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eddiesxangel · 3 months

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Show You | Virgin Eddie x Fem!Reader

Summary: Eddie meets you 4 years after he escapes the upside-down when he moves to your small Californian town.

Wc: 7k AN: sorry to the anons that requested Virgin!Eddie like a month ago, but here shit is!

Cw: shy/angsty/insecure!Eddie, fluff, SMUT, Virgin Eddie x experienced fem reader, size kink, blowjob, p in v, protected sex, sub!Eddie. Switch?eddie, dirty talk.

1990

Eddie’s life for his first twenty years wasn’t necessarily the best… drugs, alcohol, child neglect, and that wasn’t even the worst of it. Eddie’s dreams were haunted by the horror story of his life, which was 1986.

Four years ago, the gates of hell opened, and Eddie was dragged into them, kicking and screaming. Eventually, he got out with his weird band of misfits, but the scars left on his body by those disgusting creatures only remind him daily of the horrors he survived.

He survived. He got out and was paid a fat sum by the American government for keeping quiet. So he took the money and his Uncle and they ran. They ran far, far away from Hawkins, so far they ended up in the quaint town of Ferndale, California.

The Munson men had grown accustomed to the small-town life and did not want to give that up. They were pleasantly surprised when they moved to Ferndale. The vibrant Victorian-style homes painted in different shades of pastel colours added a pop of colour to the town's landscape. Wayne was particularly taken by the town's charm and ultimately decided he didn't want to leave.

The smell of saltwater from the nearby ocean was a refreshing change, and the Munson men enjoyed taking long walks on the beach during their free time to clear their heads of their tortured past. The picturesque scenery of Ferndale was a welcome change from the mundane routine of their old town of Hawkins.

With that money from the government, Eddie was able to buy himself and his uncle a nice four-bedroom house; they had so much room for just the two of them they didn’t know what to do with it. Eddie owed everything to his uncle, so of course, he needed to splurge.

Eddie had to undergo hours of physical therapy daily to fix every joint and muscle on the right side of his body, which made it difficult for him to perform even the simplest of tasks. It took him a couple of years to recover and walk properly again, but he remained determined to make a fresh start and leave his old life behind.

Once he was finally able to function normally, Eddie set out to find a new job that would provide him with a real opportunity to rebuild his life. He was determined to leave his past behind and start anew without any remnants of his old life hanging over him, including drug dealing. Eddie knew that it wouldn't be easy, but he remained committed to his goal. He was willing to put in the hard work necessary to succeed in his new job and build a better life for himself. For him, this was a second chance, a fresh start that he was determined to make the most of.

The door chimed and jingled as the fall air flowed into the small music store. While the locals were bundled up in layers of corduroy and jean jackets, scarves, and gloves, Eddie enjoyed the breeze that entered the shop. His faded black Metallica t-shirt was the only one in sight.

The doorbell's persistent chime was starting to wear on Eddie's nerves as the evening came to a close. It had been a long and busy day, with customer after customer coming in. With only twenty minutes left to go, he was getting ready to close up shop alone tonight. He considered flipping the sign a little early because, finally, after hours of non-stop work, the floor was empty of people.

Eddie was behind the counter, wiping down the work area and facing away from the door, when he heard those dreaded chimes. His shoulders dropped with defeat; he was a fool to think this day could be ended early.

He put on a façade of good customer service, but his expression quickly changed to genuine happiness mixed with nerves upon seeing who had walked into the small record store.

He had seen you around town, at the grocery store and sometimes at the beach. He admired you from afar, never once approaching you. No. You intimidated him but in the best way. You were like no other woman he had seen before.

Growing up in Hawkins, being secluded as the town freak, he didn’t have much exposure to female attention. Or any romantic attraction for that fact. So when you entered the store, Eddie’s palms felt sweaty, and his heart started to race; he could hear the blood pounding in his ears as his eyes locked with yours.

He swore he saw a sparkle in your eyes when you looked at him, but maybe that was just wishful thinking. He didn’t even know your name yet.

“E-evening,” he awkwardly waved as you browsed the slim aisle.

“Hi,” your face broke out into a smile and went back to your search. Your best friend Charlie’s birthday was tomorrow, and you needed to get her a gift before her party.

As you searched and searched, you were still looking for an album you thought she would like. You two were total opposites when it came to your music preferences, so you had no idea what to get her. After minutes with no success, you found yourself calling out to the only other person in the store.

“Hey, I don't mean to bother you, but I need your opinion.” You snap Eddie out of his little daydream, obviously that you were the start of that daydream.

“Sure!” He said he was a bit too excited. “How can I help you” he smiled but swung his long arms back and forth uncomfortably as he approached you.

“I’m looking for a birthday gift, and I’m a total newbie when it comes to metal. Do you think you can help me?” You bite your lip, observing the man in front of you.

He possessed an alluring, bad-boy persona that made him quite charming. His hair was long, reaching his shoulders, and looked unstyled, yet it was evident that he had taken time to make it look just right. The chocolate waves cascaded down his face, framing his striking features, which were difficult to ignore. His big, round eyes were captivating, and they softened his tough exterior, making him appear less intimidating, especially with that nasty scar running through his left cheek and up to his temple. He had a fair complexion, and his arms were visible, revealing numerous tattoos that covered some scars running up from his forearm to his bicep, which aided his rugged appearance.

He saw you staring and immediately wrapped his arms around himself, trying to conceal the scars from your gaze. You felt bad. You know it’s rude to stare, but he was so enticing to look at; you’d never seen anyone like him before, especially not in this North California town of yours.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” You gestured to the arms he was concealing.

"S'all good." He brushed it off, but you could tell he was, in fact, uncomfortable.

"If it makes you feel any better... it makes you look like a total badass." You smirked.

"Oh really?" hearing your compliment did make Eddie feel a little better.

"Yeah, total babe magnet." You flirt.

"Well... I don't know about that?" Eddie's closed-off demeanour quickly changed to bashful.

"You're not from here, are you?" you looked at his name tag "Eddie," you cock your head, taking him in once again.

He's taller than you by at least a full head. His shoulders are broad, and his torso is lean. You'd guess he is around your age, mid-twenties, give or take a year or two.

Eddie liked the way you said his name.

"Nah, moved here a few years ago," he smirked.

"Well, I'm glad you did because you look just like the style of a guy who can help me." You bite your lip.

"I do?"

"Like I said, my friend is a total metalhead, and I don't have a clue on what to get?"

"Sure, yeah, I'm definitely your guy for that."

He walked you over to the correct section of the store, and you noticed a slight limp to his gate.

"If they're just an okay friend, I suggest this," He held up a small cassette. "but if they're a really good friend, Then this is definitely the thing to get them."

"Oh, this looks like something they would like! Charlie never shuts up about this band." You smile, taking the record from Eddie's hands. You decide this is the one and let Eddie know you want him to ring you up.

"So is Charlie like your boyfriend or something" God Munson, real smooth.'

This made you giggle.

"Why do you wanna ask me out or something? You cocked your head.

"Yeah, or something," Eddie's demeanour suddenly became coy.

"Well, Charlotte is my best friend, no boyfriend. " you take the record off Eddie's hands.

"Oh ok cool-cool”

Seconds of awkward silence filled the air, you could sense he wanted to talk to you more.

“Yea, well um”-

“You think I could have your number?" He asked while fiddling with his fingers. His long, thick fingers were decorated with silver rings, scars and chipped black polish. You liked his fingers; he looked like the kind of guy who knew how to use them.

Eddie's personality was more like that of a teddy bear than his outward appearance suggested.

"Sure," You smiled and pulled out an old receipt and a pen from your purse. You flipped it to the blank side and wrote your name and number on the back. "Call me." You winked as you passed it to Eddie before exiting the store.

Eddie couldn't believe what just happened. He locked up as soon as you left, watching to make sure you made it into your car safely. The crime rate in this town was non-existent, but now Eddie knew what was lurking in the shadows. He could never be too careful.

Eddie made it home about half an hour later and was examining the small paper you'd given him. He looked over the pink loopy writing of your name, and he traced over the love heart you'd written in the top right corner.

"What that you got there, boy" Wayne walked into the room and noticed what Eddie had been memorizing. He bent down and picked up the white paper marked in pink ink off of the coffee table. "Well, well, well, I'll be damned," He huffed with excitement. It was about time Eddie put himself out there.

"I bet she's real cute." He winked at his blushing nephew.

"Yeah," Eddie sighed, thinking about your face.

"If you need any tips, let me know." Wayne smiled.

"Huh?"

"I'll have you know I know how to treat a lady right, so when you come begging for help, I'll be right here." He patted his shoulder.

"Yeah, okay, Mr. Cassanova." Eddie scoffed. Wayne had never been with anyone since Eddie entered his life.

"Whatever," Wayne mumbled under his breath as he exited the living room to give Eddie some semblance of privacy. He would be able to hear the whole conversation, but he still wanted to give the illusion of privacy to his boy.

When the phone rang, you had been wrapping Charlie's present in your bedroom.

"I got it!" You yelled out to your roommates, rushing over to the other end, praying that it was Eddie on the other end.

You let it ring two more times as you took a deep breath before picking it up.

"Hello," You smiled.

"Hey, uh, this is Eddie."

"Hi, Eddie," you smiled. He could tell it was you by your voice. "I'm glad you called." You played with the phone cord, wrapping it and then unwrapping it from your fingers as you spoke.

"I was wondering if you were free on Saturday?"

You jumped up and down, giddy he was asking you out, when Charlie and Evan, your two roommates, rounded the corner to see what had gotten you all googly-eyed.

"I work Saturday until three, but I'm free after" You look at your roommates and Charlie's mouth "Who's that"

"Great, I -uh- was thinking we could maybe see a movie or dinner or both; yeah, both are good." Eddie cleared his throat.

"Yeah, both are good," You giggle back.

"Great, I can pick you up around six, that okay?"

You agree and give him your address. You wish him a good night and hang up with phone with the biggest smile on your face.

"Okay, spill, who was that." Evan and Charlie corner you before you can escape.

"You know the music store on Main St.?" You grin.

"Yea," they say in unison.

"I was in there tonight, and the guy who works there, Eddie, asked me for my number, and we are going out on Saturday."

"You mean the scary guy with the hair and the nasty scar on his face?" Evan's eyes widen.

"Trust me, he is not scary," you giggle.

"Okay," Evan draws out. He was always protective of you.

"Trust me, you should have seen how timid he was; he's really sweet." You reassure them.

"We need to get you an outfit!" Charlie jumps into action, heading for your room.

"Wait!" You rush by her, shoving the gift under your pillow so she can't see anything.

"Something I should know? any particular reason you were at the music store tonight?"

"Nope! No reason at all; I saw a cute guy and thought I would shoot my shot." You brush off

"Yeah, okay," She totally knew.

Eddie was frantic. This was honestly and truly his first date. He doesn’t count the disaster of a night that was Jackie Manning in the fourth grade that had been wiped from his memory.

Eddie was bouncing around the house from room to room, trying to gather things he needed for the evening. He wanted this to work. He wanted to get to know you. He wanted to build something, he was already a twenty four year old who’s never been in a relationship or had sex. And he wanted those two things so badly. He was lonely, and he missed his friends from Hawkins, but he could never go back, not after everything that had happened. And because of everything that happened was the exact reason he was still a virgin.

The pressure to please was building in his head as the time started getting closer to 6:00pm.

“Don’t psych yourself out, kid.” Wayne watched as his nephew flew around the house. “You’re making me dizzy.”

“What if she thinks I’m a freak like everyone else?” His sentence tapers off as his voice turns into a mumbled whisper.

“Son, listen to me. This town is no Hawkins. You do not need to hide anymore, and you never know. Maybe she’s more of a freak than you ever can be,” his uncle laughed.

“Not helping.” He rolls his eyes, walking back to his room. He was looking for the new cologne he bought for tonight. He sprits it on himself maybe one too many times, but it didn’t matter, he was sweating so much he needed to change his shirt, again.

Looking into the mirror, he couldn't help but notice the scars that crisscrossed along his torso. It was obvious that his scars had a story, one that was filled with pain and struggle. Despite feeling self-conscious, Eddie took a deep breath, reminding himself that he was more than his physical appearance. With care, he fixed his hair and pulled on a black long-sleeved collared shirt, hoping it would provide some comfort and confidence.

With one last deep breath, he worked up the courage to grab his keys and walk out the front door.

“Good luck, be yourself, don’t forget the flowers and open the door for her damnit! I didn’t raise you to be no brute!”

“Got it!” Eddie yelled out before shutting the door with a click.

As you were lost in thought, a distant rumble of an old engine caught your attention, and you instinctively turned towards the window. You noticed a striking red two-door sedan pulling up to the front of your house, and your eyes were immediately drawn to Eddie as he stepped out of the car. He exuded an air of confidence, wearing a sleek black leather jacket that complimented his impressive physique. You couldn't help but watch as he flicked the butt of his cigarette onto the ground and crushed it under his black boots.

Your gaze moved up his long, toned legs, admiring the way they looked in his fitted black jeans, to his slim waist and broad shoulders that seemed to dominate the space around him. As he walked towards the trunk of the car, his movements were so graceful that they seemed almost rehearsed. He retrieved what looked like a bouquet of flowers. You couldn’t help but fucked him as you watched how he walked up to the front porch. He looked like pure sex, and you couldn’t wait to climb him like a tree.

Yeah, it has been a while since you last got laid, and this date with Eddie was getting your hopes up that that streak will soon come to an end.

The closer he got to the porch, the more the butterflies built in your stomach. The knock on the door shot you up from where you were perched, and you quickly made your way down the stairs.

“Hi” you smile brightly as you open the door.

“Hey,” Eddie smirked shyly as he took you in. It was like he forgot to breathe for a second. How could someone be cute and sexy at the same time?

“Hi” you repeated.

“I got you these.” he passed you a cute bouquet of pink and purple flowers.

“Thank you, Eddie.” You smile and smell them, finding your bashfulness.

“For us, you shouldn’t have!” Evan comes up and takes the flowers out of your hands

“Okay, bad boy, have our girl back by midnight” Charlie comes up from behind you, giving Eddie a once over.

“Charlie?” Eddie points.

“Oh, you talked about me? I’m flattered,” your best friend pecks you on the cheek.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know who you are?” Eddie motions to Evan.

“Evan” he smiles and puts his hand out to shake. “The unspoken about roommate.”

“Don’t worry about him. He’s just salty. I’m going out, and he’s stuck at home with Charlie and her new Dio album,” you smirk.

“Well, I hope you enjoy, I’m personally a fan of track 8,” Eddie rocks back on his heels.

“I like him; he’s the boy version of me.” Charlie nods in approval.

“Okay, let’s go.” You grab Eddie's arm and close the door behind you before your roommates can say anymore.

Eddie walked you to the passenger side of the red sedan and opened the door for you.

“Thank you,” you smiled, and Eddie jogged to the other side.

The car ride was a little quiet but not long. Eddie jogged out to the other side and opened the door for you with a smile.

You talked a bit more before the movie. He bought the popcorn and drinks. He didn’t open up much about why he moved, but you spoke about your interests and your future goals up until the movie started.

During the movie, you tried to pass signals to him to make a move. You rested your hand out so he could take it, but it seemed that he was engrossed in the film. You tried leaning in closer so he could put his arm around you, but nothing. So you pulled a Hail Mary and rested your hand on his thigh. You felt his body stiffen under your touch, but the. He relaxed a little and took your hand in his.

You glanced over at Eddie, and he was grinning at you. The light off the movie screen reflected off the deep scar marking Eddie’s cheek. God, he was beautiful.

“What?” Eddie whispered.

Shit, did you say that out loud?

“You’re beautiful.” You whispered back confidently. Something about Eddie told you he wasn’t complimented often, but you wanted to change that.

“Oh,” Eddie blushes, the red crawled up his chest, and he felt his ears burning bright red. Thankful for his long hair and the dark theatre.

After the movie, Eddie didn’t let go of your hand until you got to the car; then, when you both were back in the car, he bravely reached over and took your hand in his once more.

Dinner was lovely; he pulled out your chair for you, and he opened up more to you about himself. He was extremely charming and funny, vibrant and animated, and he made you feel alive. Eddie was such a breath of fresh air compared to the men from your past.

By the end of the night, you didn’t want it to end. You drove around for a while before you both decided it was for the best to take you home.

Like the perfect gentleman he had been all night, Eddie walked you up to your door.

“I had a really nice night with you.” You smiled up at him. He made you feel like a teenager again.

“Me too, Sweetheart.”

Your heart soared at the nickname.

Eddie leaned in, hoping and praying he was reading the room correctly. He felt like his insides were going to explode, and he took the risk and kissed you.

Eddie’s hands grabbed your waist and pulled you in closer as you leaned into him. He felt your hands wrap around his neck and bring your bodies closer. His hard frame was pressed against your soft one; he let a soft moan slip as he felt your soft breasts graze his chest and your plush thighs press against his centre.

Eddie quickly pulled away once he felt his cock hardening against your body; the last thing he needs is your thinking he is some perv.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.” Eddie cupped your face, giving you one quick peck before stepping back and trying to cover his crotch with his jacket.

“Goodnight, Eddie,” you smile, and you look at him like no one has looked at Eddie. It made his knees feel like jello.

“I’ll call you,” he smirked; his confidence had grown since he walked out his front door.

“You better”

Eddie and you have been dating for two months now. Everything had been going well, everything but your sex life, or lack thereof.

Eddie hadn’t made a move. Nothing went past makeouts and heavy petting, and you were starting to get insecure. Everything else was amazing, but nothing ever led to anything more.

You had tried to initiate sex, but every time you were turned away, even a blow job, Eddie made an excuse for you not to go past kissing.

You were pulling away, and Eddie could sense it. He was absolutely fucking this up, but his inner thoughts were his worst enemy. How could you be with someone as inexperienced and deformed as him? Could he please you? What if he finished in ten seconds? He would be mortified. But all of that felt like nothing if it meant losing you.

Tonight, he would change that. Tonight, he had the whole evening planned. He had the house to himself as Wayne was also out with a lady friend he had met at the town bar. Things were looking up for the Munson men in California.

After your date with Eddie, he invited you over to his place for the first time. His house was beautiful; you wondered how Eddie could afford a place like this? He had already disclosed to you he had purchased it all on his own.

“Are you a part of the mob” you joke as you take in the house.

Eddie chuckled and led you further into his home.

“You want a drink?”

“Yeah, whatever you’re having,” As you make your way over to the large sofa you take a seat and let out a deep sigh as you sink into the comfortable cushions.

The room is quiet, save for the sound of Eddie shuffling around in the kitchen, and you begin to feel a little uneasy in the silence, not knowing what to do to fill the time. Thankfully, Eddie walks in with two beers in his hands, and you can't help but smile at the sight of him.

He hands you a beer and takes a sip of his own before heading over to the stereo to put on some music. As the music starts to fill the room, you begin to feel more at ease.

“So, where is your Uncle?” You ask casually.

“Out for the night, we have the place to ourselves.” He smiles as he sits down beside you.

“Oh, so he is gone the whole night?” You ask, trying not to get your hopes up.

“Yep,” he ended his word with a crisp pop.

“That’s good.” You nod your head. “Sure is a big place to be alone in.”

“Wanna keep me company?” Eddie nuzzled his face into your neck.

“Yes,” you sigh as the beer in your hands has been completely forgotten. Finally, you were going to spend some much-needed alone time with Eddie.

You push back so you can turn your head to kiss Eddie. You turn your body so you can get a better angle. Eddie cups your face pulling you closer, he wanted to feel you, all of you.

You needed to feel him more, too; your pussy was in control; you swung your leg over his lap so you could straddle your man. Your hips started moving on their own. Grinding down onto Eddie’s lap. Eddie hands travels from your face down your back to cup your ass pulling you closer. His cock was already hard; you felt how big he was through his taught jeans. You pull away to slip your hands under his shirt, but Eddie grabs your wrists hastily.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” You ask worried. The grip on your wrists was firm. “I thought you were into this?” You feel like you are folding into yourself.

“I am!” He was quick to correct you.

“Do you not want me in that way?” Your voice was so small.

“No! I mean, yes, I do, I really, really do.” He shakes his head.

“Then why don’t you want to do anything with me?”

“I do, fuck, sweetheart. I really do. It’s all I think about.” He stroked your hair reassuringly.

“Then let me.” You tried unbuttoning Eddie’s jeans, but he stopped you once again. You were fighting back tears of embarrassment. You were throwing yourself at him, and he was rejecting you time and time again.

“Sweetheart, wait, I have to tell you something… well, two things.”

“What it’s it, baby?” Now you were nervous.

“I-shit- I want this to be… be so good for you, but I’m…not really…experienced.” he avoided eye contact, and it finally clicked.

“Eddie, are you a virgin?” Your question with no judgment or malice in your tone.

He slowly nods his head, looking down in his lap.

“Baby, that doesn’t matter to me.” You hook a finger under his jaw to make him look at you.

His wide eyes were sorrowful like he didn’t want to disappoint you.

“Yeah?” He whispers.

“Yeah,” you confirm with a kiss as you lean down into him. Slowly, you started rocking your hips into his lap once again.

“Sweetheart, there is uh-one more thing.” He pulls away; you can already feel his thick cock beneath you.

“If you’re not ready, we don’t have to do anything.”

“No, no, I-I want to. It’s umm. Shit”

“You don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready,” you cooed.

“I kinda have to if I want to sleep with you…”

“Okay, Eddie. Take your time.”

“My uh- scars. They’re everywhere." he gestured to his middle, " And I don’t want you to be grossed out or whatever.” He was bitterly honest with you. All of his walls came tumbling down, and you felt like an ass for not even considering his feelings about the situation.

“Eddie,” you sighed.

“No, I know what I look like, and it’s not normal. I don’t want you to get scared off or worse because I really like you. And god, I wanna have sex with you so bad it’s all I can think about that makes me sound so perverted- but it’s true. I want to be with you so bad.”

You cut him off with a kiss. A deep, sensual kiss that makes Eddie forget his own name.

“Let me take care of you,” you whisper into his lips.

“You don’t have to. I want this to be about you.”

“No baby, you do so much for me. Let me do this for you” You kiss down his jaw to his neck, sucking a dark purple mark until you’re satisfied and Eddie is withering underneath you, trying to get any sense of friction.

Your hands explored his waist above his shirt, feeling his body. It was bumpy, and there were ridges where you were not used to, but it didn’t deter you from wanting to be with him.

You could feel his body stiffen when your fingers traced over his scars.

“Is there any place you don’t want me touching?” You whispered.

“No, no, touch me- please.” his chest moved up and down with his heavy breaths.

Eddie’s body felt like it was on fire. No one has ever felt him in this way. He needed more but didn’t want to press you. So he let you take your time.

Your hands once again tried to break past the barrier of his shirt. This time, he let you as your warm fingertips worked their way up his tummy, feeling his skin beneath you.

“Can I take this off?” You ask.

Eddie nodded his head frantically; he trusted you and wanted nothing more than to keep going.

He sat up a bit, letting you shuffle the soft cotton over his head.

Your gaze didn’t break from his body. It was so beautifully mangled you could see he had skin grafting scars all across his chest and sides.

“I get it if you’re not attracted to me.”

“Hey,” you grab his head in both hands, forcing him to look at you. “I’ve never wanted to be with anyone more than I want to be with you right now.” You take a hand off his face to grab his hand and guide it to your soaked panties.

Eddie’s eyes widen with surprise as he feels your pooled slick in your panties.

“Holy shit,” Eddie gasped.

“I want you, Eddie. I want you so bad. I want to make you feel good.” You grind yourself on his hand before you slink off his lap and onto your knees in front of him.

You were about to give him the best blowjob imaginable. You didn’t know what Eddie went through, but you knew he was one of the most genuine guys you’ve ever met, and he deserved this moment.

You were quick to unbuckle his belt and pants before guiding your hand up his still-covered cock. Your fingers are hooked under the elastic waistband of his boxers, and his pulsing cock sprang free.

Your eyes widen at the sight in front of you… you knew he would be big, but you weren’t expecting him to be that big. How has he been hiding this from you all this time?

“What? What's wrong?”

“Eddie, you’re huge,” your mouth hung agape. In front of you is a cock at least eight inches long and thick, with a slight curve to the left.

“What? No.”

“You’re joking?” You laugh.

Eddie looks at you with a blank stare. Maybe laughing while his cock was out wasn’t the best idea.

“Eddie, I’m serious,” you take his length in your hand. “This is the biggest dick I’ve ever seen.” It felt heavy in your hand.

"Really?"

"Really, I don't think it's going to fit?" You chuckle, a little worried.

"Can- can we at least try?" Eddie stutters.

"Don't worry, baby, I always like a challenge."

You didn't let Eddie respond before your mouth was enveloping the tip of his cock. You swirled your tongue around the head before taking as much as possible without triggering your gag reflex.

"Holy shit" Eddie instinctively grabbed your hair as you lowered your head down the shaft. His face scrunched up in pleasure.

"You like that baby?" You ask, popping up for air, your hand replacing your mouth.

"Yes," he sucked in a sharp breath as your hand applied the perfect amount of pressure to his cock.

"I can't believe you've been holding this secret from me for so long, naughty boy." You smirked before taking him back in your mouth.

" I-I-didn't-fuck! Didn't know?" Fuck why had Eddie been holding off on this feeling? This wonderful feeling of your beautiful mouth surrounding his length.

You worked your head up and down his head before Eddie pulled you off unexpectedly.

" I'm gonna come if you keep doing that."

"That's the point, baby." You smiled.

"But I wanna have sex," He rushes out.

"Okay." You smile, and you both stand up, taking his hand in yours. "Wanna show me your bedroom?"

Eddie frantically nods his head yes before he pulls you up the stairs to the bedroom. You giggle behind him as he runs up the stairs, trying not to trip as his pants and boxers are wrapped around his ankles.

He rushes the both of you over to his bed, and he lays you down before him before you can take off your clothes.

"Tell me what you want," you coo, tucking a piece of hair behind Eddie's ear as he hovers over you.

"You, I want you so bad," he whines between kisses.

"Good boy," you smile, and Eddie swears his heart stops beating.

"How do you want me?" you ask as Eddie's hands explore every inch of your still-clothed body.

"Naked." He kissed the exposed skin of your neck.

"Mmmm, good boy, tell me what you want," you say as Eddie's mouth finds your sweet spot.

You hear Eddie whimper at your praise, so you decide to keep pushing. In a moment of intense emotion, something inside him breaks. A deep longing takes hold of him, compelling him to be nothing but a perfect and devoted man for you. The thought of being your good boy fills him with an unfamiliar sense of need, one that he has never encountered before.

"You like it when I call you that, baby?"

Eddie mumbles an answer into your neck.

"What was that? I couldn’t hear you."

"Yes, please, I want to be your good boy." He rutted his bare cock against your wet panty-covered core, and it sent a wave of pleasure through you.

"Oh, Eddie," You moan. "help me take off my clothes," You ask sweetly.

Eddie waisted not another second before your shirt was over your head and your skirt ripped off of your hips. You managed your bra while Eddie did the honours of revealing your swollen wet pussy.

"How do you want me?" you ask as your fingers trace your pussy lips before opening your legs wide for Eddie to see you play with your pussy.

"I've died and gone to heaven." Eddie's eyes were wide as he took in your body.

"I want you to feel me, baby." you reach out for Eddie's hand and guide it back to your pussy like you had downstairs. You slowly guided his thick fingers through your folds, collecting your slick before you showed him where your tight hole was.

“Holy shit” Eddie couldn’t believe he was allowed to touch you like this.

"It's okay, you can go in" You rocked your hips into Eddies and hoping his fingers would breach your cunt.

"Oh my god," You say in unison as his long, thick finger stretches you out ever so slightly.

"You're so tight." Eddie slowly tests the waters as he pumps his fingers in and out of your pussy.

"mmmm, think about how good it's going to feel when my tight little pussy is wrapped around your big, thick cock"

Eddie's brain short-circuited, his hand stopped moving, and you let out a giggle when you realized you had broken his brain.

"Can I?"

"Just a little bit more warming up, baby. You're just so big I need to get ready for you." You bat your lashes at him.

"fuck you can't say things like that to me."

"Why you don't like it?" You tease.

"Quite the opposite, sweetheart."

"You wanna know a secret to a woman's pleasure?"

"Yes"

"You gotta pay a lot of attention to right here" You guide his hand to your swollen clit. You let out a moan when his fingers make contact with your bundle of nerves.

You show him how to circle it, and Eddie couldn't believe the sight below him. He was giving you pleasure. He could tell by your blissed-out face he was doing a good job; he was being your good boy.

"Fuck I need you now," you moan, feeling your orgasm build.

"I have condoms," Eddie blurts out.

"Good, go get one," you breathe heavy with lust. Eddie hops off the bed, almost tripping over his pants that were still wrapped around his ankles, making you giggle.

You watched as he reached his nightstand opening the drawer. Your pussy was throbbing, and you couldn’t take your eyes off how his shoulder blade jutted out, and his back muscles rippled and dipped through the large scar that covered most of his left side. Your eyes travelled down, and the perfect view of his perky ass was right there for the taking. So you can’t help yourself as you reach out and swat at it playfully, making Eddie jump.

“You’re a little minx.” he turns quickly, wrapped condom in hand.

Eddie quickly crawls back into the bed before unwrapping and rolling the condom down his throbbing length. Then he froze, not knowing what to do next?

“How do you want me, Eddie baby?” You playfully twirl a piece of his unruly hair around your finger.

“Can-can you be on top to start?”

“Layback for me.” You un-twirl your finger from his hair and gently push his shoulders back so he can get comfortable.

His cock lay flat against his stomach, passing where his belly button should have been.

Slowly, you wrap your legs around his body, aligning your centre with his. You take his girth in your delicate hand and guide his cock to your wanton hole. You glide his tip through your pussy lips a few times, teasing and collecting your slick before slowly sinking your way down. You let out a shaking breath as he splits you in half.

It took everything within Eddie to not rut his hips up into you; his knuckles turned white as he gripped the sheets beneath him, trying to do everything not to plant his feel so he could to hold back.

He’d never felt anything so heavenly. You were so fucking tight around him. He couldn’t believe how amazing this felt. Your pussy was his own personal paradise, and he was never leaving.

“Fuck-fuck-fuck-“ you stuttered as your pussy adjusted to his size. The burn was long but so good, you wanted more of him.

Eddie watched as your pinched-up face relaxed, changing quickly from uncomfortable to pure pleasure when you reached the hilt.

“Holy shit,” Eddie swore he could have come right then and there if he wanted it. But he didn’t want it, not yet. God, he be damned if he didn’t make this moment last forever.

“You like the way my pussy is wrapped around your fat cock, big boy?” You start to rock your hips slowly, teasing the man who is falling apart beneath you.

Usually, you were always the one in his position, but you felt a power you’d never experienced. You wanted to be in control tonight; you wanted to make this so good for Eddie, your sweet Eddie with a monster cock.

Eddie jerked his hips up, and your pussy clenched. “Oh fuck!” Eddie cried as your muscles contracted around him. This was it; nothing could ever be better than this right now.

“You feel that honey? How tight my wet warm pussy is for you?” You start to bounce, and Eddie, stood, corrected.

He tried to hold on as your tits started bouncing in his face as you worked yourself up and down on his cock.

“Touch me,” you panted.

Eddie didn’t need to be told twice. His hands snapped up to your hips gripping you tightly before he ran them up to your swollen breasts.

You throw your head back as Eddie pinches your nipples, exposing your neck. Eddie acts on instinct, wanting to ravage you, he sits up and latches his mouth onto your exposed neck, then down your chest to your perked nipples.

“Oh baby,” you cry at the sudden movement beneath you. The new angel only sank his cock deeper into your cunt. He was filling you so good, you’ve never felt this full.

“Can I - can we switch?” Eddie can’t take it he needs to fuck you, like really fuck you.

“Yes,” you were completely fucked out.

You let out a squeak as Eddie man handles you to be underneath him. He wastes no time pounding back into you the second your back hits the mattress. His sting hands are gripping your hips so hard you’re sure there will be finger shaped bruises. He nearly took your breath away as his hips snapped into your dripping pussy, your walls pulsed around him as his cock grazed that sweet spot that is deep, deep inside.

“OH EDDIE” you scream, eyes rolling back into your head.

It was music to Eddie’s ears. He wasn’t going to last much longer. He needed you to finish. He suddenly remembered the advice you gave him minutes before. His hand grazed down your body to your clit.

His touch sent a zap of pleasure through your core, only making your pussy tighten even more. His fingers worked your pussy slowly, a contrast from how fast he was thrusting into you.

Moans of ecstasy escaped your throat as your brain shut off. You were no longer in control; it was all Eddie.

“Baby, you still with me?” He coos in your ear.

“Fuck Eddie, don’t stop! I’m going to cum!” You wrap your legs around Eddie to pull him closer to you, not that it was possible. You wanted him buried inside of you forever.

“Come on, baby, come for me.”

You broke at his words. Your orgasm ripped through you as he worked his cock through your tight grip. Eddie broke as soon as you did no way he could hold on any longer.

A loud roar rips out of his chest as his seed spurts out of him into the condom that is buried deep inside of you.

“Fuck me, you sure that was your first time?” You giggle, still totally fucked out.

“Yep, guess you can say I’m a natural sex god.” his ego was definitely boosted.

“Mmmhmmmmm,” you nod in agreement. Rolling over to wrap a bare leg around his body.

Eddie couldn’t believe his life could be this sweet. He wrapped his arms around you and fell asleep with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

Tags!: @nailbatanddungeon @s6raphic @3rd-conchord @sadbitchfangirl @gri959 @reidsbtch @taintedcigs @skyline4446 @babygorewhore @mmunson86 @paybacksawitch @lesservillain @imyourdaninow @bimbobaggins69 @liminalpebble @keeksandgigz @lightcommastix @wtfmariaclara @st4rgirll3 @ali-r3n @xxhellfirebunnyxx

#Eddie Munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #virgin!eddie munson #virgin!eddie munson x reader #sub!eddie Munson #sub!eddie Munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson angst #Eddie Munson fluff

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moonjxsung · 6 months

Text

Seasons

Pairing: Lee Felix x fem reader

W/c: 24.1k

Warnings: mentions of death, mentions of a hospital, alcohol, smoking, erotic photography, use of pet names, clitoral stimulation, breast/nipple play, unprotected sex, creampie, dry humping, sex in a semi-public place (no one is around), oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, cum eating

Synopsis: Seasons come and go like your love for Felix once did- but when he reappears in your life several years later, things are much different.

[this work was based off a request from @crookedt44th - thank you for requesting!]

18+. Mdni!

•

Small town at the edge of the world. 11:30am. A Tuesday in Autumn.

If you told the average person to shut their eyes and think of their favorite city, they’d probably conjure up a lengthy description about the booming skyscrapers, the bumper-to-bumper traffic, the fancy restaurants and the well-kept people. Point it out on a map, you’d tell them, and their finger would land in the heart of the amorphous blob of whatever state they’ve chosen.

