate any of that energy towards you. The thing is, you thought Minho actually liked you, even so far as wanting to date in the near future. Considering he brought you over his parent’s house (to hook up of course), and though you didn’t meet them you still think that meant something. Most men don’t just bring any woman they’re seeing to their parent’s place without somewhat thinking a potential relationship could happen down the line.

“So that’s why you should download Tinder and start swipin’ on some other cuties! It’ll at least distract you for a bit and get your mind off that asswipe,” Areum pitches her idea once more, “there’s plenty other fish in the sea ___. Not everyone online is some crazy serial killer, plus you clearly don’t seem to be having much luck out in the real world.”

You wanted to jump up from the table and erase that smirk from her face but instead you roll your eyes at that last remark. “I don’t need those shitty dating apps. I’m very capable of finding someone in real life for your information!” You quickly retort as a means to defend yourself. Even though she did have a point, her delivery could’ve been a little bit nicer.

It’s not easy being a hopeless romantic, you can’t help but yearn for that special someone to enter your life and change it for the better. You won’t feel wholly satisfied nor complete until you do. The sad reality of the matter was that you are still painfully single. No one’s interesting enough to cease your attention, let alone go on any actual dates. Areum’s had enough of your bitching and whining though, there’s only so many rants and tirades she can keep listening to about your vicious hatred for men before she loses it completely. Your nonexistent love life has become more of a nuisance as that time of year approaches— Valentine’s Day. A god forsaken holiday you’ve always loathed with a passion. Wanting nothing more than to be one of those girls on the receiving end getting flowers and chocolates. A day full of the utmost joy and pleasant surprises from your loving significant other.

Must be nice..

Speaking of surprises.. The buzzing in your ear echoes from your phone pinging loudly, indefinitely startling you. Grabbing it to check the sudden notification, your eyes go absurdly wide at the contact name displayed on your screen. Blinking numerous times from shock, you stare at your phone in incredulity; making sure your eyes weren’t playing tricks on you.

Lee Minho. The Lee Minho?

What kind of sorcery is being conjured where the instant you bring him up, he somehow texts you after all these years of not speaking? This coincidence was more than unsettling to you. A part of your inner thoughts still believes this is all some elaborate joke being played on you, waiting for a cameraman to pop out of some curtain to announce you’ve just been pranked. But nothing happens, life proceeds as normal. Now you’re left with the most puzzling notification you might’ve ever received.

It was your last year of college and the pressure of your academics along with appeasing your family was getting to you immensely. You needed an escape from all of it, desperately. Which you found through none other than Lee Minho, the boy who worked as a barista at Cozmo’s; this coffee shop you used to frequent a lot. It was a cute, small family-owned establishment and they made the best matcha lattes— in your humble opinion. You’d pick one up almost every day along with a slice of freshly baked cinnamon bread. It started off as only playful banter with him in the beginning, then it lead to more as time went on. One day, as you reached out to pay he blocked your hand from moving any closer, letting you freely walk away without spending a dime. This soon became a regular occurrence, as you’d start seeing Minho outside of work, getting to know more and more about him. You remember so desperately wanting to date back then, pitying your past self for thinking there was even a chance.

‘Maybe he’s just texted the wrong person’ you psyche yourself into thinking, but when you unlock your phone to finally read the message — an uncomfortable lump forms in the pit of your throat.

Minho 🐈:

Hey is this still ___’s number?

You honestly don’t know why you still have his number saved, let alone allowing a whole emoji to be next to it. Though it never was like you to delete anything, no matter how painful it may have been. More lingering questions makes you want to seek out the possible solutions. Why would he text you of all people ? None of this adds up in your mind realistically. Furrowing your brows in concentration, you think of what to say as you draft out a response.

Yes… who’s this?

After a tedious struggle of typing out multiple paragraphs and immediately deleting them, you went over your words a few more times before sending a final reply. It would’ve been strange had you knew exactly who he was off the bat, that’ll just be dead giveaway you still had his contact info saved this whole time. But with that logic, doesn’t that make Minho just as odd for still keeping your number after all this time has passed?

Your phone dings again.

Minho 🐈:

Srsly -_-

Did you really delete my number??