Now move your finger to the right- keep going, and going, and don’t stop until you’re almost off the map entirely. There will be no major indicators, no colorful dots on this area of the map. You might miss it, in fact, if you shoot too far.

That’s the town of Ember.

A town so insignificant, the only name they could think to give it was based on the fire that plagued it almost 50 years ago, which begged the question to those in neighboring cities- who even lives there?

Famous for absolutely nothing of importance, population who-knows-these-days, nothing to do and nowhere to go.

And the place you call home.

“Pieces of a Dream. 1970’s.”

“Yellow,” your manager responds, and you unravel a bulky roll of discount stickers, thumbing one off the adhesive and placing it gently in the corner of the plastic-wrapped vinyl.

“The rest of those should be discounted,” he says, quickly shuffling through the stack and giving them a little slap with the palm of his hand.

He slides the stack over to you, taking his spot on the wooden stool by the register again and flipping through a stack of pages on his clipboard.

Chris, your manager, has been the owner of Ember Records for the better part of a decade now. He succeeds his father’s role as store owner, who succeeded his father’s role, back when the record shop wasn’t mostly lost to the fire. Since its relocation, it’s much smaller, so you’ve heard, only about half the shelf space available to house the generous collection of records his great grandfather used to collect and sell.

This is one of just a handful of shops around here, located in the heart of the tourist attraction that is the town’s square. Thus, you’re well-acquainted with the baristas from the coffee shop across the street, the waiters at the diner, the librarians and even the car mechanics. You’re all familiar with the businesses you run to keep this town on its feet, many of you having chosen to stay here for a simpler life.

“I dig the grays,” you tell Chris, crossing your arms as you lean against the counter and slide him the finished stack of tagged vinyl.

He sighs, cocking his head and uncapping his pen between his teeth. “They creep up on you when you least expect it. You know this shit costs like, hundreds to get dyed?”

“Leave it,” you say to him, giving a small nod as you speak. “It makes you look more mature. I mean, what does Yena think of it?”

“She loves it,” he says, catching a glimpse of his reflection in one of the glass cases and running his hands through his hair. “But she’d also love if I shaved my eyebrows off. She’ll compliment anything.”

“Then shave your eyebrows,” you say, chuckling, as you stuff your phone in the back pocket of your jeans. “You’re lucky to have a wife who’s so supportive of your decisions. I’m taking my lunch!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Chris says, laughing as he shakes his head. “Oh, and Yena left you some pie in the back room.”

“Tell her thank you!” You call over your shoulder as you make your way to the back.

The back room is just a glorified storage closet, one dingy table pushed up against the wall, one wooden chair and shelves of records that need to be pushed out to the sales floor, or should’ve just been burned in the fire. You have to duck your head to not hit it on the hanging pendant lamp, its bulb buzzing concerningly loud as you take your seat and pry open the Tupperware container Yena left for you in the fridge- cherry pie, your favorite, from the diner down the street where she works.

As you take generous bites of your first meal of the day, you shuffle through a stack of records neglected on the table from last week’s donation. There are a myriad of genres- old jazz bands, electronic records, synth pop and even a few ambient pieces. As you flip over one of the covers, Chris calls to you from the front, his voice echoing around the dingy little storage closet.

“Y/n! I need you to come help out!”

And you sigh, promptly shutting the Tupperware closed again and making your way out to the front.

That’s the thing about this job- it’s small, but it’s busy, the hundreds of records demanding your very precise attention at any given moment of the day. You live to serve the people here, suggesting records to those seeking new sounds or curiously peering at genres unknown to them. And tourists are drawn to the place, often leaving with armfuls of old vinyl to add to their collections. It’s not a town they’ll likely ever visit again, you’re well aware, but the shop allows people to take a little piece of Ember with them wherever they go. And though the lack of grandiosity might not bring them back, your attentiveness to detail and passion for music sometimes do.

“Coffee?” Yena asks you, as you slide into the familiar spot of your favorite booth, next to the window in her diner. She saunters over with the pot anyway, setting a little white mug down in front of you and filling the cup halfway.

“Thanks,” you reply, already tearing open packs of creamer.

At half past 8, the record shop closes in only an hour, Chris taking on the role of closing procedures in your absence. It’s a routine life you lead, tending to the record shop by day and basking in the town’s simple pleasures by nighttime. And with all the people you love in it, you have no reason to leave, no rush to migrate elsewhere.

“How’s work?” Yena asks, sliding into the booth across from you and pulling a notepad out from her apron. She flips through the pages, stopping on a blank one and adding up her tips for the evening.

“Fine,” you say to her, taking a generous sip of coffee. “Just mostly repeat customers for today. But we did have a pretty hefty donation, so that’s a plus.”

“Anything good?” She questions, without looking up from her notepad.

“Negative. A lot of older stuff I used to listen to in high school.”

Yena finishes tallying up her tips, shutting her notepad and finally meeting your gaze.

“Hey, if that’s old, then I’m ancient.”

You both laugh, and she keeps her gaze on you for a moment before speaking again.

“Gosh, I still remember when you moved here. You were so… wide-eyed. And quiet.”

“I was so lost,” you say with a small chuckle. “I don’t even think I knew how to work a record player.”

“And now look at you,” she emphasizes, gesturing to your face. “You just seem… happy these days.”

She smiles for a moment, before gathering the empty cups of creamer off the table and sliding out of the booth.

“I hope you’ll stay here, if it means you’re always going to be this happy.”

You smile to yourself as she begins back toward the kitchen, humming to herself.

“Wasn’t planning on leaving!” You call out, and without turning around, she gives you a thumbs up before disappearing into the kitchen again.

Some days, your shifts feel like 5 minutes. Other days, they feel like 5 days. Today is the latter, the clock on the wall above the register ticking away by the second, and yet seemingly no closer to the end of your day. You’re on closing procedures this evening, Chris and Yena having taken the day off to have a much overdue date night. And it’s empty, like it usually is on Wednesday evenings, not a soul in sight as the town tends to their own duties, the tourists all working busy jobs in the city.

You slouch your shoulders over the wooden stool, dusting off a pile of folk records and shuffling through them, admiring the intricate paintings on the covers. It’s one of your favorite things about working here- locating the beautiful paintings and photographs that graze the covers of records, all of them vastly different from one another, but equally as evocative. You trace your fingertips over what appears to be a Polish record, a couple dressed in fancy colorful fabrics as he dips her into a bow. You can’t help but wonder what the atmosphere would be like if they were here in front of you, the whole room teeming with the choral ensemble as they’d tap their fancy shoes along the tile flooring and invite you to dance, too. The thought circles your mind with a smile, and you barely hear the next customer enter when they do.

The little gold bell hanging on the door chimes just once when they enter, indicating the arrival of a man, who promptly rushes to the back shelf without so much as a hello. Welcome, I guess, you want to say, dismissing their curtness with a shake of your head as you go back to organizing records.

You shuffle to the next record, admiring the black and white photo of a man with his guitar, a panama hat atop his curly head of hair as he sings into a microphone. It reminds you of the ones your dad used to collect before he passed.

“Excuse me?” A voice interrupts, and you practically jump, startled at the way he navigates the shop without a sound. He’s right in front of the register now, holding a CD in his hands and setting it down in front of you.

“I’d like to pay,” he continues, his baritone voice sounding painfully uninviting.

Without looking up at him, you take the CD from the counter, flipping it over to scan the barcode on the front. Four Decades of Jazz, the cover simply displaying the title in funky purple block text.

“This one’s actually on clearance,” you say, sliding the CD into a small paper bag. “Just 5.”

He pulls out a brown leather wallet, flipping through crisp bills as he searches for exact change. As he does, you take notice of the collection of silver rings that decorate his shorter fingers, a few of them painted with chipping black nail polish. Your gaze fixates on a thicker silver band, carved with black fleur de lis patterns that circle the band all the way around. You cock your head slightly, mapping out the pattern in your head as his hands move, the ring glistening under a beam of light that shines through the window and sets it aglow.

“It was a gift,” the man says when he notices you staring, and he holds out his index finger, rotating his finger to give you the full view.

You say nothing, your lips parting slightly as he does, transfixed by the way the silver hugs his finger and frames his veiny hands. The man stays silent, his gaze on the ring, too, as he pulls it off with a gentle tug and holds it up for you to see.

“Do you want to see it?” He asks, pinching the band between the pads of his fingers as he rotates it under the same beam of sunlight.

“No, thank you,” you reply, your mind still in a trance. “It just… reminds me of…” and your voice trails off, finally allowing your gaze to look up and meet the stranger’s.

His big brown eyes seem to widen when you finally lock eyes, his plump lips parting open as he scrambles to pull the ring back on.

“Something,” is all you can utter, folding the brown paper bag once in your hands and sliding it across the counter. “It reminds me of somebody I used to know.”

His breath hitches his throat as he finds the words to say, unable to string together a cohesive sentence as memories run rampant in his mind, everything coming back to him like a painful wound being reopened.

“Sorry,” is all he can say, clutching the brown bag in one hand as he gives you a small nod. “And thanks. For the CD. Or for ringing me up, rather. Thank you-”

“You’re welcome,” you reply briskly, pivoting on your heel to organize a stack of already-sorted records on the shelf behind you.

And you can still feel him there for a moment, his gaze boring into the back of your head like he wants to say something. But he doesn’t, instead observing the way your hair, a little shorter than he’d previously remembered it, sways gently in its ponytail as you go about your job.

You listen to the way the brown paper bag crumples in his grasp, before he finally retreats and exits, the little bell above the door indicating his departure.

And when you turn around again, there on the counter, his silver ring sits, glistening in the waning glint of the evening sun.

“The lattes are so expensive out there,” Yena says, as she takes a sip from her iced coffee. “I’d drink this gas station coffee any day over that stuff.”

You chuckle lightly, shaking your head as you wipe down the counter with a rag. Chris counts change in the register beside you, muttering counts to himself as he scribbles onto his clipboard and listens to your conversations.

“But hey, we still had a good time,” Yena continues, smiling over at Chris. “Sometimes leaving this town keeps you on your toes.”

“Yeah, well, I’m on my toes enough here as it is,” you respond, the three of you chuckling lightly amongst each other.

The bell atop the door chimes once, signifying the arrival of a new customer, and Chris gestures to the door as you look up.

“All you,” he says, going back to his work.

You fold the rag neatly, setting it on the counter and making your way over to the clearance aisle where the stranger stands. His back is turned toward you, his lanky frame towering over stacks of CDs as he thumbs through them casually.

“Can I help you find anything?” You chime in, your hands behind your back as you watch him. As you speak, he turns to face you, and you breathe a deep sigh of annoyance.

“Seriously?” You say, already retreating back to the counter again and turning away from him.

“Wait,” he calls, rushing after you and standing in front of the counter awkwardly. Chris looks up from his clipboard, furrowing his brows together as Yena shoots him an equally questioning look.

“I don’t have anything to say to you,” you respond, unfolding the rag again and wiping down the register.

“Hey, hey,” Chris says, giving you a confused look.

“Don’t worry about it,” you say to Chris through gritted teeth, brushing off the interaction.

“I just wanted to-” the man begins, as he looms behind the counter, fiddling with his fingers nervously.

“Why would you come back?” You question, not looking at him still. “Wasn’t one time awkward enough?”

“I left my ring,” he finally says, dropping his hands at his sides.

Both your gazes fall to your hands, where the silver band rests comfortably on your index finger, almost like it’s always been yours.

“Yeah, whatever,” you reply, pulling it off and sliding it across the counter to him. “Here.”

He doesn’t say anything, not yet reaching for the ring, nor telling you to put it back on. A part of him is fascinated at the prospect you chose to wear it around at all.

The silence that falls over the shop is painfully awkward, Chris and Yena keeping their gazes locked between the two of you as you angrily scrub at a stain on the counter.

“Hey,” Chris says, finally pulling the rag from your grasp. “You’re scratching the wood, kiddo.”

“If no one wants that ring, give it here,” Yena says with a smile.

The ring is slowly lifted from the counter again, slid back onto the finger of its respective owner.

“We’ll give you guys a minute,” Chris says, motioning to the back room with the tilt of his head. And Yena follows him to the back, the till of the register balanced in his arms.

“What do you want?” You ask, finally meeting his gaze again. “I’m working right now.”

His face drops a little, giving you a small shrug before he speaks.

“I was just wondering how you were doing. And I thought-”

“Felix,” you say brazenly, your heartbeat quickening a little at the feeling of his name leaving your lips again after so long. “Cut the small talk. Just tell me why you’re here.”

He sighs as he fiddles with the band around his finger, the metal still warm from the contact against your skin.

“That’s it,” he explains. “I didn’t expect to see you here. And I wondered how you were doing.”

“So leaving your ring here wasn’t an elaborate plan to come back for it?”

“It… was,” he says sheepishly. “I needed an excuse to come see you again.”

“We sell records,” you emphasize. “That’s the only reason you should be here. And if it’s not, then leave.”

“Y/n,” Felix says frustratedly. His eyebrows arch up in an almost pleading manner, his lips quivering as he struggles to find the words to say.

It’s the first time you take notice of his changed appearance, completely opposite to the Felix you last spoke to. His once blonde locks are grown out, grazing over his bony shoulders, a robust shade of ebony that contrasts against his pale skin, tied up into a half ponytail. His plump lips glisten under a glossy coat of peach tint, and his freckles are almost unnoticeable from this distance. You furrow your brows to get a better look, trying to make out the beige constellations you remember so well. But you can’t locate them- not on his nose, or his cheeks or even around his eyes.

He dresses differently, too, a baggy white tank top under a black leather vest, almost too big for him as it swallows his lean figure. And he flaunts a hefty collection of silver jewelry- rings, rows of ear piercings, a chain link bracelet and layered necklaces. If you didn’t know his eyes like the back of your own hand, you might’ve not even recognized him to be Felix.

“What are you doing here, anyway?” You finally ask, your voice softening a little as he toys with the rings on his fingers.

“This is my favorite place for CDs,” he responds, his shoulders relaxing a little as he speaks. “I used to come here every weekend back in high school. I didn’t know you worked here now, I promise I’m not trying to make things weird.”

You sigh a little, shifting your eyes to the shelves and then back at him.

“Well what are you doing here now? Shouldn’t you be in school or something?”

Felix shrugs a little, his expression unchanging. “It’s complicated, I guess.” And then he furrows his brows at you, gesturing to the shop. “I could ask you the same question.”

“It’s complicated,” you reply, echoing his statement back at him. “And I’m not in the mood to indulge you with the story of my life.”

“I have time,” Felix says with a chuckle, and he’s met with your deafening silence.

“Sorry,” he follows, fiddling again with the rings on his fingers.

As you begin to ask him to leave, Chris and Yena enter from the back room again, carefully making their way toward you with hands shoved in their pockets.

“Hey,” Yena says, nudging you gently. “Everything okay, you guys?”

“Yes,” Felix is quick to chime in. “My apologies- I’m Felix,” he says with a beaming smile, holding out his hand to shake Yena and Chris’. They comply, exchanging warm smiles with him, still confused at why you seem so irate.

“I’m sorry to disrupt the peace,” Felix continues, giving them a little bow. “We’re just-”

“Old friends,” you interrupt, rolling your eyes at this act he puts on. “And he was just leaving.”

“Right,” Felix says, his lips pulling into a disheartened expression.

“Y/n doesn’t bring too many friends around here,” Chris chimes in. “What’s the rush to leave?” He chuckles as he finishes, and Yena hits him lightly as if signaling for him to stop.

“Actually,” Felix begins, and you sigh when you realize he’s not done talking yet. “I was wondering if you wanted to grab dinner, or a coffee or something.”

“Felix, I really don’t think-”

“It’s on me if you wanna come to the diner tomorrow,” Yena chimes in. “We still have leftover pie.”

And you pinch the bridge of your nose, sighing deeply as Felix stares at you with a hopeful expression. His eyes are big, gauging your response curiously as you shift your gaze amongst the three of them. Chris watches Yena, who holds her breath as you think. And Felix’s lip seems to quiver when you open your mouth to speak.

“No dinner. Just coffee. And Chris covers my closing shift.”

Felix is at the diner much earlier than you are, comfortably reserving a spot for you on a table in the middle of the room and allowing Yena to fill your mugs with hot coffee. He adds three packs of sugar, two cups of creamer and a dollop of whipped cream he requests from Yena. And he waits for you patiently, stacking the spare cups of creamer into an organized pyramid, in between nervous glances out the window.

Yena wants to ask who he is exactly- why you’d seemed so off yesterday, and whether he’s here for a reason, or just to catch up as the old friends you claim to be. But she refrains, knowing to stay out of your business the way you so graciously stay out of hers.

“More coffee?” Yena asks as she approaches Felix, taking note of the near empty mug in front of him now.

“Sure,” Felix replies, shooting her a nervous smile. His hands tremble a little as he shoves the pyramid of creamers away from him, pretending to look occupied with his phone instead.

Yena fills his mug to the brim again, sliding him the mug across the table and giving him an empathetic look.

“I’m sure she’ll be here,” Yena says, nodding affirmatively. “She’s usually a little late getting off work.”

And Felix just nods, keeping his gaze on the giant glass windows. Outside, the sun has already set for the evening, darkened skies casting over the little square of Ember. The streets are sparse at this hour, just a few pedestrians who also flock here after their shifts, and the diner is fairly empty with the exception of a few young couples. Felix scans the atmosphere as he waits, observing the way everybody seems so acquainted with the place. Red vinyl booths line the large glass windows, dimly lit by hanging pendant lamps that give a yellow hue to the wooden tables below them. Each table is neatly paired with a silver napkin holder, salt and pepper shakers, hot sauce and a myriad of syrup flavors. And a bright neon red sign advertising fresh pies flickers over the kitchen, which is hidden behind silver swinging doors. It looks like something straight out of a movie, he thinks to himself, as a table nearby is served steaming plates of omelets and fries. And as Felix turns his attention back toward the glass windows, he finally sees you approaching, earbuds in and a nonchalant expression on your face. Your hair is tucked loosely behind your ears, a simple ensemble of loose fitting jeans and a sweater complementing your worn down sneakers. The bell on the door chimes as you make your way inside, a smile on your face as you talk briefly with Yena upon entering. And she gestures back to Felix, who gives a little wave from where he’s sitting, in time for his third coffee refill of the evening.

“This isn’t my table,” you say to Felix when you approach, gathering your mug of coffee and gesturing to your favorite booth against the window. Felix’s eyes flicker to the booth, a confused expression on his face as you wait for him to relocate.

“Well? Are you coming, or what?”

“Yeah, um, sorry,” Felix responds, clutching his mug in one hand and carefully bringing it across the room to the booth.

You furrow your eyes when you look back at the table, a tall pyramid of creamer cups placed where Felix was sitting.

Felix slides in the booth across from you, gesturing to your mug and meeting your gaze.

“Do you take cream? Or sugar?”

“Just two,” you say, picking your cups from the little bowl at the end of the table and tearing them open.

He nods, stirring his coffee around with a spoon as you prepare yours.

“Let me guess,” you say with a knowing smile. “8 packs sugar, 4 things of creamer and an entire can of whipped cream.”

He chuckles lightly, angling you the contents of his cup, which now contains a mixture of frothy melted cream and coffee the color of chocolate milk.

“You always did have a sweet tooth,” you respond, laughing and shaking your head. “Might as well just have a sundae while you’re at it.”

When you’re finished, you hold your mug in both hands, taking a generous sip of the steamy beverage and setting it back down with a gentle thud. Felix watches you intently, like he’s waiting for you to initiate the conversation, but you don’t, raising your eyebrows at him as you wait for him to speak.

“I’m just visiting for a bit,” Felix finally says, twiddling his thumbs on the table in front of him. “I’m doing my classes remotely this semester.”

You nod, saying nothing, as he searches for more words to say.

“Are your classes remote, too?” He continues.

“There are no classes,” you interrupt quickly, before he can press you for more information about school. “I dropped out of college.”

“You did?” Felix retorts, his eyes widening a little at how easily you admit to it. Not an ounce of shame, like it was planned from the start.

“Why?” He follows, tracing mindless patterns into the wood of the table below him.

“Because I hated it. Anything else you want to know?”

“Why are you all the way out here?”

“Because I love it here.”

“And how are your parents?”

“My dad died. Last spring. Are we done now?”

Felix swallows nervously, averting your gaze as he taps his knee nervously under the table.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

You just nod at him, pursing your lips a little and toying with the handle on your mug.

“Are you going to tell me about yourself, or do I need to play 20 questions, too?” You ask him, rolling your eyes as a smile grows on his face.

Felix chuckles lightly, relieved that you’ve already forgiven his clear overstepping here.

“I’m still in college. I’m just… undecided. I took a semester off a little while ago because I don’t know what I want to do. I haven’t actually been to class physically in… a good while.”

You nod empathetically at his words, the reality of them contradictory to the Felix you once knew. He was a straight A student when you knew him last, quick to join campus clubs and gain popularity wherever he went. People often commented on how different both of you were from each other- Felix, a bright young student who could light up a room with his smile, always so eager to ask questions and familiarize himself with the world around him. And you, a bit more reserved, your world often tainted by the reality of the hardships you’d faced, and the knowledge that life, when not lived for yourself, is often arduous.

“So you’re doing a bit of soul-searching,” you say to Felix, no stranger to the concept of tourists stopping through here to ‘start life anew’ at the sight of run-down coffee shops and bookstores. And when they find what they’re looking for, they’re gone again, like a soul could never thrive here in the town of Ember, even if it’s where it materialized.

“You could say that,” he responds, swirling the remainder of whipped cream around his cup with a spoon. “Things just haven’t been… great.”

You nod in response, averting his gaze as you study the wooden table below him.

“Well good luck,” you finally say, taking a generous gulp of your coffee and scanning the room for Yena before the conversation can go any further than the base-level declarations of your new separate lives.

“Do you remember that night we snuck out of your house?” Felix asks suddenly, just as you begin to get up.

“What?”

“It was raining. I think it was like 3 in the morning.”

You turn to face him again, narrowing your eyes as he speaks.

“I didn’t have a car at the time,” Felix continues. “So you rode on the handles of my bike in the pouring rain. We went to watch the sunrise, only we didn’t realize that of course because we were in the middle of a storm, there was-”

“No visible sunrise,” you interrupt quietly. “We just watched the clouds turn a lighter shade of gray.”

Felix grins a little as you finish, nodding his head.

“Exactly. And when we got home at 5am, your dad was already awake. And he’d never met me before- we swore he’d have it out for me. But he didn’t- he brought us blankets, and he made us tea and laughed his ass off at our stupidity.”

“There’s no sunrise in a fucking storm!” You exclaim, echoing your dad’s lighthearted lecture from so long ago.

Felix laughs with you, the warm memory circling your minds, both of you equally as endeared by the tale you so vividly remember. As your laughter dies down, Felix keeps his gaze on yours, shooting you a half smile as he speaks again.

“Your dad really loved you. And… it’s one of my favorite memories, even today.”

You hold his gaze too, clutching the handle of your mug again and giving him a small nod, your lip quivering a little at the mention of your father.

“Thanks, Felix,” you say in a melancholy tone, taking a deep breath in an attempt to hold back your tears.

When the feeling’s passed, Felix spoons another dollop of whipped cream into his cup and brings it up to his lips.

“Your hair’s shorter,” he says with a chuckle.

“Yours is longer,” you retort. “And black.”

“I’m trying something new.”

“I can tell,” you say, laughing lightly. “And what’s with all the screws and washers in your ears?”

“My piercings?” He replies. “They’re a fashion statement!”

“They look painful.”

“This one was,” Felix says, toying with the silver helix piercing in his lobe.

“And this one,” his fingers trail down to another silver stud, just below the first. “And maybe this one.”

“At what point is this just inflicting pain on yourself for fun?”

“I’m not finished!” Felix says, as you both share amused laughter. He thumbs over another row of silver studs, thinking intently as he speaks. “This one hurt, this one definitely hurt…”

“How was your dinner thing last night?” Chris asks in the morning, shooting you a knowing smile as he breaks a new roll of quarters in the till.

“Coffee,” you emphasize.

“Coffee,” he echoes. “How was coffee, with your old friend?”

“It was okay,” you respond, organizing a stack of records on the shelf across the counter. “Just catching up, mostly.”

“Yena said you guys were there for hours.”

“Maybe we were.”

“Hours?” Chris repeats, shaking his head. “What could you have possibly talked about that lasted hours?”

“Friend stuff,” you reply to him. “Maybe if you had some, you’d know.”

“Ouch, kiddo,” he says, clutching his chest in a joking manner as you both laugh.

As you turn to grab another stack of records, the bell over the door chimes, and your heads snap in the direction of the noise. And like you’d accidentally spoken him into existence again, Felix saunters in, a shy smile on his face. He looks a little more casual this time, in just jeans and a black t-shirt, but still different than you remembered him nonetheless.

“Speak of the angel,” Chris mutters, nudging you with his elbow as he waves at Felix.

“Hi,” Felix says cheerfully. “It’s nice and warm in here. Outside’s really cold.”

“Felix, what are you doing here?” You sigh, averting Chris’ shit-eating grin.

“What? I’m buying some CDs.”

“We have a good amount on clearance,” Chris says from where he’s standing. “Back shelf.”

“Thanks!” Felix replies, and you pinch the bridge of your nose in annoyance.

“Chris, would you give us a minute?”

And he nods, shooting Felix a thumbs up, before disappearing to the back room with a stack of papers.

“Look,” you begin, turning to Felix. “Last night was fun and all, but I’m still working a job. This doesn’t just make amends or something. It was great catching up, but respectfully, I really don’t want to see you again.”

Felix nods a little, and then he hoists something over his arm. It’s the first time you take notice of it- a black crossbody satchel, draped over one arm, his hand resting casually on the zipper.

“Then I suppose getting help for my project is a no?”

You narrow your eyes at him, gesturing to the bag with a tilt of your head. “What’s in the bag?”

“You don’t get to know if you don’t help me.”

“Just tell me.”

“Promise you’ll help me.”

“Felix-”

He holds the bag a little further away from his body, effectively shielding it from your view and shaking his head. “And it was such a good surprise, too.”

“Just tell me what’s in the stupid bag!”

Felix finally holds the bag out in front of him, unzipping it and carefully pulling out its contents. He reveals a digital camera to you, slinging the strap over his neck and holding it up to squint into the lens. “Smile!”

“What- that’s it?” You question, shielding your face from his view. “How does this pertain to me?”

“I’m photographing the town,” he replies, fidgeting with the lens in his hands. “I need some help.”

“Why would you need my help with that? I’m not a photographer.”

“Yeah but you know this town, and all of its little quirks.”

“There’s a maps app on your phone for a reason, Felix.”

Felix gets quiet again as he fidgets with the lens on his camera, doing nothing particularly useful as he prays you’ll change your answer. And he’s not lying- he does need to photograph this town, and all of its hidden gems for his creative project this semester. But he would be lying if he said having you keep him company wasn’t all he thought about when he went to bed last night, and woke up this morning and inevitably found himself back at your record shop.

“You used to be the best model,” Felix says just above a whisper, letting his camera hang loosely at his waist now. “I still have all my film photos of you.”

The room gets a little quiet as you meet his gaze, not missing the way his eyes seem to soften into a somber expression. He’s always had this way of begging- pleading for what he wants, and you’ve very seldom been able to say no to him. Seeing him stand in front of you now, heavy camera in his small hands and a dream circling his mind, you know the fact still stands true.

“If I do this for you, this is the last favor I run you.”

His lips pull into a toothy smile, his eyes forming little crescents as he nods eagerly.

“I promise. I won’t ask you for anything else.”

When Chris reenters the room, he shoots you a questioning look, which you wave off with a casual roll of your eyes.

“What time are you off today?” Felix asks, and Chris purposely nudges you as he passes by.

“Later. Just come by at closing or something.”

“Yeah, I can do that. Do you want me to bring a coffee or anything-”

“See you at closing, Felix,” you respond with a smile, and you gesture back to the door.

He nods, seeing himself out, camera firmly grasped in his two hands as he waves again through the window.

Felix drives the same shitty car he did when you last knew him. Its chipped navy blue exterior clashes horribly with the beige leather seats, the inside tainted by the permanent odor of cigarettes from its previous owner, Felix making futile efforts to mask the smell with pine tree air fresheners. The seatbelts are frayed, the legroom is nearly nonexistent and the live radio is completely busted, with the exception of the CD player.

“All jazz?” You question, shuffling through a neat book of Felix’s CD collection.

“Yeah,” Felix replies, two hands gripping the steering wheel as he adjusts in his seat. “They’re mostly just whatever’s cheapest.”

“I can tell,” you say with a chuckle, reaching the last page, where Four Decades of Jazz now occupies a sleeve of its own. You pop the CD into the player, turning the volume up a few notches and sitting back comfortably as the melodic tune of a saxophone fills the space around you.

“What’s this next place again?” Felix asks, as you shut your eyes and listen to the jazzy beat.

You’ve stopped at three locations already, all spots in Ember you’re particularly fond of. The old bridge that runs over train tracks, a narrow pathway into another world in late evenings. It’s always surrounded by starlings, which flock when the trains pass through and chirp songs that mirror the train’s cacophonous whistle.

The cathedral just north of your record shop, which you don’t attend regularly like the other town-goers do, but always greets you graciously with its towering stained glass windows and crested walls.

And a now abandoned grocery store just a few blocks away, the walls on the back now housing impressive graffiti murals and doodles.

“This last one is a more scenic spot,” you finally respond, opening your eyes as his car passes over a speed bump. “It’s my favorite one.”

Felix just nods as he continues driving, the road narrowing into a one-way route, the area surrounded by wet grassland and barely visible amidst the thick fog.

“What’s the whole premise of this project?” You ask him, realizing you haven’t quite figured out what part you play in this, anyway.

Felix is silent for a moment, his hands rotating over the wheel as he turns into another narrow road.

“It’s just a photography project. About observing your surroundings.”

“Why does it have to be here?”

And he smiles, chuckling lightly to himself, as he reaches a hand out and sprawls his palm over your mouth.

“You ask so many questions! You haven’t changed at all.”

You respond in muffled laughter, prying his hand off your mouth with two hands and shoving it back toward the steering wheel.

“I’m just curious!”

Your shared giddy laughter fills the car for several minutes, exchanging amused glances as he pulls into an open parking lot and circles around to look for a spot. And you let your fingertips graze along your cheek, briefly, remembering the sensation of his hand on you very well.

The fourth spot is a spacious grassland just past the hills, not necessarily a hidden gem by the town’s standards, but a place you discovered shortly after you moved out here. It requires hopping a fence to access, jogging down a steep dirt path and then marching back up a grassy hill to make it to your “sweet spot”- or a little dip in the top of the hill, perfect for setting up a picnic blanket and sitting upon for hours.

And of course the best part about it- the view. The whole town is visible from up here, the little buildings and shops you know so intimately an entirely different perspective from this height. Sometimes you imagine what you look like from this view- just a tiny speck of a human in a town not much bigger, crossing back and forth between your apartment, the diner and the record shop.

“You got it?” You ask Felix as he hoists himself up the last stretch of grass, balancing his camera in his hands and dusting off his jeans.

“Yeah,” he replies, coming around to occupy the spot next to you on the grass. You sit back on your hands, your legs crossed at the ankles as you take in the view you know so well. Felix sits cross-legged, toying with the lens of his camera as he prepares to snap a few photos.

“It’s nice up here,” he comments, filling the silence with the clicking noises of his camera.

“Yeah,” you respond shortly, your gaze fixed on the record shop. “It’s a pretty special place.”

He turns the lens, bringing his camera up and snapping a series of photos as you watch him out of your peripheral vision.

“How’d you find it?” Felix asks, scanning the photos and going to take another set.

“I get around,” you reply with a smile, keeping your answer short.

He takes one last set of photos, angling his camera at different sides, and when he’s done, he carefully places the camera in his carrier bag and leans back on his hands, too.

“You really have things figured out here,” Felix says a little quietly, turning to look at you while you keep your gaze straight ahead.

“I didn’t have a choice. It was up to me to keep things going.”

“And… how’s your mom?” He replies quietly.

You shake your head, adjusting your position so that you’re sitting cross-legged, too.

“I don’t know. Last I heard she was out west. New boyfriend or something.”

Felix nods reluctantly, not wanting to press the issue further.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he chimes in suddenly. “I hope you didn’t leave thinking that.”

“It’s fine,” you reply, brushing him off.

“No, listen to me,” Felix continues, turning to face you. “I know you hate talking about it. And I won’t bring it up again. But none of this was your fault. And that summer I wanted so badly to fix everything and take away your pain, and I just… I couldn’t. And I’m sorry.”

You don’t say anything to him, fidgeting with a blade of grass on the ground below you and reminding yourself to keep it together. Don’t cry. Don’t feel.

“You’re doing that thing again,” Felix says bluntly, like he can read your thoughts.

“What thing-”

“That thing. Where you don’t let yourself feel.”

“I feel a lot of things, Felix.”

“Then why haven’t we talked about it yet?”

“Talked about about what?”

“Why you left,” he finally finishes, huffing frustratedly. “Why are we not addressing it? Am I supposed to just act like it didn’t happen?”

“Felix, I really think-”

“You said you would stay and fight for what was ahead of us. And then you disappeared on me. You know how hard it was to go on with my life like you weren’t a missing person for all I knew? You didn’t even call.”

“I changed my number,” you say quietly.

“Yeah, I figured that much after three years.”

Felix gets quiet again, shaking his head as he turns his gaze back to the view. You don’t say anything for a moment, his words swirling in your mind as your heart beats erratically. There’s so much to say- so much you want to explain to him. But the words are caught in the back of your throat, dissipating with every passing second you fail to vocalize them. He glances at you again, hoping you’ll come around- but you don’t, your gaze now transfixed on the blade of grass that rolls between the pads of your fingers.

“I understand if you don’t want to talk about it,” Felix finally says. “And… I’m sorry.”

A copper sunset falls over the buildings below you, casting shadows around you that dance along the blades of grass and disappear over the rolling hills. They shift from massive charcoal forms into smaller shapes that sway with the setting sun, quick to get away from you and disappear when they graze over your seated figures.

“You know there was a fire here, like, 50 years ago,” you say to Felix, still averting eye contact.

“There was?”

“Mhm. See there?” You question, pointing out a vast, empty field and gesturing to the buildings across from it.

“It started east, and it traveled west. And everything there burned, and a few people even died.”

“Wow,” Felix responds. “I didn’t know that. That’s terrible.”

“A lot of the neighboring cities didn’t know this place existed. But when they heard about the fire, many of them came out here, just to donate and help build things back up. Even the record shop burned. The one we have now is a lot smaller.”

He nods as he listens to your story, glancing back at the town as he pictures the blazing flames that ate away most of its structure back then.

“I always think about it,” you continue. “Everyday I imagine how hard it must’ve been to pick up and build things from the ground up again. Chris’ grandfather did it, with the record shop. And the diner did it. And they’re still doing it, keeping things running the way they are.”

Felix nods again, turning to look at you as you watch the town.

“No one could’ve prevented the fire. They could pick up and move on, but things still burned before they did, and people still died.”

Felix begins to say something, his lips parting, but his breath hitches in the back of his throat, and he settles in silence as you finish.