Bet he didn’t see that one coming. He probably thought the moment he texts you, you were gonna kiss up to him like you’ve always done in the past. Mentally giggling to yourself at the image of him getting flustered by you not knowing who he was at first. Feels good to know you knocked his confidence down a peg.

Lol, chillax.. I know it’s you Minho :P

Not even a minute later, a flood of incoming messages appear. Biting your lip out of nervousness, your heart couldn’t stop beating so fast— anxiously checking your phone as the atmosphere around you suddenly gets stuffier.

Minho 🐈:

Better be lucky I didn’t block you after that ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ

Guess who’s back in the city btw. Did ya miss me? ;)

No need to answer that, I already know you did. You should stop by at Cozmo’s again sometime!

Also what’re you up to this week? I need you to clear out all your plans because I’m taking you out on a date.

You always knew Minho was the bold type but this was on another level. The sheer audacity he has to even ask something like this after not reaching out for almost 3 years was more than ballsy on his part. It felt like a surge of butterflies erupting in your stomach, getting lightheaded as you think about seeing him again. He really had an effect on you like no other.

Glancing up from your screen to finally pay attention to Areum again, you assure her everything’s going to be just fine. “Looks like I won’t be needing to download Tinder after all.”

Later on that day you ended up going to Cozmo’s and meeting up with Minho. It never really took much convincing from him to get you to budge, though it was a hell of a lot worse back then. You used to blindly follow along with anything he said just to seek his approval, hoping that eventually he’ll see you as the girl he wants to settle down with. Alas, nothing ever blossomed into something more, and you knew deep down that this was headed nowhere— but that still didn’t stop you from fantasizing about a future with him. Getting lost into deep thought, head heavy in the clouds as you imagine the idea of Minho confessing his undying love for you. You’ll be so caught off guard as he gets down on one knee, looking at you with the entire solar system in eyes while he proposes in the most charming way. It really is pitiful how much you still daydream about a guy who wasn’t your boyfriend but would constantly act like he was, then up and leaves without mentioning a single word about it.

You convinced yourself he ran off with someone else to have a better life with, even hearing through town gossip that he’s moved to South Korea to pursue becoming an idol. Whatever the case may be it still weighed heavily on your mind that he never bothered to tell you anything, even a simple ‘goodbye’ would’ve sufficed the empty hole in your heart. The main reason you agreed on meeting up with Minho was to finally ask, why? Why did he pretend to like you? Why did he act like your boyfriend when he never had intentions on seriously dating? Why was he so good at making you fall so hard for him..?

“You look great.” You subconsciously blurt out, affixed in a daze as you stare in awe at the man in front of you.

It’s been a while since you came here— never able to fully bring yourself to try and go back. Though you knew this place first, and they really did have the best Mactha lattes in the universe. It reminded you too much of him and you sadly had to let it go.

You weren’t proud of it but you did go home quickly to change clothes and redo your makeup. Usually you wouldn’t care but this was the only guy you’ve been consistently crushing on for years, you had to feel good inside and out. Minho was just as gorgeous as you remembered, if not he looked even more ethereal — which seemed impossible in itself already. He’s grown up so beautifully, his facial features became more sharp, especially his jawline which looks so defined and sculpted by the Gods.

Minho lightly chuckles at your timidness, some things just never change. “You look way better.” His lips drew into a faint smirk as he admires your presence.

He meant every word of what he said, you looked really good, and it was making him even more frustrated that so much time has passed. Regretting the way he handled things so many years ago, wishing he could take it all back and do everything differently. Seeing you again made it easier for Minho to suppress the guilt he’s borne for so long. This moment feels like a second chance to make amends for his past mistakes.

You couldn’t help but blush when you hear his compliment, feeling your ears grow hot as you look at the ground. There was a silent pause between you that lasted for what seemed like ages. Weirdly enough the conversation flowed well after he finally broke the awkwardness, the chemistry was overall still there and were able to pick up right where it left off.

“I’m so glad you came ___, I’ve been dying to see you since I got here. I’m surprised you even still responded to my lame ass.”

Minho’s light confession puzzles you. If he really was dying to see you, why’d he wait so long to get in contact with you? To be fair, you don’t know the exact time he came back.

“Oh, is that so? When’d you come back? Also show me pics of Korea, I’ve always wanted to know what it’s like there.” You fondly inquire, leaning against the side of the wall as he’s still behind the counter. He mentioned to you he’s only working part time because his parents would rather mooch off their son for free labor than to hire and pay a new employee.

“Yesterday,” he quickly states before taking out his phone to scroll through his gallery, “guess my sister must’ve told you I went there huh?”

You shook your head, “Nah, I haven’t talked to Elle in a while. She’s tried hitting me up a few times though.. but I found out through Areum ‘cause she was seeing Hoseok back then.”

They were definitely “seeing” each other alright, but mostly in the bedroom. Areum didn’t want anything exclusive with Hoseok and neither did he, it was the perfect friends with benefits situation. Minho and Hoseok were good friends who’ve known each other for a while, so naturally he’d tell Areum everything and overshare at some point.

“Agh, there’s a customer gotta take this. One sec, sorry!” He briefly apologizes before bringing his attention to the new person heading inside. You nod, signaling he’s good to go. “I’ll be waiting over there,” you point to a small wooden table with 2 chairs in a corner.

Once Minho comes back you notice he’s no longer wearing his purple work apron; back in his regular attire now and sporting an oversized dark grey hoodie that was three times too big. He was holding a large cup with green liquid and a paper bag in his hand, that’s when it clicks for you— he still remembers your favorite meal.

He’s grinning the whole time he’s handing you the matcha latte and cinnamon pastry, smiling from ear to ear like a kid on Christmas Day. This was the most you’ve seen him be so enthusiastic about something, even back when you were “with” him you can’t recall him beaming with such energy like this.

“Awh, thank you. I haven’t had either one of these in years!” You wanted to give him the biggest hug but you refrained from doing so, feeling as though it may be too early for that.

“Of course dear, anything for you.”

Why does everything he says have to make you melt from the inside out? It’s not fair! >:(

Glancing down at your yummy beverage, you see a message written on the side of the glass with bold permanent sharpie. Tilting your head to read it, the words are bit jumbled together but you get the gist. You’re almost left speechless after it reads: ‘___, Will you be my valentine?’

Your most dreaded and least favorite holiday is here, yippee! But, there’s a twist on this year’s turn of events; you actually have someone to celebrate this wretched tradition with. You should be excited but all you’re feeling is the sudden urge to vomit as you were nervous out of your mind. This was kind of weird to you, going on a date with your ex boyfriend who was never even your real boyfriend. Looking back on it now you shouldn’t have tolerated a relationship dynamic like that, Minho was clearly taking advantage of your passiveness by not explicitly saying what he wanted. On the contrary, you had no one to blame but yourself, you never spoke up or criticized anything even if it didn’t coincide with your personal morals.

The fact he never took you on an actual date until now speaks volumes, you obviously didn’t have enough self worth back to demand better treatment. It took you years of figuring out what a real, healthy relationship is supposed to be like through trials of therapy and that was an emotional rollercoaster in itself. All your uncertainties soon faded away once you became more secure and knew exactly what you wanted for yourself. It took every ounce of patience and acceptance to unlearn all your bad coping mechanisms and other toxic behaviors that were only stunting your inner growth. You’re happy to be in a position now where you’re able to express wholeheartedly what you deserve, it’s the best feeling ever to feel like you’re in control of your own life.

You spent almost 3 hours getting ready and your bedroom now looked like a war zone. The outfit you chose was super girly, a frilly white dress with pink platform heels— Minho’s going to drool in amazement when he sees you. When you sent Areum photos of you before heading out, she responds right way with a series of hearts and other sweet comments— hyping you up to no end like the best friend she is. She’s also able to help pull you out of your doubtful headspace, when you felt unsure if you could really go through with this she quickly psyched you out of it. Reminding you exactly who you are and why you are the prize, not him. ‘He should be the one who’s nervous, not the other way around’ you assure yourself over and over as a mini ego boost.

His jaw dropped when he spotted you walking up to his car, infatuated by how pretty and perfect you looked in every way possible. It angers him so much to know he took all this for granted, he didn’t appreciate all of you the way he should’ve but now he gets another chance to redo everything and right his wrongs. It’s a lot of pressure but he bravely accepts it, he could never mess up another opportunity like this again. The car ride was fairly silent in the beginning, you were vibing in peace as the only thing you could hear was Minho’s soft indie playlist as background music.