“I’m somewhere there,” you say to him after a silent pause. “I’m somewhere between the fire and the mending.”

And he doesn’t have to say anything else, understanding that this is your way of explaining things.

As darkness begins to fall over you both, you think back to the last time you sat with him like this, on the old hill in your hometown, waiting for a sunrise that never came around. You had passed the time kissing and touching each other so desperately, speaking visions of a new life into existence and making hushed promises to embrace the end together. An end that came to fruition without him, one you ran from before could look it in its face and brave it with Felix by your side.

But here on the familiarity of your hill, looking over a town that burned like the flames inside of you do now, you know there’s good, there are people who will make the journey to help you rebuild no matter what their reservations previously were. But it also takes time, and patience, and the strength to admit things have turned to ash in the first place.

And sometimes, like this town, things and people turn to Ember, a dim glowing reminder of what happened always present still.

Soul-searching capital of the world. 6:00pm. On the cusp of winter.

“Think you’re ready?” You query at Felix, pulling the straw out from your vanilla milkshake to lick the other end.

“I think so,” he responds, sorting through a stack of photos on the table.

“Felix, your whipped cream,” Yena says as she turns the corner and sets a small bowl down in front of him.

“Thank you,” Felix replies with a small smile, already spooning a generous amount into his coffee.

The last two weeks have been cordial between the two of you, a sense of normalcy finally present during your time together as Felix wrapped up his photography shots and developed them at the convenience store in town. The pictures are beautiful, little precious neutral-toned glimpses into your everyday life and the town you love so much. It feels like Felix finally understands you, neither pressing you for answers anymore, nor trying to initiate anything more between the two of you like you’d feared. And although the photography sessions have spanned a little more time than you’d originally anticipated they would, you’re well aware this will all be over soon, and then you can get back to the normal, simple life you lead, without having to look introspectively at the state of things. You’re fine, and Felix doesn’t force you to think about it anymore.

“I just have to submit these, and then I’ll be done for the semester,” Felix explains.

“Are you staying in town for the holidays?” You ask suddenly, realizing you’ve never even inquired what his plans are for after this photography project is finished.

“I don’t know,” Felix responds, glancing at the stack of photos. “I don’t really have any solid plans.”

You don’t miss the way he fidgets with the ring on his finger, averting your gaze and swallowing nervously. It’s another habit Felix possesses, getting you to drag him along practically anywhere, but it’s hard to say no when he makes every effort to be so polite and forgiving.

You sigh deeply, praying you won’t regret the words before they leave your mouth.

“Look, a couple friends I have throw a party every year around the holidays. We just get together to smoke and talk. You can come, if you want.”

Felix’s expression brightens almost instantly, meeting your gaze again with big hopeful eyes and a beaming smile.

“Really?”

“Don’t make it weird,” you say, chuckling softly. “It’s just a small thing to unwind.”

“I’ll be there,” Felix responds with a nod. “And I won’t make it weird, I promise.”

“So…” Yena teases, sliding into the booth across from you and raising her eyebrows. “What’s… going on between you two?”

“Who?” You question, cocking your head slightly.

“Oh come on,” she emphasizes. “You guys are attached at the hip. We barely get girl time together anymore. He can’t just be an old friend.”

“He is,” you voice back. “We just go way back, that’s all.”

“He’s cute,” she says, glancing out the window at Felix’s lanky figure making his way back to his car. You both watch as he struggles to get his car open, yanking on the door handle a little hard and stumbling back.

“Well he’s single,” you retort with a soft chuckle. “So if you ever get tired of Chris, he’s your guy.”

“I see the way he looks at you,” Yena explains, as she pulls out her notepad and adds her tips for the evening. “Like he has stars in his eyes or something. I remember when Chris and I met, he was a lot like that.”

“Yena, we’re really not-”

“I know,” she says, shaking her head with a smile. “Feelings, feelings. Yuck. I’m just saying.”

You turn your gaze toward the window again, watching as Felix starts his car and backs out of the parking lot, strands of his ebony hair falling into his eyes as he checks behind him.

And Yena smiles, taking notice out of her peripheral vision at the stars in your eyes, too.

Seungmin’s annual holiday party is a tradition you joined in on the first year you moved out here. Working at the record shop your first year, you had no friends, no family and you were completely isolated from the town when you weren’t picking up shifts. He was a regular customer with a knack for old rock records, and he pitied the shifts you worked while the rest of the town mingled at their annual holiday events you’d hear so much about. An invitation to his holiday party was a big feat for you, not only because it was one of the first events you attended here, but because it allowed you to spend the holidays alongside people again, something you hadn’t done since your father’s passing. And thus, Seungmin invites you back every year, never missing a chance to talk records with you and challenge you to eggnog shots.

“I just want to pop these in the trunk really quick,” you say as you open the car door on the passenger side and gesture for the key from Felix. “I usually lend Seungmin a few spare records we have-”

Felix hasn’t registered a word you’ve said, completely entranced by the way your short skirt hugs your hips, a black leather coat thrown over your shoulders and a different pair of sneakers than he’s used to seeing. It’s much different than how he’s normally seen you, dressed down in sweaters and baggy jeans.

And Felix looks particularly dashing, too, his ebony hair tied up again to display his impressive collection of ear piercings, a fitted leather jacket hugging his slim figure and black jeans that elongate his legs. You give him a once-over as he cranes his neck from the driver’s seat and tosses you the keys, unable to verbalize his regard for your outfit. But as you make your way around the car to the trunk, popping it open and placing Seungmin’s stack of records inside, he can’t help but stare in the interior view mirror at the way your skirt rides up when you bend over, exposing a little more of your thighs and leaving little to the imagination.

The drive to Seungmin’s is only a few blocks down from Ember Records, one which Felix completes while stealing very obvious glances at you and making every attempt to calm his erratically beating heart. You pretend the glances go unnoticed, keeping your gaze on the darkened road ahead and making small talk about the party. But you don’t miss the way Felix’s voice hitches in the back of his throat when he speaks, his trembling hands turning the wheel as he pulls into the cul-de-sac and puts the car in park.

And he wants nothing more than to stay here, with you, to sit in his dingy little car and talk with you about everything that happened, to assure you that you’re not alone in your process of mending- he’ll love you through it, regardless. But as Seungmin makes his way out the front door with a red solo cup in hand, calling loudly for you, Felix knows that’s not a possibility.

“Y/n!” Seungmin exclaims, a big toothy grin plastered on his face at the sight of you. He’s a bit taller than Felix is, long legs that frame his slim torso, and a chiseled jawline that makes Felix a little jealous. His voluminous chocolate tresses fall into his eyes as he speaks, and he uses a slender hand to push them away again, shooting you another flashy smile as he chuckles lightly.

“What’d you bring me this time?” He asks, balancing the presumed cup of alcohol in one hand as he watches you retreat to the trunk of the car.

“Couple rock, some alternative and that one artist you liked last time?”

“Hell yeah,” Seungmin replies, as he takes the records from your grasp and shuffles through them eagerly.

Felix clears his throat as he stands beside you, his hands shoved awkwardly in the pockets of his leather jacket as he waits for an introduction.

“Sorry,” you voice, stepping aside and gesturing to Felix.

“This is Felix. He’s an old friend of mine.”

Seungmin hardly looks up from his stack of records, just briefly glancing at Felix and giving him a small nod.

“Hey man. Cool to meet you.”

And Felix’s lips pull into a thin-lipped smile, averting his gaze, too, as he nods.

“Yeah. Same.”

Your eyes dart between Seungmin and Felix, both of them painfully awkward as they stand beside you, avoiding eye contact like some unspoken challenge and looming over you like you’re meant to be the host.

“Should we get inside?” You finally ask, wrapping your arms around yourself and gesturing to the house with a tilt of your head.

“Yeah, sorry,” Seungmin says with a soft chuckle, still averting Felix’s gaze and pivoting on his heel to begin toward the house. Felix gestures for you to follow, trailing behind you and doing his best to steady his nerves as the three of you finally make your way inside.

The house is already crowded for the evening, people standing just about everywhere, red cups in hand and joints pinched between their fingers. They exhale white clouds of smoke as they converse amongst themselves, their eyes all tainted red, as they let all the weed and alcohol consume their consciousness and instill a calm demeanor in themselves. Felix finds himself standing a little closer to you as you approach the sofa everyone’s sitting around, their bodies lazily slung over one another as they chat and drink.

“Y/n’s here,” Seungmin says, as he passes the sofa and heads into what Felix presumes to be his bedroom, with the stack of records in hand.

“Hey!” They call in misarticulated voices. You make your rounds, greeting each of them and exchanging brief anecdotes with them, while Felix remains standing with his hands in his pockets, his eyes fixed on the way you smile cheerfully and acquaint yourself with everyone in the room.

You look so relaxed, so well-adjusted to your new life in this little town. As stories are thrown back and forth between yourself and the guests, Felix wonders how long you’ve known them to be able to converse with them to such an intimate extent. They share stories of your shifts at work, stories of previous parties, tales of past lovers they’ve had and late nights all of you spent up in this exact household. Felix can’t help but wonder what he was doing during those moments- probably studying for a test at university, or hooking up with someone he didn’t exactly care for. And by nighttime, he was likely up thinking of you- pondering where you’d gone, what you were up to. If you thought about him just as much as he thought about you.

Part of him wants to be angry, listening in on your stories like this- you’re laughing about parties, exchanging tales of difficult customers- moments that occurred while he was up waiting for you, hoping one day you’d change your mind about everything and return. Felix swore every sunset began to look the same without you there to watch them alongside him, every sunrise much bleaker than the last- even the stars he’d gaze at through his window seemed to lose their meaning.

But watching you like this, a smile that hasn’t left your face once since entering the house and the familiar sound of your harmonious laughter, he knows maybe you did the right thing, after all. Maybe Felix wasn’t a part of this plan life had for you- and perhaps, it’s time to come to terms with the fact that he never will be.

“Felix?” You question, effectively snapping him out of the trance he’s fallen into just by watching you.

“Huh?” He responds, aware that the row of guests on the couch appear to be waiting for him to say something.

“How long are you here for?” One of them repeats, his stare a little cold as he raises his eyebrows and prompts an answer out of Felix.

“Oh, uh… I’m not sure yet. Just for the holidays, I guess.”

They nod in collective unison, no one saying a word as they gauge how nervous he seems to be. And you shoot them an apologetic smile, also clocking Felix’s awkward demeanor as he remains silent and avoids carrying on with the conversation.

“Anyone got a light?” You finally break the silence, and everyone chimes in to answer, offering you joints from between their fingers and fishing colorful lighters out from their pockets. You take a seat on the rug, patting the space next to you, and Felix follows your lead, crossing his legs in the spot beside you and taking a hit from the joint you offer him.

Felix feels himself calm a little as the mellow sensation begins to wash over him, his worries dissipating as he listens to you begin to share another story with the group of people. And his mind wanders back to the past, contemplating your actions and mirroring them with the current state of things.

Three hours into the party, you’re both a little buzzed, feeling much more mellow than you had upon entering, despite taking only one hit from a joint. The room is heavy with thick clouds of smoke, the pungent smell of weed and alcohol present at every corner of the room. Just sitting here and talking gets you high, and you find yourself enjoying the company alongside Felix.

It reminds you of back then, when you and Felix used to attend parties together and run off to random bedrooms for a quick fuck. You’d often find yourself leaving early to spend time just between the two of you, hitting all your signature spots to catch sunrises or binge greasy food. And Felix feels much more relaxed around you now, making small talk with the guests and observing the way you try your hardest to include him in the conversations. As Seungmin takes another hit from his joint, he slouches back in the concave leather of the couch, his gaze darting over the two of you as Felix eyes you curiously.

“So what’s the deal between you two?” He asks, narrowing his eyes as he awaits a response.

“We’re just old friends-” Felix begins to say, but you interrupt him before Seungmin can catch the answer.

“He’s my best friend.”

Felix’s head snaps in your direction, unsure if maybe he heard you incorrectly, or if you’re genuinely claiming that Felix, whose guts you’ve hated for the better part of three years now, is your best friend.

“Best friends?” Seungmin repeats in slurred speech, and you give him a nod.

“Yeah,” you say again confidently. “He’s my best friend.”

And Felix’s lips pull into an involuntary smile, the tips of his ears turning a bright shade of red as he reaffirms your words.

When you turn to smile at him, he pats the space in front of him, extending his legs so that he’s created a spot for you to settle in. And in your buzzed, mellowed out state, you comply, scooting back and slotting yourself between his long legs, letting yourself lean back against his chest and shutting your eyes briefly. Felix reluctantly brings two hands around you, holding you a little closer to him, but you don’t protest the action, the familiar sensation of his arms around you feeling comfortable and safe like it always used to.

“I’d think you guys were fucking if I didn’t know any better,” Seungmin voices, joining a chorus of laughter as he brings the joint up to his lips again.

“So what if we were?” You retort casually, feeling the way Felix’s embrace gets a little tighter around you.

“Nothing wrong with it. It’s just easy to see through you guys. Especially the way this Danny from Grease wannabe looks at you.”

And Felix’s eyes furrow at the statement, well aware of the fact that Seungmin’s begun to get a little aggressive, but not wanting to incite anything that might jeopardize your friendships.

“I should probably go,” Felix says just above a whisper, his mouth hovering just over your shoulder so that you can hear him over all the noise.

“What? No,” you reply, turning your head to meet his gaze. His eyes are wide, his lip trembling a little as he speaks. Felix isn’t confrontational- a fact you’re very aware of.

“I don’t want to start anything-” he begins to say, and you place a hand on his forearm comfortingly.

“Then let’s both get out of here. I’m kinda bored, anyway.”

He’s surprised at the offer- and undoubtedly moved by the prospect that you’ve chosen to stick with him instead of stay here at the party with all your friends. And because he wants to spend the time with you, he doesn’t protest when you turn to voice your decisions to the crowd.

“Well Danny from Grease and I are getting out of here. So you can let your imaginations run wild since you’re so obsessed with us.”

Seungmin chuckles lightly, too stoned to ask you to stay, and candidly, to care about any of it.

“My old records are on the kitchen table,” Seungmin says, as he shuts his eyes and exhales a generous cloud of smoke. “Catch you guys later.”

“Where are we going?” Felix asks, as he puts the car into park and watches you unbuckle your seatbelt.

“I have to put the records I lent to Seungmin back in the shop. It’ll only take like two minutes.”

He nods in response, his gaze fixed on the darkened record shop, not used to seeing it at this hour.

“You coming?” You ask him, gesturing to the door, and Felix snaps out of his tranced state, unbuckling his seatbelt, too.

As you twist your keys and push the door open, Felix feels a bit unsettled seeing the shop at this hour. The shelves are pitch dark at the hour, the usually colorful vinyl all looking indistinguishable as they sit in stacks against each other and gather dust. The neon sign above the CD wall is shut off, not even the gentle hum of the bulb present amongst the silence. And the doorway to the back room looks like something out of a horror movie, seeming as though someone- or something, could pop out at any given moment. It feels wrong being here- and he knows he probably shouldn’t be, but he’s not in the place to leave your side just yet.

“Don’t turn on the lights,” you say to Felix when you enter, him following closely behind you. “I don’t want anyone to know we’re here.”

You begin toward the back room, glancing over your shoulder to ensure Felix is following. And he is, albeit reluctantly.

The back room is much smaller than Felix had originally anticipated it to be. It smells of paint, looking far more run-down than the rest of the store, and he’s not sure how anyone can take a lunch break back here considering the lack of table space and seating options.

“This is the break room?” Felix asks, squinting his eyes when you pull the chain beside the medallion lamp and illuminate the room with a dim, orange glow.

“Yeah,” you reply, now shuffling through Seungmin’s old records and putting them in their respective genres. “This is where I eat my sandwiches.”

He chuckles softly, running his hands over the series of music posters pinned to the cork walls, taking in the view you see everyday at noon.

“There’s a record player in here!” Felix exclaims, bending down to examine the 6200 marantz wood turntable on a little cart, just to the left of the dining table.

“Well this is a record shop, you reply with a chuckle, slotting the last few of Seungmin’s vinyl into the shelf. “It wouldn’t make sense if we didn’t have one.”

“Does it work?” Felix asks, tracing the silicone grooves of the platter with his fingers.

“Of course,” you respond, finally turning around to meet his gaze. “Pick something.”

Felix scans the shelves at the neat rows of vinyl, all packed together and indistinguishable from their thin colorful spines alone. He pulls one out, examining illustrations of flowers on the cover, and then slots it back into its respective home. Another flaunts an abstract pattern of cool-toned hues, which Felix observes briefly, and places it back where it belongs, too.

“I can’t decide,” he voices plainly, his eyes scanning over the rows that span the entire length of the room, some of them visibly much older than the rest.

Your fingers graze the spines, too; letting the cracked ridges serve as indication of their age, and then you pinch one between the pads of your fingers, pulling it out to examine the cover. It’s painted sky blue, with images of autumnal trees that stand tall and contrast the gentle hues nicely. In bold red cursive text, the title is scrawled at the top, followed by a brief list of credits and arrangements.

“The Seasons, by Tchaikovsky,” you read aloud.

You recall putting this one on the shelf after a donation a few weeks prior, never having listened to it yourself.

“Will you play it?” Felix asks, and you nod your head in response, already pulling out the black disc and placing it neatly on the record platter. You flip it on, and then bring the tonearm to a random spot, letting the cue lever lower it into place and begin playing. After a few seconds of fidgeting with the volume, the soft sounds of piano begin to fill the room, a somber arrangement that slows into gentler, discoordinate notes.

“This one’s probably winter,” you say to Felix, hoisting yourself up on the table and sitting on your hands. “It sounds sad.”

“Yeah,” he responds, his eyes fixated on the slow turn of the disc, a soft crackling noise emitting as the tonearm runs over the grooves.

Felix suddenly reaches for the bag slung over his shoulder, unzipping the pouch and pulling out his camera.

“What are you doing?” You ask with a soft chuckle, amused at the way he so quickly rushes to adjust the settings.

“I want to take a picture. It’s a nice record player.”

And with the rhythmic click of the lens, he snaps a series of photos, angling himself a bit higher to capture every moving part of the old thing. When he’s finished, he examines the photos himself, a small smile tugging at his lips as he looks over the moment in time captured so perfectly on the little screen of his device. Without warning you, Felix then holds the camera up once more, snapping a quick photo of you and chuckling softly to himself.

“Stop!” You say through laughter, holding a hand up to shield your face as he snaps a few more. “Felix, I’m serious!”

“It’s just for me!” Felix exclaims, bringing his camera down again and scrolling through the candid photos.

As he examines them, you notice how close he is to you now, standing in between your legs that hang lazily off the edge of the table, his frame towering over yours.

He meets your gaze again after a moment, taking notice of the proximity, too, and swallowing nervously.

“You used to let me take pictures of you,” Felix says after a moment of silence.

“That was so long ago,” you reply with a smile. “Things are different now.”

His eyes dart over your bare face, your eyes a little hooded from exhaustion and the mellowed state that overtake your body. It’s a sight familiar to him, still, the way you keep your words short when you’re not asking him questions, nothing except a small knowing smile on your face. But it’s one he’s thought about for so long, painting pictures of you in his head and scanning old photos, like your physical state would somehow come to fruition the more he studied it.

“Please let me take a few more,” Felix says, his voice dropping an octave as his eyes flicker between your lips and your gaze. He knows you’re going to say no, go away, or some other version of it.

But this time, you don’t, taking careful note of the way he so politely asks for what he wants. Memories of him have plagued your mind all night, the feeling of his hands around you still lingering on your body, recalling the way he used to ask so politely to fuck you in the bathroom of house parties like you wouldn’t say yes every single time.

And in the absence of your words, you slide your coat off, discarding it on the table behind you and keeping your gaze locked on his, in just a tight-fitting t-shirt and skirt.

Felix brings his camera up immediately, lest you change your mind like he knows you probably will, and adjusts his lens again, before snapping a single photo of you, sitting so innocently on the table in the back room of the record shop. Your expression remains unchallenged, your eyes softening a little as he pulls away to look at you again. And this time, you let two hands cross over your torso, pulling up the corners of your shirt and letting it ride up until it’s nearly off of you. Felix doesn’t waste any time, bringing his camera to eye-level again and snapping a photo eagerly, his eyes wide as he observes the sight of your hardened nipples through the lens.

The discoordinate piano music still plays from behind him, its tempo increasing gradually as you let one hand position itself over the mound of your breast, kneading gently as Felix positions his camera to zoom in. He snaps another set of photos, bringing his camera even closer to capture you at every erotic angle, and then he pauses briefly, as your hands move to your skirt.

You tug gently, not yet pulling it off, and his photos capture the moment you finally undo the small zipper on the side, revealing the hem of your lace panties to him and looping a finger through them. He feels his breath hitch in his throat, wanting to clarify that he’s not forcing you to do any of this, but too mesmerized to ask you to stop.

And then before he can verbalize his thoughts, you’re tugging the skirt down, too, pulling it off over your sneakers to discard it on the floor below you. Felix can’t look away from the sight, your body hugged so delicately in lace lingerie, your legs parted a little for his photos and practically begging him to come touch you. And yet you say nothing, amused at the sight of Felix gasping over your sitting figure, letting him take the reins and do whatever it is he pleases, even if the implications are clouded by your past.

Felix’s slender hands snap a few more photos, focusing meticulously on your clothed core and your hardened nipples for his own personal use. And then he sets his camera down at his waist again, pulling the camera strap off his body and shoving it back into his satchel. When he turns to say something, he can’t, still entranced by the familiar feeling in his stomach at the body he’s bore witness to so many times.

“Felix,” you say softly, coaxing him to come a little closer.

He obliges, lips parted nervously, as he takes another step forward and allows your legs to rest casually on his.

“I meant to ask you,” you say, cocking your head slightly, bringing one hand up to caress his cheek with your thumb.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice just barely above a whisper. “Anything.”

“Where have all your freckles gone?” You finally ask, observing the way his skin still runs completely clear around his cheeks and eyes, not a hint of a galaxy visible to you, even at this proximity to him.

“Makeup,” Felix responds with a soft chuckle. “They didn’t match my new look.”

And you bring your other hand to his other cheek, grazing your thumbs over his soft skin, before pressing down a little harder and wiping the foundation off of him. He’s right- the beige stars you’d remembered so well begin to appear once again, scattered generously across his button nose and his big eyes. He lets you rub it off of him, not taking his eyes off of yours as you rid him clean of the stuff and then graze your thumbs over him again, in much gentler motions.

“That’s better,” you reply, your eyes darting between his now visible freckles and his plump, parted lips. “They’re my favorite part about you.”

And Felix doesn’t respond, his mind running rampant with thoughts and intentions, as he brings his lips a little closer to yours and finally kisses you, like he’s been dreaming of doing all winter.

You reciprocate instantly, your hands cupping the back of his neck as his lips work against yours, desperately leaning into you and letting his hands snake down the sides of your waist. His kisses are familiar, so reminiscent of years past when he’d kiss you exactly like this, in the proximity of whatever house party bathroom you could run off to and let him have his way with you. And Felix remembers the sensation all too well, this mutual pining of silently yearning for each other in the presence of other strangers until he could confess his love to you through whispered love making sessions when you were finally alone. Felix whimpers softly between kisses, as your hands snake up his t-shirt and graze along the toned flesh of his abdomen. You hum in response, letting your hands tangle in his hair now as he presses further into you and works gentle kisses down your neck. Both your hands find his silky ponytail, pulling off his hair tie in one swift motion and tossing it aside so that his long tresses hang loosely in front of his face, and you tangle your fingers in his ebony roots, tugging slightly as you pull him into your embrace and feel him trail back up to your lips. He pulls away momentarily to gauge your expression, worried you might ask him to stop, but your eyes are wide with anticipation, your breaths labored as you pull him into you again and arch your back into him. You can feel Felix smile into the kiss, satisfied with the turn of events from tonight's party- he’d been so certain you would leave with Seungmin, or shut him out again. But here in the dimly lit room of the record shop, your lips on his as your hands trail lower to unbuckle his belt, there’s no denying you want this just as badly as he does.

And Felix can’t help but wonder how long have things been this way- had something changed at the party? Something that would’ve led you to call him a “best friend” rather than an old one, leave the party with him and even drag him to the record shop after hours, knowing very well you could’ve come alone? Something that instilled an equal sense of desperation in you, to want his lips on yours as badly as he does right now, your bodies yearning for each other like you once did, as you undo his belt buckle and snake it out from his belt loops to discard it on the floor?

He’s not entirely sure- but he also can’t think straight when your hands are tugging at the hem of his jeans, begging him to take them off and mirror the same level of undress you are now. What he can think about are your lips working against his, the gasps that escape you when he grazes his fingers down your sides between kisses and the forte echo of Tchaicovsky’s piano record filling the room with sultry harmonies.

As Felix unbuttons his jeans, you help him tug them down so that they’re pooled around his ankles, the two of you now equal parts undressed and grabbing desperately at the now exposed flesh. You let your hand find Felix’s, wrapping your fingers around his slender wrist, and then bringing it to your panties, where you rest his hand against your clothed core and allow him to graze over your growing wetness.

“Jesus,” Felix exhales, pressing his middle and ring finger down against your core and rubbing in slow, back and forth motions. “I forgot how horny you get when you smoke.”

And you chuckle lightly, not breaking eye contact as he continues to rub you over your lace panties, the wetness against your thin fabric increasing with every gentle movement of his fingers.

“Will you do something about it?” You ask sweetly, one hand reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear.

Felix cocks his head slightly, a smug expression pulling on his lips as he works you a little faster now.

“What do you want me to do about it?”

You chuckle in response, growing impatient as he teases your aching clit over the fabric of your panties and keeps his gaze on yours. He’s calculated with his movements, rubbing in gentle motions, pressing down firmly with every other stroke to watch the way your legs squirm desperately around him and ache for more.

“Don’t make me ask,” you say shyly, your hips rutting toward him to chase the friction of his fingers.

Felix’s gaze drops to your core, his lips parted with curiosity at the sight of you now rocking gently toward him, letting your movements do the pleasing as he almost entirely stops rubbing you.

“What if I wanted you to ask for it?” Felix says briskly, a serious expression on his face as he pulls his hand away from you momentarily.

“Felix, you already know what I-”

“Ask for it,” Felix interrupts, keeping his gaze locked on yours now. His eyes are hooded with lust, his eyebrows slanted in a challenging expression as he waits for you to say something. And he knows he’s never been one to make you ask for it- in fact, he was usually the one doing all the begging, whining when you’d take too long to touch him or begging you to let him finish. But coupled with the recent development of his new look, you can’t help but wonder if it’s not the only thing that’s changed about him.

“Ask for it,” Felix states again. “Or I’ll get dressed again.”

And you can’t bring yourself to, still riddled with questions at the peculiar phenomenon of Felix making you ask for sex, desperate to ask if this is a one-time occurrence, or if he’s intent on getting you to beg for his cock from here on out. Does he make all his hookups beg for it like this? Do they oblige without question, or are they just as taken aback with it as you are?

When Felix takes note of your silence, he doesn’t waste another second, pulling up his jeans again and beginning to work the buttons once more. And you feel your heartbeat quicken at the sight, disheartened at the action and still desperate for him to touch you, to fuck you, like your body’s been craving the past hour you’ve been back here.

In a desperate attempt to stop him, your hands reach out, grasping his wrists in yours and watching the way his cock remains tented under the denim fabric of his jeans.

“Please,” you say shortly, a sheepish pout on your face.

“Please what?” He responds, cocking his head to gauge your reaction.

“Please would you fuck me?” You finally say, exhaling frustratedly and flickering your gaze away from him, almost embarrassed to be asking him like this. But Felix’s lips pull into a toothy grin, leaning back into you for a kiss and beginning to work his jeans off of him again.

“Was that so hard?” He mumbles against your lips teasingly.

“Mhm,” you murmur back against him, hearing his jeans pool around his ankles once again as his hands cup around the small of your back.

“It was?” Felix queries, one hand looping through the hem of your panties and grazing along the elastic. “If I remember correctly, we used to play this little game all the time.”

You gasp a little as he pulls the elastic between the pads of his fingers, letting it snap against your delicate skin again and rest against your reddened skin momentarily. Felix observes the way you say nothing, waiting for him to undress you, touch you- anything, without so much as a plea for him to do so. And he’s undeniably roused seeing you this desperate for him, adjusting your position on the table to calm your pulsating core, your hands searching for him and your lips trying so hard to keep purchase on his. Felix feels his cock swell at the confirmation that perhaps you have been thinking of this just as much as he has, and that maybe leaving was the hardest thing you ever did, the way he always hoped it was.

“Are you sure about this?” Felix asks before he can ponder the words.

And in painfully slow movements, you find the hem of your elastic waistband yourself, tugging it down and breaking away from the kiss to snake it off your ankles and discard it onto the floor. The sight alone is confirmation enough for him- your pussy is glistening with wetness, your folds coated generously in your own arousal and your aching clit a robust shade of pink as you wait for him to finish his little game of neglect. Felix can’t even respond at the sight of your cunt on display for him, too engrossed in the familiarity of what it looked like all those past years, exactly like this, begging for him and only him. On the counters of bathroom sinks, in empty fields, in the back of your car and even when his fingers were shoved in it under blankets in a room full of people. Always taking him so wholly and effortlessly, like your cunt was made to have him fill it, squirming around him with hushed moans and whimpers, your bodies intertwining into one tangled mess of pleasure and pure, unadulterated love for one another.

“Felix, please fuck me,” You repeat, a small smirk on your face as you watch Felix stumble over his words, his cock fully erect in the fabric of his boxers.

And Felix can’t answer you, already attaching his lips to yours again and letting his hands come around your back to unclasp your bra. His motions are much quicker now, no lingering intention to make you ask for it or confirm your stance- but every intention to fuck you, fill you, like he knows you deserve.

When your bra is unfastened, he tosses it aside, letting his hands find the mounds of your breasts and kneading them with steady motions. You moan into his mouth as he works you, your legs wrapping around his hips to press his clothed cock into your wetness and grind softly against you. Felix winces at the sensation, doing his best to stave off a premature orgasm while you rut your hips gently against him and let your head fall back in pleasure. And mirroring the pleasurable sensation of his thumbs rubbing circular motions over your nipples, he brings his mouth down to your chest, taking a breast in his mouth and sucking with little whimpers. Your head comes forward to meet his gaze again, his big, innocent eyes locked on yours as he takes the flesh between his lips and swirls his tongue around your nipple. His plump lips remain locked around your mound, alternating between gentle kisses and then back to sucking on your nipple, like he might coax fluids out of it if he tries enough. And he looks so guiltless, so incorrupt as he lets his eyelids flutter shut and your nipple graze his teeth. His actions almost don’t match this darkened, grunge appearance he now sports- and you swear you can still see the blonde locks that once framed his wide eyes and his bright appearance.

As Felix moves to your other nipple, you wrap your legs tighter around him, swaying your hips in gentle rocking motions to stimulate his clothed erection against your wetness and provide some relief to both of you. And he arches his eyebrows up in pleasure, stifled moans escaping his lips as he finally releases your breast from his mouth, a string of saliva connecting you still, as his gaze drops to his boxers.

Hard- he’s unbearably hard underneath his boxers, the tip of his cock kissing the constraining fabric of his boxers that ruts against your exposed clit and sends waves of pleasure through both your listless bodies. And Felix knows if he doesn’t fuck you now, he might finish at the sight of you alone, your cheeks flushed a dark shade of pink and your cunt arching desperately into him as you wait for him to undress. So he does- one hand finds the elastic waistband of his black boxers, pulling them over his cock and wincing as it grazes against the precum dribbling down his tip. You run your hands over his toned abs, letting your eyes meet his cock as it protrudes so eagerly for you, and it looks almost painful how hard he is for you, reddening at the tip and dripping with beads of his preemptive arousal.

Felix leans in to kiss you again, and as he does, the bare flesh of his cock finally grazes your clit, running smoothly over your arousal and making you clench around nothing. You gasp at the sensation, scooting closer to him as your clit finally gets some attention from him, and Felix smiles as he trails his kisses down to your neck. While he sucks little bruises along the flesh there, he brings a slender hand around the base of his cock, guiding his tip back to your clit and rubbing his length along your flesh with more pressure now, a fervent moan escaping your lips as he does. He glides so effortlessly along you, your arousal allowing him to move so freely against you, still eager for him to fill you up. And when his lips move back up to yours, his hand guides his tip back and forth again, now rubbing against your clit in steady motions. He mimics the way his fingers stimulate you, only it’s better like this, your cunt contracting as you prepare to take his length.

“Felix,” you whine, as his cock rubs back and forth over your wettened entrance.

“What is it?” He coos gently, smiling into you as saliva dribbles between your hungry mouths.

“Put it in,” you order plainly, parting your legs a little further to signify what it is you want so badly. And Felix already knows, pressing his tip into you just a mere centimeter to gauge your reaction, satisfied at the way you whimper and push yourself against him even further.

“Is this what you want?” Felix muses, holding his base to keep from sliding into you involuntarily.

“Yes,” you whine again, tangling your hands in his hair. “Just fuck me like you used to.”

And Felix feels his heartbeat quicken as the filthy memories grace his mind again, images of you exactly like this.

He says nothing, opting to end his teasing streak, as he finally steadies his hands on the sides of your waist and pushes into you, your sopping pussy taking him with complete ease. You let out a fervent moan at the feeling, your cunt clenching desperately around him as he works to bottom out inside of you and find his footing. His girth takes little to adjust to, but he’s long, taking a good minute or two until the base of his cock is disappearing inside of you and being coated in your arousal. Before even moving, his tip is grazing your cervix, the familiar feeling making your stomach turn with anticipation as you remember what it feels like.

Felix’s lips part in pleasure, his eyebrows arched up as he pulls out again and then thrusts just once, relishing in the way your pussy contracts around him again and takes him so perfectly. Your hands find purchase in his hair again, tangling in his ebony roots, as he pulls out a little, and then begins to move. His cock fills every inch of you so well, grazing every corner of your dripping cunt with such fullness, as his wet kisses work against your lips and coat your mouth in his needy saliva. Felix has always been a particularly vocal lover, you remember, as the room fills with his deep grunts and moans at every thrust. His fingers dig into your flesh, holding onto you with strength as your legs wrap around him to steady yourself and push him into you fully. Your bodies one again, your limbs tangled until it's discernible who is who atop the table like this. But when he slows his movements and kisses you tenderly, you don’t care about the implications, about the past or what this will mean for your future. All you care about is Felix inside of you like he used to be for most of your relationship, making up for all this wasted time as he fucks you and breathes heavy grunts into the shell of your ear.

“God, I missed this,” Felix breathes, his voice shaky as he continues to pump into you.

“Me too,” you moan back, lining his jaw with kisses as he moves a little faster.

“You used to let me take pictures of you,” Felix repeats for the second time this evening. “You remember? Used to touch yourself while I’d snap photos of you. God, the way your fingers would disappear into your tight little pussy. Had me begging to fuck you at the end of every session, baby.”

“I remember,” you voice back in labored breaths. “You’d fuck me so well. All you had to do was adjust that stupid lens and you had me dripping for you.”

“Fuck, baby,” Felix groans, shutting his eyes as he thrusts a little harder. “Gonna make me cum for you.”

“Yeah?” You echo, wrapping your legs a little tighter around him and crossing them at the ankles. “Will you fill me up like you used to?”

Felix nods as his eyes remain squeezed shut, the room teeming with the squelching sounds of his cock thrusting in and out of your cunt.

“Come on, baby,” you plead, one hand angling his face toward you to press repeated, chaste kisses to his lips. “Fill me up. I know you want to.”

“I do want to-”

“Cum for me,” you order, grazing your free hand over his abdomen and tracing little circles over his v-line.

And Felix’s cock twitches inside of you twice, signaling his nearing finish as he quickens his pace again, now fucking you with even more force and hitting your sensitive cervix with every thrust.

“I’ll let you take whatever pictures you want,” you say to him as you pull him close and nibble the lobe of his ear. “As long as you fuck me like this every time you’re finished.”

And the promise is all it takes for Felix to reach his orgasm, his cock twitching inside you once more before he spurts ropes of his warm cum inside of you, filling your cunt with copious amounts of his arousal for you and fucking every last drop back into you. Your pussy contracts at the sensation of his warm cum grazing your insides, reaching your finish, too, as he brings a hand to rub your clit through your release. The table below you is sticky with your juices as you steady your breathing, Felix bringing a hand around the base of his cock to pull out of you and rest limply against your pulsing, sore entrance.

The room around you is quiet again, the gentle buzz of the pendant lamp replacing your moans as you let your hands wrap around him and hold him in your embrace. Felix presses a series of tender kisses to your forehead as you remain, his slender hands moving strands of sweaty hair out of your forehead to replace them with his loving kisses.

And the record has run through all its seasons now, having ended several minutes ago, as the needle runs over the last groove in repetitive clicking sounds, an indication to flip it over.

A precious town once set ablaze. 4:00pm. Spring on the horizon.

“To have hysteria or mania. 7 letters.”

Felix thinks for a moment, his eyes darting up to the ceiling and then back to where Yena is sat across from him.

“Madness?”

She glances over the crossword puzzle once, counting empty little boxes, and then begins to pen in his answer.

“How are you so good at this?” Yena asks, shaking her head. “You could be on a crossword puzzle reality show. If that exists.”

He chuckles lightly, observing as Yena checks her watch, and then shuts the book in front of her.

“My break is almost done,” she says as you chew on a French fry. “I’m gonna catch the bathroom really quick. You guys need anything?”

“I’m good,” you chime in, and Felix shakes his head from across you.

“Thank you,” he says politely, shooting her a little smile as she slides out of the booth and back toward the kitchen.

Felix’s gaze turns back to you now, a smile on his face as you nibble the remainder of the french fry, cocking your head at his curious gaze. He doesn’t say anything, but you feel his sneaker glide gently up your ankle, grazing your bare skin with the sole of his shoe and shooting you a knowing smile.

“Felix, not here,” you say, pushing him away gently with your own shoe and letting your soles rest atop his laces.

“That’s not what you said this morning,�� Felix says, swirling half-melted cubes of ice around in his glass of water.

“Harder Felix, harder!” He mimics quietly in a high-pitched voice, as he brings his glass up to his lips and takes a generous sip.

You stomp on his laces as he chuckles between sips of water, dribbling a stream from his lips when you kick him lightly in his ankles.

Don’t fuck your exes.

Advice that anyone with half a brain would give you- and advice you really should’ve taken to heart. But you can’t help it, finding yourself between the sheets with Felix nearly every night for the past two weeks, his lips all over yours and pleasuring you better than you’d ever remembered it. You tell yourself you’re just making up for lost time, both of you still young and naive, all of this over once he actually leaves for college again. He stayed for Christmas, gifting you a new pair of canvas sneakers and fucking you while reruns of Christmas rom-coms played in the background of your apartment. He was your New Year’s kiss at Seungmin’s party, where you swore again that the two of you weren’t dating, forcing you to press your lips to his only when you were sure the others weren’t paying attention at the drop of the ball. And when you’re not picking up shifts at the record shop, you’re with him every waking second of the day, keeping Yena company during her shifts as you feign your giddy attraction to him while she’s not looking.

We’re not dating, you’ve emphasized to Felix several times, and he doesn’t fight it, giving you a knowing nod as he utters a repetitive yeah, yeah. But it’s mostly because he knows you can’t say no to him, not when he’s bringing you slices of pie at work and burning CDs with all his favorite songs for you, slipping them into your bag without you even noticing until you’re home again. Of course there’s the physical factor, too- Felix is undoubtedly your best sexual partner, and he always has been. He’s quick to recognize when you’re aroused, slipping away with you in the backseat of his car to pleasure you, without any protest from you. He’s also understanding of all your intimate moments together, not fighting it when you remind him this is just temporary, all while he’s thrusting into you on the back room table of the record shop at late hours of the night. He just smiles against your bruised skin, reminding you that you have yet to push him away yet. And when he’s holding you in the gentle embrace of your afterglow, pressing kisses to your skin and reminding you how beautiful he’s always thought you are, he’s right- you don’t push him away from any of it. Maybe it’s the physical factor, maybe it’s little acts of service he performs to win you over. And perhaps it’s also because you don’t feel so lonely for once- the last time he was beside you like this, you still had a family, one that loved Felix like their own and encouraged this shared life with him. You still had dreams of being something bigger, aspirations while you were in school and visions of a life with Felix, because back then, he was always a part of your plan. And though things are different now, his beaming smile and lighthearted jokes serve as a reminder of a simpler time, and it feels right. So you don’t push him away- it’s a secret kept between the two of you, but he’s here with you, regardless.

“Will you let me take some photos of you today? ” Felix inquires, flipping through the book of crossword puzzles left on the table by Yena. You watch as he adjusts the familiar fleur de lis ring on his finger before uncapping a pen and filling in one of the words.

“I have an early shift tomorrow,” you reply, toying with the crumpled straw wrapper in front of you.

“I won’t be long,” Felix retorts.

“I know, Felix, but I have to get up really early tomorrow and I-”

“Let me take you out,” Felix says, not looking up from the crossword puzzle in front of him. “Just tell me where.”

You sigh, scanning the empty tables around the diner. There are only a handful of guests at this hour, most of them elderly folk chatting quietly amongst themselves. A slow jazz tune plays overhead, and sunlight beams through the large window beside you as Felix finishes penning in an answer, shutting the book again and folding his hands in front of him to meet your gaze.

“I have something for you,” Felix adds.

“You don’t have to buy me gifts, Felix.”

“I’m aware. But this one’s special for me, too.”

“What is it?”’you ask, a growing curiosity at his words.

“I don’t have it with me. You’ll have to let me give it to you later today.”

You sigh, crossing your arms in front of you and rolling your eyes sarcastically. He’s always known how to get exactly what he wants.

“Just this one time,” you reply, knowing you sound like a broken record at how many times you’ve sworn it to be just one more time.

“Just this one time,” Felix echoes, toying again with the ring on his finger.

And you nod reluctantly, agreeing to whatever he’s planned, for the purpose of pleasing him and because you’re unable to decline.

As he flips open the book again, he uncaps the pen once more, picking up where he left off and reading the question aloud to you.

“A discussion aimed at reaching an agreement,” he voices, nibbling the cap of his pen again.

“Negotiation,” you say, observing the way a smile grows on his face as he pens in your answer.

“That’s it,” he says, gripping the pen enthusiastically as he crosses out the question.

And the sole of his shoe grazes your ankle again, trailing up your flesh teasingly as he moves onto the next.

“Where’s she going?” Felix queries, reaching into the bowl of popcorn in his lap to grab another mouthful.

“I don’t know,” you respond, chuckling at the way he shoves a generous portion into his mouth and chews loudly.

“Is she leaving him?” He says, pausing his chewing as the main lead in the movie makes a dramatic exit on screen.

“Felix, I’ve never seen this movie either,” you state, chuckling as he finally resumes his chewing and brushes stray kernels off his shirt.

He reaches into the bucket again, gathering a generous handful of popcorn, and then he sprawls his hand over your mouth, pushing the popcorn into your still-laughing mouth as he moves a little closer to you.

“You argue too much!” He says between giggles, throwing his head back as he watches you try to down the handful, failing as loose kernels find purchase on your shirt, too.

You reach out to shove him playfully, and Felix intertwines his hands with yours, pulling you onto his lap as the bucket of popcorn is promptly set aside and neglected.

He doesn’t even give you time to finish chewing before his lips are on yours, kissing you with such tenderness and warmth. It’s moments like these you find yourself glad he’s here with you, grateful for his unwavering persistence to account for lost time and make amends. Of course you also know he’ll be gone soon, back to university to proceed with his education while you tend to the record shop. And you’re undoubtedly a little sad about it- but you also know it’s the way things have panned out to be. Felix has blossomed into the bright young soul you always knew he was, filling the shoes of a generation of good-natured people that came before him. He’s generous, and unselfish in his ways, and a part of you knows that leaving him was the best thing that could’ve happened to both of you.

Was sleeping with him a mistake after all this time? You would’ve answered yes in a heartbeat, at the first instance it happened, feeling you might accidentally led Felix on and ruined things between the two of you. But the more it happened, the more it affirmed the beautiful notion that he’s just a fleeting part in this process of mending- your souls intertwining to relive memories of simpler times, connecting like they had when you once belonged together. He gives himself to you as a way of saying I’m still here, if you need me. And you give yourself to him to respond I know, and I’m still healing.

“You want your gift?” Felix asks as he pulls away, his hands grazing the small of your back.

“Depends,” you say with a small smile. “If it’s anything like your gift this morning, then yes.”

He chuckles softly, caressing the dimples in your lower back as he sits up and nods in the direction of the kitchen counter.

“I’ll go get it. Be right back.”

And you slide off of him, crossing your hands between your thighs as he exits the room, the soft-spoken dialogue of the movie still playing as he shuffles about in your apartment kitchen. When he returns, his hands are behind his back, a smile plastered on his face and his eyes forming little crescents as he approaches you.

“You have to close your eyes,” he says, kneeling down and sitting cross-legged in front of you. “And put out your hands.”

You oblige with an equally endeared smile, closing your eyes and cupping your hands in front of you. Felix seems to get something situated in front of you, and then you feel him place something small in the palm of your hand. It’s cold to the touch, no bigger than an inch, and he positions it so that it’s centered perfectly in your hand.

“Now open,” Felix finally says, pulling his hands back and folding them in his lap.

You do as you’re told, your eyes fluttering open again and your gaze falling into the palm of your hand. And your heart melts instantly at the sight-

It’s a ring- his ring, the silver fleur de lis one he always catches you staring at.

“I can’t take your ring,” you say, your wide eyes meeting the crescents of his eyes that remain as he grins.

He holds his hand up, flashing you his own fleur de lis, and wiggles his fingers to show it off.

“It’s not mine,” Felix says. “I got you your own.”

And you feel tears prick the corners of your eyes, doing your very best to pull back and avoid crying in front of him. But Felix takes notice at the way your face contorts sadly, scooting closer to you and taking your hands in his.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, his face full of concern as you examine the ring.

“Nothing,” you’re quick to respond, sniffling and rotating it between the pads of your fingers. “I just…”

Felix waits for you to answer, giving your hand a little squeeze as you struggle to find your words. He knows that verbalizing your feelings isn’t exactly your forte, giving you time to think over the action and speak when it feels right to you.

“Your ring,” you say with a soft chuckle. “It was a gift from my dad.”

His expression turns serious, holding up his index finger to rotate it around in front of you. “This one?” He inquires.

“Yeah,” you respond with a smile. “The one I gave you before we broke up. I know I’m not the best with my words, but I never got to say thank you. You stayed up with me the night they told us he was nearing the end. And again when my mom left. And somehow you found me in this shitty little town, and I like to think it’s so that I can properly thank you for everything. That’s why I wanted you to have the ring.”

Felix can’t properly reciprocate with a kiss while he’s sat below you like this, but he brings his lips forward to kiss your knee tenderly, staring up at you through innocent eyes and humming against your flesh.

“You were not alone,” he says, pressing another kiss. “You’re never alone. I would do it all over again.”

And you smile down at him, as he takes the ring from the palm of your hand and slides it onto your ring finger, an unspoken promise that he’s always going to be here to help build you up again, regardless of your reservations or your conditions. That just like this town lost itself so many years ago, there’s always a way to build things back up again, you just have to hold onto the hope that it’s possible.

“I love it,” you say, examining the way it sits around your fingers just like his does. And Felix doesn’t answer, pressing more kisses on the pads of your knees and using a hand to part your knees slightly. You take note of the way he keeps his eyes shut as he trails kisses, relishing in the way you give into his actions, laying back to part your knees and observing his eager state.

“Can I take a picture of you?” Felix asks shyly, his eyes darting over your visible crotch as your skirt rides up. You shoot him a little nod in response, gesturing for him to go get his camera, which he wastes no time doing, pulling it out of his black carrier bag and slinging it over his neck. Felix sits cross-legged in front of you again, watching intently as you flip your skirt up and let your fingers graze over your soaking panties. Your new ring glints in the dim glow of the overhead lamp, glistening as you rub your clit over the thin fabric of your underwear and stare into the lens of his camera.

Felix clicks a set of photos, his breath hitching in the back of his throat at the sight of you tugging on your panties and spreading even further for him. You make a big show of staring innocently into his lens, your eyebrows arched in curiosity as you toy with your waistband and tug it down a little further, your hips swaying a little as you struggle to pull it off entirely. And Felix takes note of your struggle, snapping one more photo of your desperate state and slinging the camera back off.

“Let me help you,” he says with an amused smile, placing the camera on the bag beside him and scooting closer to you. His hands loop themselves in the hem of your panties, keeping his gaze locked on your core as he pulls them down, being met instantly with the sweet aroma of your arousal and your glistening folds.

“Fuck,” Felix breathes, swallowing in anticipation at you spread for him.

You let yourself slouch back into the dip of the couch cushion, propping a leg up to give him a better view, and your hands graze over your breasts as you watch him struggle to comprehend the sight.

“Go on,” you order simply, biting your lip as his eyes widen when you knead your breast gently.

And Felix doesn’t spare another second, his hands finding purchase on your inner thighs, as he brings his face forward and licks a long stripe up your folds. His tongue is instantly coated in your arousal when he does, moaning at the taste of you as you writhe in pleasure below him and clamp your knees around his pretty face. He holds them open again, letting his tongue graze over your pulsing clit, before licking another stripe and then latching his lips around your bundle of nerves, pressing a chaste kiss before sucking harshly.

The room fills with your high-pitched moans, gasping for air and clutching desperately onto the fabric of the couch as he works you, alternating between sucking your clit between his teeth and grazing his tongue over your entrance. He darts his tongue into your sopping entrance to gather more of your arousal, spitting harshly onto your cunt and grazing it around your folds using his tongue. And the more you writhe desperately below him, the more his movements become ravenous, working you like a starved animal as he eats you out and pries your legs open.

“Felix,” you groan, reaching a hand out to push his face further into you. “Feels so fucking good.”

He smiles against you, responding with little kisses peppered on your inner thighs, before moving back to your clit and licking in harsh back and forth motions. Your cunt clenches around nothing, desperate for him to fill you, but not wanting him to halt the motion of pleasuring you with his tongue. And as his fingers graze along your thigh to pry you open again, you gasp when he brings the same hand to your clit and rubs vigorously.

Your body is shaking now, trembling with anticipation as you approach your orgasm. But Felix doesn’t stop to gauge your reactions at all- in fact, if you were to cum right now, he’d keep going at this pace regardless. He’s too fixated on the taste of your arousal in his mouth, the melodious moans you let out for him and the way you reach for nothing tangible as he works you.

As your head throws back in pure ecstasy, you feel his fingers move lower, and lower, until he’s grazing your entrance with his knuckles in a teasing motion. And before you can ask him to fuck you with them, he’s already inserting two fingers, increasing the pace of his tongue as he begins to thrust in and out of you. Your cunt contracts eagerly around his fingers, desperate for release now as he matches the rhythm of his tongue with his fingers, the room teeming with the sounds of your squelching pussy. As he pushes deeper into you, you feel his ring- the cold, stiff metal of your now matching rings, graze your entrance, sending a wave of pleasure over your trembling body. His fingers work in and out of you, the cold metal pressing itself on your clit as he bottoms out inside of you and moves his fingertips in quick come hither motions to stimulate you. Your abdomen contracts harshly with every thrust now, your clit throbbing as he traces it with his tongue and peppers it in hot, wet kisses.

“Felix, fuck, I’m- gonna cum for you,” you warn, your voice shaky as he moves even faster, showing no mercy with his movements as he groans against your exposed flush.

“Let go for me,” he commands plainly, his deep voice vibrating against your clit as he holds his tongue there. “Always give me such a fucking show, baby. Make a mess for me.” He speaks between kisses on your glistening folds, alternating between pouting his lips to make out with your cunt and let his tongue wag over your sensitive core.

As you feel his fingers thrust into you one last time, the cold metal of his ring gliding over your folds in its coat of arousal, your abdomen contracts over him, your cunt clenching in syncopation with your fervent moans as you finally let go and dribble your juices all over his freckled face. He wastes no time cleaning you up, lapping at your core to swallow your release and pepper your dampened flesh with tender kisses.

“Stay there,” Felix orders, reaching beside him as your eyes flutter shut in overstimulation. You lie completely listless, your limbs languid and heartbeat pulsing at a now slowing rate throughout your body.

Felix brings his camera up to you again, sitting up on his knees and snapping a photo of your wearied state, his eyes wide with lust as he admires the way your legs hang loosely at your sides. His lens adjusts to capture your parted lips and flushed cheeks, your hands tugging your skirt down again and the smile on your breathless lips when you open your eyes again.

Felix stands up now, approaching you with the camera and letting his slender fingers graze your lips.

“Suck,” he orders, inserting the same two fingers down your throat as his other hand positions the lens in front of you. And you oblige eagerly, your lips wrapping around his digits to suck your own arousal off of him, your tongue swirling around the salty metal of his ring to rid him of your juices.

His photos capture exactly that- your lips wrapped around his knuckles, the kisses you trail down his fingers and the way your tongue licks the perimeter of your matching jewelry clean.

When you’re finished, you release him with a gentle pop, Felix letting his camera hang loosely at his waist again and using his now free hand to tilt your head up to meet his gaze.

“So beautiful,” he says resolutely, bringing you up for a gentle kiss. “You were always such a good model for me.”

When you work an early shift, you make it a point to kick Felix out of your apartment no later than 9, or sometimes 10. You’re not staying the night, you’d explained as a non-negotiable condition, wanting to avoid the awkward antics that come with sleeping alongside each other and waking up in his arms. But tonight, you can’t seem to let go of him, letting his arms wrap you in their warm embrace as he presses kisses to your forehead and tells you stories of college that you weren’t around for.

“It was the worst group I ever had for a project,” Felix says in a chuckle. “I don’t know how I passed that course.”

“You should’ve requested a different group,” you say in a sleepy voice, smiling as you play the humorous tale in your head.

“I did!” He exclaims. “I don’t think the professor liked me enough to let me switch so late in the semester.”

“Well, you got through it,” you reply, letting your hand intertwine with his as your rings rub tenderly against each other. “I can’t say the same.”

Felix chuckles lightly, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand and letting your hands rest against each other. He thinks for a moment, and then rubs his thumb along your hand lovingly as he begins to speak again.

“I want to take so many photos of you in the spring. There’s this new lens I want to try.”

You pause briefly, opening your eyes to look at him, and then you cock your head slightly before responding.

“You won’t be here for the spring, Felix. You’ll be back at school.”

He swallows nervously, pondering your words, and then he exhales deeply before continuing.

“I don’t think college is for me, either.”

The words hit you like a truck the second they escape his lips- you sit up in bed to look at him, releasing his hand from yours and furrowing your brows together.

“What?”

“I’ve been meaning to tell you, I just wasn’t sure how to bring it up. I want to stay here, with you.”

“No, you don’t,” you’re quick to say, shaking your head.

“I do,” Felix admits sheepishly. “Everything makes sense here. Being with you, the town, the people- I think I’m meant to be here, too.”

“No, you’re not,” you say, pulling away from him even further as he sits up now, too. “Felix- this isn’t your life. You need to go back to school, and pick a major and live your life.”

“I don’t want those things,” Felix responds frustratedly. “I want you. I want this town. I don’t care if you don’t want to date, I’ll stay by your side regardless. I can’t just leave you.”

“You can, and you will.”

Felix narrows his eyes, anger quickly overtaking him as his face flushes a dark shade of red.

“So you’re allowed to and I’m just not? Who are you to dictate what I do with my life?”

“This is the life I made for myself,” you reply, exasperated. “It’s not some soul-searching pit stop like it is for you.”

“Maybe it’s not for me, either.”

You’re entirely off the bed now, your hands making angry gestures as you try to verbalize your feelings toward him, Felix’s voice growing increasingly irate as you attempt to.

“You know why I left you in the first place?” You question. “Because I was dragging you down. You had everything- a family, a future and a girlfriend who didn’t quite have things made the way you do. No one even understood why we were together, Felix. I’m not gonna drag you down a second time just because we had sex a couple times.”

“Is that all this is to you?” Felix inquires angrily. “Just sex? It doesn’t seem that way when you’re all over me at Seungmin’s parties calling me your ‘best friend’. That doesn’t sound like just sex to me-”

“You are my best friend,” you interrupt frustratedly, tears falling from your eyes now as you try to make him listen.

“You are my best friend, and I don’t want this life for you. The night I left you, my dad was moved to hospice, and my mom decided she wanted nothing to do with it. I knew you’d be wasting the best years of your life taking care of me, staying by my side like the good person you are, but that it would get in the way of college and your life. It wasn’t easy for me to do, Felix, breaking up with you and getting as far away from you as possible before I could change my mind. But you have a life outside of me, and I need you to go be that person still.”

Felix says nothing in response for several minutes, his eyes welling with tears, too, as you wipe your eyes with your inner wrists and avert his gaze. You hate when Felix sees you cry- it’s embarrassing, and it feels shameful. It feels the way it did when Felix skipped classes to be with you, neglected studying for his exams to hold you as you cried, rain checked his own family to be with yours and dragged you to every house party, so that he could fuck your sadness away in an environment that wasn’t a hospital bathroom or your childhood room.

“How dare you imply the time I spent with you was wasted,” he scoffs, his lip quivering as he wipes his own eyes. “You were my life, outside of all of this. And you still are, and you’re so stubborn in doing that thing where you don’t let yourself feel.”

You watch as Felix gathers his camera, stuffing it back into his bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

“You said you’re somewhere between the fire and the mending. But you don’t talk about the fire. You just shut it out like you do with everything else.”

He pivots on his heel, making his way toward the door and walking with loud, purposeful strides. You begin to say something, quickly swallowing your words again as he reaches for the doorknob and turns it slowly. Felix pauses momentarily, hoping you’ll ask him to stay, apologize, forgive- anything, any sort of indication that this is what you want, too. But as the door opens, your silence is answer enough for him.

“No one could have prevented the fire,” Felix says before leaving, echoing the words you told him so long ago. “You can pick up, and move on, but it still happened. And just because things burned, doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to thrive again.”

Without another word from you, he’s disappearing out your front door, his camera bag swaying on his side as he marches out the building and back to his car.

And you feel yourself begin to cry, your heart contracting painfully in your chest, a pit forming in your stomach as you witness him walk out of your life again. The flames burn inside of you all over again, turning organ to ash as you wipe your never-ending tears and slam the door behind him. It’s akin to when your mother left, when your dad passed and when you left Felix the first time. It’s overwhelming, it consumes you whole, your entire figure trembling as you fail to extinguish the flames. The phenomenon begs the question- had the fire ever really stopped? Were you ever in the process of mending if not wailing like this, your vulnerability on display for the world to see as your walls are finally let down? Is this what it means to feel?

There are few people in this world who have seen you cry. Your mom, one of them, when you begged her to stay. Your dad, another, when you held his hand through his last breath. Felix, the third, several times throughout your relationship with him.

And the folks in this town- never. Not once have they witnessed you wail the way Felix has, tears brimming your eyes as you fail to keep your emotions at bay, mucus trickling down to your lips in an inelegant manner as you cry, and cry and cry.

“You want some coffee?” Chris asks awkwardly, scratching the back of his head as he watches you bury your face in the sleeves of your sweatshirt.

“No.”

“Yena should be here any minute,” he adds, his voice softening as he watches you lift your head to give him a nod.

“Hang in there, kiddo,” Chris finishes, rubbing your back in small circles and giving you a gentle pat.

As you rest your chin in your hands, a pounding headache overtaking your whole being, a knock at the front door catches your attention. It’s Yena, a hood thrown over her head as she balances a tupperware container in her hands and peers through the window. Chris gives her a knowing look, making his way to the door and unlocking it for her.

“Hey,” Yena says softly as she enters, setting down a slice of pie in front of you and taking a seat on the stool beside you. “You okay?”

You sniffle once, shaking your head sorrowfully as she awaits your explanation. But nothing is verbalized yet, and for a good few minutes, all you can do is cry.

Yena wraps you in her loving embrace, letting your tears stain the shoulder of her hoodie, as Chris shrugs from behind you and delivers reassuring pats to your back. They’re just as confused as each other, awaiting a reason or some story, but you can’t bring yourself to vocalize your thoughts, especially when you’re a crying mess like this. Chris finally ushers Yena to say something, and she does, albeit reluctantly.

“You know, just between us, I think he’s a little dorky, anyway. It’s his loss if he can’t see what he’s missing.”

And to their surprise, you chuckle lightly, still wiping tears with the corners of your sweatshirt.

“What?” You question, a soft hiccup escaping your lips as you speak. Yena furrows her brows, together shooting a questioning look to Chris, who shrugs in response.

“Is this… not about Felix?” She queries hesitantly.

“It is,” you emphasize, another giggle escaping your lips. “But it’s not that he’s not interested. We used to date, Yena.”

At this, Yena reaches around to swat Chris’ shoulder, pursing her lips together as she speaks again. “I knew something was up,” she voices, swatting Chris again. “Christopher over here was convinced he was too into you.”

“You guys talked about it?” You add, giggling softly into the sleeve of your sweater.

“It was hard not to,” Yena responded, giving you an empathetic look. “The way you guys light up a room when you’re together, it’s like winter turns to spring or something. I was so certain he was the one.”

At this, more tears escape the corners of your eyes, falling onto the counter below you as you nod slowly in regards to her words.

“I love him,” you finally say, and the room goes silent when you do.

“I love him, and he deserves better than me. Than this,” you finish, gesturing around you to the town. “He wants to drop out of college and stay here. Like that’s a good idea for anyone except me.”

Yena and Chris give each other staggered looks, unsure of what to reply to first. They’ve never heard you speak of your emotions like this, never seen you cry and never would’ve guessed that you would let down your guard to this degree around them. It’s a little frightening, at first, to watch you tear down your own walls so much, like watching a different person than the one they’ve known for all these years. But it’s also reassuring to see that you are capable of letting yourself open up for the right people. It takes a weight off their shoulders to bear witness to the confirmation that they’re the people you can go to when you need help, the same way they don’t hesitate to lean on you. And it especially gives solace to know that you feel so deeply at all, a trait Yena and Chris have always pushed you to familiarize yourself with.

“Well what’s stopping you?” Yena asks, threading her fingers in your hair and combing it back like your mother used to.

“Exactly that,” you respond. “I don’t want to confine him to this life of mine.”

“Let me ask you something,” Yena states, taking your hands in hers and bringing your gaze up to meet hers. “Are you happy?”

And the question throws you off guard, requiring a moment to think before you can say anything in response. It’s a fair question, too- one you should’ve asked yourself when you agreed to move here years ago. But it’s not a difficult one to crack, either, when you take in your surroundings. The diner across the street is packed with patrons, happily sipping away at milkshakes and glass bottles of soda. This old record shop, with its dingy back room and rows of genres you make an effort to learn about whenever you get a chance. The starlings that flock when the train travels through, the holiday parties you find a home in and your favorite spot on the hill, overlooking all of Ember. They’re all working parts of one larger phenomenon- that of happiness.

“Yeah,” you reply, nodding to affirm your answer. “I love it here. And I love you guys, and I’m still healing most days, but I wouldn’t want to be doing it anywhere else.”

A smile grows on Yena’s face as she glances back between you and Chris, and he shoots her a little nod.

“Then do something about it,” she finally says, giving your hands a little squeeze. “The first step is letting yourself feel. The rest is up to you to run with.”

And when you meet her gaze, and Chris’ gaze, their loving expressions looking down at you like you’re one of their own, you can’t help but pull them into a hug, letting yourself cry a little harder at the prospect of your found family, these tears ones of happiness.

“I love you guys,” you voice confidently. “And I’m sorry if I’ve never said it out loud.”

Chris’ hand pats your back, Yena’s combing through your hair tenderly, as they hug you with equal enthusiasm and allow you to cry as long as you need.

“We love you, kid,” Chris answers.

And when you pull away again, the three of you laugh, your tears staining your reddened faces as you bask in this unconditional appreciation for one another.

“Eat your pie,” Yena says, shoving a fork toward you. “And Chris, play some music, will you?”

Chris salutes her, pulling a random record off the shelf and scanning its contents.

“Polish folk?” He questions, and you glance at the familiar cover of the record, the same couple dipping into a bow as they dance in their colorful fabrics.

“This one’s really good,” you chime in, taking a bite of cherry pie as you nod toward the record player. “We should dance to this one.”

And as Chris starts the upbeat music, pulling Yena in for a comedic waltz, you can’t help but laugh through your tears, at the home this town’s given you in all your mending.

Felix hasn’t been at the record shop since your fight. He hasn’t been at your apartment, nor the diner, or even Seungmin’s place (and yes, you did ask). There’s only one place you know Felix would flock to after a night like the one you shared, and if you’re lucky, you should still be able to catch him on his supposed last night here.

The grassy hill is a little slippery at this hour, caked mud enwreathing your sneakers as you trudge your way up the hill and into the familiar dip of the land. And as the horizon becomes visible to you, spanning the length of the town and showcasing all the bright lights the nighttime flaunts, so does Felix, sitting with his back to you in a plain white t-shirt and jeans. He looks more casual tonight, less dressed with the intention to look a specific way, and you can’t help but smile at the sight of his slim frame taking in the view you led him to. He leans back on his hands, eyes scanning the sight of the town, before picking up his camera and snapping a series of photos.

When you occupy the spot next to him, he glances over at you briefly, before turning his attention back to the camera and waiting for you to speak.

“It’s prettier at night, isn’t it?,” you finally say, breaking the silence, and Felix fixes his gaze on the blurry lights of the record shop.

“Yeah,” he responds curtly, swallowing nervously as he ponders what to say.

And you know if you let him facilitate this conversation, it’d be over much sooner rather than later, but you also know that it’s up to you to make amends now.

“Your photography is still so beautiful,” you state, gesturing to the camera in his hands. “It’s always been so artistic.”

Felix remains quiet, toying with the strap on his camera as you speak.

“You’re artistic,” you continue. “And that’s why I want you to finish college. Don’t throw all this away for me.”

He turns his face to meet your gaze, his eyes trembling a little as you give him an empathetic look and shrug.

“I don’t want to go where you won’t follow,” Felix says, his voice coming out a little shaky.

“But I’ll always be here,” you retort, tears beginning to prick the corners of your eyes again. “Don’t put your life on hold for something that already lives in your past. You are an incredible person, Felix, and I’m not gonna drag you down a second time.”

Felix thinks for a moment, swallowing a lump in his throat as he thinks over your words. And he knows that there’s a possibility this isn’t what he wants, either- to stay in this little town with your friends he’s not even sure like him very much. But he does know he wants you, and that staying here would mean sacrificing his old life.

“I want you to know it wasn’t your fault,” Felix says after a brief pause of silence. “Nobody who walked out deserved you. And your dad loved you- a lot. I think about that moment watching the sunrise with you every day. He’s there too, part of that memory tucked away in my mind. I’m sorry it happened so suddenly and disrupted things. I just want you to be happy.”

“I am happy, Felix,” you tell him, chuckling lightly as you respond. “I have a whole family here. I don’t spend my holidays alone, I meet new people working at the shop everyday. There’s so many people I haven’t introduced you to. There are coffee shops, and parades on weekends, and I’m happy. I’m still healing, but I’ve also realized that being healed doesn’t equate my happiness. I can be one without the other, and still get by just fine.”

Felix’s gaze is fixed on yours for a moment, not saying anything as he lets your words circle his mind. And there’s so much he wants to say in response, so many questions about what the future means for you both, but he also knows very well that the rest is up to him to figure out, just the way you did when you moved out here. Maybe you’re still healing- and maybe Felix is still figuring out the rest for himself, too. And though the past may be clouded by a story much more complex than either of you can even begin to comprehend, the happiness you seek is attainable, whether or not you’re together to see it through to the end. That although sometimes things may burn and decay like this town once did, there are people who will make the journey to help in the process of rebuilding, and you can thrive again. You can always thrive again.

“You’re right,” Felix says, as he looks over the horizon again. “It is prettier at night.”

The dim glow of the streetlights contrasts the flashy signs of the diner and the record shop, painting the blackened town with vivid color and bringing life to the small town of Ember.

And with a half smile, Felix pulls you in for a tender kiss, the two of you letting your apologies flow through each other in the gentle embrace of your lips and your hands intertwining atop the grassy hill.

Felix pulls you close, letting your head rest comfortably against his chest, as he caresses your hand softly in the grasp of his. And his index finger rubs lovingly against your ring finger, your matching rings grazing against each other as if to say I’ve always loved you.

Small town at the edge of the world. No particular time of day. A blossoming summer.

That’s the small town of Ember. A town Felix holds very close to his heart. And one you call home.

The cicadas buzz with high-pitched melodies of summer as you slip your sneakers on, the piercing blue sky around you almost too bright to look directly in its face. The clouds seem to shift with the summer breeze, drifting along the canvas sky like a painting in motion as you take in the sight around you

“Let’s go!” Yena calls, honking her horn twice to signify her arrival.

“I’m coming!” You call back, making your way down the stairs of her porch, balancing trays of food in hand as you account for everything you’ve agreed to bring. Drinks, plates, pie, napkins- your signature arrangement for the town’s summer festival you attend alongside Chris and Yena every year.

“Slow down, kiddo,” Chris says with a chuckle, as you rush to place everything in the backseat. “Oh, and there’s a letter for you on the porch table,” he adds, shooting you a small wink.

“I’ll be right back!” you call to Yena, jogging back up the stairs to collect the little beige envelope that rests atop the wooden surface.

It’s addressed to you, the handwriting in neat swirly black cursive letters, the envelope feeling sturdy between your fingers. You tear it open with no real aim, a giant gash working down the envelope as you rush you pull out the contents and examine them.

It’s a stack of photos, you quickly realize, sorting through them to make out the glossy digital prints.