You ultimately chose to be the one to speak first, breaking the ice with a simple inquiry about the date. “So where are we going?” Looking out at the scenery from the window, all you is trees and more trees. If it’s something to do with nature you surely don’t want any parts of it, you’ve never been too fond of the wilderness.

“It’s a surprise, I can’t tell you.” He keeps a tight seal on today’s destination without dropping a single hint, forcing you to go completely blind into this. As he goes back to focus on the road, you sigh anxiously after hearing him refuse to disclose anything.

Did he seriously forget what kind of person you are? Anyone who’s close to you at all knows you’ve never been into those types of things. Ever.

“You know I hate surprises Minho,” you remind him, attempting to pry for more information. Even shooting him a doe eyed look along with poking out your bottom lip, but he doesn’t falter.

He simply nods, “I know but you’ll like this one, just have a little bit of faith me.” Flashing an innocent smile at you, he seems to be overly confident in whatever his plan consists of.

After almost half an hour passes the car finally comes to a stop, you scan the area and instantly notice a sense of familiarity among the place. Across from you was an ice cream parlor you thought didn’t exist anymore. But there it is, still standing with dozens of customers waiting in line. The small shop was famously known for its fish-shaped ice cream cones, you’ve always wanted to visit the place and try it when you were a little from seeing it on TV all the time. When you told Minho about it, you said how your parents would say it was too far but it actually closed down and they didn’t know how to tell you. From time to time you’d still think about that place, but you would’ve never thought they relocated. Being here with Minho brings an indescribable amount of happiness to your spirit.

“I mentioned this place like one time in passing, how’d you even remember?” You wonder in amazement, after all these years he still remembers something as minuscule as this.

“It may not have seemed like it but I paid attention to every little detail you told me ___, all it. Of course I know you don’t like surprises but how else would I have been able to take you here?” He sweetly expresses to you, not wanting to hold back anymore.

You wanted to cry right here, right now. All your emotions came crashing down at once and it’s hard to keep them concealed. A lot has changed within these years, things feel so different with him now, especially with how much he’s matured. You notice how he doesn’t act like the typical fuckboy in his early 20’s anymore, he’s much more interested in getting to know only person — that being you.

“I’ve rehearsed this in my head like a million times and I don’t think I’ll ever say it the right way I want but it’s time I start being as transparent as possible with you…” Minho takes a deep breath before continuing, “I’ve always liked you ___, from the start actually,” he keeps going, “I was just scared, of what I don’t know.. Commitment maybe?”

Slightly looking in another direction, your vision faintly blurs from tears welling up, “I- I honestly don’t know what to say..”

“Then don’t say anything at all, I don’t need you to. I may not know the first thing about how to love someone, but I want to learn all of it with you.” He feels all the remorse of leaving you alone for all these years, unable to process the pain you must’ve endured at him not getting into contact with you. “I’m so sorry ___. For everything, I’m going to make it all better I promise.”

Your eyes subconsciously flutter shut when he comes in contact with you. Connecting in perfect symmetry with your lips to sync together in motion. His gentle hands cupped your face delicately; his touch was so warm and inviting. Your fingers were deeply tangled in his brunette locks, relishing every minute as he tilts his head to capture more of you. He genuinely couldn’t believe he went this long without kissing these luscious lips again. His tongue grazed the bottom of your lip to subtly ask for entry and you comply. Dopamine floods both your senses like a series of fireworks going off, feeling intoxicated by each other’s taste. It was probably that vanilla bean chapstick you always wore— an old favorite of his and is still your go-to flavor of choice. He wanted to savor you in this moment for as long as he could, cherish the fact he has you in his hold again.

“Want to know something funny?” He asks out of nowhere, still smirking from that heated kiss that just happened seconds ago.

“Hm?”

“You’re the reason I ended up coming back here.” Minho states bluntly, no hesitation detected in his voice whatsoever.

You struggle to comprehend anything, overwhelmed by all his sudden confessions. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I never want to leave your side ever again ___. I’m staying here with you, I already made the biggest mistake of losing you once I can’t let the same thing happen twice.” He spoke tenderly from the bottom of his heart, it felt so genuine you couldn’t not believe him.

Going back to rewind time isn’t possible, but “do-over’s” are, and sometimes we’re able to get those second chances to make things right when we get them wrong the first time.

[End <3].

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