There’s a photo of you in the back of the record shop, your hands brought up to your face and your legs hanging lazily off the table. Another showcases you in the familiar beige interior of the passenger’s seat, laughing cheerfully and staring out the window. There are photos of the town’s horizon, photos of the record player at your work, Yena’s famous pie, Seungmin’s holiday party and even the matching rings, intertwined hands that rest on the car console. As you shuffle to the last photo, you recognize it to be much more recent than the others, even the quality looking clearer, perhaps a new camera or a different roll of film.

It’s a still photo of Felix, from the waist up, holding a peace sign up to the lens with a small smile. He’s dressed brightly in a white vest and layered jewelry, the background showcasing a blue harbor with rows of boats, the location indistinguishable to you. He’s blonde again, his now shorter golden tresses framing the myriad of freckles that scatter his face once more. And he looks happy, much like himself again.

You wonder briefly who took the photo of him, the angle being of very close proximity. And you can’t make out which hand usually houses the ring you both wear, the only hand visible to you covering his ring finger, regardless. You scan the photo for a moment, running your fingertips over his figure, before turning it over and reading the neatly scribbled text on the back:

Sydney, last fall. I think I’m the only photography major who doesn’t drink my coffee without sugar. And you were right, the freckles do suit me better.

All my love,

Felix.

#Lee Felix #lee felix smut #stray kids #skz smut #skz felix #felix yongbok #felix smut #stray kids felix #felix #skz #stray kids hard hours #skz scenarios #request #fanfic #felix fic #Lee Felix fanfic #ask #felix fluff #Spotify

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inkedbybarnes · 24 days

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anything

bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: bucky is determined to take care of you while you're sick.

word count: 1.6k+

warnings: mentions of insecurities, mentions of illnesses (but vaguely described), fluffy ahh shit bc why not, usage of pet names such as baby and doll. bucky being stubbornly sweet (it is indeed, a warning), lowercase writing.

i've been sick the past few days hence the creation of this fic. idk why my mood drops when i'm sick... once again, this is too fluffy even for my own good but i warned you and you're reading it still anyway. 🤨 haha jk, i hope you enjoy this one! 🩷

dividers by @cafekitsune!

reblogs, comments, and likes are highly appreciated! thank you. ♡

“can you please let me in, baby?"

that was the fifth time bucky had asked the same question, never giving up on his mission to take care of you after learning from jarvis – out of all people... or robots? – that you were sick.

“bucky, i promise, i'm fine. stop trying to break the door,” you answered, your clogged nose not helping as you sounded horrible even with a concrete wall separating you from him. “go and tell steve that you're joining the mission. you can't withdraw yourself just because i'm—achoo!”

your nose began to leak, and you were now distracted with the need to find the tissue box that used to be on your bed. you didn't hear the door clicking open as well as the heavy footsteps of a certain soldier walking towards you.

“just because you're what? sick?”

you jumped, feeling the edge of the bed sink with his weight. you quickly grabbed the tissue box that was mysteriously thrown under the bed before facing bucky with the duvet covering most of your body.

“how did you open the door?”

bucky shrugged. “i broke the doorknob. you didn't say anything about breaking doorknobs.”

you sighed, not winning this argument with bucky. “you shouldn't be here, bucky. you're supposed to be preparing for a mission tomorrow, not babysitting me!”

“and let you go through this on your own? tough chance, doll. i'm your boyfriend for fuck's sake, and don't tell me that you're worried about getting me sick because we both know i'm immune," he argued, reaching out and pulling the blanket down enough to reveal your face. “are you really upset that i want to take care of you? you should be demanding things from me, baby. instead you've been hiding from me.”

“because i don't need anything, bucky. i can handle myself just fine." you huffed, knowing you wanted his attention and care so badly. remembering your face was exposed, you felt insecure again. you dragged the cover back up and turned away. “i also don't want you to see me like this.”

“like what?"

“like a mess," you muttered underneath the sheets. “you've never seen me like this before, and i swear i am the worst when i'm sick. you don't have to see me like this, okay? i don't want you to.”

you felt silly. it was completely normal to get sick, but you hated how extreme your body would act out whenever an illness would attack you. you'd always sound and look like you were fighting a battle in hell alone. the way your mind would take an entire flip and drag you to your lowest point didn't help either. so, not only were you feeling physically horrible, you were also struggling mentally.

“a mess? what mess?” he asked, lifting the cover to join you underneath it which caught you off guard. you were entirely exposed to his eyes now. “there's my girl. where's the mess that you're talking about, huh?”

with the little amount of energy left in you, you brought your hands up to cover your face. he could see how much of a mess you were now, far from the dream you've painted since the day you dated him. now, you were nothing but a nightmare of your reality.

“don't you dare hide from me. i haven't seen you all day and it's driving me insane," he complained, pulling your hands away from yourself. he brought his thumb to your teary eyes, wiping the tears away before they could fall. “i can't believe you're hiding from me just because you think i can't handle seeing you sick. what did you think i'd do once i saw you like this?”

you sniffed, hesitation holding you back from telling him the truth. it's only been three months since you've started dating bucky, and you were still in that stage where you'd constantly try impress him.

you weren't faking yourself, no. however, you still did your best to only show your good side and tuck away your insecurities. unfortunately, you had to get sick too soon and have to risk bucky seeing you this way.

“you thought i'd leave you? won't like you anymore? get turned off or something?”

you nodded, knowing that was exactly what went through your head and a bit pissed that he was able to read your mind without actually having the power to do so.

bucky's eyes softened at your confession, letting out a soft sigh as he saw how badly you were beating yourself up.

“if it's because of how you look right now, then it's true. you do look different," he answered, your chest tightening. “your eyes lost their glow, you're frowning more often, your eyes are all puffy, you are definitely grumpier than usual, your lips are dry and chapped from—”

“okay, i get it, bucky! you don't have to rub it in my fa—”

“but i won't be doing whatever is on your mind. you're sick, doll. it'll affect you. it's normal. hell, i look even worse when i used to get sick, but you? you still look so fucking lovely." he held your face gently, leaning forward to kiss your forehead. “even then, i don't give a fuck on how messy you can get. i'm your boyfriend. i should be taking care of you, helping you feel better, and bringing back the glow in your eyes. please, baby. let me take care of you.”

this time, you were looking back at him. "you mean it?"

"of course I mean it," he replied softly, his voice filled with sincerity. "i love you, doll. i don't care how you look like right now. you could look like a swamp monster and be sick as a dog, and i would still think that you are the most beautiful woman for me."

you giggled softly, his words filling you with warmth and reassurance. you felt so lucky to have a man who truly loved you and handled your insecurities with such understanding and care, and even sillier for thinking he'd leave you for such reasons.

“thank you. that really made me feel better," you told him, your arms slowly creeping forward to hold him. “i'm sorry for hiding. i was just scared to turn you off or anything.”

“are you kidding? i'm trying my best not to hold you down and kiss you all over. i haven't even hugged you for a day,” bucky said, a pout on the verge of forming on his face.

“it hasn't even been a day, bucky. now, who's dramatic?" you said, rolling your eyes playfully. “and you're supposed to be on a mission tomorrow! are you really not going?”

“when i could be here taking care of you?” he asked, as if the answer was already obvious. “the others can handle it. my main priority is to do anything you want and make you feel better.”

“anything?”

he smiled, leaning down to let your lips meet softly. "anything."

( a lil bonus < 3 )

“what is that smell?”

sam, steve, and natasha entered the compound after a quick briefing for their mission tomorrow. they joined tony and clint who were having a casual conversation in the living room about the best burrito in town.

the kitchen was an open space, the aroma of whatever bucky was cooking spreading all around the nearby rooms.

sam didn't hesitate to come closer and inspect the kitchen, finding the entire counter lined up with various spices and plates that bucky filled with his dishes.

“what's the occasion? did i miss something?" sam asked, grabbing a fork to take a little taste until bucky slapped his hand away. "ow! what was that for?"

"hands off." bucky warned, frowning at sam. “that's not for you, wilson."

“not even a nibble? come on, man. it smells amazing!”

their usual bickering caught the attention of the other avengers, immediately joining them in the kitchen which annoyed bucky even more when he saw them eyeing the food he made.

"before any of you try to ask, no. this is not for any of you."

"who's it even for?" natasha asked, the least interested to have a taste, but was curious either way.

bucky answered with your name. "she's sick."

"what? since when?" clint asked, worry flashing across his face. "can we do anything?"

bucky glanced up before hesitantly answering. "well.. she did say she wanted to watch a movie after eating."

clint snapped his fingers and smiled. "i'm on it."

"i'll get jarvis to check on her vitals every hour and create a diagnosis," tony said, already tapping on his smart watch. "assuming she wouldn't be too comfortable letting the entire team know what's going on with her body, i'll just let you receive the updates. just update me with what you can, yeah?"

"i'll talk to fury and let you both have a week free from work," steve offered. "she needs the rest and she needs you."

"oh, i'll handle fury. he can't say no to his favourite," natasha said with a smug smile. "tell her i'll bring her all her favourite snacks once we're back from our mission, and that she better be back to full health so we can go out together."

bucky nodded, chest warming with the genuine concern they shared. he was excited to let you know how loved and deserving of all this you were.

if you have any requests for bucky, send them my way! 💌

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fluff #marvel #mcu #inkedbybarnes

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kamiversee · 1 month

Text

➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

✧.* CHAPTER 46 || The Drama (part 1)

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language, semi-smut, fluff, & angst (according to ☃️anon…)

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 5k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——“OH FUCK-, S-SATORU WAIT,” You moaned into the air as Gojo got carried away in kissing you. Your back was against his apartment door by this point and he had one of his legs in between yours, his hands on your hips and his lips all over your neck.

Gojo sucked, licked, and even nibbled all over you, his hands feeling all parts of your body as he did so. You felt him knead your ass in his grasp as his focus went just under your jaw, soft smacks of his tongue and lips against you filling the air.

“You said I could kiss you,” Gojo hums. His voice was so low, lower than you’d heard it in a while.

One of his hands slides up and you sigh when you feel his fingers run over your chest, gently groping you as his kisses trail back up. His eyes meet yours for less than a second before he steals your breath by crashing his lips into yours again.

“M-Mmh,” You hum, feeling as his tongue works the insides of your mouth and his leg rubs against your clothed sex, “T-This… This isn't just k-kissing,” You mumble against him.

Gojo moves to clasp your lower lip in between his teeth and as he gives your skin a slight tug, his eyes open and both of you make contact through a low-lidded gaze. “Should I stop?” He asks huskily.

His eyes were drowning in lust, his leg yet to stop the constant rub over your cunt. You were getting all too worked up over this and your breathing grew unstable, “Ha-ah… Y-Yeah, maybe…” You hum.

He tilts his head, “Maybe? You sound unsure, sweetheart.” His thigh suddenly angles a bit differently and presses up against your clit.

Your jaw drops, “S-Shit,” You whine.

“If you want me to stop then tell me to stop-”

“Don’t s-stop,” You breathe out, confused by what you want at this point, rolling your hips forward against his leg.

Gojo bites his lip, “We shouldn’t be doing this, y’know.”

“Then you stop,” Your voice was so light and airy already, simply over some kisses and the slightest touches.

“I won’t if you don’t tell me to.” He tells you.

You shake your head, “I s-should be… mmgh,” You fold over a bit as his leg rubs over you just right, “Should’ be leaving…” You manage out.

Gojo snickers, “Then leave, sweets.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and move to grab onto his arm, “Then s-stop… haah… stop-, mmh… moving your leg,” You moan.

He’s trying his best to control himself but… He hasn’t seen you like this in months. Gojo forgot how whiney and fidgety you get when you’re flustered and turned on. The sight aroused him like crazy.

“You’re so fuckin’ cute,” Gojo teases, “I might cum in my pants if you seriously get off on my leg right now.”

Your head flips up to him with a glare, “We shouldn’t be doing this. I-It was supposed to be one little k-kiss… mmmh…”

“When is it ever one little kiss, love?” He asks softly.

“I can’t stand you,” You breathe out.

“Mhm,” Gojo nods, “I know. But you know the second option for you if that’s the case.” You furrow your brows and he makes up for his lack of explanation, “You can pick my face or my lap, either way, if you can’t stand me then sit on me.”

You roll your eyes at him and move to straighten yourself up. Abruptly, his leg kneads up into your pussy and you release a very light moan, your eyes flickering for a moment, “O-Okay… fuck, s-stop.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. His leg freezes in place and Gojo removes his hands from your body, instead bringing them to cup your face in his palms once more, “Sorry,” He apologizes.

You nod weakly, “Uhuh, whatever.”

He chuckles at the clear rush of heat to your face, “You didn’t cum, did you?”

“What? No,” You scoff, finding it funny he thought you’d get off that quickly, “It takes more than that to make me cum…”

“You were about to though,” He suggests, raising a brow, “Weren’t you?”

You look off to the side and roll your eyes, “Fuck off.”

Gojo hums, smiling a bit at the way you simply avoided his question, “Sorry I got carried away.”

“I need to go now,” You sigh, moving carefully to collect yourself and calm down the arousal that was stirring within you.

“Alreadyyyy? Gojo whines with a pout.

Damn him for going from normal, to this obsessive freak, and now to this cute persona within a matter of minutes. It’s getting difficult to keep up with his constant switch-ups. One minute you think he loves you, the next you think he’s using you, and another you figure he’s just crazy.

“Yes, Satoru,” You huff, your hands going to his chest as you lightly push him away. Gojo takes a step back and you feel like you can breathe again, “We’ll see each other again sooner or later.”

He simply gazes at you, his heart throbbing for some reason. The list was truly over? Just like that? You’d completed it already… and in the process, you went and fell for someone… That thought stings Gojo’s heart.

He knows he just wants you to be happy and he thought he’d shed enough tears on the matter but damnit now that it was all over, things really started to hit him hard. For example, that was probably his last time kissing you, the real last time kissing you. By the time you see him again, nine times out of ten you’ll be in a relationship.

He hated that. Gojo hated that he was happily letting you run off with someone else. For only a moment, his thoughts went somewhere darker than ever, yet another scheme, another form of blackmail…

Gojo genuinely debated on blackmailing you into a relationship with him.

Just as quickly as the thought came, he shook it away, repulsed by himself for a moment. What the hell was coming over him? He’s done enough to you already and more than anything, the whole point of this was for you to be-

Gojo takes a deep breath as he centers his thoughts, “Right…” He finally murmurs to you, “Sooner or later…”

You frown, “Oh c’mon, don’t make me feel bad for leaving-”

“I know I’m an asshole but,” Gojo unintentionally cuts you off, his feelings getting the better of him, “I really do love you.”

You swallow. His confession feels weird now that you know he may be fusing love and obsession together into one singular emotion, “I’m sure you do…”

“I’m serious,” He says, “I love you so much that it pains me.”

You begin to roll your eyes, not exactly in the right head space to hear yet another confession, “Satoru-”

“And no, I’m not confused or mixing anything together,” Gojo claims, “I mean it. If there’s one thing I’ve never lied about or said to manipulate you, it’s those three words; I love you.”

There’s not much you can say to that by this point. So, you simply nod, “Thanks, I guess.”

He chuckles, “Thanks?”

“Thanks for loving me, Satoru.” You tell him, “If I had one wish, it’d be that you did that from the beginning.”

Gojo opens his mouth to say something but then he swallows his words down. He nearly fucked up.

“All you had to do was talk to me,” Your shoulders raise into a shrug as you move a hand to the doorknob, “Things could’ve been different if you did.”

“Even if I’ve been obsessed with you since the beginning?” He questions and he’s stepping closer to you again. He can’t possibly wrap his head around that possibility-

You laugh a bit, “Especially if you were obsessed from the beginning,” You didn’t know it but that statement right there made the man feel as though his world was falling apart, loads of regret tumbling over him as he stares at you with wide eyes, “Satoru I think you forgot but, before all this started, aside from Shoko… I was lonely.”

Gojo’s throat goes dry and he fails to form a response to that, “I…”

“If you had just talked to me one time, and more than a hey or how are you,” The way your eyes soften, a slim sheer gloss of tears coating your gaze as you speak to him, “I would’ve fallen for you.”

He grits his teeth, “Don’t tell me that.”

“But it’s true.” You say.

And just like that, Gojo was crumbling all over again. If only you knew how much he regretted everything after hearing you say that.

He has to grit his teeth and hold his emotions in due to your words, “I’m sorry-,” He whispers, voice cracking ever so slightly, “S-Sorry I didn’t do that.”

You smile slightly, “It’s okay ‘Toru, maybe in some alternate world… maybe you and I work out.”

Gojo nods, his eyes glossing over, “Yeah…”

You have to turn to the door to stop yourself from falling victim to his saddened state, “I’m uh… I’m gonna’ go now.”

Gojo whispers your name and you turn back to him once more, “Please, no matter what happens, promise me you’ll be happy?”

A smile spreads across your face, “I promise.”

Then, he steps closer once more and you turn your body to face his. Gojo places an arm up against the door and leans down to you. He shouldn’t be doing it and you shouldn’t be leaning into it but, his other hand goes to tip your chin up and both of you move for just one more kiss.

Your heart is thumping in your chest as you kiss Gojo one last time, this moment feeling like the final action between the two of you for real this time. You couldn’t help the way your lips molded against his so perfectly or how your hand moved to touch his chest ever so slightly.

As you do so, you feel how his skin tenses up and the way he whines against your lips makes you smile. Pulling away, just barely, you open your eyes, “Satoru,”

“Y-Yes?” He squeaks out.

“I’m gonna leave now,” You murmur.

He smiles a bit and nods, “Mhm..”

“But, before I do,” The way your words leave you so slowly has him on edge but the next phrase is leaving you before you even think about it, “I’ve been thinking about it for a while and…”

Gojo tilts his head and his pupils are all dilated, palms sweaty just from kissing you, and his heart pounding, “What is it, sweetheart?”

“I loved the way you confessed to me,” You tell him.

His expression sours into something sad, “Why do you tell me such things just as you’re about to leave?”

“Because,” You shrug, “I don’t want to leave with you thinking the only thing I’ve ever loved about you was the way you kiss me.”

“But why tell me this now?” He asks, his brows pushing together in distraught, “Do you understand how difficult it is for me to allow you to walk out of this door?”

You snicker, “What’re you gonna do, kidnap me?”

“I might,” Gojo whispers in full seriousness.

You swallow, “Satoru…”

“It’s so hard to let you go,” He tells you, his voice ridiculously low and dark for yet a second time, “And I hate myself for it.”

“You’re crazy, y’know that?” You hum, halfway joking with him.

He shrugs, “For you, yes, yes I am.”

You chuckle a bit uneasily, “Right well… I’m uh, I’m going to leave for real this time.”

“You need to,” Gojo warns.

“Mhm,” You hum, staring up into his eyes in a way that says you kind of don’t want to leave, “Bye, Satoru.”

He shakes his head, “Say something else, not that. This isn’t bye.”

You scoff, “Fine, like what then, cya later?”

“Y-Yeah,” He mumbles.

God, he’s so cute. You roll your eyes, “Fine, cya later Satoru.”

“Mhm,” He hums, smiling at the way you corrected yourself, “I love you.”

“I…” You almost said it back.

Gojo smiles, “Careful now.”

With a heavy sigh, you tear your eyes off him and finally turn around, twisting the doorknob and moving to open it, “Okay, okay, see you later,” You rush out.

Gojo steps back away from the door and his hands are quickly shoved down into his pockets, “Cya, sweets.”

And with that, you finally leave his apartment, unknowingly leaving him with a boner and a heartache. He got hard from making out with you and was surprised you didn’t notice…

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

As for you, you’re taking quick steps down the hallway, trying to get your mind together.

Okay, you managed to stay calm but truth be told, you were panicking the entire time from the moment that man told you he was obsessed with you. In love is one thing but fucking obsessed?

What the hell do you do with that information?? How is he obsessed with you? Why? What the hell? What does that even mean for you?

How does a man both in love and obsessed with you blackmail you into completing a list to clear a debt that’s not even real? Like always, it doesn’t make sense. With Gojo, nothing ever makes sense.

So why do you continue to waste your time trying to figure it out and why are your feelings for him so damn strong? Deep down inside you think you knew.

You knew that somewhere inside you’d fallen for that man. But, in no way would you allow such an emotion to grow and blossom into the unavoidable toxic flower of corrupted love and obsession.

You didn’t need that. The list was over so all the stress in your life should be too. Allow Gojo Satoru to fade into the dark parts of your past and focus on the future and what’s important-

Your phone suddenly starts buzzing in your pocket. You scramble for the device and when you get it out, you see Sukuna’s name plastered over your screen.

Batting your eyelashes at it for a moment, you hesitantly answer the call and stop in the middle of the hallway, bringing your cell to your ear.

“Hello?” You greet timidly.

“Wait, who the hell-,” Sukuna’s voice fades a bit and then you hear him scoff, “Shit, called the wrong whore.”

And just like that, you were appalled, “Excuse me?”

“What?” Sukuna hums. You swear his stupidly sexy voice is the only thing saving him right now, “You liked it when I called you that before-“

“That was different.” You interrupt.

You hear his voice fade away yet again but you could still make out what he was saying, “Did this damn woman just cut me off?”

His annoyed tone makes you laugh and you can practically picture the frustrated and very faint pout on his face, “Yes, Sukuna, yes I did just cut you off.”

He brings his phone back to his ear, “Apologize.”

You giggle, “Apologize? Oh please-“

“I’ll have you kidnapped if you don’t.” He threatens, which is funny considering the fact that you remember him being like this that morning after you had sex with him.

Often would he make the wildest threats, like how he told you if you didn’t stop moving your feet as he put your shoes on, he’d have your toes cut off. He was quite the dramatic man but that oddly made him entertaining for you.

“Shiver me timbers,” You uttered sarcastically. Were you smiling? Was this accidental interaction with Sukuna making you smile??

You hear Sukuna groan and again, you can picture his annoyed expression, “You have ten seconds.” He tells you. You roll your eyes and open your mouth to speak but he cuts you off, “And if you roll your eyes at me again, I’ll have you in my bed again and fuck you until they’re stuck in the back of your head.”

You blink and look around the hallway. For some reason, the way he knew what you did kinda scared you. Maybe Gojo’s little confession of being obsessed really had you on edge…

“Whatever,” You hum, disregarding his threat, “Sorry Sukuna.”

“Say it like you mean it, whore.” He scowls.

You frown, “Stop calling me a whore.”

Sukuna chuckles and raises a brow, “Or what?”

You don’t say anything.

“That’s what I thought, now do as I said.”

You groan and put on this fake dramatic tone, “Please accept my humblest apologies, lord Sukuna, for I have-“

“Okay you can stop now,” He says. You could hear him laughing and you knew he was smiling from ear to ear, “Lord Sukuna, hmm, that has a nice ring to it. Call me that from now on.”

You scoff, “In your dreams.”

He frowns, “Oh don’t be like that, sweetheart.”

Why are you even talking to this man right now? “How do you go from calling me a whore to sweetheart?” You ask the man.

“Well, whore is a generic term I use for all the women I sleep with. And sweetheart…” Sukuna starts chuckling lowly, “That nickname just has a little ring to it, don’t you think?”

“No.” You say, in your head, only one person is allowed to call you such a thing.

“Tch, you’re no fun,” Sukuna tells you, “Anyway, let me go call the correct whore this time.”

You blink, “I-“

He hangs up on you.

You stare at your phone for a moment, processing that short yet entertaining phone call. Then, after your moment you simply brush it off.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

You should’ve gotten off the phone with Sukuna sooner if anything, you were supposed to be calling Choso.

Which is precisely what you go to do. Your fingers tap against your screen and you steadily pick your feet up to walk toward the elevator once more and soon dial up Choso’s number.

Once you do, the phone rings only one time before the man is answering and by that time, you’re pressing the button to go down on the elevator.

“Choso?” You murmured into the phone as you held it to your ear.

“Hey baby, what’s up?” He greets simply.

And just like that, you think your world is finally rotating on its axis again. It’s kinda scary how this man’s voice centers you so quickly. You forget that you just made out with Gojo a few minutes ago, found out he’s obsessed with you, and just got off the phone with Sukuna all too quickly.

Who cares about any of that when you have Choso on the phone?

“I thought you were taking a break from me…” Choso adds on.

You laugh, “I was buuut, that’s over now.”

He smiles, “How so-“

In the background, you suddenly hear someone speak. “Cho, who’re you on the phone with all of a sudden?” It’s… It’s a woman’s voice.

Your heart sinks a bit at the sound and you fall quiet as Choso responds to her, “My girl,” He claims, “Give me sec, please?”

“Oh?” The woman snickers, “Your girl? Choso you didn’t tell me you had a girlfriend!”

You can hear the shift in Choso’s voice, he sounds annoyed, “She’s not exactly-,” He sighs and decides not to correct her, “I think we both know why I didn’t say anything.”

The sound of the woman laughing a bit louder can be heard and your heart is just sinking and sinking and sinking. “If that’s the case then she must be cute, let me talk to her!”

“What the fuck?” Choso spits out, his face scrunching up in frustration, “No, piss off.”

“Why’re you so grouchy all of a sudden?” She asks, giggling at the man. You can’t tell if she’s flirting or if this is the kind of behavior she’s used to, “I just wanna ask her something!”

“The same bullshit question you ask everyone?” Choso quizzes in a dull tone, “Yeah, no.”

She pouts, “Whyyy-“

“Choso…” You suddenly call out, interrupting it all as you make your way out of Gojo’s apartment complex and to your car.

The way Choso’s every ounce of attention goes to you and how his voice lights back up doesn’t go unnoticed, “Sorry about that, yes princess?”

The woman’s voice is heard yet again, “Ohhh? Princess? You never called me that-“

“Shut the fuck up, oh my god,” Choso groans out to her. He sends her a glare too but you don’t see this since you’re on the phone. Then, he returns to you, “Ignore her, what were you saying?” He asks you.

You swallow, “Who uh…” Your hand is working to open your car door and you’re trying not to feel displeased right now, “Who is that?”

“Huh? Oh, a friend, why?” Choso says simply.

You grit your teeth a bit, attempting to chill the burn in your heart, “Choso, I asked who not what.” You tell him, your voice firm and clearly pissed off despite the way you tried to control it.

“I-,” Choso sighs and although you can’t see it, this slow and sexy smile spreads across his face, “Baby… Are you jealous?”

Your brows furrow, “W-What? No, I-“

“It’s okay if you are.” He purrs almost excitedly.

“I-I’m not, I was just curious.” You lie, “Do you want me to be jealous or something?”

Choso shrugs, “It’s kinda hot if you are.”

“I-, wait seriously?” Your eyelashes bat in disbelief, “So you do want me to be jealous?”

He gets quiet for a second and then hums, “I was gonna’ say yes but actually, no it’s better if you’re not.”

Now you’re confused. Furrowing your brows, “Huh, why?” You ask.

“Cause’ uhhh…” Choso shifts around a bit, “Hold on,” He tells you. Then you feel your phone buzz and you receive a text from him.

Remaining confused, you move to look at the message he sent you. Then, your eyes widen, “Oh?”

“Yeahh…” Choso sighs.

“Sooo,” You smirk, “You don’t want me to be jealous because it makes your dick hard?”

His face goes red and he drops his head into the palm of his hand, “Shit… Y’know, the whole point of me texting it to you was so that it wasn’t said out loud.”

You giggle, “Choso, that's one toxic kink to have.”

“Shut up,” He teases, “It’s not a kink.”

“Me being jealous turns you on, sounds like a kink to me.” You argue with a shrug.

“It’s not, I swear. I just thought it was hot.”

Your voice dips into something sultry for just a moment, “Hot enough for your cock to spring up-“

“Jesus,” Choso choked, “Baby you’re killing me over here.”

The sound of him struggling is cute and you can only imagine how red his face was, “Am I?”

“Yes, enough with the dirty talk.” He pleads.

You chuckle, “Fine, fine. Now answer my question.”

“Huh? Oh yeah, I’m with Yuki.” Choso finally tells you.

Well, you weren’t exactly jealous before but now…

Yuki? As in, the woman he was fooling around with when you first met him? Why is he with her now?

You swallow, “Where are you guys?”

Choso bites his lip, “Why?”

You frown and your voice gets serious, “I’m not playing with you, Cho.”

“You’re also not my girlfriend so you can’t exactly ask those questions.” He responds sassily.

You wanted to be pissed off but he made a very valid point. “I was thinking about changing that but y’know what, since you wanna be like that, never mind.” You say sweetly, a faux smile on your face.

“Wait, wait, baby I was just joking, we’re at a cafe,” Choso says quickly, “Holy shit, you’re really fuckin’ sexy when you’re mad.”

You roll your eyes, “I wasn’t mad…”

“Liar,” He chuckles, “Anyway, I’ll send you my location.”

“Mhm, as you should,” You comment.

Choso smiles, “You’re such a shit talker over the phone but every time I see you, you know not to say things like that.”

You laugh as you move to start your vehicle, “Is that so?”

“Yeah-” His voice is cut off by something that you don’t see which is a small piece of bread being thrown at him. Choso is pissed off with his company all over again, “Yuki, fuck off for a second, please?”

She chuckles, “I gave you a few minutes but listening to you flirt is so annoying.”

Choso’s brows push together, “Excuse me-”

“I mean, you’re not very good at it after all. I wonder how the hell you managed to get a girlf-” There’s a shuffle over the phone and you hear a shriek, “Hey! C’mon, this is my favorite shirtttt!”

“Cry about it,” Choso snickers, then he returns to you once more, “Anyway, are you on your way here?”

“I dunno, it sounds like you’re having a great time.” You comment, “I wouldn’t wanna interrupt anything-”

“Baby,” Choso hums, “You’re not interrupting shit, trust me. I’d actually prefer it if you were here.”

Although you’re currently backing out of the parking lot and have in your head that you’re definitely showing up after hearing another woman, you roll your eyes, “Uhuh…”

He sighs and he doesn’t exactly like how you sound upset anymore, “Are you coming or not?”

“Yeah,” You tell him.

“Good.” He nods.

“So that means I can meet her!” Yuki chimes in, her voice so loud in the background that you honestly thought she may be sitting right next to Choso.

The dark-haired man sends the woman another glare, “I want you gone by the time she gets here.”

“Whaaat, whyyyyy?” She whines.

He groans, “Because you’re annoying as shit and she’ll never like you.”

She pouts at him, “You’re so mean to me when you’re on the phone…”

“Yuki, you’re pissing me off,” Choso says, his voice revealing just how agitated he is.

“Awww, am I?” Yuki coos.

Choso rolls his eyes, “Please leave me alone.”

“But-”

“Fuck off,” Choso cuts her off, then, you don’t see it but he stands from where he is and simply walks away, “I’ll see you soon, then?”

The sound of him talking to you again has you feeling weird. You hated that you could hear the obvious banter between Choso and Yuki so clearly and it made you feel almost forgotten over the phone.

“Sure,” You voice out plainly.

He stops walking and his brows furrow, “Are you upset?”

Kinda, but you don’t want to express or entertain that emotion, “No.”

“You sound like it.” Choso points out, seeing through you as he always does.

You’ve run out of things to say so you simply hum, “Oh.”

“C’mon princess what’s with the one-word responses?” He asks, his voice filling with concern. It’s like he doesn’t see anything wrong with what just happened, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, Cho.” You murmur.

He sighs frustratedly, “You’re lying.”

You don't know why but there was just this ill feeling in your chest. Whether it was jealousy or something else goes unknown. “I’m gonna hang up now, see you when I get there.” You tell him.

Choso’s completely confused and he doesn’t know if he likes this demeanor of yours as much as he said he did earlier, “Wait-”

You hang up anyway. Were you actually upset? Not really but you did feel some type of way. You didn’t know what to make of Yuki based on what you heard over the phone.

Maybe you were being dramatic or even a hypocrite given the fact that you literally just left Gojo but you didn’t really care. Something about Yuki and Choso being together just threw you off. Why would he be with her now? Is it because you were unavailable? Were they on some kinda date?

You felt like you were going crazy trying to figure it out and your assumptions weren’t making it any better. Why was this bothering you so much? Since when do you care that Choso’s with someone else, it’s not like he never told you about Yuki before.

But, maybe that was why. Maybe it was because you knew they had something going on before and given how clingy of a person Choso is, maybe he’d run back to her while you took your break from him.

Fuck, you hate how much you’re thinking about this. You knew you were being a hypocrite about it and yet it still bothered you. Even though Choso spent that whole call cursing the woman out, with the way she responded to it just seemed like that’s how he always treats her…

You hate that. You hate that it feels like there’s someone else-, fuck, is this karma? Is this what you get for falling for the man you once hated and Choso at the same time?

Shit, so lost in your thoughts, you nearly missed how fast you were driving and got lucky you snapped back into reality. Slowing yourself to the speed limit, you tried to refocus your mind on where you were going.

Choso had sent you the address and you noticed that this cafe was roughly a few streets away from that one nightclub… The way everything in this city keeps connecting to one another kind of frightens you. What would happen if you were to run into someone else from the list while you were with Choso?

You chuckle, the chances of that happening are slim to none, right?

Funny. You were actually so wrong to assume such a thing because as soon as you entered that damn cafe, things decided to take an interesting turn.

GOJO SATORU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

GETO SUGURU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

TOJI FUSHIGURO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢

KAMO CHOSO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢 / 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ZEN'IN NAOYA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙭𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ITADORI SUKUNA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮???

NANAMI KENTO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙃𝙖𝙧𝙙

mlist || previous chapt || next chpt

tags;

@blognicole @suguruologist @luqueam @ivoryviness @sinaxalui @rxnnie18 @carlacujo @gods-landing @bitchysouljellyfish @miles4hour @sinaxalui @annananamin @heart-snow @kiyomizzx @hanuh @acehyacinth @mccookiemonster @tojis-ball-sack @cartwheel6869 @mariluvsusstuff @addie1010 @slammynics @actualz0mbie @hisbitchhh @kay-xle @cunttee3 @voids-universe @raininglovelyfire @itsbokutosjuicyass @peaceoutbritta @barbielani @gennaray @r3inae @kfmcykdy @camiihutt @tokina @curtin81937 @hopefullydecent @nameless-shade @ureuphoriasworld @forgetfulmachine @legbouk @lilliaannn @clementineee0-0 @divinelseraph @didibxx

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lilyarchived · 7 months

Text

distanced [simon "ghost" riley]

a/n: can you tell i like writing angst?

warnings: swearing, hurt to comfort, fem outfit, a little ooc if you squint, 1.201 words oops

summary: after a fight with ghost, you don’t pay any attention to him for the whole day, deciding it’s what he wants anyway.

“forget it, you’re a fucking asshole.” you sniffle, turning your back and grabbing your keys, storming out of the little apartment complex you two had been sharing for 6 months. his breathing was heavy, his huge form heaving up and down as he just watched you leave. ‘that’s it, then?’ you think to yourself, hesitant to keep walking to your car. god it was freezing. you go to fix your coat but you haven’t brought one. sighing, you quicken your pace to the car. it was dark out.

your drive to your old apartment was quick, it was 2 am and the only cars out were people who had night shifts. you just wanted to talk to him, that’s all. you just wanted to spend time with your boyfriend, that’s all; yet that seemed to set him off. screaming and tears were all that you remembered. you remembered how you flinched when he raised his hand to fix his hair. you remember his horrified look. you remember getting in your car and, oh. that’s now.

you reach your apartment and the first thing you do is lay down for 10 minutes to cool down. after deciding that’s enough moping around, you take a good look at your surroundings and decide it’s time for redecorating. you spent the whole early morning moving furniture around and hanging up new posters and renewing bedsheets, and adding new scents to your humidifier, and blasting feel good songs, and.. and.. you miss him.

never mind that, you finish up and decide to take time for yourself to unwind, showering, skincare, reading, and doing all sorts of your hobbies you haven’t gotten the chance to do. sitting comfortably on your polished couch as you flip through the pages of your book and take a long sip of your warm coffee, you start to appreciate life and yourself just a little bit more. that doesn’t help the fact that there is a part of you longing for him, missing how he’d usually be behind you cuddling, some documentary playing in the background as his soft snores fill the silence.

stop it! god! get a grip, [Y/N]! stop thinking about him! what’s so good about Lieutenant Simon “ Ghost “ Riley anyway!? it’s not like he makes you feel like you’re the only person in the world, not like he has that one soft look whenever it comes to you, it’s not like,, you love him. a long and exaggerated sigh came out of you as the realisation hits. you do love him. but what does it matter now? it’s been 4 long hours since you’ve seen him, he hasn’t even called! you check your phone again to look for any missed calls but all you get is a message from soap saying “yer late 2day?” ‘ohhh no.’ “shit.” you mumble as you search for your keys as you race to your car and get to the base as fast as you can.

you blast through the debriefing room wearing a brown tank top with a brown cardigan hanging loosely, your moss green long skirt ruffled as you plop your messenger bag on the table, hair claw barely keeping your wild hair up. headphones still hanging on your neck as you apologise for being late. “glad to see you’ve dressed up first, eh?” price remarks with a small smile as he continues talking, your cheeks blushing from embarrassment, forgetting to get into uniform since you had left in such a rush. you straighten your hair as you take notes during the whole meeting, all while feeling a familiar pair of eyes scan your body.

you’re purposefully ignoring him, going straight to your office once the debriefing was over, despite his calls for your name. he didn’t wanna spend time with you? that’s fine, you’ll give him what he so desperately wants. you lock yourself in the room to take at least 3 minutes to just get a hold of yourself and breathe. you finally get up to do some of the paperwork you’ve been putting off, and get to price’s office to be assigned more.

“this is unusual, you want more work?” he raises an eyebrow at you before filing some more paper. “yes sir.” a hum is all you get out of him. you stand there for at least another minute waiting for more orders, that is until he calls in the man you’ve been dreading to see. “WHAT? NO. WHY WOULD YOU-” you shut up instantly as you hold your breath when his big frame comes in. “go help him out with drills, since you so badly want to work.” your captain’s sassy ass voice is making your eye twitch, but you nonetheless comply. you were the first to step out of the room infuriated and hot-headed, awaiting more orders from your lieutenant.

as soon as you finish up helping the new recruits as ordered, you ignored your boyfriend's orders of wanting to talk after the drills. you speed walk to your room to lay down, bruised feet and sore back, whining and groaning at the pain. you immediately sit up as you hear your bedroom door creak open, wondering who it is since you had it locked. you go through the list of who could have your key and the only one to cross your mind is your boyfriend you’ve been ignoring for the whole day. and to no surprise it’s him, simon riley, who walks into your door and kneels beside your legs.

“what’re you doing?” you ask, rubbing your eyes and groggily shuffling your hair. he just sighs and starts massaging your legs, hoping you would take this as a silent apology. “god stop it, simon.”

he doesn’t listen to your complaints as he pushes your small frame (compared to his, i mean c'mon this man is a giant) on the bed, laying you down as he cuddles on top of you. “si- i can’t breathe.” he only shifts a little to the side so that he wouldn’t accidentally crush you with his sheer strength. “‘m sorry, didn’t mean to make you cry like that.” your eyes flutter shut as you calm your breathing, still being bear hugged by your lieutenant beside you. “was so worried, thought i’d never see you again.” his deep vibrating voice tickles your ears, making you slightly happy. the warmth you’ve been longing for was back.

“don’t you ever do that to me again.” you whisper, finally hugging him back and facing him for the first time in a while. “yes ma’am.” he replies, moving your stray hair strands back to see your face better. “won’t ever let you go again.”

a/n: outfit i was thinking of ,, anyway this was kinda like forced, i’ve been wanting to write this for so long and only got the time to do so now sooooooooooooo hope u like it mwua mwua stay hydrated

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sytoran · 6 months

Note

Could I request a Natasha x reader where R and Nat are driving home from a party but their car breaks down so they call someone to come help them fix it and while they’re waiting they fuck outside on the back of the car…strap on pls

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟎𝟏𝟎 — 𝐏𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐂 𝐒𝐄𝐗

kinktober day 010 | milf!natasha x fem!mechanic!reader

natasha's had a completely shit day, and the last straw is when her car breaks down on the way home. the unbelievably sexy mechanic who shows up to fix her car makes it an unforgettable night.

note. i might've changed the plot so R is the mechanic. trust me on that decision.

cont. strap-on use, daddy kink, horniness, hot mechanic stuff

word count. 3435 (yall are getting fed)

kinktober masterlist || main masterlist

In her weathered thirties, Natasha had retired as an Avenger and chose a life that had always been nothing more than a distant dream.

By adopting two beautiful children and becoming a mother, it was almost like she was flipping off the Red Room for what they had done to her. It was an act of justice, a long sought-after victory, throwing away her past but embracing the lessons it had taught her.

However, despite how much the future she carved for herself had changed, one thing hadn’t — and that was the people who had been by her side throughout her journey to normalcy.

Kate, that human embodiment of a golden retriever, was all about ‘bringing the Avengers together, old and new’, and ‘forging stronger bonds in the pursuit of justice’. Hence came the monthly parties that involved the wealth of Bishop Security, too much alcohol, and one too many bad decisions.

For Natasha, the party had spun out of control like a series of unfortunate events: From the raspberry martini Thor had spilled on her, to the ripped dress from a stupid dare from Rocket to climb the fence, and the incredibly awkward seven minutes in heaven with Bruce.

Right now, the ex-Avenger wanted nothing more than to dive under the warm blankets and close her eyes and shut the world out. Go home to her two bundles of joy. Be engulfed in the warmth of comfort and release. Maybe even let Liho sleep on the bed for once.

She needs to get back home a little faster. Natasha accelerates.

Her eyes are on the road, gripping the steering wheel with a steely frown. The road is dark, the lamps are flickering. There’s a thought lingering in the back of her mind, like an itch that simply wouldn’t go away.

It was embarrassing to admit, but Natasha had done far worse: She was unarguably sexually frustrated. After saving the universe and transitioning into a life of motherhood, she hardly had any time to alleviate her stress in that kind of way.

Today was one of those days, then, where she would once again have to retreat into the confines of her shower and spend a little longer than she should. Or perhaps, dive under the sheets and reach into her bedside table for that plastic purple toy.

Natasha steps on the pedal a little harder. She accelerates again – the engine splutters.

"Fuck, shit, don't do this to me now," she growls, angrily slapping her steering wheel while a frown creases her eyebrows.

It only takes the car three more streetlamps to absolutely die out on her, coming to a screeching halt, in the dead of the night, in the middle of nowhere. Comically, the sound of something fusing inside her engine follows right after.

Natasha lets the groan of frustration fall freely, forehead hitting the centre of the steering wheel. The resounding sound of the car honking echoes in the emptiness of the place, like a mockery of Natasha’s misfortune.

She climbs out of the car reluctantly, slowly lifting the bonnet open and staring blankly at the mechanical parts before her.

Natasha was a woman of many capabilities, those of which included being able to assassinate three grown men with a pencil, speak fifteen languages fluently, raise two kids with an attitude more stubborn than hers, save the fucking world, in fact, but fixing cars was not one of them.

Gradually, the car parts in the engine began to look more and more like ancient hieroglyphs that Natasha would spend a lifetime trying to decipher.

She pulls out her cell phone to call someone for assistance, before realizing that basically all of her friends were likely piss-drunk at that stupid party, and would never pick up. (Okay, she also didn’t have a social life other than her ex-comrades in battle, but could you really blame Natasha?)

As the redhead closed her eyes, irritation danced in the darkness of her vision, flickering in specks of white and then burning red. Natasha resigns to her doomed fate.

Calling up the roadside assistance services would mean spending an insanely long amount of time waiting, then having her car towed to the auto-repair shop, henceforth allowing the mechanics there to actually fix up her car, and by the time she retreated into the warmth of her bedroom at home it would very much be far past midnight.

Pulling out her phone with a stately reluctance, Natasha searches up the nearest available mechanic services, dials in the designated number, and begins her wait for comfort and satisfaction.

***

If Natasha previously had any qualms or complaints about waiting for roadside assistance, her mouth was now sealed shut with lock and key. In fact, she would much rather let the mechanic that just arrived assist her in several other ways.

“Sorry for the wait, Ma’am, we were almost about to close shop,” you say, climbing out of the pickup truck then jumping down.

You flick your hair out of your eyes and send a bright smile to your last client of the day, seemingly oblivious to the effect you had on the woman. “I’m Y/N, happy to be at your service.”

Now, Natasha certainly had her own suspicions that she wasn’t entirely straight, but those queries had been confirmed within a good five seconds.

It was too cliche to be real, almost. Natasha swallows as her eyes rake over your tight-fitting white tank top that showed off the most stunning bodily anatomy she had ever seen, each muscle carved from a meticulous sculptor, dirtied cargo pants hanging loose to reveal the band of a pair of black boxers.

“Ma’am?” you repeat, lifting up a heavy toolbox with one hand, failing to notice that Natasha’s gaze is glued on to the flexed muscles of your right arm.

“O-oh,” the ex-Avenger mumbles in embarrassment – Oh, Yelena would cackle to see her like this – “Sorry, what was your question?”

You only tilt your head and give her a polite smile. “I was asking what seems to be the issue with your car.”

Natasha nods vigorously, then walks stiffly towards her car. Her clammy hands struggle to lift the bonnet for a moment, and in a second you’re next to her, single-handedly lifting the cover with a thoughtful smile.

Natasha feels the heat rush to her cheeks and she looks away quickly. She was acting like a lovesick high school girl, for God’s sakes. Get it together, she chides.

When she looks back up again, you have a wrench in hand, twirling it around. Natasha has her eyes glued to your tattoos and the way your fingers spin the tool.

“I’ll loosen this up a bit, see what we’re dealing with.” You say, fastening the wrench into place. Natasha barely has time to nod her acknowledgement before her breath gets stolen from her again.

The muscle of your forearm ripples like a satisfying wave when you jerk the wrench, and Natasha’s breath gets stolen away by the wind. She watches as your fingers expertly wrap around the tool, your other hand gripping the front of the car, and your next effort has Natasha getting wetter in places she shouldn’t.

“I think this part needs to be oiled,” you say, your even voice hauling Natasha out of her erotic fantasy. You look at your client curiously, innocently gesturing towards the toolbox next to her feet. “Would you be an angel and hand me the oiler?”

Angel.

Natasha’s heart races as she bends down to pick up your toolbox. (Okay, she definitely bends down a little too far, but she feels your eyes glued onto her ass, and she considers that a victory.) When she hands you the toolbox, your fingertips graze over her hand, and Natasha’s breath hitches a little too obviously.

By some holy deity’s work, you don’t comment or react to her squeak of surprise, and instead begin oiling up the engine of the car. Natasha flushes a dark red. Your grasp had been calloused, because of course it would be, experienced with handling cars and being rough—

The electricity that had run through her veins from that second of contact was comparable to Thor’s Mjolnir.

You have a little mishap when pouring the oil, the tube sliding in your grasp, and the car oil squirts from the nozzle and onto your front. You chuckle awkwardly, embarrassment tinging the tips of your ears.

Natasha thinks it’s the sweetest sound she’s ever heard, heart fluttering at your awkwardness. Once again, her libido catches up to her, and then Natasha’s eyeing your slick fingers (imagining it was a different type of slick), and the way your dampened shirt clung to your taut muscles.

Maybe you were doing it on purpose, too, facing Natasha as you lift up the hem of your shirt to squeeze out the oil. Her eyes feast on the hint of bare skin she can see, a defined V-line making itself known.

“You don’t mind me working like this, I suppose?” you ask, a grin on your face. “I may look filthy, but I promise I’m excellent with my hands.”

“Show me, then,” Natasha replies loftily, almost second-nature with how the one-sided smirk creeps on to her face. Her skill of seduction was something that was ingrained into her bloodstream.

When you lay down onto the under-car roller and shift underneath the car to begin fixing it up, Natasha’s gaze darkens several hues and she lets her eyes roam over your body again.

She couldn’t tear her eyes off if she tried. She wanted to rake her nails over your taut muscles, watch them flex and ripple under her touch, hook her fingers in the belt-loop of your pants and tug it down—

—to see the unmistakable bulge on a strap-on in your boxers. Natasha licks her lips, zeroing in on the tantalizing sight. It looked big, even while hidden under the confines of your pants. She would take you so good, down her throat or up her cunt, until either of you orgasmed.

Natasha gets lost in her thoughts, nearly drooling as she watched you work. Your tank top moved with every thrust of your arm into unscrewing a certain mechanical part, and the grease slid down the veins of your hands.

The redhead has to sink her teeth into her bottom lip when you spread your legs for a more comfortable position, to stop herself from moaning out load.

Natasha’s got it down bad, eyes once again on your bulge. Her panties are soaked, already, lewd thoughts flitting through her mind with every passing minute that you’re under there.

On the other hand, you were fighting a very different battle.

You weren’t stupid, no, not on any accounts. (Except for dating that one girlfriend who’d lit your auto-repair shop on fire when you broke up with her. But we don’t talk about past mistakes.) Right now, the woman you were attending to was none other than Natasha Romanoff.

Yes, the woman who had saved the universe. The woman who’d inspired you to say ‘fuck everyone else’ and chase your dreams. The woman on TV you’d spent more than a few nights thinking of, your hand in places you’d rather not specify.

More than that, you were quite sure that this woman, in a ripped dress that fucked your mind in ways it shouldn’t, wanted you to fuck her instead.

It was an uphill battle, your rationality versus your pathetic pretty-girl-want-to-fuck instinct. As you lay under Natasha’s car, working on the mechanical parts up there and getting grease all over your hands, you contemplated the reasons why logic was important.

Number One: Natasha Romanoff was an Avenger. If you pushed yourself onto her, she could very much knock you out before you could say ‘sorry’. As much as you prided yourself on your physique and brute force, you weren’t about to take on an ex-widow in a fight.

You look down for one second, as said woman steps a little closer to you, and you have to swallow to bite back an embarrassing sound. One of her hands was resting on your knee while you worked, and it took every cell of your existence not to start spasming under her touch.

Number Two: It was a violation of workplace guidelines. As much as the pay was shitty, you wouldn’t want to lose your job. You still had rent to pay, and you couldn’t keep hiding from your stick-in-the-ass landlord.

“Oh, that looks dirty,” Natasha comments, tone sultry as her hand creeps up higher on your leg. Your breath catches in your throat, grease staining your white shirt while your eyes quite nearly glaze over.

I can show you dirty, your brain unhelpfully supplies, and you shake your head in a futile attempt to clear your head.

Natasha, undetered, leans forward, chest grazing over your torso, the soft flesh of her breasts against your abdomen making your head spin.

Fuck, you just wanted to rip off her pretty dress and— Number Three: You were in public. Having sexual intercourse with your client right here and right now would likely end in a police report for vouyerism. Dingy apartment be gone, for you would be sleeping in a jail cell.

“M’kay, I’m done,” you announce, slapping the underside of the car as a sign of accomplishment. You purposefully slide out from under the car in one swift motion, allowing Natasha’s hand to graze over your muscled thigh.

Nothing could have prepared you for the sight that greeted you when you looked up, though.

There Natasha Romanoff leant over your body, one hand inches away from the bulge in your pants, the other tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. She was leaning forward, exposing a cleavage that hung right above your torso, dark eyes surveying you.

Fuck, dark couldn’t even begin to describe it. Natasha’s gaze was like an icy blast and molten lava all at the same time: Her pupils were severely dilated, a spark dancing within it. The deep colours of her eyes were like a kaleidoscope, pulling you in, entrapping you in a haze of lust.

It was entirely wanton, arousing, filthy. Her ruby-red lips curved into a vulture-like smirk, gaze trailing downwards to your body. Everywhere her eyes rested on lit a path of hellfire. Those sinful hands crept on to your bulge, splaying over your false cock as you exhale shakily.

Number Four: Natasha Romanoff was looking at you like you were a full banquet service, all five courses, free of charge, complimentary champagne included.

And honestly, was there really anything more important than that?

“Thanks for your help,” Natasha murmmurs, physically climbing onto you as you laid on the under-car roller. “Let me repay that kindness.”

You let out a strangled groan as Natasha pushes herself down onto you and kisses you, her hands sliding under your shirt to scrape at your abdomen.

Oh, finally.

“Fuck,” you gasp against her eager lips, hands flying to palm at her ass as you deepen the kiss. Your brain hasn’t quite caught up to yet, the only you were registering being the sweet mouth you were exploring and the intoxicating flowery scent of Natasha’s perfume.

Your hand cinches around Natasha’s neck like a vice-grip, your tongue invading the confines of her mouth, the rocking motions of your meeting mouths drawing long gasps and whines from Natasha.

Her hands, on the contrary, are relentless: From the sides of your face to your washboard abdomen, sharp nails marking you as if you’re hers.

Having relinquished your power for long enough, you grab handfuls of Natasha’s ass and lift her up; You get up, too, a mess of entangled limbs as you throw her over your shoulder, kicking away the roller and moving to the bed of your pickup truck.

Natasha’s left dripping at your display of effortless strength. You hoist the two of you up onto the pickup truck, paradoxically carefully laying her down, and you stall for a moment.

“We’re so gonna get caught,” Natasha whispers with a stupid grin on her face.

She looks up at you with a breathtaking smile, twilight reflecting off her eyes, dancing in the atmosphere that surrounded the two of you.

The pair of you were completely exposed to the midnight air, in the middle of nowhere, but if anyone were to drive past it would be blatantly obvious what was happening.

You smirk, tugging her dress off with an assured confidence. “Maybe,” you reason, thumbing at one of Natasha’s nipples so she arches off the surface with a breathy gasp. “Or maybe not,” you continue, a big hand sliding under Natasha’s lithe body to undo the clasp of her bra and toss it somewhere.

“Y/N!” Natasha squeaks, as your greedy hands massage the mounds of her breasts. “Did you throw my bra onto the road?”

You hum your approval cheekily, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses from the swell of her breasts and down to her soiled. “Yes, angel. I’ll pick it up later, bring it home with me to jerk off–”

“Oh my god—”

“Yeah, and I’ll— oh fuck, angel, your panties are fucking soaked. Not so innocent, hm?” You question with a dark smile, two fingers running over the outside of her undergarment, arousal sticking to your fingers.

You watch as the older woman before you flushes from head to toe. Strings of slick cling to your thick fingers, and you suck on them as Natasha moans lewdly.

“I’ll let you taste it later, don’t worry,” you add helpfully, shucking down your own pants and boxers. The strap-on springs out, and Natasha’s drooly lips open to push out a shaky breath of arousal.

“Daddy,” Natasha says, instinctually, at the sight of your gloried muscles and the ivory strap that hung between your legs like it was made to do so.

Your grip on Natasha’s hips bruise, the term nothing new to you but so entirely different when it came from Natasha fucking Romanoff. The sense of pride that washed over you was nothing compared to the carnal desire to fill her up and make her scream your name.

“Oh God!” Natasha wails out, fingernails digging into your forearms as you slide the head of your cock inside her. It wasn’t the longest, but it was girthy, and Natasha’s hole was stretched out as you pushed slowly.

“Not God,” you pant into Natasha’s ear, slapping her ass as she cries out loud. “Daddy, hm?”

“Yes!” Natasha moans, legs wrapping around your huge muscled back as you begin to thrust. Her hands try to interlock behind your back for support, but your shoulderblades are so wide that she can’t even fully wrap her hands around it, and that fact leaves her even hornier than before.

You’ve got Natahsa pinned to the ground under your body, pounding so hard that the whole truck shakes. The grease from your clothes goes all over, slick and sweat coating the two of you, pleasured cries and low grunts emanating from the pickup truck.

The squelching sounds of her pussy are absolutely filthy, as you pound into her spongy spot like your life depended on it.

“There, please!” Natasha wails, helplessly clinging on to your back as you bring her to a ferocious orgasm. Her legs kick under you, hook around the side of the truck as you jackhammer your hips into her pussy.

“Almost there already, angel?” You ask heatedly, mouth working on marking up her tits. One of your hands had both of Natasha’s wrist above her head, and the other was on her hips for support as you thrusted into her.

Your response comes in an earth-shattering orgasm.

“Daddy!” Natasha moans out, filthy and drenched with desire. Her pleasured cry is so loud that it scares a flock of birds out of a nearby tree, and you flinch violently at the sudden sound of nature’s rustling leaves, like you forgot you were in public.

Natasha breaks out into a laugh at the absurdity of the situation, then moans again when another wave of orgasmic pleasure washes over her. That causes you to join in on the laughter, your cock jostling inside Natasha. She whines again, and you pepper kisses over Natasha’s sweaty forehead with nothing short of amused affection.

And that’s how the two of you end up entangled on the back of your pickup truck like lovesick fools, a mesh of sweaty and slick bodies, sounds of pleasure and laughter scaring away any other creature that might disrupt Natasha’s sought-after comfort and satisfaction.

requests are NOT open... i just received this request all the way back in february, and so here it is haha..... im sorry to that one anon 😭 reblog to save a life xx

kinktober masterlist || main masterlist

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handful0fteeth · 7 months

Text

pull on your pout (just open your mouth)

kintober day 1: pegging

summary: eddie has some kinks he's never told anyone about, let alone explored, and you're more than happy to help him out.

pairings: eddie munson x fem!reader (eddie munson x afab!reader if you squint)

warnings: smut, minors DNI, explicit language, lots of dirty talk, sub!eddie, dom!reader, rough sex, (mild) painplay, (slight) puppy play

words: 4.5k

The moment you laid eyes on Eddie Munson, you knew you had to make him scream.

He was so pretty, so cocksure as he floated through the crowd of the metal show you’d happened to meet at, and his easy smile ignited something within you that you hadn’t felt in a long time. A few people called out greetings as he strolled past them, and he’d return them in kind, either with a flourish of his hand or an exaggerated bow. He had a red cup he’d been sipping from when he sauntered up to where you were, leaned against a metal barricade just after the show ended, and the grin he flashed over the lip of it only confirmed your newfound desire.

“Mind if I bum one of those off you?” he asked, pointing a ringed finger at the cigarette that dangled from your mouth. You puffed once, twice, looking him over in thought before reaching into your skirt's waistband and pulling out your pack.

“Thanks, gorgeous,” he crooned. He plucked a cigarette out and tucked it between his lips, shifting his cup to his opposite hand so he could pat down his pockets, clearly in search of something. After a moment, you reached into your shirt and retrieved your lighter from its place inside your bra.

“Need a light?” you asked, flicking the wheel and illuminating Eddie’s face with firelight. His dark eyes, smeared in black kohl, glittered at you, and the way his smile stretched around the cigarette as he bent toward your flame made your stomach flip. He smelled of cheap weed and beer, sweat and cigarette smoke, cologne and earth - you had to physically restrain yourself from leaning down and taking an indulgent whiff of his hair only because you knew it’d make you look like an absolute lunatic.

“Much obliged,” he said, smoke curling from his full, pink lips. You watched them purse, and his cheeks hollowed as he sucked on his smoke, the end flaring cherry red, before he tipped his head back and exhaled audibly. When his eyes met yours again, you realized they sparkled all on their own without the assistance of a lighter.

“Wha’s your name?” His speech was just the slightest bit slurred, and you huffed out a laugh before angling your body toward him.

“Y/N. Yours?”

“Eddie Munson. ‘S a pleasure.” He draped one arm across his stomach while the other swept out dramatically behind him - unfortunately, it just so happened to be the arm that clutched his drink. As he bowed toward you, his hand accidentally tipped his cup just a little too far, and dark liquid began to pour out onto the asphalt freely. It splattered noisily for a few seconds before Eddie seemed to realize what he’d done, and he swore as he straightened up and snatched his arm back.

“Fuck. Aw, well, ‘s for the best, I guess,” he reasoned, staring into the nearly empty cup as if it’d personally offended him. You surmised that, at this moment, it probably had. “Tastes like shit anyway.”

Even in his inebriated state, talking to him was easier than talking to most men - hell, it was easier than talking to most people in general. No awkward silences or lulls compelled you to drag on your cigarette just to give your mouth something to do - the words flowed out of you effortlessly, as if you’d known him for years. His laugh was like music, loud and sincere, bursting out of his mouth with abandon even when you didn’t think you’d said anything amusing. He kept edging closer and closer to you the entire conversation, and you let him, mainly because you wanted a closer look at his pretty face.

His hair, long and curly and matted to his forehead with sweat, coiled softly around his high, pale cheeks, and if you’d had enough alcohol in you, you would’ve reached up and pushed a lock behind his ear for him. He towered over you, which made the filthy thoughts swirling around in your head all the more thrilling. Something inside you, something mean and wicked, wanted to make this boy cry beneath you.

When Eddie stumbled into you, tripping over his own two feet, you asked if he needed a ride home. He shook his head but didn’t move to pull away from you. His hand was behind your body, curled onto the barricade for purchase, and you were so close you could feel the warmth radiating off his body as you tilted your head up to look into his eyes.

“Got a friend ‘m stayin’ with,” he murmured, hooking a thumb over his shoulder. “I’ll be okay. You can gimme your number though if you wan’ me to call you when I get to where I’m goin’.”

It was so forward that had it come out of anyone else’s mouth, you would’ve snorted and left him cold. Eddie wasn’t anyone else, though.

“You got a pen?”

Shockingly, he did - he extracted a fat-tipped permanent marker from the pocket of his leather jacket. You kept it to yourself how funny it was that he didn’t have a lighter but was carrying around a huge marker.

Without missing a beat, you lifted a hand and tugged down the collar of his shirt, exposing the creamy flesh of his collarbone. The little whoosh of air that left his lips didn’t escape you as you touched the felt tip of the marker to his skin and slowly wrote down your phone number. Beneath it, you signed your name and punctuated it all with a small, black heart. Eddie stayed still as stone while you wrote on him. It was as if your audacity, the arrogance of marking his flesh, had shocked him into a state of placidity.

When your eyes met again, there was a heat in his gaze that hadn’t been there moments before. You smirked, capped the marker, and slipped it back inside his jacket.

“Make sure you call,” you said, your voice low. “You wouldn’t wanna worry me, now would you?”

Eddie shook his head slowly, almost dazedly. You watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed and flashed him a cloyingly sweet smile.

“Good.” You raised one hand and rested it gently against his cheek, silently reveling in how tiny shivers rippled throughout his entire body at your touch, and patted him on the face condescendingly. You swore that, for a moment, right as you were pulling your hand away, you saw Eddie go to lean into your touch.

“I’ll be waiting.”

With that, you untucked yourself from against Eddie’s body and traipsed away.

He did, in fact, call you the very next morning and ask you on a proper date.

Whether or not that date ended up with Eddie fucking your brains out while you bent over the front seat of his van, scratching grooves into the cracked leather seats and practically drooling at the way his cock felt as it drilled inside you, was another matter entirely. (It did; you offered to help pay to fix the upholstery; Eddie refused, and the scratches still stare up at you knowingly every time you enter the van.)

That said, it didn’t take long at all to figure out that sometimes - a surprising number of “sometimes” - Eddie loved foisting control over to you just as much as he loved wrenching it away. He’d first admitted as much a few weeks after you started seeing each other. You’d been making out, ass planted firmly in his lap and hands plunged in his thick mass of hair when you gave a handful at the nape of his neck an experimental tug. Nothing too hard, just a test of the waters.

Eddie moaned.

He looked positively scandalized the second the sound had left his mouth, but you didn’t give him enough time to be embarrassed. Instead, you twisted your hand, yanking the curls in your fist until they were taut; Eddie’s eyes rolled into the back of his head, lids fluttering, and his jaw dropped wide open to loose another pathetic, delicious sound.

“That feel good, baby?” you asked.

“Y-Yeah,” he whined. You slackened your grip just enough to let his head bob forward a bit and then snatched it straight back by tangling both hands in the hair on either side of his neck. He sat up straighter, his spine snapping into one long line as you gave him a wolfish grin. You only paused when you noticed the tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

“D’you need me to ease up?” You would have, of course, in a heartbeat - pain for pleasure’s sake was one thing, but it was another thing entirely to inflict pain just for the hell of it, especially when the person you were inflicting pain on couldn’t handle it. But Eddie just blinked at you, his brown eyes glossy and distant, almost as if he was starting to drift off somewhere, and smiled dreamily.

“No,” he said. “Pull harder.”

And so you did.

Later, when he was bucking into you from below, keening and whimpering like he was dying, scalp no doubt burning from the consistent abuse you’d demonstrated toward his hair, you leaned down into his ear and asked him if he liked when you hurt him like this.

“Yes, fuck,” he gasped. “I love it, I love it, please, more, please.”

“You think I should do this more often? Hm?”

“Whenever you want, Jesus Christ.” His back arched beautifully as you dragged your long, sharp nails down his bare chest, staining his pale skin with angry red lines. He grabbed your hips and held you in place, fucking into you desperately, unable to contain himself.

“You like it when I mark you up?” you growled, determined to stay focused through the stars exploding behind your eyes and the pleasure burning its way through your body. “When I own you like this? You’re just a little painslut for me, aren’t you, baby?”

When Eddie came, and he came hard, he was sobbing, “Yes, yes, yes, own me, use me, fuck, hurt me, I’m yours.”

You made sure that afterward when you could extricate yourselves from his bed, you took great care in tenderly washing and kissing the marks you left on him in the shower. You also washed his hair for him, choosing to massage his stinging scalp for so long the water was cold by the time you both hopped out.

You asked him later, while he was snuggled up behind you in his bed, arms wrapped possessively around your middle and nose buried in your wet hair, if he really, really liked everything you’d done.

“Most definitely,” he murmured, kissing your neck.

“You made such pretty sounds,” you said, and Eddie squirmed. He could sing your praises all day, wax poetic about how beautiful and sexy and perfect he thought you were, but when you returned that sentiment in kind, he tended to shrink. You resolved to fix that habit at a later date.

“You never told me you liked all that,” you said, reaching back to rest a hand on his flank. “I woulda done it sooner.”

“You never asked,” Eddie said simply. “‘Sides, that stuff is tame compared to other shit I’m interested in.”

Oh? Eddie tensed as soon as it seemed to register what he’d said, but you couldn’t stop yourself. He piqued your curiosity; that wasn’t your fault, and besides - you needed to know what else could make Eddie Munson whine for you immediately.

“You don’t say? Pray tell, what would be that ‘other shit?’”

“Uh…sorry, can’t hear you, sleeping.” He crushed himself against your back and faked a loud, raucous snore right in your ear. You laughed, and to his credit, he did actually fall asleep rather quickly after that, but you both knew you weren’t going to let that go so easily.

It took a while, months, before you could chip away at the embarrassment barring you from all of Eddie’s desires. You never pushed, never wanted to make him feel like he had to tell you anything, just gently encouraged him by promising there was nothing he could say that would scare you off or gross you out. Mostly, Eddie just liked pain - receiving and giving. He made the sweetest sounds when you satiated the more masochistic side of him: slapping him squarely across the face, scoring marks into his smooth back and chest, winding his hair around your fist, and pulling.

He liked it when you whispered filthy, degrading things into his ear, too, possibly even more than the pain. You discovered how deeply he appreciated being called a slut early on, but it wasn’t until one night when you were riding him into the mattress, that the phrase “good dog” tumbled past your lips without much thought. Eddie’s orgasm swept through him without warning, and you drank in the shocked, blissed-out expression that contorted his face while making a mental note of that particular kink.

His final confession came after the fog of intoxication had settled over the pair of you one day, beer and weed buzzing through your veins and making Eddie’s inhibitions low enough to admit that he’d always, secretly, been curious about what it’d feel like to get fucked in the ass.

“Oh?”

“I…yeah, I guess,” he said, throwing an arm over his eyes as he lay on his back.

“How curious are we talkin’ here?”

“Like…I dunno…very?”

“Baby. Look at me.”

One of your favorite things about Eddie was how quickly he obeyed when you lowered your voice. It was like it didn’t even occur to him not to listen. He peeked at you from around his forearm.

“Do you want me to fuck you in the ass, puppy?”

The sweet, high noise that bubbled up his throat as he nodded stoked that need in your belly, which demanded you do everything in your power to bring Eddie to tears as he writhed underneath you.

That conversation is how you got here tonight.

Eddie waits for you patiently on his bed, naked, rolled onto all fours with his head bowed low between his shoulders, the pale globes of his ass arched skyward. His dark curls pool around his face, so you can’t see it, but you watch his back rise and fall rapidly with his breathing, and the backs of his thighs are trembling with anticipation.

Fenagling a strap-on is more challenging than you’d originally thought. Slotting the dildo into place was unexpectedly tricky - it’s one you purchased years ago, and admittedly, the pink, sparkling hunk of silicone looks a little silly nestled amongst the otherwise imposing black material. But when Eddie caught a glimpse of it coming out of your bag tonight, his eyes went wide as saucers, and it took a moment for his brain to stop short-circuiting enough to carry on a conversation with you. You told him to stay put while you fought with the smooth, cold leather around your hips, and he has, wanting so badly to be good for you. His cock hangs hard and flushed between his hips, twitching intermittently as precum beads from the tip and drools onto his bedsheets.

“Just a minute longer, puppy. Are you okay?” you call, and Eddie nods.

“‘M fine, angel.”

“Good. Why don’t you stroke your cock while I finish up here, hm?”

He obeys, slipping a hand down between his legs to grip the base of his cock. His body slumps slightly, and he turns his head out as it’s pressed into the sheets. Eddie mewls softly as you tighten the last strap against your thigh, and you steal a glance at him. His fist moves slowly over himself, stroking from base to tip and then back again in carefully measured pumps.

He doesn’t notice when you sidle up behind him, totally unaware of your presence, until you drag your nails featherlight over the back of his legs. He shudders, gasping sharply through his teeth, and his hand stills on his cock.

“Will you hand me the lube, baby?”

Eddie releases his dick to pat a hand around the bed, and eventually, he presses the small, cylindrical bottle of lube into your palm. It’s half-empty, thoroughly used in the weeks leading up to tonight, and the plastic sticks to your skin a bit as you snap the cap open and drizzle lubricant onto your first two fingers.

He’s taken more than just two fingers, many times now - a few nights ago, you squeezed four inside his ass before he came all over his stomach. You’ve taken this entire process very slowly, partially because you’d hate to hurt the poor thing and ruin his fantasy before it even really had a chance to begin and partially because you just love how he cries when you tease him open nice and lazily.

You lean over him, pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades as you swipe a dollop of lube over his hole. He hisses, flinching away from your fingers a bit.

“Cold,” he complains, and you shush him gently.

“I know, baby. Just relax, you’re shakin’ like a leaf.”

“‘M excited,” Eddie mumbles, and you kiss his back again.

You swirl your fingers around his puckered hole, teasing the rim and nudging the tips just the slightest bit inside to coax the muscle into softening for you. Eddie sighs and shifts a bit so he can grab his cock again.

When you press your index finger inside him, up to the first knuckle, Eddie keens and drives his face into the bed. That just won’t do.

“Uh uh,” you admonish. Your free hand tangles in his hair at the root, and you yank his head back up, forcing him to steady himself on one elbow. He gasps, then whines, trying to cast a look over his shoulder at you.

“You don’t hide from me,” you remind him. “‘Specially when it muffles those pretty noises. Understand?”

“Y-Yes. Sorry, angel,” he breathes, and the slick, hurried sounds below you alert you to how much faster he’s stroking his cock now. You probe your fingers inside him further, watching and waiting for any sign of distress or pain he doesn’t enjoy until you’ve sunk all the way to the top of your palm. After you’ve given him a moment to adjust, you pull out almost entirely and bend over him until your chest presses into his back.

“D’you remember what you say if you can’t take it, puppy?” you whisper against the shell of his ear. He shivers and nods.

“Mmhm. Mercy,” he says.

“Good boy, that’s right. Feel that?” You release your hold on his hair to fist the dildo in your hand and tap it against where your fingers stretch his hole. Eddie chokes on the breath he tries to suck in, and his hips stutter forward.

“This is goin’ in your ass tonight, baby. Do you think you can handle all that?”

“Fuck, yes, yes, I can,” he assures you.

“Yeah? Gotta finger you open first. Make sure you’re ready. Although, I bet you’d love it if I just stuffed my cock inside you right now.” You never would, and you both know that; you mutually agreed that foregoing necessary prep work would end disastrously. But the way Eddie swears and clenches around the tips of your fingers is so fucking cute that, for a moment, you’re tempted.

You drive your fingers inside him again, pumping it in and out fast enough that Eddie doesn’t have a moment to catch his breath. He splutters pathetically below you, bucking into his hand while simultaneously trying to fuck himself back on your fingers, and you just let him - far be it from you to deny yourself the pleasure of watching Eddie Munson act like a complete slut.

A few minutes pass before you feel comfortable enough to add a third finger inside his ass, and this time you purposefully thrust them right against his prostate. His back curls like a cat’s before he allows himself to fall flat on his face. He’s a wonderful, obedient boy because he makes sure no sheets or pillows obstruct his pretty mouth, just as you asked.

“Fuck, that feels so fucking good, angel, Christ,” he moans, brows knitted together so tight he almost looks pained. “More, please, I want more. I can take it.”

“Aww, my puppy’s so excited,” you croon, and he nods fervently. You crook your fingers and settle them deep inside his ass, circling that sensitive bundle of nerves until he’s panting and thrusting sloppily into his fist. You could make him cum like this, you know you could, but where’s the fun in that? You want him to cum on your strap-on; you want him to experience spasming around something thick and hard and unrelenting, just as he’s fantasized about.

He hiccups when you slot your pinky finger inside his ass alongside the three other slick digits. When you start pumping into him earnestly, spreading all four fingers inside the loosening ring of muscle, Eddie gives you what you’ve been craving since the moment you met.

Eddie cries.

Sobs wrack his lithe frame as you work him open, dribbling more lube onto his hole and pressing it inside. If you weren’t so turned on that your pussy was drooling down your thigh, you might’ve giggled at the obscene, wet sounds his ass made every time you stuffed him full again.

“You’re doing such a good job taking it, puppy. My good little slut. That’s what you are, huh?”

“U-Uh-huh, shit.”

“I know, baby, I know. You’re so pathetic for me, crying on my fingers like this. You gonna cry on my cock, too?”

“If you - fucking hell - if you want me to, angel,” he offers, and you laugh, licking a stripe up the side of his neck. His skin is rich with the salt of his sweat, and you can’t help yourself. You force his head to one side with a hand in his hair and follow the trail you licked with your teeth, setting their edge against his soft, welcoming flesh until you bite. Eddie whimpers and trembles for you, so pretty, so perfect, and you bite him even harder. You want him to bruise; you want him to walk around Hawkins tomorrow with your mark proudly emblazoned on his pale throat.

“I-I need, I need, angel, I n-need,” Eddie stammers, breath coming in shallow, short puffs around the fragments of his sentence. You detach your teeth from his neck and straighten back up.

“You need? What do you need?”

“You, I need you,” he weeps. “Need you inside me, please, please, I can’t take it anymore-”

“You’ll take whatever I decide you’ll take, puppy,” you say. When you pull all four fingers out of Eddie’s twitching hole, he cries out like he’s in pain, like you’re trying to kill him. You admire your handiwork, spreading his ass apart with both hands and watching his red, slick hole flutter as it attempts to remain open despite its newfound emptiness.

“You’re so beautiful down here. All gaped open for me like a whore.” Eddie nods, though you aren’t sure if he actually registers anything you’re saying. He’s so blissed out already, so eager, you think he’d agree to whatever happened to fall out of your mouth right now.

“What color are you on, Eds?” you ask, and the way your voice swings upward into its usual cadence seems to snap him back to reality. He reaches for you, fingers outstretched until they manage to graze your thigh and squeezes it in reassurance.

“Green. I’m so fuckin’ green, baby.”

You smile. “Yeah? Havin’ fun?”

“Absolutely. I’m alright, angel, don’t worry.”

“Alright. Keep yourself spread for me, puppy. I wanna watch my cock disappear inside you.”

Eddie swears and complies instantly, releasing his slippery, dark red cock and placing both hands on either side of his ass. He pulls his cheeks apart dutifully, black nails digging into plush flesh, and even deepens the arch in his back for you as he settles into this new position.

You slather an abundance of lube on your dildo, so much that it drips onto the sheets, and line the head up with Eddie’s hole.

“Ready?”

“Mmm.”

“Take a deep breath, baby.”

The head pops in with little to no resistance, vanishing completely inside Eddie’s hole, and though you obviously can’t feel it, a moan tumbles out of your throat. It’s so fucking hot, seeing Eddie like this, knowing you’re the cause of it, and it takes quite a bit of self-control not just to feed him the rest of your cock right away and pound him into the mattress. He’d like it, too, the slut. But you refrain.

You drag in a breath through your teeth and press into him slowly, filling him bit by agonizing bit, and he voices his need loudly beneath you. One hand claws his mattress desperately, almost like he’s trying to crawl away, while the other jerks his swollen cock thoughtlessly, and it seems all he knows how to say right now is “please.” Please, please, please. After a while, when you’re more than halfway inside him, the word loses all meaning for you. You have to wonder if it even had meaning for Eddie in the first place or if it was just the only one his brain could conjure up to say.

“That’s it, baby, look at you,” you pant. Your hips are pressed flush to Eddie’s ass, the dildo buried inside him to the base. He writhes, gasping, sputtering, the picture of desperation. You want to keep him this way forever - speared on your dick, aching for it, needing you more than air, crying so prettily just for you. It’s selfish, but fuck, maybe you’re okay with that.

“Do you need a second, puppy?”

“No,” he wails, apparently offended by the question. He bucks against you so hard you almost lose your balance, and you steady yourself by laying your hands over where he’s still spreading himself. “God, fuck me, fuck me please, fuck my ass, angel, I’m going fucking crazy here.”

A wicked smirk curls across your lips. If that’s what he wants, who are you to deny him? That’d just be plain mean.

You yank him toward you, dragging him to the very edge of the bed, causing him to lose his balance - and his grip on his ass. Before he can collect himself, you gather his wrists into one hand and pin them to the small of his back. It looks a bit silly, you have to admit; his hands are so much bigger than yours, rough and callused from hours of guitar practice, and truthfully, if he wanted to break free of your grasp, he could do so with not even half the strength you’re currently exerting just to keep him somewhat contained. But that’s the beauty of Eddie’s submission - he doesn’t want to break free. He wants to be manhandled, thrown around like he’s so much smaller and weaker than he truly is; he wants to be used.

Most importantly, he wants you to use him.

It’s fucking intoxicating.

You twist a long, thick rope of his hair around your free hand and tug his head back, forcing his gaze skyward. You notice the shimmer of drool on the corner of his lips and chuckle.

“You wanna take it, then take it.”

You pull out, just until the very edge of the dildo is left inside Eddie’s quivering hole, and then slam back inside him again. He slackens against you, and you’re confident he would collapse if you weren’t forcing him up by the hair. You can see his lashes twitching, no doubt from his eyes rolling straight into the back of his head. Your name wrapped inside his wrecked, watery voice is all you need to keep thrusting.

You set a brutal pace almost immediately. Eddie’s bed squeaks and rattles from the force of it, lifting far enough off the ground that the frame starts to screech into the adjacent wall. The sound of Eddie’s strained, keening cries, punctuated by skin slapping viciously against skin, is like the sweetest harmony you’ve ever heard. You pull him toward you, forcing him almost back on his haunches and plaster sloppy, open-mouthed kisses across his back and shoulders.

“You’re doing so fucking good, puppy,” you grunt. “You’re taking it like a fuckin’ pro. So hard for me, too, I bet you’re just aching, huh?”

All Eddie can do is nod. You twist your hand, compelling him to turn his face toward you, and crane your neck to capture his lips in a kiss that’s mostly teeth and tongue. He whimpers into your mouth, allowing you to lick your way inside and swallow all the beautiful, agonized sounds he’s making just for you. You don’t have enough hands, you decide - you need more to scratch him with, to stroke his cock, to choke him and slap him and make him gag on your fingers. You need more of him; you need to take anything that he can give you all for yourself. It belongs to you, just as he does.

The possessiveness that burns through your belly spurs you on, and you growl filth huskily into his ear. “You’re mine, you understand that? Mine. No one else’s ever gonna make you feel this good, are they, puppy?”

“N-No, angel, jus’ you…yours, all yours,” he slurs.

“That’s right. Your pretty little hole is mine, mine to fuck and fill as much as I want, isn’t it?”

“Fuck, uh huh, yes.”

“Next time, I’m gonna fuck you on your back. Have you spread your legs for me like a little whore. I wanna watch your face while I wreck you, watch how much of a cockslut you are-”

“Jesus Christ, God, angel, I-I’m cumming, I can’t st-ah!”

Eddie shudders and falls silent for a moment, just long enough for you to look around his shoulder and see how his cock pulses before the first rope of cum splatters onto the sheets below. Then, Eddie screams. It’s a sound torn straight from the depths of his soul, suffering and ecstasy all rolled into one perfect package. You keep fucking him through the shockwaves of his orgasm and watch the cum dribble down his throbbing cock, spilling onto the bed and dripping messily down his thighs.

“That’s my good boy, you did so fuckin’ well for me, baby,” you coo. “You didn’t even have to touch yourself, I’m so proud of you, sweet thing.”

It takes a while for Eddie to come back down to Earth after that. He mumbles nonsense as you ease out of his ass and lower him onto the bed - in a dry, unsullied portion next to the wall - and doesn’t even notice when you leave for a moment to grab a wet, warm washcloth to clean him up with. He seems to snap out of his haze when you loosen the harness straps, and it falls to the ground with a thud.

He reaches for you wordlessly, long, thin fingers shaking as he clenches and unclenches them against his palm. Your heart swells and aches inside your chest as you clasp his hand and press a kiss to the back of it.

“I’m so proud of you, baby,” you repeat. You gingerly brush a lock of hair out of Eddie’s face, revealing his flushed, tear-stained cheeks and swollen lips. He blinks wet lashes at you, brown eyes foggy and unfocused. His smile is sweet, shy even, and he tucks himself against you as you settle into bed.

“Wanna…do that again,” he rasps after you’ve wrapped him up in your arms. You chuckle and kiss the top of his head.

“We can do that whenever you’d like, sweet thing.”

He hums in approval. You lay like that for a while, bodies curled around each other, stroking Eddie’s cheek and occasionally pressing a kiss to his temple. You don’t realize you’ve nearly dozed off until Eddie calls your name, and you shake yourself awake.

“Hm?”

“D’you hear what I said?”

“No, puppy, I’m sorry. What was that?”

“I said my arm’s asleep.”

You snort, and so does Eddie as he rolls himself out from under you enough to free his tingling appendage. He drapes it around your shoulders, and this time, he drags you in against his chest. His hair tickles your cheek as he kisses the tip of your nose.

“Thank you,” he breathes.

“My pleasure. Oh, and baby?”

“Hm?”

“Next time, you’re taking something bigger.”

The shiver slithering Eddie’s spine tells you all you need to know.

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inez-winchester-cameron · 4 months

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omg pls write more of what you just posted of rafe with that age gap it's sooo hot 😭 like something about the reader being bratty on purpose and sassing him

cw: dark!rafe x younger!reader, 29 and 19, non-con/rape, drug use, intoxicated reader, talks of free use and public sex, abusive relationship

note: is this too dark, yes or no

rafe HATES when you disobey at parties. ever since you two have started dating, you have a bad habit of misbehaving at parties to get more attention from rafe. whether that be overdrinking, snorting coke, smoking weed, or flirting with other guys. all of these being things that you KNOW rafe disapproves of.

tonight, it happened to be a mix of all of them. you went to the restroom and came back to rafe talking with one of his ex girlfriends, sofia. you completely being oblivious to the fact that he was telling her off. you huff and head back into the room where topper and kelce sit.

they're doing lines and drinking, sitting on opposite sides of a loveseat.

"hey, y/n, have a seat," topper politely greets you, gesturing to an empty chair beside the loveseat but you smile and sit inbetween topper and kelce. they give eachother a look but say nothing.

"whatcha guys doin?" you ask, looking over toppers shoulder as he sets up a line.

"coke, nothing you should concern yourself with."

"yeah rafe would kill us if he knew you were anywhere near this," kelce comments.

"hes too busy bein up sofia's pussy to care. can i do a line?"

kelce and topper both look at you at this comment, a little shocked. they knew rafe and how loyal he was to you, he never even so much as entertained another girl.

"you saw him up her pussy?" kelce asks, confused.

"well no but- it doesnt even matter, just let me do a line."

"sweetheart i dont think-" topper starts.

"pleaseeeeee?" you beg, giving him puppy eyes.

topper sighs and glances to kelce who shrugs. eventually topper responds, "okay fine, sweetie, but you cannot tell rafe."

"i won't, promise! ill even pinky promise if you want!"

topper stares at you for a moment, finding your innocence both endearing and hot at the same time. too bad you aren't his. topper sets up a line for you and gently guides you onto your knees in front of the table. he gives you the dollar bill and guides you as you snort it. you let it sit for a minute, not feeling anything, then it hits. and you want more.

"again!" you say, looking at topper, feeling your brain begin to buzz.

"yeah no i don't-"

"what the fuck are you doing?"

your eyes shoot to the doorway. rafe stands there, arms crossed, hair messy, blood on his knuckles, and he looks pissed.

"rafey!" you greet him, trying to pretend you didn't just snort cocaine. you stand up, swaying, and subsequently falling back onto the couch.

"what the fuck guys?" rafe questions, walking over to you. he looks pissed, "how much did you give her?"

"just a line, man, she asked for it. quite literally," kelce speaks first and topper agrees.

"i didn't know you don't let her do that man, im sorry-" topper defends himself and rafe shakes his head, calming down a bit.

"nah you're good, man. it's her fault. come on, princess, we have some business to discuss." rafe says through gritted teeth, roughly grabbing your arm and heading to his room. once you're upstairs and away from people, he starts scolding you, "what the fuck were you thinking? you know so much better than that."

"you were talking to Sof-"

"yeah i was telling her to go suck a fucking dick. then i beat the shit out of her boyfriend for calling you a whore. but maybe he was right, you don't think about anyone but yourself, huh? always just assuming. saw the way you were staring at top." rafe speaks with no sympathy and you two slip into his bedroom. he presses you down onto the bed, holding your hands behind your back as he flips your little skirt up, "no panties? you fucking serious? god what is wrong with you? you stupid little whore."

you hear his belt unbuckle and your head continues buzzing from your high. soon enough, you feel his cock, pushing into you. it's immediately too much.

"rafe-! no no no-"

"don't tell me fucking no, bitch. act like a whore, get treated like one. maybe i should've just fucked you downstairs," rafe starts, setting a fast pace with his thrusts, not hearing any of your protests, "or maybe i should tie you up down there, let all these drunk men use your holes since you wanna disobey. i think that's a fair punishment, huh? i try to be nice and defend your honor and you make eyes at two of my best friends. fucking bitch."

"rafe i didn't- i don't want this- stop!" you beg but rafe doesn't care. he simply tugs your hair in response as you start crying. your head is pounding and it's all too much.

"that's it, cry for it, bitch. this is my fucking pussy and i'm gonna use it when i want. now whine one more time and i'm gonna make this pussy free use to the entire island."

you whimper and stay quiet in response. you think about leaving rafe, but you can't, you love him and maybe you even secretly loved being fucked against your will.

#obx #outerbanks #rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron oneshots #rafe obx #rafe cameron thirst

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neonghostlights · 4 months

Text

Eddie flipped through the magazine, once and then again before he blinked a few times and rubbed his eyes until he saw stars, but none of this did anything to change what was printed on the glossy page before him.

You, walking out of your job and unaware of the camera aimed in your direction.

Eddie’s heart did a little flip at the sight of you. It had been about six years since he last saw you and even the image on the page radiated your beauty.

“Mr. Munson,” Jane spoke again, stress marring her face. “Are you still listening?”

Oh, he had been listening to the shit show that was now his life.

When he walked away from you all those years ago he never expected you to get dragged into the circus of his fame.

Becoming a rockstar had always been his dream, something he had achieved with his best friends at his side. The road had been rocky, he had fallen from grace. He made bad decisions, treated people like shit. He had gotten himself together, mostly, but now karma was catching up to him like the pest she was.

He had pissed someone off. He wasn’t sure who but they had made it a point to spite him.

The magazine had printed a tell all about the three exes of Eddie Munson.

Eddie scoffed at the title.

The Three Exes of Eddie Munson: Their Time to Talk

He would hardly say Rosie was an ex, hard to be that when they were never real at all. It was simply PR a way to promote his album and her movie. Her page showed her on the streets of Italy, clearly a photo shot by the paparazzi as the hid behind a building. She was smiling, laughing at something her costar said.

Her feature talked about her and Eddie’s ‘short and sweet whirlwind romance before it turned sour with partying.’

He did have a habit of partying in those days. He honestly didn’t remember the incident that caused their agreement to end but he knew it was bad.

The second ex was Jennifer. Jennifer was a poorly judged fling that should have never happened. She was a model, polished and proper and he was, well, Eddie.

It didn’t even last a week.

Her photo was her walking down the runway, face trained ahead and staring at the camera that she knew loved her.

Her feature said that Eddie left her broken hearted and ruined, that he made it hard for her to ever trust another man.

Eddie knew that wasn’t exactly how it went down.

The next page was the one that really hurt.

You looked tired, overworked as you walked out of the building.

Eddie traced a finger over your photo. It had been so long since he last saw you. He recognized the building in the photo so that meant you must have stayed in Hawkins when he left you brokenhearted on his trailer steps.

He wondered how they knew about you. Who in their right mind would spill to the world his best kept secret?

There was no juicy printed story under your photo, only speculations about who you were to him.

“Eddie?” His managers voice cut in, ruining his train of thought.

“Fix this. Now.” He snapped, shoving the magazine and his only remaining photo of you into his jacket pocket.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson au #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you #eddie stranger things #eddie munson series #eddie munson angst #rockstar!eddie x reader

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miserycanary · 1 month

Text

PLEASE PAINT OVER MY BRUISES ᡣ𐭩

synopsis: pairing: early 30s!Ghost & 20s!reader (can be read as platonic)

synopsis: Ghost as your refuge from your abusive father

tags: angst, verbal abuse, physical abuse, hurt/comfort

| The first meeting was a coincidence.

Shivering from the midnight breeze, you huddled your flimsy sweater close with one hand out to hold your cigarette. One inhale of nicotine got you throwing your head back, forgetting the situation back home that led you to wander the streets at midnight. Busy peering up at the stars in the sky, you didn't notice someone's presence there until you felt your cigarette pulled from your lips and stomped on the ground.

"Dude! Not cool. That was my last," you angrily mumbled, squatting down to see if you could still use it. "Leave it." The voice took you by surprise, tilting your head up to see a hunk of a man, carrying some beers, looking down on you. You took notice of the calloused hand gripping the paper bag, meaning he was probably a lot older than you. Say early 30s? "Easy for you to say," a retort you throw at him. "I don't have money to buy more—" "then don't buy more," he plainly states, looking at you. Standing up, you finally noticed the mask on his face. With a roll of your eyes, you flip him off, grumbling under your breath, “fucking weirdo”.

| The second time was fate's joke.

Groaning and yelling, you kick an empty soda can, cursing out your good-for-nothing father. You ran your fingers through your hair, tears slipping on the corner of your eyes as every part of your body ached in pain. Sniffles turn to sobs, muttering about ending it all as everything seemed to never go your way. The oversized shirt barely concealed the bruises, recent and old, making you wince. “Fuck, I hate this shit,” your eyes got hazy, breathing almost cut short. With minimal effort, you sit by the store’s wall to steady yourself. Face buried in your arms, you— once again— don’t notice his presence.

The first time Ghost met you, he thought you were another rebellious teenager trying to act cool. You didn’t have a job, so he assumed you were a student. When he got home from that first meeting, he could only sigh and hope you’d gone back to your parents. Imagine his surprise when he sees you again, huddling by the store, sobbing. He was not one to manage emotions, so he thought of leaving you alone when a sudden gust of wind caught his attention. Blowing the flimsy fabric on your body, Ghost could see the marks on your body; marks he was too familiar with. Without hesitation, he walked over, pulled you up, and led you to his car. You didn’t even protest. How far gone are you to not even try to fight to live?

The silence on the way to his house was uncomfortable, with your occasional sniffles which turned to hiccups. His eyes glanced at you from the side. With one hand on the steering wheel, he reaches at the back to grab one bottle of water from his bag and hands it to you. “It’s not drugged,” he tried to joke. “I wouldn’t mind if it was,” you mumbled, silencing Ghost from awkwardness. At the end of the night, you found refuge. You were offered a place to stay, some food, clothes, and.. peace and safety. You found something rare that you never want to let go of.

| The rest are blessings.

Opening up to Ghost was relatively easy. Was it because you guys shared the same experience? Was it because he was the first to ask? All you know was you had him now. You would always come to his house when you needed to escape, and he never seemed to push. But the day you finally told him was a time you’d love to keep but forget.

Coming to the place that seemed to be hell on Earth, you were immediately greeted by a chokehold, pressed against the wall. “Fucking brat. What took you so long? Are you out there spreading legs for people, bitch? The apple doesn’t really fall far from the tree. Your bitch mother was also a whore” ‘Ah, it smells like liquor. He’s drunk again’ you thought, eyes drained of life. Next thing you felt was yourself slumping down on the floor with an ache on your face. ‘This motherfucker really punched me’ “If you ever think of following that bitch’s footsteps and leaving me, I’ll fucking kill you.”

Sighing, you pull your legs closer to your chest while your father repeatedly stomps his foot on your legs, then your back. He eventually got tired, leaving after spitting on your face. It took everything in you to force yourself to stand and make your way to your room.

Dread immediately poured in when you noticed every drawer was pulled. “No, no, no, no, no'' you sobbed, rushing to look at the place where you hid your safety money. Feeling nothing, you started to cry, rushing out the door and ignoring the yells from your father. You didn’t know where you were going. Using the only 10 dollars you had left, you took a cab to the only place you know is heaven on Earth.

As soon as the cab pulls up to the familiar house, you storm out of the vehicle. You rush to the door, opening it using a spare key and yelling his name.

“SIMON,” you cried. Footsteps thundered and you see his figure pop up from the kitchen, eyes widening as he takes in your state. It was like all the weight on your shoulders was lifted, your knees buckled. Before you could collapse on the floor, Simon was already by your side.

One arm holding you by your knees and another across your shoulder, he carries to the living room. Sitting down and letting you embrace him from his lap. His warmth calmed you down, your face buried in the crook of his neck. Holding on his shoulders, begging him to keep you safe with tears staining his shirt. He shakes his leg, softly cradling you closer to his chest. “I’m here, I’m here. I won’t let you go, okay?” he mutters, turning your head to him and placing a firm kiss on your forehead. “I will keep you safe. This is the last time you’ll be in pain. I’ll protect you from whatever scares you,” he sighs, wiping away your tears as his other hand rubs soothing circles on your shoulders.

You look at him with a broken smile and profound peace, like he's a savior— a god. For the first time in years, you let yourself succumb to sleep without any worries for your safety.

Maybe this is indeed heaven. You would love that— to be in Simon's safe embrace forever, away from the horrors of the world.

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱: my first ask by anonymous. 📩

dividers by @cafekitsune

Please reblog!! Ask is open!

⟢ taglist is open! Comment if you want to be tagged in the next posts.

check out my other works in the masterlist: ୭!

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die-pink-maus · 2 months

Text

Some Canon/Not So Canon König💋HeadCanons💋 (NSFW Included • MDNI)

AN: These Are Just my thoughts and opinions of what I imagine König would be like IRL. I divided everything up into sections and there is a whole section dedicated to NSFW headcanons, so PLEASE…MDNI this is for the adults. Also, there is great mention of the words “wife” and “girlfriend” as I write this from the perspective of a woman.

Likes, Reblogs, & Positive Comments Are Greatly Appreciated 🫶🏼

Some MORE Canon/Not So Canon König 💋Headcanons💋 HERE

Enjoy! 💋

🪖General Personality/Physical Appearance🪖

♡ Contrary to popular belief, I don’t think König is 6’10, he’s definitely gigantic but I would put him at around 6’5 - 6’7.

♡ Also contrary to popular belief, I do genuinely think that social anxiety and overall insecurity is something he grows out of overtime. While overcoming all of this was no easy feat, he’s learned to be more self assured and makes sure everyone Around him knows that he is HIM. His confidence really shines through in his duties as Colonel and his physical capabilities. Some may view him as cocky or arrogant, but he’s just really proud of the work he’s done on himself 🤷🏼‍♀️

♡ He’s definitely a HUGE nerd, but he wears that shit with pride. He loves reading classic literature, is great at math, and probably plays dungeons and dragons. Definitely spends hours on end finishing puzzles and building shit for his cats 😂

♡ Muscular AF. Huuuuge muscular arms, toned chest and defined thighs. I don’t think he has “washboard” abs, you can see them mainly when he flexes, his tummy is a bit soft 🥰 He goes to the gym at least 5 days a week

♡ Despite wearing a mask, I think König is more than likely very handsome. Strong jawline, chiseled facial features, a perfectly imperfect smile. He’s probably got an old school charm about him, the kind that can make a woman weak in the knees with just one look, especially with those eyes 😮‍💨

♡ 100% a cat Dad. Most likely has an unhinged orange cat and a black cat. In general I think he adores animals and spends most of his free time with his cats

♡ Veeeeeerrry good with money. Has been saving since he joined the military and treats himself and his girlfriend or wife to many luxuries. He 100% loves to spoil the people he loves and has prepared so that they never have to want for anything.

♡ Comes off stone cold until you get to know him, but it’s mostly because he has RBF without his mask 🤣

♡ Tells like…really bad dad jokes that he can’t finish without laughing hysterically, and his laugh is so insane that it causes others to laugh

♡ He’s definitely happiest at home. He’s an introvert, but can and will go out and socialize if he needs to. Prefers a gathering at a friend or family members house as opposed to a bar or club

♡ Loves his Bier. Will usually have one after a long day of training recruits while he watches some random show he stumbled on while flipping channels.

♡ If he gets drunk everyone knows because he will start going on and on about how much he loves the people he’s around, which is something they don’t hear too often, if at all, unless you are his wife or girlfriend

💗In a Relationship/Family Life💗

♡ Again, lol, contrary to popular belief…I think König would be more attracted to a woman with voluptuous curves. Not too petite and not too curvaceous, but somewhere in between.

♡ König would be the best boyfriend ever…but he’d also be stubborn af.

♡ When arguing with his SO, he’ll often get frustrated easily and kinda shut down, but once he takes a few minutes to himself to think things through, he really enjoys communicating and having an open dialogue about whatever you were fighting about

♡ CUDDLES GALORE. He wants to be all over his girl at allllll times. Not really one for extreme PDA, but behind closed doors he cannot seem to get his hands off of you.

♡ Loves when you cook for him, and loves to cook for you. Loves it even more when you cook together!

♡ Expensive gifts for absolutely no reason at all. Will literally stand behind his SO as they browse their favourite stores online and take mental notes of the things you say you like. Don’t be surprised when that $2000 hand bag you adored shows up at your front door.

♡ Is an incredible father. Prides himself on being a hands on dad. Will do practically anything for his children, and teaches them German at a very young age. Ensures they are well equipped to handle the bullshit life may throw at them, but tries his best to prevent any of said bullshit from coming their way.

♡ Never yells at his wife or their children. Generally hates conflict and will do what he can to resolve anything.

♡ His wife/girlfriend is the most important thing in the world to him. He would do anything for her, and anything to protect her

♡ 100% scary bf privilege. You can go out and do whatever you please and no one fucks with you because they know König is only a call or text away and he can and will get rid of you without anyone even noticing

😈In the Bedroom😈

♡ Remember when I said he was gigantic? His height isn’t the only thing I’m talking about 😩😮‍💨🤭 That man is blessed and highly favoured.

♡ He’s at least 8 inches hard, uncut, and veiny. He doesn’t shave everything off, but he always ensures he’s well groomed.

♡ He loves making love to you, but he loves fucking you even more.

♡ Passionate as fuck. Worships every inch of your body from head to toe.

♡ He loves to tease his SO. Spends as much time as he can getting to know just what gets her hot. Watching every jolt of her body as his lips suck on certain spots. Listening to every moan and whimper as his fingers grope and squeeze her soft flesh. He wants you to be so wet you’re practically begging to take every inch of his massive cock, and even then, he won’t give it to you until you ask for it in German 🤭

♡ Could spend hours eating your pussy. Wants to make sure you cum at least 5 times before he even thinks about getting himself off. He will eat you out any time, anywhere — bedroom, laundry room, kitchen counter, you name it

♡ Loves the look on your face when you see him in uniform. He knows it gets your heart racing, and he loves fucking you with his sniper hood on.

♡ He adores the look on your face as his long thick rod stretches you open. The widening, glossy eyes, your mouth hung slightly open as his hardness fills your tight wet pussy.

♡ He loves talking dirty. “I know you like that.”, “is this what you wanted?”, “good girl, look at you taking this fat cock so well”, “such a good little slut”

♡ He loves getting rough, so long as you allow it. He loves choking you while he’s balls deep inside you, grinding his thick tip against your cervix as you let out small breathless moans

♡ Loves watching how small you are beneath him, loves watching your tits bounce up and down as he ploughs his cock into you over and over

♡ Loves watching your ass jiggle as he slams into you from behind, your hair wrapped around his wrist as he fucks you mercilessly

♡ Loves fucking you in front of a full length mirror so you can see how pretty you look taking his long fat cock

♡ Loves cumming inside you or in your pretty little mouth, on your knees while you look up at him and swallow his seed like a good girl 😍

♡ Provides the BEST aftercare. Takes a nice warm bath or shower with you, carrying you off back into bed once you’ve dried off. Plenty of cuddles in those big strong arms of his, and lots of head/cheek kisses. Whispered praises of how amazing you are, and how much he loves you. Will bring up some of your favourite snacks or chef up an entire meal for afterwards

784 notes · View notes

chelseeebe · 4 months

Text

still into you, part 2

eddie’s back, keeping to his word while trying to make up for his past mistakes. will it all work out when your worlds collide?

sauurrr i feel like i want to do a part 3 bc i have ideas but i’m not sure !!??!! also i just wanna say that it’s felt sooo good seeing people in my notifications again, tumblr finally unshadowed me after emailing them god knows how many times !!

18+, mdni. smut. a lil bit of angst and mean words towards reader and mentions of pregnancy. no use y/n!

read part 1 here.

‎♡‧₊˚

he’s late.

you’d spoken on the phone this morning and eddie had told you he’d be back some time tonight and that you should wait up because it’ll be worth it.

and now he’s fucking late.

late or not even coming.

it had been a long month of phone calls and anxiously reading magazine articles about his whereabouts, learning to trust again hadn’t been easy. there had been a handful of times where he’d called too late and missed you or you’d called while he was out which meant you’d gone days without speaking.

steve had done his best to reassure you that it was just different out there and you shouldn’t worry. he’d made a promise, right?

but there’s a pressure in your chest now, a feeling you hadn’t felt since the first time he left. defeated and dejected once again.

eddie is so late that you fall asleep on the couch. the same couch you first kissed him on just a few weeks ago. your dreams are filled with images of eddie, the wide smile that graced his face when ella forced him into fairy wings or the look on his face when you’d roll over in the middle of the night and kissed the corner of his mouth.

you’re awoken by a soft palm cupping your cheek, eyes peeking open to see the familiar silhouette of curls and denim now illuminated by the flickering television, deep set frown on his lips.

“i’m so sorry,” he starts, the words sound like static in your barely conscious mind, “my plane was delayed and i couldn’t call you.. i’m so fucking sorry,” you realise he’s on his knees in front of the couch, still squinting as you adjust to the light.

“i thought you weren’t coming,” you murmur, placing your hand atop his, the pressure in your chest subsiding the more you realise that he’s actually real and not just a dream.

eddie sighs, it’s his fault for even giving you reason to have those doubts and that kills him. “of course not.. i made a promise,” his thumb strokes gentle patterns into your cheek, “i’m coming back, always.”

“mhm,” you nod, a mix of tiredness and a lingering lack of trust.

“you wanna go to bed?” he asks, desperate to get in your good books again. hell, he’d have to do far more than this to make seven years of shit up to you.

“only if you carry me,” offering your arms out, if ella can do it, you can to.

“obviously,” he chuckles, sliding his arms underneath your knees, hoisting you off of the couch.

you’re anything but quiet walking up stairs, giggling into his neck as he groans his way up the staircase. “fuck, i’m getting old,” he complains, backing his way into your room, gently laying your body on top of the duvet before knocking the door shut.

you nestle into the pillows, watching eddie as he undresses, his jacket hitting the floor with a soft thud. he’d only been gone a month but you’d missed his presence. the way his eyes glided over your body, enamoured by your less-than-impressive mom body.

he collapses onto the bed, shuffling underneath the blanket with you, reaching out to bring you closer. “i know i said..” his nose pokes against your neck, a deep inhale before he continues, “that it’d be worth it.. but i’m tired and you’re tired so.. can i just make it up to you tomorrow?” nuzzling against your soft skin.

your laugh vibrates against his cheek, sliding your arms around his neck, legs tangling together in a mess of limbs, “eddie munson turning down sex? jesus christ, what’s happened to you?”

eddie grunts, deep and husky, flipping the situation on it’s head as he clambers on top, “oh fuck you,” his barely holding himself up, body weight keeping you pressed firmly against the mattress.

“please do,” grinning up at him, marvelling the way that even in the dark, he was still the prettiest man you’d ever laid eyes on.

his lips find your neck, peppering kisses along your jawline, hips rutting against the thin material of your pajama shorts.

when his mouth meets the delicate spot between your collarbone and the crook of your neck, you can’t help but let slip the one thing you’d been waiting to say, “i’m glad you came back,” gasping as his teeth graze the fragile skin.

he pauses, looking up at you, basked in moonlight, “i’ll always come back to you,” mumbling quietly, before continuing his descent down your body.

your eyes flutter shut, allowing your body to relax, blissful desire overcoming every nerve.

holy shit, you were happy.

the next few months go by smoothly. he’s back when he says he’s going to be, keeping his nose clean and his head down while he’s out on the west coast.

of course it’s never easy saying goodbye. each and every time you’re filled with this sense of dread, petrified that this might just be the time he doesn’t return.

but he does.

each and every time.

eddie had got back late last night, still half-asleep as he sips his coffee next to ella, haphazardly feeding her the breakfast she was quite capable of feeding herself.

“i’ve been thinking,” he starts, watching as you busy about with dishes. he doesn’t understand how you have the energy to care about that shit this early in the morning. “i think you should come out to california with me.. next time i go back,” shoving a spoonful of mushy pancakes into ella’s mouth.

you pause but don’t turn to face him, staring down at the sink full of bubbles, “what for?”

that part of his life didn’t interest you one bit, maybe he enjoyed it and you were happy if he was but that wasn’t anything you wanted. in fact, you’d been meaning to bring it up for a while now.

you understood that dating eddie meant that strangers were far more interested in your relationship than they should be but they’d started to accost you at work, taking ella to and from school, just about anywhere in public. the attention was starting to get a little tiring, nothing you couldn’t handle but you’d wondered if he somehow had the power to stop them.

“well,” handing the spoon to ella and getting up from the table to join you at the sink, “we’ve got our album rollout soon so i’m gonna have to be out there a little longer this time,” his shoulder knocks into yours, pulling your attention from the dirty dishes, “but.. we have our release party and i want you to be there,” pulling that cheeky grin he knew you couldn’t say no to.

how much longer? he was already out there for weeks at a time, how much longer could they keep him? oh god what if they go on tour? you’d never cope.

“release party?” grabbing the dishcloth, wiping the suds from your hands, “i don’t even know what that is.. you don’t want me there,” turning to face him and his sickening smile.

“of course i do,” lips turning into a frown, taking the cloth from your hands, “it’s a small party.. the boys and their girlfriends.. a few people who helped on the album,” he’s serious now, dipping his head to meet yours. “they wanna meet you, everyone does.”

you sigh, looking into his gleaming eyes. you’re obviously apprehensive to agree, if the stories you’d heard of the other guys were anything to go by, that weren’t the goofy nerds you’d once watch practice all night, now you think you’d actually probably hate them.

“what about ella?” turning to look at your daughter, your one saving grace.

“i’m sure we can figure that out,” eddie blinks, “steve can have her or.. or his mom,” throwing out anything he could think of, “i’ll throw them some money, make sure she has the best week ever,” rubbing his fingers together.

“he won’t take your money eddie,” you sigh. steve would never, because as much as he now liked eddie, he was still your best friend and he knew you’d kill him if he did.

“no,” eddie whines, “it’s not for steve, it’s for ella.. so they can go and do whatever they want.. eat whatever they want.. you know,” he peers over your shoulder at the kitchen table, eyes gleaming with opportunity. “ella, don’t you think mommy should come with me and you can have a vacation at uncle steve’s house?”

you tut as ella chimes in with a loud, enthusiastic “yes!” banging her fists against the table.

your palm meets his chest, “don’t use my own child against me, asshole,” struggling to stop your lips from curling into a smile. it was working and you hated the fact that you were so easily swayed by him.

“ella has spoken!” he exclaims, taking your hand on his chest into his, “so you’ll come?” cocking his head to the side, much like a tiny, manipulative little dog.

you huff, admitting defeat, “fine.. but only if steve says yes and there’s no guarantee he will,” flicking your eyes back over to ella, who is watching with a massive toothy grin.

it’s times like these that you’re grateful she doesn’t take after her dad.

of course steve says yes. useless prick.

“why don’t you wanna go?” his brows furrowed, sipping the overpriced coffee he’d suggested you go get.

“can you imagine me in la? me? really?”

he chuckles, “yeah.. yeah i can actually,” shaking his head. knowing steve, he’d probably been thinking about how he would fit right in there. if you ever did end up moving west, there’s no way in hell that you’d leave him here.

“shut up,” brushing him off, “what if nobody likes me?”

it had been a genuine worry of yours since before eddie had even asked. there’d surely be a thousand eyes on you seeing as you were now very publicly with him. you paled in comparison to his exes. models and singers alike. you were just some frumpy mom who no one had ever heard of.

why would they like you?

“stop it,” steve swats at you, “they’ll love you! i love you so they’ve got no reason not to!”

but you weren’t so sure.

so after weeks of fretting about clothes and deliberating over whether you should even go with steve, you jet off to lax.

you’d attempted to pay for your own ticket but eddie hadn’t accepted any of it. told you it was all taken care of and all you had to do was go. much to your disapproval.

there are a few fans at the airport, with no interest in you, obviously. they were so used to him at indianapolis airport now that the paps didn’t even bother.

eddie’s excited babbling about the party keeps you relaxed throughout the flight, focussing on his smile and not the fact that you were thirty thousand feet in the air.

everything starts to feel real when you land and are immediately ushered through the airport, bundled into a car and told to stay put until they got your luggage.

holy shit.

“there’s some dickheads out front.. it’s just so we don’t see them,” eddie soothes, taking your hand into his, resting on his thigh.

“is it always like this?” you ask, curious about this side of his life that you never saw. even more grateful that people in indiana mostly left you alone now.

“sometimes.. but they’re only doing this because of the album.”

you nod, sitting in quiet reflection as people come and go constantly. bustling around the car, muttering things to eddie as they do. it all just seemed so overwhelming, like there was never a moment alone.

eventually, your bags get stuffed into the car and you begin the journey to god knows where, all the while clinging onto eddie’s hand with a iron tight grip.

when you turn into a gated driveway, you sit up. peering out of the window at the glorious garden. his drive was bigger than your entire house, you couldn’t imagine having this much room at your disposal.

his house is big. actually, big is an incredible understatement. it’s breathtaking.

nicer than anything you’ve seen before. you couldn’t even begin to materialise how much he must have spent. you’re not sure you even want to know.

the ceilings loom ten feet tall, walls covered in tasteful but overpriced art. the sofa alone probably cost more than your entire house. christ, it’s the size of your living room as it is.

“jesus christ,” you breathe, still taking in the lavish house, gawping at the tacky statues and the glistening glass chandelier hanging above your head.

“nice, isn’t it?” he states, still wheeling your suitcases behind him, “obviously i didn’t decorate it myself.”

“you’re ridiculous,” you smile, marvelling the rather excessive house, “you don’t need all of this,” gesturing around the room.

“hey,” he pouts, ditching the suitcases to make his away over to you, “this house used to be very useful when..” trailing off as he realises just what he was going to say.

“when what? when you were a whore?” you bite, only half-joking.

“woah,” awkwardly laughing, unsure of whether you were joking or not, “when i had parties,” correcting your presumptions, “but i’m a boring man now.. thanks to you,” his arms snake around your waist, pulling you into his body.

your arms return the favour, tilting your chin to match his, “hmm is that right?”

his eyes are no longer on yours, gazing down at your lips with a twinkle of lust, “yup..”

“oh, well maybe i should just go..” but before you can finish, his hands are grabbing your ass, palming at the doughy flesh.

“uh uh,” pressing your heads together, pausing just before he connects your lips, “i’m never letting you leave now,” and with that, he finally kisses you.

skilfully walking you backward through the large foyer, still palming at your ass as he does so. you should’ve known that this was first on the agenda. there weren’t as many opportunities for the two of you to have sex at your house.

his lips hang from yours, leeching onto your bottom lip, palming at your sweater, eager to get it off. “i’ve thought about having you in every single room in this house..” he mumbles into your mouth, making your cheeks burn.

“every.. room?” you speak softly through kisses, bashful at his words.

“mmm,” he grumbles, hand slipping under the soft material of your sweater, brushing over the curve of your waist, “need you.. here,” walking your body back into the marble counter, your lips still barely connected, “in there,” gesturing back towards the grand living room, “everywhere,”

your thighs squeeze together in anticipation of it all. you were flying back home in a week, there was not a chance you’d get through the entirety of this massive house in that short time.

eddie growls into your mouth, hoisting your body onto the countertop in one swift movement, forcing his way between your legs. you can feel his cock already, pressed against your throbbing cunt.

his tongue slides into your mouth, moving against your own with hungry movements. you were too old for this kind of excitement, the ferocity was making your head spin.

his hands are quick, working your sweater off without much interruption, immediately finding your lips again. your hips cant, chasing the needed friction of his cock, eager to strip him from the rough denim.

“someone’s impatient,” a rough laugh echoes from his lips, but he’s obliging. unbuttoning your jeans before patting your thigh to move for him.

you do, letting his cold hands slide your jeans down your thighs, stuck around your ankles as he’s really not concerned with taking them off fully. you’re soaked already, can feel it when the fresh air hits your heat.

eddie’s focused now, his own pants pulled down around his knees, cock jumping in his boxers when your hand reaches out to touch his chest. you liked that. the fact that even now, you could control him with a simple touch.

“jesus baby,” he remarks, two fingers slipping between the crotch of your underwear, “you don’t know how much i’ve thought about this,” mouth hanging open as he works his way between your soaked folds and into your hole, eliciting a sharp gasp from your mouth.

he’s slow with it, curling his fingers at just the right spot, “oh god,” you whisper, one hand clinging to his forearm, the other holding onto the hard counter.

your eyes flutter shut, head rolling back, granting him access to your untouched neck. he immediately attacks the delicate skin, no doubt leaving his mark like some unruly teenager.

“need you now baby..” he grumbles, removing his hand from between your legs and nudging his boxers down just enough for his cock to spring up, already leaking with pre-cum.

“yeah.. yeah,” muttering into the room, heels attaching around his hips, urging him to speed things up.

his hair brushes against your neck as he gazes down between your bodies, staring in awe at the way they connected, almost losing all composure when his cock nestles between your folds and slides perfectly into your quivering cunt.

pretty pink lips parting to groan when he bottoms out, savouring the feeling for just a moment before his hips take over. his pelvis connects with the backs of your thighs, finding his rhythm, seeking whatever pace made you the loudest.

your quiet squeaks aren’t enough for him, after years of being quiet, you’re not used to having the freedom to be loud.

“c’mon sweetheart,” he pants, hand skirting around your hip, squeezing the flesh, “i wanna hear you,” slipping out of your cunt, refusing to give you what you want without something in return.

your eyes open to eddie, staring right back at you, devilish grin on his lips, “don’t be mean,” you pout, squeezing your legs to pull him forward, huffing in frustration when he keeps back.

his forehead presses against yours, glossy eyed as he gazes into your eyes, “this what you want?” he bites before sinking back in, profanities tumble out of his mouth.

a disgusting whine finds itself at your lips, filling the space between you, drawing his gaze to your wetted lips. “that’s it baby,” thrusts starting to gain speed, his tip bullying your walls.

you can’t help but get louder, keeping your eyes trained on his dilated pupils, moaning with each time his pubic bone brushes against your starved clit. knuckles turning white as you grip onto the counter, chanting his name like some sort of mantra.

“there she is,” he pants, slamming into you with such speed that makes you feel as if you’re flying. it’s filthy how much the wet, pornographic noises your bodies are making spurs you on. only wanting to get louder to match them.

eddie’s thumb meets your neglected clit, circling the bud in line with his thrusts. the pleasure is overwhelming, sending your head into the clouds and your stomach hurtling toward your long-awaited orgasm.

“eddie..” drawing out his name, letting it echo through the decadent kitchen, “fuck,” fingernails leaving behind half-moon markings on his forearm, unsupported by the ruthless motion of his thumb against your clit.

you’re struggling to even stay with it, gasping for breath as your walls tighten around him. sighing as he begins to falter, “you gonna cum princess? huh?” beads of sweat beginning to form on his nose, holding his own orgasm off to allow you yours first.

“yeah.. yeah,” you babble nonsensically, “oh fuck.. oh eddie,” thighs trembling around his hips as you topple over the edge, holding onto the counter for dear life as your orgasm takes over.

body going numb as the fuzzy feeling takes over, watching his lips mouth that’s it and baby’s over and over. trying not to topple over as his cock continues to nudge against your spongy walls, slowing as his own orgasm begins.

“cum in me,” you urge, completely besotted by your own desire for him, “please,” resorting to begging when his eyes squeeze shut, unable to hold himself off any longer.

he grunts, you coax him through it, ankles still resting at the small of his back, unrelenting with their grip as his cock spurts thick ropes of cum, painting your walls. “shit- baby.. i- you-,” he puffs, “what the fuck,” throwing his head back, his messy fringe sticking to his damp forehead.

“sorry..” you mumble, ashamed by the way you turn into a ravenous monster around eddie, wanting to give him your all and nothing else.

“jesus christ don’t apologise,” his hands clamp around your cheeks, pulling your face to his for one final kiss, mumbling a quick i love you before helping you from the counter.

eddie’s in his element here, not that he didn’t make himself at home in your home, but this was his domain.

there’s a strange twinge in your heart, a rogue voice that occasionally makes an appearance, something that made you question whether he was really happy with your little life or if it was just something he was accepting for the time being.

you bury it down, refusing to let it grow into anything more and follow him down the hall, listening to him complain about his back.

nothing could’ve prepared you for the party. it couldn’t have been further from how eddie had initially sold it to you.

it’s all bright lights and thousands of people. expensive dresses and unfamiliar faces fill the room, prodding and poking at eddie and subsequently you. wanting to know the ins and outs of everything.

fuck. you think. this is suffocating.

there’s no release, people are fucking everywhere.

even after you gulp down a glass of wine, people whizz around you, echoing fake niceties about your dress or your hair or whatever materialistic bullshit they were pretending to care about.

eddie is a natural of course. he’s been doing this for years. he always had the ability to carry a conversation, to make people listen to him. you weren’t so lucky.

he’s prattling on about some sick riff on the new album now, barely giving you chance to let him know you’re going to the bathroom.

hoping to seek some solace from these vultures. you so wished steve was here. he’d make everything feel better, tell you that it was okay and that these people don’t deserve your time.

but he’s not. he’s a thousand miles away, probably tucked up in bed with ella. somewhere you longed to be.

after a long ten minutes in the cubicle, uttering a chorus of positive affirmations to yourself, you push your way out, right into the crowd of very glamorous women all stood in front of the mirrors. reapplying their makeup or touching up their already stiff hair.

one of the older ladies takes notice of you lingering behind, turning to face you with a smug smile, “you’re eddie’s new thing, aren’t you?”

venom laced between her words, rolling effortlessly off of her sharp tongue. the other women all turn in tandem, all narrowed eyes and faux smiles.

“uh.. i’m his girlfriend,” shaking their glances off, focusing on the stream of running water on your hands and not the prickly feeling at the back of your throat.

“oh! girlfriend!” she titters, barging into one of the other, “usually they don’t make it that far.. what d’you have that the others didn’t?” her icy gaze runs the length of your body.

no doubt judging your dress, the way your mom body sat in the lavish fabric. you don’t blame her. you’d hated it from the moment you first looked in the mirror.

“we..” clearing your throat to avoid your voice cracking, “we used to date.. in high school,” you could feel yourself physically shrinking, reverting back into the same quiet girl you were in school.

“aw sweet,” there’s not even a hint of sincerity in her nasally tone, “well you know, we all thought gigi was gonna be the one,” the other women nod in agreement, “he was just different with her.. everyone thought he was going to propose.. never seen him like that since,” nodding like she’d won a contest you weren’t even competing in.

her words sting, and she knows it. in fact, she relishes it. even though you know she’s only doing it for some sort of reaction, you still let them in. your heart prangs in your chest; now stood frozen in front of the basin.

“you have a kid, don’t you?” she continues, clearly unhappy with your lack of reaction. wanting to stick her claws in just a little deeper.

you nod, biting down hard onto the inside of your cheek. trying to swallow the growing lump in the back of your throat.

her eyes wander down once again, “yeah i thought so.. eddie always said he didn’t want kids,” tutting her shiny white teeth, “i wouldn’t expect him to hang around long, he’s at the peak of his career darling.. no time for high school sweethearts and their kids.”

and that’s it. the final blow. slicing through your chest, churning your guts from the inside out. a stranger had affirmed every single fear and doubt you’d had. crumbling the facade you’d curated for this fucking party.

you don’t even give her the satisfaction of a reply, or perhaps you give her exactly what she wanted, storming out of the bathroom with a trembling bottom lip and watering eyes.

instead of going straight back to eddie, you find a quiet corner, facing the wall as you collect yourself the best you can. your throat hurts, the lump struggling to disappear, tears threatening to spill over as you attempt to remember how to breathe.

eddie is higher than you’ve ever seen him before, relishing in the moment. he’s completely different out here. talking to any and every one, turning the charm on the second someone walks his way.

“eds,” mumbling quietly, tugging on his arm to garner his attention.

you hated him a little for even convincing you to come. why couldn’t he have just sent pictures? no fuck that, why couldn’t he have just stayed here and never forced his way back into your life?

you don’t mean it. you love him.

“hmm?” not quite looking at you.

“i wanna go back.. i don’t feel good.”

this is where he turns, focusing his attention on you, brows furrowing immediately, “what? what’s wrong?”

now, you could tell him. let him know that his friends were assholes and you were either going to burst into tears or run out of this place screaming. but decide to leave it until you’re back at his, there was no use in causing drama on his night.

“i just..” you sigh, dipping your head low so no one else could hear, “i don’t feel good.. maybe i’m sick,” it wasn’t a lie as such. your stomach had been turning all night but you’d brushed it off as anxiety, eager to not ruin the party.

“well-,” he begins but stops, “d’you want me to come with you?” though you can tell he really doesn’t want to. you don’t blame him.

eddie’s always been an extrovert, begging for people to pay attention to him, even if it meant tussling with basketball players or anyone else that dared to question his character. he just wanted people to notice him.

“no no.. i just wanted to let you know,” chewing on your bottom lip, his face becoming increasingly more concerned with every word. you hope he hasn’t noticed your watery eyes, not in the mood to have to explain what had happened right here, right now.

“okay.. we can go, it’s okay,” eddie soothes, picking up that something wasn’t right.

this is what you’d tried to avoid, not wanting to selfishly snatch him away from his event, his friends and his album launch.

“no.. stay here, i’ll be fine, just need to.. rest,” brushing him off, as if you wouldn’t kill to just curl up in his big bed, talking away all of the harsh comments you’d heard.

his expression becomes incredibly soft, despite the crowd surrounding the two you trying to pry, “you sure? i don’t mind..” he frowns, “i’ll come back with you, I don’t want you on your own if you feel that shitty,” already looking past you trying to catch someone’s eye to tell them about the change in plans.

“no!” you push, rather quickly, “please don’t let me be the reason you miss this.. i promise i’ll be fine,” pulling away from his grasp, rushing out of the building with absolutely no plan to get back.

eddie strides along behind, grabbing onto your arm, forcing you to stop and face him, “hey.. stop, i’ll get rob to drive you,” guiding you through the see of people and out into the fresh air at long, long last.

it’s like you can finally breathe again. the stifling heat of a hundred bodies wasn’t helping your anxieties, relief washing over your body the second the november breeze hits your flushed face.

he leans into the same car you arrived in, muttering something to who you assume is rob, motioning for you to come over. you oblige, standing at his side as he repeats what’s happening to you though none of the words compute.

“i won’t be long, okay? a couple hours max and then i’ll be back,” pulling you in for an unreciprocated hug.

he bundles you in to the back of the car, nodding to rob to start the journey.

you’re thankful the conversation is non-existent, leaning your forehead against the window, drawing lines into the condensation on the glass.

you want to go home.

and not eddie’s house.. home.

three days had been more than enough for you to decide this life wasn’t for you.

wiping spaghetti off of ella’s smiley face was. gossiping with steve about people you went to high school with was. los angeles certainly wasn’t.

eddie stumbles into the bedroom some hours later, obviously tipsy with a vague stench of booze and people clinging onto his clothes. the smell turns your stomach, peering over your shoulder to see him sliding his suit jacket off, trying to be quiet but failing miserably.

"whoops sorry.. did i wake you?" he asks, slightly slurring his words.

"no, i wasn't asleep," you shift, turning to face him, preparing to break the news.

he slides into the gargantuan bed, running a hand over his face as he comfies himself, "you all okay now?" extending his hand to rest on your waist, smoothing his fingers over the thick duvet.

you exhale, peering up at him through the dimly lit room, "i think i'm gonna go home tomorrow," you’d stewed on it all night and decided it was what’s best.

“what?” his hand stops, sitting up to see you better.

“i’m going back to hawkins tomorrow.”

“why?” he exclaims, unable to comprehend why tonight had gone from a great night to you rushing off home.

“because i miss ella,” you’d umm’d and ahh’d about telling him what had gone down in the bathroom, ultimately deciding not to. he’d only reiterate some bullshit about it not being true and you shouldn’t worry, it wasn’t worth the effort.

“it’s three more days babe.. wha- i don’t understand, where’s this come from?” he’s breathing heavily, focussing on sobering up you suppose.

you sigh again, hesitant to tell him that his friends were assholes and had made you feel like shit. “i just.. i guess i don’t fit in here,” shrugging it off, minimising the niggling thoughts of insecurity that had planted themselves into your brain.

“what are you talking about?” eddie frowns, genuinely perplexed. “did something happen? what are you not telling me about?”

you shake your head, struggling to find the right words, “there was just..” trailing off into the void, “someone said something to me and i’m-,” biting down into your bottom lip, decidedly letting it all out, “i don’t want this life eddie, i never asked for this.. for people to try and pick my life apart! that wasn’t part of the deal!” becoming increasingly frustrated with your boyfriend.

how could he not get it?

“woah.. who said something? i can fix that,” his eyebrows knit together, you’re not sure if he’s angry or just confused. “if you don’t tell me, i can’t do anything.”

“what are you gonna do?” nostrils flaring at his inability to just understand, “what’s said was said.. and i want to go home eddie, that’s the end of it,” running a hand through your hair, still stiff with hairspray and whatever other gunk the stylist had shoved into it.

“jesus christ,” he huffs, sick of the conversation, of trying to get you to stay. “fine. i’ll get someone to change your flight in the morning, can you wait that long?” his snarky voice making an appearance. you hadn’t missed that.

“thank you,” you whisper, unable to get any louder for fear of the lump in your throat.

instead you turn over, squeezing your eyes shut, refusing to let the tears brim over. eddie wouldn’t have understood even if you could tell him, ella wasn’t his kid, those words wouldn’t hurt the same. sure, he’d be pissed and he’d more than likely get her fired but what use was that now?

she’d still uttered the words. still forced her poison into your brain, she’d already got what she wanted.

eddie barely musters up two sentences to you in the morning, speaking in hushed tones to the muffled voice on the other side of the phone.

everything’s fucked and it’s your fault. he knows it too.

“flight’s in four hours.. rob’ll take you to the airport at twelve,” he huffs, hanging the phone back on the wall with enough force to make the plastic rattle.

“thank you,” you call after him, watching as he disappears down the long hall. he had just trampled on your already throbbing heart, stomping on the organ as if it didn’t matter.

when rob arrives, eddie’s in a more optimistic mood, wheeling your suitcase out of his room with a sullen expression, attempting to sway your mind one last time. “i can always cancel this flight..” opening the large door for you, “you can stay if you want to.”

“eddie..”

and with that, he knows it’s not going to work. blinking rapidly, a deep sigh coming from his chest, “right, got it.”

his hand slams the car door shut, still lingering on the metal as you sit inside. you felt like a petulant child, being sent away because you dared to disobey the rules. it’s all so stupid.

and deep down, eddie knows that ultimately, this is all his fault. he’s the one that skipped town eight years ago, left you without so much as a note to explain himself. as he watches the car roll down the drive, he lets himself wonder what life would’ve been like if he didn’t leave, if you’d even still be together or if this had to happen to bring you two back together. the universe was cruel like that.

the airport is bustling, families dithering around trying to find their flights and busy men dashing from one place to the other.

there’s only one thing you need and that’s the bathroom. shoving yourself and your things into a cramped cubicle to do what you needed to do.

and maybe you were being silly, perhaps the stress of last night had got to your head and now you were jumping to crazy conclusions.

but you’d been here before. known the signs, the little things that most people would probably just brush off. so you’d made rob pull into a gas station on your way to the airport and bought a two pack of the cheapest tests you could find.

five minutes feel like five hours. refusing to even peek at the shitty piece of plastic until the time was up.

your heart is thudding, blood pumping around your ears so loudly that you’re sure the lady in the stall next to you could hear it.

hands shaking as you turn the test, two thin blue lines reveal themselves on the tiny screen.

the test clatters to the floor, your mouth falling open as your eyes fog. it wasn’t like you didn’t know, you just didn’t know.

and now you do, everything feels fragile. someone’s cough rings in your ears, the sterile bathroom felt a thousand times smaller than it did five minutes ago.

eddie always said he didn’t want kids.

her voice echoes around your head, just as snarky as it were the first time you heard it. you feel sick. the acidic liquid rises quick, forcing you to spin and stick your head into the porcelain bowl.

emptying your stomach until your throat stings, retching and coughing, trying not to start sobbing.

eddie always said he didn’t want kids.

you can’t tell him, not yet anyway.

fuck.

a thousand thoughts flood your mind. were you even still together? he was on this press tour for weeks now. you can’t tell him over the phone. maybe you had broken up and you wouldn’t ever have to let him now. he would just have an illegitimate child in his hometown that he’d never know about.

nothing felt right. the high you’d been riding from the first two days with him had quite violently come crashing back to earth.

the only thing you want to do is tell steve.

he probably wouldn’t know what to do nor would he be very much help, you just needed to know that everything was going to be okay.

it’s the first thing you say as you slide into steve’s bmw, blurting out the news like it wasn’t potentially life changing.

as expected, his jaw drops, blabbering about babies at a hundred miles an hour. excited and amazed all at the same time.

“- i haven’t told him yet,” you manage to spit out in the middle of his nonsensical ranting.

“what?”

“i didn’t even know until i got to the airport,” you sniff, staring at the drops of rain on his windscreen rather than his eyes. “he’s on this press tour for weeks now.. i can’t tell him over the phone.”

“well shit,” steve’s shoulder slump, empathising with your less than ideal situation, “you have to,” he blinks, focusing on the road ahead.

“steve.. i don’t think you understand,” swallowing the air, unsure if the car was the best place to tell him about your little argument. “shit happened, it’s not.. it’s not that easy.”

he frowns, tapping his thumb against the steering wheel as he drives, “well,” voice louder than expected, “we’ll think of something, trust me.”

your body relaxes for the first time in hours. if no one else had you, you know steve did.

there are paps fucking everywhere, littering the sidewalk as steve pulls into your drive, the bright lights already blinding you.

“what the fuck?” steve screeches, turning to face you in the driver's seat. They aren’t dumb, they know that if they step on your property, you are well within your rights to escort them off. so they hang back, inching towards the car but staying far enough away to not allow you to get them off.

“i don’t know.. i don’t know,” shaking your head, you were baffled how they had even found out you were home. you’d known they were scummy but christ, not this scummy.

“just get inside and I’ll bring your stuff in,” steve nods reassuringly, stepping out of the car ready to punch whoever got in his way.

you exhale, preparing for the onslaught of questions and pictures. the key poised in your hand to get you inside as quickly as humanly possible. word must have got out that your trip had ended abruptly, that or someone had seen you sulking around the airport like the sad sack you were.

your feet stumble along the asphalt, holding your hand to your face as to guard your eyes from the flashes. hundreds of questions echo in your ears, what happened between you and eddie munson? have you broken up? did he cheat again?

it’s god awful. gritty voices screaming across the lawn at you. steve has your suitcase rolling behind him, jaw clenched as he guides you to the door.

“you’re harassing a pregnant woman you fucking scumbags! go fuck yourselves!” he unleashes over his shoulder, flapping his arms about.

your mouth falls open, pulling him through the door and into your hall. the one thing you had not wanted him to let slip and he had just blurted it out to the crowd of hungry vultures.

it’d be the first thing on the front page tomorrow and yet you still hadn’t told eddie. at least now you didn’t have to.

he knows he wasn’t supposed to say it too, hand slapped across his mouth, inundated with shock and regret. “i’m so sorry, i’m so fucking sorry,” he rushes, eyes like saucers as his arms wrap around your shoulders, “i’m an idiot.. fuck! i’m sorry,” you cheek smushed against his chest.

the familiar feeling opens the floodgates, tears stream down your cheeks, wetting his t-shirt as your shoulders shake. wailing hysterically into his beating chest. he wasn’t quite expecting this, more so a few hours of the silent treatment.

“oh no.. i’m sorry, i really didn’t mean to,” steve whispers into the air, his chin coming to rest atop of your head, squeezing your fragile frame in his arms.

“it’s not-,” rudely interrupted by a rogue hiccup, “shit.. it’s not you-,” hiccup, “oh my god,” you exclaim, tears turning into laughter at an unprecedented rate.

steve loosens his grip, confused as all hell at the mess you’d become against him. “jesus christ, are you okay?” holding your shoulders at arms length to examine the snotty, hiccupy mess in front of him.

“no,” you laugh, completely hysterical.

he guides you to the couch, making your movements for you, plonking down on the cushions in a flurry of emotion.

there you tell him everything. the party, the bitch with the sharp jawline in the bathroom and her nasty words, the aftermath and then all about your panic attack in a tiny lax bathroom.

it’s cathartic, knowing he won’t judge or diminish the way you feel. steve just listens, his hand rubbing small strokes on your knee every time you got to a juicy part.

how the hell were you ever going to tell eddie now?

there’s a knock at your door, mindlessly going to answer it without thinking much of the mad crowd of people that were out there just a few days ago. steve had gratefully been staying with you, helping with ella while also trying to hatch a plan to tell eddie without ruining everything.

it only occurs to you that it very well could be another nosy reporter as the door is already unlocked and slightly ajar.

you peep around the tiny crack, prepared to be bombarded with a bunch of questions and bright lights.

there’s none of that.

only the pitying image of one eddie munson stood on your doorstep with his shoulders slumped, black ray-ban’s hanging from his shirt and an inconceivable look upon his face.

“what the fuck?” he utters, barely audible. he looks exhausted, dark rings around his eyes with the body language to match. his hair in dark matter tangles hung around his face.

your mouth opens but the words fail to materialise, utterly speechless. there’s nothing you could possibly say now that would lessen the blow. and bless his soul, steve had fucked it.

no.

you had fucked it by running off back home without telling him the seemingly very important news.

“were you ever gonna tell me?” eyebrows screwed together, eyes glossy with what looked like tears.

“i.. i- yes, i was.. i didn’t.. i didn’t know,” pleading with him with your eyes, hoping they could tell him exactly what your words couldn’t. your lip trembles, as much as this had played on your mind since steve had let slip, the two of you still hadn’t come up with an acceptable explanation.

deep down you know really why you still hadn’t called him. you were scared, terrified even, that he’d laugh at you. tell you to fuck off, or get rid of it and to never contact him again. that wouldn’t surprise anyone, he was at the top of his career and definitely wouldn’t want to jack that in for his boring high school ex-girlfriend.

that’s what you’d told yourself anyway.

“when? when it was born?” his words are sharp, reaffirming every single fear you had conjured up in your brain.

you inhale sharply, the lump making it up and out of your throat before you had the chance to swallow it down. tears spill down your warm cheeks, the most ghastly cry coming from your mouth.

you must look utterly pathetic as eddie’s face softens almost immediately, springing from your doorstep and over the threshold to caress your cheek, mopping the tears with his thumb. “sorry.. i’m sorry fuck- i just wish you’d told me,” leaning forward to keep his eyes solidly on yours, any anger had dissipated from his face.

“i was scared, i’m sorry.. I didn’t know what to do,” burying your face into his shoulder, already wetting the shirt with your tears. shoulders shaking as you sob. “i swear.. i didn’t know until i got to the airport, i really- i just needed a few days..” howling into his steady shoulder.

he walks the both of you inside into your hallway, pushing the door shut before his other hand tangled into your hair, soothing out the wild strands. “i know.. it’s okay,” reassuring you even though you really didn’t deserve it.

“and that lady.. i don’t know, she got into my head,” sniffling, appreciating the familiarity of his cologne and the faint smell of cigarettes he always seemed to have.

his body stiffens, pulling your body from the safety of his, “what lady? is this about the party? fuck sake man, no one would tell me anything,” he’s serious now, frustration overcoming his features once more, although this time they weren’t directed towards you.

you sigh, using your palm to wipe your stinging cheeks, “it doesn’t matter.. and it’s fine, you know? i get it.. why someone like you wouldn’t want kids. i’ve come to terms with it,” nodding through your lines, despite the fact that you couldn’t have believed them less.

“what? what the hell are you talking about?” flabbergasted that you’d even suggest that.

your face falls, once stoic and ready to face being a single mom again. “that lady.. she said..” shaking your head, “you didn’t want kids,” bottom lip quivering, tears threatening to spill over again.

“oh my god,” it clicks for him, and you wish it would for you too. “that’s.. fuck- i did say that but it was a long time ago now,” his fingers dig into your arms, ensuring that he really hammers his point home, “of course i do.. shit sweetheart, of course i do,” the flecks of caramel in his eyes shine through ten-fold when he’s staring at you, glossed over with the remnants of his tears.

your mouth opens, moving though nothing comes out, hopeless as the words fail to form.

“you’re an idiot,” eddie laughs lovingly, pulling you back towards him, encasing your face in his rough palms, the cold of his rings soothes your tear laden cheeks. “why didn’t you tell me? or just ask me?”

you giggle a bit, shrugging your shoulders, “i don’t know.. i didn’t think,” nothing made sense and yet, you felt better than you had in weeks.

eddie’s here, in front of you, happy, grinning from ear to ear as he remembers why he’s even stood in your dark corridor, “baby.. we’re having a baby,” squishing your cheeks between his hands.

his joy is palpable, brushing off on you despite your leaking eyes. he still looks at you like that, even though you’d scarped off, even after you had let the world know you were pregnant before him. it was like the stars shon in your eyes, as if the very key to living was buried somewhere within your soul and he just had to be the first to grasp it.

your heart is bursting, a weeks worth of sleepless nights and fretting over destroying your relationship had come to this. to holding each other in the dim light, both terrified for what was to come.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson stranger things

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